the British and American patent reports, will find specifications
of inventions in typography that are much more absurd. There can be
no doubt of their use. Koning cites one M. Fleischman, who had not
only seen conjoined matrices in the type-foundry of C. Hardwich, of
Nuremberg, but had experimentally cast types from them in an old mould
that appears to have been made for this express purpose. Speckelinus,
Paul Pater, Meerman, Schoepflin, Spiegel, and other early chroniclers,
have specifically mentioned types pierced with a hole, and bound
together with wire. These so-called types were either punches or
matrices. Koning, _l’Origine, etc., de l’imprimerie_, p. 12.
[161] Benjamin Franklin, in his autobiography, has given a curious
description of his attempt to supply his defective printing office with
types cast in matrices of lead:
“Our printing house often wanted sorts, and there was no
letter-foundry in America; I had seen types cast at James’s in London,
but without much attention to the matter; however, _I contrived a
mould_, and made use of the letters we had as puncheons, _struck the
matrices in lead_, and thus supplied in a pretty tolerable way all
deficiencies. I also engraved several things on occasion; made the
ink; I was warehouse-man, and, in short, quite a factotum.”
[162] _Dissertation sur l’origine, l’invention, etc., de l’imprimerie_,
p. 18.
[163] It has been shown that book types must be on square bodies. As
a necessary consequence every form of types must be squared. If the
lines of types in any page are not of uniform length in the metal, and
the page is not truly squared, the form cannot be handled nor printed.
But although the lines are of uniform length in the metal, they do not
always appear so in print. The last line of a paragraph is frequently
short; lines of poetry are always of an irregular length. To make the
form square, and yet produce this desired irregularity at the end of
every short line, the compositor inserts metal blanks, technically
known as quadrats. As these blanks are about one-third shorter than the
letters, they are not touched by the inking roller; they receive no ink
and take no impression, and are consequently invisible to the reader.
Quadrats are now regarded as an indispensable part of every font of
types, but the appearance of the _Speculum_ shows that the printer of
the book had to do his work without them. That he knew the utility of
quadrats is apparent, for he used low types as spaces between words.
His imperfect press compelled him to reject quadrats at the end of
short lines, and to fill the blanks with bearers.
[164] To protect types in places similarly exposed, stereotypers
insert at the extreme ends of short lines types of flat face expressly
designed for this object, which are usually known as guards. When the
plates have been made perfect in other points, the guards are no longer
needed, and are cut away. When books were printed on hand presses
during the first half of this century, pressmen sometimes pasted on or
tacked on thin strips of wood around the forms of types to shield the
ends of lines from injury. It is a strange surprise to encounter this
modern method of protecting types from injury in one of the earliest
books.
[165] A paper-mark is an opaque design on the web of the paper, placed
there to enable the buyer to identify a particular manufacture. It is
made by bending the wires on which the moist pulp is couched in some
peculiar shape which leaves its impression on the paper when it is
perfected. Certain sizes of paper are even now known by the names of
marks that are no longer used. Foolscap once bore the mark of a fool’s
head with cap and bells; Post once had the mark of a post-boy’s horn.
Paper-marks are now made chiefly for the finer qualities of writing
papers. The illustrations of old paper-marks, on the following pages,
were taken from Koning, and are about one-eighth of the original size.
[166] Water-marks have much less weight in bibliography than some
writers have attributed to them. In very few instances can a prime
limit be fixed for their use; and, as the marks might be repeated,
and the paper itself kept for any length of time, and imported to any
place, they cannot be used as evidence either of the date when, or
place where, they passed through the press. Blades, _William Caxton_,
vol. II, p. XVIII.—The results of the examination of the paper-marks
are, for the present, mostly negative. Van der Linde, _Haarlem Legend_,
p. 86.
[167] Hessels, _Haarlem Legend_, p. xvii.
[168] _Haarlem Legend_, p. 35.
[169] Bernard, _De l’origine et des débuts de l’imprimerie_, vol. I,
pp. 97 and 98.
[170] Bernard, _De l’origine et des débuts de l’imprimerie_, vol. I. p.
