Category Archives: History of Cartography

Who created the first scientific map of the moon? – I expect better of the British Library

Who created the first scientific map of the moon?–I expect better of the British Library

On 9 March the British Library Prints & Drawings Twitter account (@BL_prints) tweeted the following, accompanied by the illustration.

This is the first scientific map of the moon and was produced in Paris by astronomer Giovanni Domenico Cassini. Working in the 1670s, Cassini used a telescope to make careful observations of the moon’s surface.


Source: British Library

This is of course historical rubbish Cassini’s being by no means the first ‘scientific’ map of the moon and I thought who ever runs the @BL_prints Twitter account really ought to up their historical game then I followed the link to the British Library website and discovered the following text:

This is the first scientific map of the moon and was produced in Paris by astronomer Giovanni Domenico Cassini. Working in the 1670s, Cassini used a telescope to make careful observations of the moon’s pock-marked surface. Thanks to the map, 17th-century European scientists had a greater understanding of the moon than they did of much of the Earth’s surface.

If you look very carefully at the map, you will find a ‘Moon Maiden’ hiding behind one of the craters. It seems that either Cassini, or the map’s famous engraver Claude Mellan, included the detail, believing that this tiny part of the moon’s surface looked like a beautiful woman.

Somebody at the British Library really needs to improve their knowledge of the history of astronomy in general and of selenography in particular. For anybody who doesn’t already know, selenography is the science of the physical features of the moon. Selenography is to the moon what geography is to the earth.

Interestingly the first scientific map of the moon was made before the invention of the telescope by William Gilbert (1540–1603) some time before1603. It was, however first published in the text De Mondo Nostro Sublunari in Amsterdam in 1651. No attempts to accurately draw the surface of the moon have survived from antiquity or the Middle Ages if they ever existed. Gilbert also regretted that no such drawing from antiquity existed because he would have liked to compare and contrast in order to see if the moon had changed over time. Although made without the assistance of a telescope the moons features are recognisable on Gilbert’s map.


William Gilbert’s Map of the Moon Source

The earliest known telescopic drawings of the moon were made by Thomas Harriot (c. 1560–1621), a sketch in 1609 and a full map in 1613.


Thomas Harriot’s initial telescopic sketch of the moon from 1609 Source: Wikimedia Commons

Harriot’s map is of course much more detailed than Glibert’s and displays a high level of accuracy. Harriot, however, never published his moon drawings and they remained unknown in the seventeenth century.


Thomas Harriot’s 1613 telescopic map of the moon Source: Wikimedia Commons

The first published drawings of the moon were, of course, those notorius ones of Galileo in the Sidereus Nuncius, which I won’t reproduce here. They can’t really be called maps of the moon as they bear little or no relation to the real moon and might best be described as studies of hypothetical lunar features.

Christoph Scheiner (1575–1650) also produced accurate drawings of the moon in the early phase of telescopic astronomy which he published in his Disquisitiones Mathematicae de Controversiis et Novitatibus Astronomicis in 1614.


Christoph Scheiner moon drawing Source

The Dutch astronomer and cartographer Michel Florent van Langren (1598–1675) published an extensive telescopic map of the moon in 1645.


Michel Florent van Langren Map of the Moon 1645 Source: Wikimedia Commons

This was followed by the even more extensive telescopic map of Johannes Hevelius (1611–1687) in his Selenographia, sive Lunae descriptio in 1647.


Source: Wikimedia Commons


Johannes Hevelius Map of the Moon 1647 Source: Wikimedia Commons

Next up we have the lunar map of Francesco Maia Grimaldi (1618–1663) and Giovanni Battista Riccioli (1598–1671), which supplied the nomenclature for the lunar features that we still use today, and was published in Riccioli’s Almagestum Novum in 1651.



Riccioli/Grimaldi Map of the Moon 1651 Source: Wikimedia Commons

This last is particularly embarrassing for the British Library’s claim that Cassini’s is the first scientific map of the moon, as Cassini was a student of Grimaldi and Riccioli in Bologna and would have been well aware of their selenographical work.

Even if we discount Galileo’s lunar diagrams as not particularly scientific, Cassini comes in, at best, in seventh place  in the league table of lunar cartography. I really expect an institution as big and famous as the British Library, with its world-wide impact to put a little more effort into their public presentations of #histSTM.








Filed under History of Astronomy, History of Cartography

Nit-picking – Authors who should know better

In my most recent reading I have come across three separate examples of professional historians making a mess of things when they turn the hand to the history of science.

First up we have Jerry Brotton’s The Renaissance: A Very Short Introduction[1]. I’m a fan of Oxford University Press’ Very Short Introduction series and also of Brotton’s A History of the World in Twelve Maps[2], so I was expecting to enjoy his Very Short Introduction to the Renaissance and in general I wasn’t disappointed.

Nit Picking001

He chooses to lay the emphasis in his book on the fact that the Renaissance wasn’t a purely European phenomenon but a global one and writing from this perspective he opens up a novel vista on this period of history. However when he turns to the history of Renaissance science he, in my opinion, drops a major clangour.

He introduces his chapter on the topic with Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus, telling us that:

Once Faustus has sold his soul, he asks Mephistopheles for a book ‘where I might see all characters and planets of the heavens’. The most controversial book that Faustus could have consulted was On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres by the Polish canon and astronomer Nicolaus Copernicus.[3]

We’ll ignore the Polish on this occasion and turn instead to what Brotton says about the book:

Copernicus’s revolutionary book overturned the medieval belief that the earth lay at the centre[my emphasis] of the universe. Copernicus’s vision of the heavens showed, along with all the other known planets, rotated around the sun. Copernicus subtly revised the work of classical Greek and Arabic astronomy scholars. He argued that ‘they did not achieve their aim, which we hope to reach by accepting the fact that the earth moves’.

Copernicus tried to limit the revolutionary significance of his ideas by accommodating them within a classical scientific tradition. But the Catholic Church was horrified and condemned the book. Copernicus’s argument overturned the biblical belief that the earth – and humanity with it – stood at the centre of the universe[4][my emphasis].


