The Scottish astrologer James Bassantin, born during the reign of James IV, was what we would now term a hustler. He believed himself of a learnedness and sophistication befitting the highest intellectual circles of Renaissance Europe and would do anything to reach them. His devotion to astronomy, science, and mathematics and his particular fondness for the work of the humanist mathematician Petrus Apianus inspired him to produce a supernal treatise of his own. But Bassantin, the son of a Berwickshire laird, was no Copernicus, nor even a Petrus Apianus for that matter. So, lacking any real wisdom or insights, he opted for theatricality instead. His Astronomia, Opus absolutissimum, published in 1557, includes thirty-seven full-page woodcut astronomical figures, thirty-five volvelles, and numerous illustrations and scripts of such spellbinding detail and intricacy that wide-eyed awe is the only proper response. But closer inspection reveals that, though quite beautiful, scarcely any of his thirty-seven astronomical figures make any sense. Conceived less from science than from whimsy, this Opus absolutissimum is almost pure fantasy.
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