98.
[171] The phrase could be applied to the forms of the letters in the
books, without regard to the quality or any peculiarity of the printing
or the binding. Two forms of writing were then in use: one, a black
angular, and somewhat condensed form of Gothic character, which is
defined in Fournier’s _Manuel typographique_ as _lettres de forme_, or
letters of precision; the other, a round, light-faced, more careless
and more popular form of letters, named by him as _lettres de somme_.
To this day, carefully written but disconnected letters, whether
upright or inclined, are colloquially known as _print_ letters. The
doctrinal which was put in form may have been written in _lettres de
forme_. The phrase _getté en molle_ could have been fairly applied to
these precise letters, in contradistinction to the more careless shapes
of the _lettres de somme_.
[172] Leon de Bubure, in a paper published in the _Bulletins de
l’académie royale de Belgique_, 2d series, vol. VIII, No. 11, shows
that printing was practised at Antwerp as early as 1417. He submits
an extract from the records of the city in which it appears that one
Jan the printer publicly acknowledged, August 5th, 1417, that he was
indebted to William Tserneels, manufacturer of parchment, in the sum
of 2 pounds 12 shillings 4 pence, for which he bound himself and his
chattels. It seems that this Jan the printer received a very liberal
credit, for there are other acknowledgments of obligations for larger
amounts, all incurred in 1417. After this date his name does not again
appear on the record.
[173] Van der Meersch, _Imprimeurs Belges et Neèrlandais_, vol. I, p.
92.
[174] Some of the evidences that have been adduced to prove the
priority of typographic printing in the Netherlands are really
ludicrous. In 1777, Desroches, a member of the Academy of Brussels,
published a pamphlet, in which he undertook to prove that the art
of printing books was practised in Flanders in the beginning of the
fourteenth century. His authority was an old rhymed chronicle of
Brabant, written by Nicholas, clerk of the city of Antwerp. In that
part of the chronicle which narrated events before 1313, it is stated
of one Ludwig, that “He was one of the first who discovered the method
of Stamping which is in use to this day.” Desroches construed the
word _Stampien_ as printing. But the context shows that this Ludwig
was a fiddler, and that he had invented nothing more than a method of
beating time by stamping with the foot. In other examples which might
be adduced, it is plain that the word translated as printing does not
mean printing with ink. This word has been made to serve in notices of
embossing, stamping, stenciling and moulding.
[175] Hessel’s translation, as given in _The Haarlem Legend_ of Van der
Linde, p. 8.
[176] Van der Linde takes exception to this part of the chronicle. He
says that Zell’s knowledge of geography was confused, and that he wrote
Holland where he should have written the Netherlands. His reasons for
suggesting this correction are, that the manufacture of block-books
and the prints of images, and the cultivation of literature and of
literary arts, during the first half of the fifteenth century, were
in their most flourishing condition in the cities of Bruges, Antwerp,
Brussels and Louvain, all of the Southern Netherlands, while they were
comparatively neglected in Haarlem, Leyden, Delft and Utrecht, of the
Northern Netherlands. At that period Holland had not taken its place
as the foremost state of Europe, in its championship of liberty and
civilization.
[177] Van der Linde, _Haarlem Legend_, p. 66.
[178] Behold what favor is due to the writing! Compare work with
work and examine copy with copy [i. e. notice the uniformity of the
letters]. Consider how clearly, how neatly, how handsomely, John Brito,
a citizen of Bruges, prints these works, having discovered a very
wonderful art, nobody having instructed him, and the very astonishing
implements also, not less praiseworthy.
[179] Van Praet says that the word _imprimit_, or printed, was
frequently used by the scribes and copyists of that period as the
equivalent of _scripsit_, or wrote. It was also used to describe
painting by stencils. _Notice sur Colard Mansion_, p. 11.
[180] The same face of types was used by Machlinia of London. It would
seem that Veldener was not only working as a printer, but that, even at
this date, he was doing business, to some extent, as a manufacturer of
types for the trade.
[181] The date usually assigned for the introduction of printing in
Cologne is 1466, but some authors suppose, and Hessels and Madden say
it is probable, that Ulric Zell began to print there as early as 1462.