It was neither the biblical nor the medieval belief that the earth stood at the centre of the universe and removing the earth from this centre was not Copernicus’ offence. It was setting the earth in motion and stopping the motion of the sun that the Church found intolerable, as it contradicted several biblical passages. The myth about Copernicus displacing humanity from the centre of the universe is as far as I know and eighteenth or even nineteenth century invention and actually contradicts the medieval view of the position of the earth. The earth was not at the centre but at the bottom of the universe in the dregs. I once wrote a short blog post quoting Otto von Guericke on this subject, for those to lazy to click through:


Since, however, almost everyone has been of the conviction that the earth is immobile since it is a heavy body, the dregs, as it were, of the universe and for this reason situated in the middle or the lowest region of the heaven

Otto von Guericke; The New (So-Called) Magdeburg Experiments of Otto von Guericke, trans. with pref. by Margaret Glover Foley Ames. Kluwer Academic Publishers, Dordrecht/Boston/London, 1994, pp. 15 – 16. (my emphasis)

Need I really point out that the Church didn’t condemn De revolutionibus but in 1616 merely placed it on the Index until corrected, a procedure that was carried out with surprising rapidity. A small number of statements claiming that heliocentricity was a fact rather than a hypothesis were removed and the book approved for use by 1620.

Our next offender is another respected Renaissance historian, Andrew Pettegree, in his The Book in the Renaissance[5].

Nit Picking002

Once again this is a book that in general I find excellent and highly stimulating but like Brotton he disappoints when dealing with the history of science. Like Brotton he starts with Copernicus and De revolutionibus, he tells us:

In 1539 a young mathematician, Georg Joachim Rheticus, embarked on a journey of momentous consequence for the history of science. Rheticus is not a name well known even to scholars. At this point in his life he had little to distinguish him from other graduates at Wittenberg University apart from a family scandal: his father, a medical doctor, had been convicted of embezzlement and beheaded. In 1538 Rheticus left Wittenberg and settled in Nuremberg. Here he fell in with Johann Schoener, the city’s most distinguished astronomer: the following year he set off alone for Frauenberg, a small cathedral city on the Baltic coast beyond Danzig.

The purpose of this journey was to visit the renowned astronomer, Nicolas Copernicus. Although Copernicus had travelled in Europe earlier in his life, from 1510 he was permanently settled in his Polish-Prussian homeland, relatively remote from the major centres of European Scholarship. To ingratiate himself with the older man Rheticus had been provided with three valuable scientific volumes for Copernicus’s library. This was a gift with a purpose. The texts were the work of a Nuremberg printer, Johannes Petreius, who wanted Rheticus to persuade Copernicus to let him publish the master-work it was widely believed he would soon have ready for the press. The gift of the three texts was to demonstrate that only Germany’s greatest centre of scientific publishing could do justice to Copernicus’s work: and to help Rheticus prise the precious manuscript from the old man’s hands.

Copernicus kept Rheticus guessing. He seems to have enjoyed the younger man’s company, and it was 1541 before Rheticus could set off back to Wittenberg, clutching the manuscript of what would be Copernicus’s major text. De revolutionibus (Of the Revolution of the Heavenly Spheres). The following year he journeyed on to Nuremberg, where Petreius was waiting to set it on his press: it took until 1543 before the text, complete with its famous woodcut diagrams of Copernicus’s heliocentric system was ready for sale[6].

The story that Pettegree tells here is a very well-known one in the history of science that has been repeated, in one form or another, in numerous publications, but he still manages to get a whole series of fundamental facts wrong. Firstly, I would claim that whilst maybe not known to the general public, the name Rheticus is well-known to scholars. I think being appointed professor for the lower mathematics (i.e. arithmetic and geometry) at the University of Wittenberg in 1536 did distinguish him from other graduates of that university. He didn’t leave Wittenberg in 1538 and settle in Nuremberg but went on an official sabbatical armed with a letter of introduction written by the Rector of the university Philipp Melanchthon. One of the scholars he went to visit on that sabbatical, mentioned in that letter of introduction, was Johannes Schöner, the professor of mathematics at the Egidien Oberschule in Nürnberg a position to which he had been appointed on Melanchthon’s recommendation. Rheticus visited Schöner almost certainly to study astrology, a subject dear to Melanchthon’s heart.

Copernicus lived in Warmia (Ermland in German) an autonomous self governing Prince Bishopric. Rheticus took not three but six books as a gift to Copernicus of which four had been printed and published by Petreius in Nürnberg. When Rheticus visited Copernicus he was largely unknown and to describe him as renowned is more than a bit of a stretch. His renown came posthumously following the publication of De revolutionibus. There were rumours of a hypothesis and possibly a book, rumours created by the circulating manuscript of the Commentariolus but to state that Petreius or anybody else for that matter outside of Warmia knew of a master-work that would soon be ready for the press is once again an exaggeration. Rheticus’ mission could better be described as look see if Copernicus has anything substantial that could be of interest to a printer publisher specialised in astrological/astronomical and mathematical texts.

Copernicus did not keep Rheticus guessing. Firstly Rheticus suffered a period of illness and then travelled to Königsberg, where he wrote a chorography of Prussia for Duke Albrecht in 1541. Copernicus was reluctant to present his hypothesis to the world because he knew that he could not fulfil the promise that he had given in the Commentariolus that he would prove his hypothesis. To calm his fears Rheticus wrote and published his Narratio Prima in 1540 in Danzig, with a second edition appearing in Basel in 1541. This presented a brief first account of the heliocentric system and its positive reception convinced Copernicus to entrust Rheticus with his manuscript.

All in all a more than somewhat different story to that present to us by Pettegree

Next up we have my current bedtime reading Michael Bravo’s North Pole: Nature and Culture[7], which I’m enjoying immensely.

