Sir Thomas Browne’s Pseudodoxia Epidemica, the second volume of his collected works, systematically dismantles vulgar errors in natural history, medicine, and religious iconography. The chapters on the pelican and dolphin exemplify his method: he juxtaposes inherited pictorial conventions—the pelican bleeding for its young, the dolphin’s curved back—against anatomical and behavioral evidence. Browne insists that the pelican’s bill is flat and broad, not pointed, and that its feet are webbed, not cloven; the dolphin’s spine is straight, not humped. His corrections are not mere pedantry but a defense of accurate observation against tradition.

The Pelican’s Misrepresented Anatomy

Browne devotes an entire chapter to the pelican, targeting three common pictorial errors: its color, size, and bill shape. He notes that the bird is “commonly set forth green or yellow,” whereas its proper color “inclining to white,” with brown wing tips. Its size is routinely understated: “It is described in the bigness of a Hen, whereas it approacheth and sometimes exceedeth the magnitude of a Swan.” The bill, often painted “acute or pointed,” is in fact “flat and broad, though somewhat inverted at the extream.” Browne also corrects the foot structure: pelicans are “palmipedous, or fin-footed like Swans and Geese,” not fissipedes. He laments that one remarkable part—the “chowle or crop” under the bill, a pouch of “capacity almost beyond credit”—is entirely omitted from pictures. This pouch, he explains, is essential for holding shellfish until they open. Browne even entertains the possibility that pelicans might bleed themselves by “nibling and biting” an itching spot, but he firmly denies the maternal bloodletting myth, tracing it instead to the vulture.

Dolphins: Crooked in Art, Straight in Nature

In the chapter on dolphins, Browne confronts a persistent visual error: the belief that dolphins are “crooked” or “repandous.” He acknowledges that ancient coins and authors like Ovid and Pliny depict them with a curved back, but he insists that “in their natural figure they are streight, nor have their spine convexed.” Browne cites Scaliger’s assertion that the dolphin’s body is “non magis curvum quam reliqui pisces” (no more curved than other fish) and appeals to ocular inquiry and the accurate illustrations in Rondeletius, Gesner, and Aldrovandus. He observes a contradiction even within pictorial tradition: while some paintings show a convex curve, the dolphin carrying Arion is often rendered “concavously,” suggesting that artists themselves are inconsistent. Browne’s argument is not merely taxonomic; it challenges the authority of received images, urging readers to trust direct observation over inherited iconography.

Method and Scope of Error-Correction

Browne’s project in Pseudodoxia Epidemica extends beyond natural history to encompass medicine, religion, and human customs. The table of contents reveals a wide-ranging inquiry: from the erectness of man and the ring-finger’s supposed medical properties to the Jewish people’s alleged characteristics and the significance of the climacteric year sixty-three. Each chapter follows a similar pattern—state the vulgar error, then refute it with reason, experience, or authoritative testimony. Browne’s tone is measured but firm; he corrects without scorn, often acknowledging the partial truth behind a misconception. For instance, he allows that the pelican might occasionally draw blood from its own breast, but not for its young. This balanced approach makes the work a model of early modern scientific skepticism, grounded in both classical learning and empirical scrutiny.

Readers approaching this volume should expect a methodical, sometimes digressive, but consistently rigorous examination of common beliefs. Browne’s prose is dense with Latin citations and anatomical detail, yet his central argument is simple: error persists when tradition overrides observation. The work rewards those who read slowly, attending to the interplay between ancient authority and Browne’s own empirical corrections.