[182] We have in this country two remarkable illustrations of attempts
to make types by men who had no experience in type-founding. Benjamin
Franklin’s experiment is mentioned in the note on page 303. In 1794,
Wing and White of Hartford, men entirely ignorant of type-founding,
undertook to make type, never having seen a type-mould.
[183] Hessel’s translation as given in the _Haarlem Legend_, p. 50.
[184] The comments of a modern critic on the strange omissions of this
positive statement are to the point:
“This forgetfulness of Coornhert has always seemed to me one of the
most striking peculiarities of the Haarlem legend. How can it be! Here
is a man, very learned, very patriotic, who appreciates the importance
of the discovery, who contends with zeal to establish for his country
the honor of being the cradle of the greatest of modern inventions.
He knows the name, the family name and the family of the inventor,
and he does not divulge them to his fellow-citizens! This surpasses
belief. And what shall we say of the burgomaster Van Zuren? He writes
a special treatise to retrieve the glory of the invention to the honor
of the city of which he is a magistrate, but it never occurs to him
that he should honor the memory of the inventor—I will not say by a
monument of some kind, for that might be demanding altogether too
much—but at least by a mention, by some souvenir, by giving his name
to some street, or still less, by a simple record in a book. It is not
possible to find another example of a forgetfulness so incredible.” C.
Ruelens, _Bibliophile Belge_, vol. III, 1868.
[185] Ottley’s translation as quoted in Johnson’s _Typographia_, vol.
I, 12.
[186] An attempted play or pun on the Latin _faustus_, happy. But the
German printer’s name was not Faust, but Fust. This pun was the origin
of the error.
[187] In Junius’s description of the thief, there is a strange
confusion of singular and plural. Beginning with the specification
of one John as the thief, the story ends with an intimation that
there were two thieves. This substitution of _they_ for _he_ is not a
typographical error, nor is it a slip of the pen. It seems to have been
intended to sustain the insinuation of the complicity of Fust in this
theft.
[188] The full title of the book from which this translation was made
is _Hadriani Ivnii Hornani, Medici Batavia. In qua præter gentis
& insulæ antiquitatem, originem, decora, mores, aliaque, ad eam
historiam pertinantia, declaratur quæ fuerit vetus Batavia. Ex. offic.
Plantiniana,_ 1588, 4to. Hadrianus Junius was born at Hoorn, in the
year 1511. His education, as a boy, was received at a grammar school
in Haarlem; as a young man at the university of Louvain. In 1537, with
one Martin Costerus, he made a tour in foreign countries. In 1540
he obtained from the university of Bologna the degree of doctor of
medicine. Two years afterward he was living in Paris. In 1543 he went
to England, and for six years succeeding, he was employed as physician
to the duke of Norfolk. Soon after the death of the duke, he published
in London a Greek lexicon, which enhanced his reputation as a scholar,
but did not mend his fortunes. In 1559 he returned to Haarlem, where he
married a lady of wealth. Three years after his marriage he accepted
the appointment of tutor to the crown prince of Denmark, but finding
finding that the position or the climate was disagreeable, he resigned
the office. In 1563 he was appointed town physician, and rector of
the Latin grammar school at Haarlem, which appointments he held until
1569. About this period he wrote _Nomenclator_, a lexicon in eight
languages, and _Batavia_, a description of Holland. At various times
he was formally invited to enter the service of the kings of Hungary,
Poland and Denmark. William of Orange sent front Delft for his services
as a physican: at a meeting of the deputies from the States, he
nominated Junius as the historian of Holland. In 1574 he was made town
physican at Middleburg, with a liberal salary and a free living. When
Haarlem was captured in 1573 by the Spaniards, the library of Junius
was plundered, and many of his manuscripts were destroyed. He took
this calamity greatly to heart, and died at Arnemuiden in 1575. Justus
Lipsius said he was the most learned Netherlander after Erasmus.