Nit Picking003

Although the emphasis of the book is on the polar voyages and expeditions beginning in the modern period the book starts much earlier. The first chapter contrasts the views of the North Pole of the ancient Greek astronomers, who saw it as the downwards extension of the North celestial pole and the Inuit who live/lived in the Arctic. The second chapter deals with the representations of the North Pole made by the cartographers and globe makers of the Early Modern Period, a topic of great interest to me, as regular readers will know. It is here that Bravo displays a surprising lack of accurate research. He tells us:

Apian was fortunate to have studied in nearby Vienna, introducing him to the work of a circle of highly talented mathematicians in Nuremberg, Ingolstadt and Vienna who were working under the patronage of Maximilian I, Holy Roman Emperor (1459–1519)…[8]

This is indeed correct and is something that I have written about in several posts and about which Darin Hayton has written a whole book, his The Crown and the Cosmos: Astrology and the Politics of Maximilian I, which I reviewed here. Bravo then goes on to discuss the Werner-Stabius cordiform map projection, which is of course a polar projection centred on the North Pole. All well and good up till now. After an extensive discussion of the cordiform projection, its use and its impact Bravo goes on to say:

Introducing the perspective of viewing the Earth from above brought cosmography into line with the new developments in drawing, projection and perspective pioneered in Renaissance Europe. Albrecht Dürer (1471-1528), one of the most remarkable German artists, was the son of a prominent goldsmith in Nuremberg. Dürer’s precocious talent for drawing broadened into printmaking, writing and an extraordinary rich span of philosophical interests. His studies of perspective spanned much of his life and he brought back to northern Europe the principles of linear perspective he encountered while studying in Bologna. He later moved to Vienna to work with Stabius and Werner under the patronage of Maximilian I[my emphasis] Dürer and Stabius published the first polar star chart in 1515[9].


As a Dürer fan, it’s nice to see him getting a nod for more than his Rhinoceros and yes Maximilian was one of his patrons, but the sentence I have placed in italics manages to include two major errors in just sixteen words. Firstly if Dürer had moved to Vienna, he would have only met Stabius and not Werner. The two knew each other from their mutual time at the University of Ingolstadt in the early 1480s but whereas Werner moved first to Rome and then to Nürnberg on the completion of his studies, Stabius stayed in Ingolstadt eventually becoming professor of mathematics before moving to Vienna as court historian and mathematician on Conrad Celtis’ Collegium poetarum et mathematicorum. The two of them continued to work together not by being in the same city but through correspondence. Needless to say Dürer never left Nürnberg and never moved to Vienna, his various shared projects with Stabius were either conducted by letter or by Stabius journeying to Nürnberg. I should point out the Dürer-Stabius-Heinfogel star maps were not the first polar star charts but the first European printed polar star charts, there are earlier manuscript ones and also earlier printed Chinese ones.

All of the things that I have criticised above are facts that are comparatively easy to find and verify with a relatively small amount of research work, so there really is no excuse for getting them wrong. It would be bad enough if the authors were beginners, amateurs or wanna be historians. But in each case we have to do with a justifiably renowned historian and author, so there is really no excuse for this level of sloppiness.

[1] Jerry Brotton, The Renaissance: A Very Short Introduction, OUP, Oxford, 2006

[2]Jerry Brotten, A History of the World in Twelve Maps, Allen Lane, London, 2012

[3] Brotton p. 99

[4] Brotton p. 99

[5] Andrew Pettegree, The Book in the Renaissance, Yale University Press, New Haven & London, 2011

[6] Pettegree pp. 273–274

[7]Michael Bravo, North Pole: Nature and Culture, Reaktion Books, London, 2019

[8] Bravo p. 56

[9] Bravo p. 60


Filed under History of Astronomy, History of Cartography, History of science, Renaissance Science

The emergence of modern astronomy – a complex mosaic: Part IV

Part I  Part II Part III

There is general agreement amongst historians of science that a major factor in the emergence of modern science in general and modern astronomy in particular was the (re)invention of moveable type printing and the arrival of the printed book in the middle of the fifteenth century. I say reinvention because moveable type printing emerged twice before in China in the eleventh century CE and in Korea in the fourteenth century, as I explained in an earlier post. For a long time it was a commonplace in the historical narrative that the printed book, like gunpowder and the compass, was a Chinese invention but extensive long-term research has failed to produce any evidence of a technology transfer and it is now thought that Johannes Gutenberg’s was an independent invention. Even within Europe Gutenberg was not the first to experiment with moveable type and his real invention was the printing press, inclusive printing ink.


Book Printers from Jost Amman  Professionals and Craftsmen

Less than twenty years after Gutenberg published his Bible, Regiomontanus printed and published the first printed astronomy book Peuerbach’s Theoricae Novae Planetarum (Nürnberg, 1473) followed by a handful of other astronomy/astrology books. Unfortunately he died before he could publish their Epytoma in almagesti Ptolemei, which was first published by Ratdolt in Venice in 1496. Both titles became standard astronomy textbooks throughout Europe for more than one hundred years. Famously also being the texts from which Copernicus learnt his astronomy and cosmology.


Theoricae Novae Planetarum Source: Wikimedia Commons

This marked the start of a wave of printed astronomy/astrology books throughout the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries including the works of Apian, Copernicus, Tycho, Kepler, Galileo and many other less well-known figures. Printing made reliable, consistent text available to a wide circle of readers. Whereas a copy of a manuscript in Copenhagen might well have serious deviations compared with a manuscript of the same work in Venice, printed copies of a book were in theory the same wherever their owners lived and worked.


The Astronomer from Jost Amman’s Professionals and Craftsmen Source: Wikimedia Commons

As I pointed out in a reply to an earlier comment in this series the printed great works of astronomy, such as Copernicus’ De revolutionibusor Apian’s Astronomicum Caesareum, would have been way beyond the pocket of the average university student of the period but the professional astronomers, their patron and the institutions could and did acquire copies thus making them, at least potentially, accessible to those students. Interestingly Kepler bought a second hand copy of Copernicus’ De revolutionibus when he was still a student.

However, printing advanced the general dissemination and progress of astronomy and its related fields through purpose written textbooks. The most obvious example of this is Peter Apian’s Cosmographia, originally published by the author in Landshut in 1524. This was a basic introduction to astronomy, astrology, surveying, cartography etc. In total, over the sixteenth century, the book went through thirty-two expanded and improved editions all of which were, somewhat strangely, edited and published by Gemma Frisius and not Apian. Similar textbooks were produced by Oronce Fine, Michael Mästlin and many other sixteenth century mathematical authors.


Title page of Apian’s Cosmpgraphia

It was not just major monographs that profited from the invention of movable type printing. Such astronomical/astrological tools as ephemerides benefited from a certain level of consistency given by print as opposed to hand written manuscripts with their copying errors. In fact a large part of Regiomontanus’ posthumous reputation was based on his printed ephemeris, one of the few books he was able to publish before his untimely demise.

