Marginalia
This is marginalia written on the blank page placed right before The Fairy-Queen’s title page. The ink suggests that it was written longer ago, considering the florid script and that it was written in ink. Most of the other marginalia in the pamphlet, notably, are written in pencil. The writing, transcribed, says: “The following opera is taken from Shakespeare Midsummers Nights Dream the music by Purcell.” It is interesting that whomever owned this pamphlet decided to write in that Henry Purcell composed the music for the opera, considering that this text is only the libretto of the opera, and thus does not feature the score or musical notes of any kind. In fact, the score was lost for a while shortly following Purcell’s death in 1695.
This is an interesting case in which the question of readership transcends passive reading and instead does more with the text. After all, to read like a Renaissance reader is to interact with the text. The acknowledgment of Purcell shows that the reader had some greater knowledge of the play—perhaps he or she had even gone to see it. Then there is the credit to Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which not only shows that the owner is well versed in literature but that Shakespeare was already the figurehead of literature at the time that the reader marked in his or her pamphlet. Regardless, it is remarkable that this owner found it important to give credit where credit was due, by establishing authorship in the composer and crediting the work the text derived from.
Readers in the renaissance did not passively read their texts; they wrote while reading. As such, many books from this time period are marked with handwritten marginalia. This practice did not exclude religious or sacred texts in the slightest as bibles were the most common book to own and were often used as a tool to learn to read. This particular copy of the New Testament has no handwritten marginalia—not in the space between the various translations of the text nor in the front nor back of the book. This lack of marginalia does not necessarily indicate a more passive reading style. Often renaissance readers would make use of commonplace books or other external paper sources to actively engage with their texts. This particular bible had a handmade booklet stuck in its pages. Made of just a few pages sewn together, it includes a history of John the Baptist as well as some math work. The piece is also dated and numbered, suggesting that at some point more of these booklets existed. This booklet suggests that while this bible holds not evidence on its pages of active reading, it was still likely used for someone’s education like many bibles were.
What I find interesting about this book is its myriad of remedies on various subjects from how to cure headaches, fever, cramps, dropsies, and bad foot odor. Some remedies document the source, or witness. Most entries in each of the ten books show signs of ownership. This book appears to have been well used, and shows use in the household. This is evidenced by the different names that appear next to the remedies over and over. There is a lot of signature and letter practicing as well. It is interesting to see what is prescribed for a particular ailment. Usually after each entry Lupton reiterates the cure’s validity. I feel that it is safe to assume that these paratextual and marginal elements is a testament to use and ownership of books during this time period. The table of contents is essentially useless to someone who was trying to find a remedy in a time of emergency. The table is divided into books and primarily by page number. The page numbers and each specific remedy is quite a bit smaller than the title, which is not very helpful if say, a housewife needed to access this text in hopes of finding a timely, lifesaving cure. By the large amounts of marginalia it would seem that the constant study and mark up of this book made it a useful technology.
A Brief and Most Easy Introduction to the Astrological Judgement of the Stars by Claude Dariot, translated by Fabian Wither, is a book on astrology, using the alignment and, at times, the physics of the stars to correlate those positions and movements to the everyday activities and expectations of 1500s society. This is a particularly interesting item due to its intense marginalia. Though it is not present on every page, there are detailed notes on some pages’ margins or on empty pages, including an elaborate, personal astrological chart for the reader. Not only that, but the book itself is interesting because the book contains two texts: Dariot’s and that of G.C., a gentleman of London who augments and elaborates on Dariot’s work in addition to producing his own section at the end on the Mathematics of astrology, with no recognition or credit to Dariot’s work which precedes it. There are also many essays on Dariot’s part that use the stars to justify certain expectations of early modern society. This exhibits a theme of Authorship and Readership, as who is really the author—Dariot in Latin, Wither as the translator, or G.C. in his augmentation (or all three)? Then again, is the reader writing the marginalia only a reader, or has he himself become an author or even an augmenter, despite it being used for (presumably) personal use? The lines of authorship and readership are tricky when looking at marginalia, translation, and publishing another work with Dariot’s.
Alicati’s Emblemata is a miniature book, and it easily fits in the palm of one’s hand. The weathered leather cover features two small holes that the owner of the book most likely created. These holes would allow the owner to tie the book shut, suggesting that the book was carried around.
The first page of the book was originally blank, until the reader wrote illegibly. This writing could have been the reader claiming ownership of the book, taking notes, or practicing penmanship. Whichever the case, clearly the owner saw the book as more than something than simply to be read, but something to be used.