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In the form of diagrams, proofs, and moving dials called volvelles that trained the eye, Peter Apian’s Cosmographicus Liber (1524) was the first cosmographic text to cultivate the observational skills of its readership. In related projects called Practica, Apian translated this content into DIY skills for an audience of weather watchers, farmers, and astrologers, encouraging observation in the field.
Early modern printmakers trained observers to scan the heavens above as well as faces in their midst. Peter Apian printed the Cosmographicus Liber (1524) to teach lay astronomers their place in the cosmos, while also printing practical manuals that translated principles of spherical astronomy into useful data for weather watchers, farmers, and astrologers. Physiognomy, a genre related to cosmography, taught observers how to scrutinize profiles in order to sum up peoples' characters. Neither Albrecht Dürer nor Leonardo escaped the tenacious grasp of such widely circulating manuals called practica. Few have heard of these genres today, but the kinship of their pictorial programs suggests that printers shaped these texts for readers who privileged knowledge retrieval. Cultivated by images to become visual learners, these readers were then taught to hone their skills as observers. This book unpacks these and other visual strategies that aimed to develop both the literate eye of the reader and the sovereignty of images in the early modern world.
Linda Voigts's survey of manuscript book production in England between 1375 and 1500 demonstrates the multi-lingual character of most medical and scientific books. That is to say, Middle English and Anglo-Norman are to be found alongside the Latin of the scholastics. The fifteenth century is the first for which we have a number of commonplace books written by practitioners. One example is the Practica and surgery written by Thomas Fayreford, a medical practitioner in north Devon and Somerset in the first quarter of the century. Access to scientific books of the sort Fayreford required was probably only available at Oxford and Cambridge, where both institutional and private collections were built up with a deliberate bias towards medicine and science. Roger Marchall's commissioning, purchasing, annotating and disposing of books gives us an idea of how a fifteenth-century academic and medical practitioner might have used manuscripts. The scientific best-seller of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries was undoubtedly the almanac.
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