Regiomontanus also led the way in producing printed astronomical/astrological calendars, volumes much in demand from all those working in the wider field of astronomy. In fact astronomical/astrological ephemera of all types–calendars, prognostica, single-sheet wall calendars, almanacs–became a mainstay of the early printing industry providing a much need flow of ready cash.


Regiomontanus Calendar Source: University of Glasgow

To give an idea of the scope of this activity, one of the calendars of Simon Marius (1573–1625), which had to be withdrawn because of political complaints by the local authorities, was said by the printer publisher to have had an edition of 12,000. Marius was only a small local astrologer; the editions of the calendars and prognostica of an Apian or a Kepler would have been much larger. An astronomical monograph, such as De revolutionibus, would have had high production costs and an edition of maybe 500. It would take several years before it turned a profit for the printer publisher if at all. The author got nothing for his troubles. A calendar (wall or pocket), prognostica or almanac had comparatively low production costs, a large edition and if the author was established sold very rapidly. The profits were usually shared fifty-fifty between the printer and the author, a reliable stream of income for both parties. Gutenberg raised some of the finance for his Bible by printing and issuing an astro-medical single-sheet wall calendar.

In an important work, Astrology and the Popular Press: English Almanacs 1500–1800historian Bernard Capp showed that astrological ephemera made up by far and away the largest sector of publishing in the early centuries of printing and more importantly that the editorial sections of the cheap almanacs were one of the major sources for disseminating the latest developments in astronomy, in particular, in the seventeenth century, heliocentricity.


Almanack by John Tulley, 1692. Book exhibited in the Cambridge Public Library, Cambridge, Massachusetts Source: Wikimedia Commons

Along with the development of moving type printing came an increased use of illustrations leading to a rapid development in the techniques used to produce them–woodblock printing, copperplate engraving and etching.


Woodblock cutter Jost Amman’s Professionals and Craftsmen Source: Wikimedia Commons

These techniques were then extended to other field related to astronomy, cartography and globe making. Printed copies of Ptolemaeus’ Geographia with maps were already being printed in the last quarter of the fifteenth century. There also quickly developed a market for large scale printed wall maps, the most famous early example being Waldseemüller’s world map that gave the very recently discovered fourth part of the world the name America after Amerigo Vespucci (1454–1512). Waldseemüller also seems to have printed the first terrestrial globe, a small globe containing the same map of the world. Unfortunately we only have a small number of printed globe gores and no surviving finished globes.


Waldseemüller World Map 1507 (Wikipedia Commons)

Johannes Schöner (1477–1547) was the first to start producing serial printed globes, his first terrestrial globe in 1515 and the matching celestial globe in 1517, establishing a tradition for matching pairs of printed globes that continued until the end of the nineteenth century. Judging by comments from his correspondence his globe printing enterprise was both very successful and very lucrative. Gemma Frisius (1508–1555) took up the baton producing printed globes to be sold with reprints of Schöner’s cosmographia, the descriptive book sold with each globe to explain how to use it. Gemma’s assistant was Gerhard Mercator, who would go on to become the most successful printed globe maker of the second half of the sixteenth century. Mercator’s globes inspired both the great Dutch cartographical houses of Hondius and Blaeu, who would dominate the European globe making and cartography industry in the seventeenth century. England’s first commercial globe printer, Joseph Moxon (1627–1691) learnt his handwork from Willem Janszoon Blaeu (c. 1570–1630). Printed globe making was big business in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and the globes were used to teach both astronomy and astrology.


Pair of globes by Gerard Mercator (Globe Museum, Austrian National Library).

Of course all of the above applies equally well to printed maps. Along with the demand for large wall maps, a market developed for collections of printed maps, what we now call atlases. Bound collection of manuscript maps existed before the invention of printing but being the product of hundreds of hours of manual labour these tended to be art treasures for rich patrons rather than practical books for everyday usage. The man, who did most to change this was Abraham Ortelius (1527–1598), whose Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, a bound, standardised, collection of maps, produced especially for traders first published in 1570 was a runaway success. Initial less successful was the more academic Atlas of his good friend and rival Gerhard Mercator. However, both publications laid the foundations for the commercial success of the cartographical publications of Blaeu and Hondius.


Theatrum Orbis Terrarum Title Page Source: Wikimedia Commons

A somewhat different approach was taken by Sebastian Münster (1488–1552), with his Cosmographia, first published in 1544, which was not just a collection of maps but also a full geographical and historical description of the world. In its numerous editions it was almost certainly the biggest selling book in the sixteenth century.


Title page of the first edition of Münster’s Cosmographia Source: Wikimedia Commons

Like nearly-all-the-other globe makers and cartographers described here Münster was an astrologer and astronomer. Other astrologer/astronomers in the sixteenth century, who were also commercially successful as cartographers were Peter and Philipp Apian, Oronce Fine and Michael Mästlin.

It should be clear from the above that the advent of movable type printing had a very large impact on the dissemination of astronomy and its related fields at the same time raising its status in the Early Modern Period in Europe and bringing it to a much wider audience.


Filed under Early Scientific Publishing, History of Astrology, History of Astronomy, History of Cartography, Renaissance Science, Uncategorized

The emergence of modern astronomy – a complex mosaic: Part III

You can read Part I here and Part II here

Although I dealt with the special case of Vienna and the 1st Viennese School of Mathematics in the first post of this series, it is now time to turn to the general history of the fifteenth-century university and the teaching of astronomy. Although the first, liberal arts, degree at the medieval university theoretically encompassed the teaching of the quadrivium, i.e. arithmetic, geometry, music and astronomy, in reality the level of teaching was very low and often neglected all together. Geometry was a best the first six books of Euclid and at worst just book one and astronomy was the Sphaeraof Sacrobosco, a short non-technical introduction.

This all began to change in the fifteenth century. The humanist universities of Northern Italy and of Poland introduced dedicated chairs for mathematics, whose principle purpose was the teaching of astrology to medical students. However, to fully understand astrology and to be able to cast horoscopes from scratch students first had to learn astronomy, which in turn entailed first having to learn arithmetic and geometry, as well as the use of mathematical and astronomical instruments. The level of mathematical tuition on the university increased considerable. The chairs for mathematics that Galileo would occupy at the end of the sixteenth century in Pisa and Padua were two such astrology chairs.

As the first European university, Krakow introduced two such chairs for mathematics and astronomy relatively early in the fifteenth century.


The founding of the University of Krakow in 1364, painted by Jan Matejko (1838–1893) Source: Wikimedia Commons

It was here at the end of the century  (1491–1495) that Copernicus first learnt his astronomy most probably in the lectures of Albert Brudzewski (c. 1445–c.1497) using Peuerbach’s Theoricae Novae Planetarum and Regiomontanus’ Astronomical Tables. Brudzewski also wrote an important commentary on Peuerbach’s Theoricae Novae Planetarum,Commentum planetarium in theoricas Georgii Purbachii (1482).Krakow was well endowed with Regiomontanus’ writings thanks to the Polish astrologer Marcin Bylica (c.1433–1493), who had worked closely with Regiomontanus on the court ofMatthias Corvinus (1443–1490) in Budapest and who when he died bequeathed his books and instruments to the University of Krakow, including the works of Regiomontanus and Peuerbach.

From Krakow Copernicus went on to Northern Italy and its humanist universities. Between 1496 and 1501 he studied canon law in Bologna, Europe’s oldest university.


The entry of some students in the Natio Germanica Bononiae, the nation of German students at Bologna; miniature of 1497. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Here he also met and studied under/worked with the professor for astronomer Domenico Maria Novara da Ferrara (1454–1504), who claimed to be a student of Regiomontanus and it is known that he studied under Luca Pacioli (c. 1447–1517), who was also Leonardo’s mathematics teacher. Although none of Novara da Ferrara writings have survived he is said to have taken a critical attitude to Ptolemaic astronomy and he might be the trigger that started Copernicus on his way. In late 1501 Copernicus moved to the University of Padua, where he studied medicine until 1503, a course that would also have included instruction in astrology and astronomy. In 1503 he took a doctorate in canon law at the University of Ferrara. Sometime in the early sixteenth century, probably around 1510 he wrote an account of his first thoughts on heliocentricity, now known as the Commentariolus, which was never published but seems to have circulated fairly widely in manuscript. We will return to this later.

The first German university to install a dedicated chair for mathematics/astronomy was Ingolstadt in the 1470s.


The Hohe Schule (High School), The main building of the University of Ingolstadt 1571 Source: Wikimedia Commons

As with the North Italian universities this was principally to teach astrology to medical student. This chair would prove to be an important institution for spreading the study of the mathematical sciences. In 1491/1492 the humanist scholar and poet, Conrad Celtis (1459–1508) was appointed professor of poetics and rhetoric in Ingolstadt. Celtis had a strong interest in cartography as a part of history and travelled to Krakow in 1489 in order to study the mathematical sciences. In Ingolstadt Celtis was able to turn the attention of Andreas Stiborius (1464–1515) and Johannes Stabius (1468–1522) somewhat away from astrology and more towards cartography. In 1497 Celtis received a call from the University of Vienna and taking Stiborius and Stiborius’ star student Georg Tannstetter (1482–1535) with him he decamped to Vienna, where he set up his Collegium poetarum et mathematicorum, with Stiborius as professor for mathematics. In 1502 he also fetched Johannes Stabius. From 1502 Tannstetter also began to lecture on mathematics and astronomy in Vienna. Stiborius, Stabius and Tannstetter form the foundations of what is known as the 2ndViennese School of Mathematics. Tannstetter taught several important students, most notably Peter Apian, who returned to Ingolstadt as professor for mathematics in the 1520, a position in which he was succeeded by his son Philipp. Both of them made major contributions to the developments of astronomy and cartography.

Stabius’ friend and colleague Johannes Werner also studied in Ingolstadt before moving to and settling in Nürnberg. One of the few astronomical writing of Copernicus, apart from De revolutionibus, that exist is the so-called Letter against Werner in which Copernicus harshly criticised Werner’s Motion of the Eighth Sphere an essay on the theory of precession of the equinox.

Another graduate of Ingolstadt was Johannes Stöffler (1452–1531), who having had a successful career as an astronomer, astrologer and globe and instrument maker was appointed the first professor of mathematics at the University of Tübingen.


The Old Auditorium University of Tübingen Source: Wikimedia Commons

Amongst his student were Sebastian Münster (1488–1552) the most important cosmographer of the sixteenth century and Philipp Melanchthon (1497–1560), who as a enthusiastic fan of astrology established chairs for mathematics and astronomy at all of the protestant schools and universities that he established starting in Wittenberg, where the first professor for lower mathematic was Jakob Milich (1501–1559) another graduate of the University of Vienna. Milich’s fellow professor for astronomy in Wittenberg Johannes Volmar (?–1536), who started his studies in Krakow. The successors to Milich and Volmar were Georg Joachim Rheticus (1514–1574) and Erasmus Reinhold (1511–1553).

Another Melanchthon appointment was the first professor for mathematics on the Egidien Obere Schule in Nürnberg, (Germany’s first gymnasium), the globe maker Johannes Schöner (1477–1547), who would play a central role in the heliocentricity story. Schöner had learnt his mathematics at the university of Erfurt, one of the few German universities with a reputation for mathematics in the fifteenth century. When Regiomontanus moved from Budapest to Nürnberg he explained his reasons for doing so in a letter to the Rector of Erfurt University, the mathematician Christian Roder, asking him for his active support in his reform programme.

The Catholic universities would have to wait for Christoph Clavius (1538–1612) at the end of the sixteenth century before they received dedicated chairs for astronomy to match the Lutheran Protestant institutions. However, there were exceptions. In Leuven, where he was actually professor for medicine, Gemma Frisius (1508–1555) taught astronomy, astrology, cartography and mathematics. Amongst his long list of influential pupils we find Johannes Stadius (1527–1579), Gerhard Mercator (1512–1594) and John Dee (1527–1609). In France, François I appointed Oronce Fine (1494–1555) Royal lecturer for mathematics at the University of Paris. He was not a very impressive mathematician or astronomer but a highly influential teacher and textbook author. In Portugal, Pedro Nunes (1502–1578) was appointed the first professor of mathematics at the university of Coimbra as well as to the position of Royal Cosmographer.


The University of Coimbra Palace Gate. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Over the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the mathematical sciences, driven mainly by astrology and cartography, established themselves in the European universities, where the professors and lecturers, as we shall see, played a central role in the reform and renewal of astronomy.








Filed under History of Astrology, History of Astronomy, History of Cartography, History of medicine, Renaissance Science

The emergence of modern astronomy – a complex mosaic: Part II

You can read Part I here

Before we progress we need to take stock and deal with a couple of points that came up in a comment to Part I. This series is about the factors that led to the emergence of heliocentricity in Europe in the Early Modern Period. It doesn’t deal with any of the factors from earlier periods and other cultures that also explicitly and implicitly flowed into European astronomy. If one were to include all of those, it would be a total history of western astronomy that doesn’t even start in the West but in Babylon in about 2000 BCE. That is not what I intend to write and I won’t be doing so.

The other appears to contradict what I said above. At my starting point circa 1400 CE people became aware of a need to increase their usage of mathematical astronomy for a number of reasons that I sketched in Part I. Ptolemaic mathematical astronomy had been available in Europe in two Latin translations, the first from Greek the second from Arabic, since the twelfth century. However, medieval Europeans in general lacked the mathematical knowledge and to some extent the motivation to engage with this highly technical work. The much simpler available astronomical tables, mostly from Islamic sources, fulfilled their needs at that time. It was only really at the beginning of the fifteenth century that a need was seen to engage more fully with real mathematical astronomy. Having said that, at the beginning the users were not truly aware of the fact that the models and tables that they had inherited from the Greeks and from Islamic culture were inaccurate and in some cases defective. Initially they continued to use this material in their own endeavours, only gradually becoming aware of its deficiencies and the need to reform. As in all phases of the history of science these changes do not take place overnight but usually take decades and sometimes even centuries. Science is essential conservative and has a strong tendency to resist change, preferring to stick to tradition. In our case it would take about 150 years from the translation of Ptolemaeus’ Geographiainto Latin, my starting point, and the start of a full-scale reform programme for astronomy. Although, as we will see, such a programme was launched much earlier but collapsed following the early death of its initiator.

Going into some detail on points from the first post. I listed Peuerbach’s Theoricarum novarum planetarum(New Planetary Theory), published by Regiomontanus in Nürnberg in 1472, as an important development in astronomy in the fifteenth century, which it was. For centuries it was thought that this was a totally original work from Peuerbach, however, the Arabic manuscript of a cosmology from Ptolemaeus was discovered in the 1960s and it became clear that Peuerbach had merely modernised Ptolemaeus’ work for which he must have had a manuscript that then went missing. Many of the improvements in Peuerbach’s and Regiomontanus’ epitome of Ptolemaeus’ Almagest also came from the work of Islamic astronomers, which they mostly credit. Another work from the 1st Viennese School was Regiomontanus’ De Triangulis omnimodis Libri Quinque (On Triangles), written in 1464 but first edited by Johannes Schöner and published by Johannes Petreius in Nürnberg in1533.


Title page of a later edition of Regiomontanus’ On Triangle

This was the first comprehensive textbook on trigonometry, the mathematics of astronomy, published in Europe. However, the Persian scholar Abū al-Wafā Būzhjānī (940–988) had already published a similar work in Arabic in the tenth century, which of course raises the question to what extent Regiomontanus borrowed from or plagiarised Abū al-Wafā.

These are just three examples but they should clearly illustrate that in the fifteenth and even in the early sixteenth centuries European astronomers still lagged well behind their Greek and Islamic predecessors and needed to play catch up and they needed to catch up with those predecessors before they could supersede them.

After ten years of travelling through Italy and Hungary, Regiomontanus moved from Budapest to Nürnberg in order to undertake a major reform of astronomy.


City of Nürnberg Nuremberg Chronicles Workshop of Michael Wohlgemut Printed by Aton Koberger and published in Nürnberg in 1493

He argued that astrological prognostications were inaccurate because the astronomical data on which they were based was also inaccurate, which it indeed was. He had an ambitious two part programme; firstly to print and publish critical editions of the astronomical and astrological literature, the manuscripts of which he had collected on his travels, and secondly to undertake a new substantial programme of accurate astronomical observations. He tells us that he had chosen Nürnberg because it made the best scientific instruments and because as a major trading centre it had an extensive communications network. The latter was necessary because he was aware that he could not complete this ambitious programme alone but would need to cooperate with other astronomers.

Arriving in Nürnberg, he began to cooperate with a resident trading agent, Bernhard Walther, the two of them setting up the world’s first printing press for scientific literature. The first publication was Peuerbach’s Theoricae novae planetarum (New Planetary Theory)


followed by an ambitious catalogue of planned future publications from the astrological and astronomical literature. Unfortunately they only managed another seven publications before Regiomontanus was summoned to Rome by the Pope to work on a calendar reform in 1475, a journey from which he never returned dying under unknown circumstances, sometime in 1476. The planned observation programme never really got of the ground although Walther continued making observations, a few of which were eventually used by Copernicus in his De revolutionibus.

Regiomontanus did succeed in printing and publishing his Ephemerides in 1474, a set of planetary tables, which clearly exceeded in accuracy all previous planetary tables that had been available and went on to become a scientific bestseller.


However he didn’t succeed in printing and publishing the Epytoma in almagesti Ptolemei; this task was left to another important early publisher of scientific texts, Erhard Ratdolt (1447–1528, who completed the task in Venice twenty years after Regiomontanus’ death. Ratdolt also published Regiomontanus’ astrological calendars an important source for medical astrology.


Calendarius by Regiomontanus, printed by Erhard Ratdolt, Venice 1478, title page with printers’ names Source: Wikimedia Commons

The first printed edition of Ptolemaeus’ Geographia with maps was published in Bologna in 1477; it was followed by several other editions in the fifteenth century including the first one north of the Alps in Ulm in 1482.

The re-invention of moveable type printing by Guttenberg in about 1450 was already having a marked effect on the revival and reform of mathematical astronomy in Early Modern Europe.






Filed under Early Scientific Publishing, History of Astronomy, History of Cartography, History of Mathematics, Uncategorized

Matthew Flinders and the naming of Australia

The media, in particular the UK media, has gone into feeding frenzy mode about the discovery of the grave of the eighteenth century English seaman Matthew Flinders (1774–1814), during excavation near Euston station in London for the construction of the highly controversial HS2 railway link. Flinders was the first European to circumnavigate Australia; a feat he only managed thanks to the services of a native Australian, Bungaree (1775-1830) of the Kuringgai people. The use of local guides and navigators was common practice by European explorers, both Vasco da Gama and James cook did it, a fact too often ignored by other Europeans writing about their achievements.


Bungaree by Augustus Earle (1826) Source: Wikimedia Commons

Nearly all the social media reports that I have seen also give Flinders credit for having given Australia its name; this is quite simply wrong. The Latin name Terra Australis comes from the Latin auster for southern wind so literally Land of the Southern Wind. It comes from the ancient Greek cosmographers. For the Greeks their world was the oikoumenikos that is the Euro-Asian landmass with part of North Africa. As the Earth was a sphere in order to balance it, so to speak, they hypothesised an equally large southern landmass, which became in Latin Terra Australis, which one can also translate as the southern continent. Nobody knew where it was or even if it existed but the concept became a fixed feature of European culture.

Later European cartographers would often place it somewhere in the southern hemisphere. On his 1515 terrestrial globe, the first to name the newly discovered fourth part of the world America, Johannes Schöner placed it below the southern tip of the newly discovered continent leading some to speculate that he knew of the existence on the Straights of Magellan several years before they were discovered by the Portuguese.

When Flinders circumnavigated Australia the landmass was mostly known to Europeans as New Holland, the Dutch being the first Europeans to discover it. Flinders was not even the first to suggest naming it Australia. That honour appears to go to Alexander Dalrymple (1737–1808) in his 1771 book Historical Collection of the Several Voyages and Discoveries in the South Pacific Ocean, a book that Flinders knew. The name Australia was also used in 1793 by the botanists George Shaw (1751–1813) and James Smith (1759–1828) in their book Zoology and Botany of New Holland, where they wrote: “the vast island, or rather continent, of Australia, Australasia or New Holland.”


Map of the voyages of Matthew Flinders in the Investigator. Drawn using Inkscape. Base map AUS_locator_map.svg by user:Yarl.* Adapted from illustrations in Australian Navigators by Robert Tiley ISBN 0731811186 Source: Wikimedia Commons

Flinders explained his use of the name Australia in a letter to Joseph Banks, who had been on Cooks expedition when he discovered the east coast of the continent and was now President of the Royal Society.

The propriety of the name Australia or Terra Australis, which I have applied to the whole body of what has generally been called New Holland, must be submitted to the approbation of the Admiralty and the learned in geography. It seems to me an inconsistent thing that captain Cooks New South Wales should be absorbed in the New Holland of the Dutch, and therefore I have reverted to the original name Terra Australis or the Great South Land, by which it was distinguished even by the Dutch during the 17th century; for it appears that it was not until some time after Tasman’s second voyage that the name New Holland was first applied, and then it was long before it displaced T’Zuydt Landt in the charts, and could not extend to what was not yet known to have existence; New South Wales, therefore, ought to remain distinct from New Holland; but as it is requisite that the whole body should have one general name, since it is now known (if there is no great error in the Dutch part) that it is certainly all one land, so I judge, that one less exceptionable to all parties and on all accounts cannot be found than that now applied.

Banks did not approve of Flinders’ suggestion and in the preface to Flinders’ 1814 book A Voyage to Terra Australis, effectively published posthumously, Banks wrote:

It was not until after Tasman’s second voyage, in 1644, that the general name Terra Australis, or Great South Land, was made to give place to the new term of New Holland; and it was then applied only to the parts lying westward of a meridian line, passing through Arnhem’s Land on the north, and near the Isles St Peter and St Francis on the south: All to the eastward, including the shores of the Gulph of Carpentaria, still remained Terra Australis. This appears from a chart by Thevenot in 1663, which he says “was originally taken from that done in inlaid work upon the pavement of the new Stadt House at Amsterdam”. It is necessary, however, to geographical precision that the whole of this great body of land should be distinguished by one general term, and under the circumstances of the discovery of the different parts, the original Terra Australis has been judged the most proper. Of this term, therefore, we shall hereafter make use when speaking of New Holland and New South Wales in a collective sense; and when using it in an extensive signification, the adjacent isles, including that of Van Diemen, must be understood to be comprehended.


A Complete map of the Southern Continent survey’d by Capt. Abel Tasman & depicted by order of the East India Company in Holland in the Stadt House at Amsterdam; E. Bowen Created 1774 Source: Wikimedia Commons

However Lachlan Macquarie, the Governor of New South Wales from 1810 till 1820 began to use the name Australia in his dispatches to England. In 1817 he recommended to the Colonial Office that the name should be adopted and in 1824 the British Admiralty agreed to the continent being officially known as Australia. Flinders certainly played an important role in the southern continent receiving the name Australia but he did not name it. It should be also noted that politics, the denying of Holland’s role in the European discovery of Australia, played a central role in the story.

A few days ago I stumbled across this cartoon on Facebook, which I think makes for a suitable comment on the whole discussion on the discovery and naming of Australia.



Filed under History of Cartography

The emergence of modern astronomy – a complex mosaic: Part I

I have recently been involved in more that one exchange on the subject as to what tipped the scales in favour of heliocentricity against geocentricity in the Early Modern Period. People have a tendency to want to pin it down to one crucial discovery, observation or publication but in reality it was a very gradual process that took place over a period of at least three hundred and fifty years and involved a very large number of people. In what follows I intend to sketch that process listing some, but probably not all, of the people involved. My list might appear to include people, who at first might not appear to have contributed to the emergence of modern astronomy if one just considers heliocentricity. However, all of those who raised the profile of astronomy and emphasised its utility in the Early Modern Period raised the demand for better and more accurate astronomical data and improved models to produce it. The inclusion of all these factors doesn’t produce some sort of linear progress but more a complex mosaic of many elements some small, some simple, some large and some spectacular but it is not just the spectacular elements that tells the story but a sum of all the elements. So I have cast my nets very wide.

The first question that occurs is where to start. One could go back all the way to Aristarchus of Samos (c.310–c.230 BCE) but although he and his heliocentric theories were revived in the Early Modern Period, it was largely with hindsight and he played no real role in the emergence of heliocentricity in that time. However, we should definitely give a nod to Martianus Capella (fl.c. 410–420), whose cosmos model with Mercury and Venus orbiting the Sun in an otherwise geocentric model was very widespread and very popular in the Middle Ages and who was quoted positively by Copernicus.


The Capellan system Source: Manuscript Florenz, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, San Marco 190, fol. 102r (11th century) via Wikimedia Commons

Another nod goes to Jean Buridan (c.1300–c.1358/61), Nicole Oresme (c.1320-1325–1382), Pierre d’Ailly (1351–1420) and Nicholas of Cusa (1401–1464) all of whom were well-known medieval scholars, who discussed the model of geocentrism with diurnal rotation, a model that was an important step towards the acceptance of heliocentricity.

I start with a figure, who most would probably not have on the radar in this context, Jacopo d’Angelo (c.1360–1411). He produced the first Latin translation of Ptolemaeus’ Geōgraphikḕ Hyphḗgēsis(Geographiaor Cosmographia) in Florence in 1406.


Manuscript: d’Angelo’s translation of Ptolemy’s Geography Source: Scan from Nancy Library (Hosted at Wikicommons, early 15th century).

This introduced a new concept of cartography into Europe based on a longitude and latitude grid, the determination of which requires accurate astronomical data. Mathematical, astronomy based cartography was one of the major forces driving the reform or renewal of astronomy in the Early Modern Period. Another major force was astrology, in particular astro-medicine or as it was known iatromathematics, which was in this period the mainstream school medicine in Europe. Several of the astronomy reformers, most notably Regiomontanus and Tycho, explicitly stated that a reform of astronomy was necessary in order to improve astrological prognostications. A third major driving force was navigation. The Early Modern Period includes the so call great age of discovery, which like mathematical cartography was astronomy based. Slightly more nebulous and indirect were new forms of warfare, another driving force for better cartography as well as the collapse of the feudal system leading to new forms of land owner ship, which required better surveying methods, also mathematical, astronomy based. As I pointed out in an earlier post the people working in these diverse fields were very often one and the same person the Renaissance mathematicus, who was an astrologer, astronomer, cartographer, surveyor or even physician.

Our next significant figure is Paolo dal Pozzo Toscanelli (1397–1482), like Jacopo d’Angelo from Florence, a physician, astrologer, astronomer, mathematician and cosmographer.


Paolo dal Pozzo Toscanelli. Detail taken from the 19th century honorary monument to Columbus, Vespucci and Toscanelli dal Pozzo in the Basilica di Santa Croce in Florence (Italy). Source: Wikimedia Commons

Most famous for his so-called Columbus world map, which confirmed Columbus’ erroneous theory of the size of the globe. In our context Toscanelli is more important for his observation of comets. He was the first astronomer in the Early Modern Period to treat comets as astronomical, supralunar objects and try to record and measure their trajectories. This was contrary to the ruling opinion of the time inherited from Aristotle that comets were sublunar, meteorological phenomena. Toscanelli did not publish his observations but he was an active member of a circle of mathematically inclined scholars that included Nicholas of Cusa, Giovanni Bianchini (1410 – c.1469), Leone Battista Alberti (1404 – 1472),Fillipo Brunelleschi (1377 – 1446) and most importantly a young Georg Peuerbach (1423–1461) with whom he probably discussed his ideas.

Here it is perhaps important to note that the mathematical practitioners in the Early Modern Period did not live and work in isolation but were extensively networked, often far beyond regional or national boundaries. They communicated extensively with each other, sometimes in person, but most often by letter. They read each other’s works, both published and unpublished, quoted and plagiarised each other. The spread of mathematical knowledge in this period was widespread and often surprisingly rapid.

We now turn from Northern Italy to Vienna and its university. Founded in 1365, in 1384 it came under the influence of Heinrich von Langenstein (1325–1397), a leading scholar expelled from the Sorbonne in Paris, who introduced the study of astronomy to the university, not necessarily normal at the time.


Probably Heinrich von Langenstein (1325-1397), Book illumination im Rationale divinorum officiorum des Wilhelmus Durandus, circa 1395 Source: Archiv der Universität Wien, Bildarchiv Signatur: 106.I.1840 1395

Heinrich was followed by Johannes von Gmunden (c.1380–1442) who firmly established the study of astronomy and is regarded as the founder of the 1stViennese School of Mathematics.


Johannes von Gmunden Calendar Nürnberg 1496 Source: Wikimedia Commons

Georg Peuerbach the next member of the school continued the tradition of astronomical studies established by Heinrich and Gmunden together with his most famous student Johannes Regiomontanus.


Johannes Regiomontanus Source: Wikimedia Commons

It can’t be a coincidence that Peuerbach and Regiomontanus extended Toscanneli’s work on comets, with Regiomontanus even writing a pamphlet on the determination of parallax of a moving comet, which was only publish posthumously in the sixteenth century. The two Viennese astronomers also designed and constructed improved astronomical instruments, modernised the trigonometry necessary for astronomical calculations and most importantly with Peuerbach’s Theoricarum novarum planetarum(New Planetary Theory),


Georg von Peuerbach, Theoricae novae planetarum, Edition Paris 1515 Source: Wikimedia Commons

first published by Regiomontanus in Nürnberg in 1472, and their joint Epytoma in almagesti Ptolemei, a modernised, shortened improved edition of Ptolemaeus’ Syntaxis Mathematiké


Epytoma in almagesti Ptolemei: Source

first published by Ratdolt in Venice in 1496, produced the standard astronomy textbooks for the period right up into the seventeenth century.

The work on the Viennese School very much laid the foundations for the evolution of the modern astronomy and was one of the processes anchoring the ‘modern’ study of astronomy an the European universities, How the journey continues will be told in Part II of this series.











Filed under Early Scientific Publishing, History of Astrology, History of Astronomy, History of Cartography, History of Mathematics, Renaissance Science, University History