[189] The publication of _Batavia_, the work upon which the fame of
Junius rests, seems to have been suggested to William of Orange by
Junius himself, who expected to receive from the States a salary for
his services as historian. In 1565, the question of salary, first
named at 200 pounds of 40 groots, was put to vote. The prudence of
the Dutch character is shown in the deliberations of the deputies.
Haarlem, Delft, Leyden, and Gouda assented; Dordrecht and Amsterdam
requested time for its consideration. Dordrecht afterward consented,
but on condition that the money should be paid out of the taxes; that
Junius should publish a volume every year; and that he should publish
nothing without the approval of the States. In the meantime other
States receded from their action, saying that the publication was
ill-timed during a period of general distress. After some influences
had been used, the States gave a grudging and qualified assent. In
1570, Junius petitioned for the payment of 200 guilders, as he had then
finished the first book of the history. The petition was not favorably
received, and its consideration was postponed for one year, at which
time it was finally decided by the deputies to pay Junius 300 guilders,
to prohibit him from publishing the first volume of the book with a
dedication to the States, and to release him from all obligation to
continue the work. This disparaging treatment of the author prevented
the publication of the book with the completeness and at the time
Junius had proposed. After his death the manuscripts of _Batavia_ were
collected and transcribed by his son Peter, who, with Peter Douza,
undertook the publication. The book was published during 1588, from the
office of Christopher Plantin, at Antwerp. The selection of a printer
in a neighboring city shows that there was then no competent printer at
Haarlem. It is another evidence of the indifference of the people of
Haarlem toward typography.
[190] He relates not as a legend, but as veritable history, that
the virgin Soter, who possessed but three pennies, gave them for
the building of a church in Dordrecht. Other three pennies were
miraculously and regularly found in her purse, and were as regularly
bestowed, until the church was built. He repeats, with simplicity,
the story of the eleven thousand virgins of Cologne, who came from
England to the now unknown port of Verona in Holland. He says that
a certain stone in a church in Leyden was once a loaf of bread, and
that the transubstantiation was made by a curse. He formally records
the delivery by one Margaret, countess of Hennenberg, of 365 babies—a
miracle, writes Van der Linde, “that makes you think of an upset pot of
shrimps.” Junius adds that this would be a miracle beyond belief, if it
had not been attested by the authority of public monuments . . . . but
he accepts the common belief. These examples of the credulousness of
the author of _Batavia_ warn us not to accept his criticisms on other
traditions. Junius begins his description of printing at Haarlem with a
solemn declaration of his intention to tell the truth. The declaration
of candor is not needed: what the reader of _Batavia_ does need is, not
the protestation of the intention of the author to tell the truth, but
some convincing evidence of his ability to distinguish the true from
the false. His preface is long, pedantic, and in every way irrelevant,
as may be inferred from a glance at the following classical names which
he has sprinkled in the first paragraph: Carneades, the Daughter of
Time, Democritus, Phœnicians and Egyptians, Cadmus, Athenians, Greeks
and Thebans, Cecrops, Philostratus, Linus, Tacitus, Palamedes, Hyginus,
Carmenta, Evander, Crassus, Scævola and Plutarch!
[191] In the year 1630, Adrien Rooman, of Haarlem, published a print
which contained the engraved representation of a printing office, to
which he put the words—“Invented at Haarlem about 1430;”—but “The
magistrates and citizens of Haarlem, in everlasting remembrance of the
event and the man,” erected a monument in front of the Coster house,
with an inscription on it, which fixed the date at 1440.
[192] Lambinet caustically observes that the romance of Junius obeys
the dramatic law of unity, in time, place, and hero; the typographic
art is invented complete in one day. The vague language of Junius has
been used as a proper warrant for a very liberal construction of the
date. When Van Lennep objected, in 1823, to the chimerical year of the
invention, 1423, fixed upon by a Haarlem committee, the synod enjoined
him: “If he will again carefully read the account of Junius, and not
forsake, out of his prejudice, all common sense, he will plainly see
himself, and be obliged to acknowledge, that Junius said not a single
word about the time of the invention.” Van der Linde, _The Haarlem
Legend_, p. 68.
[193] There has been much dispute concerning the functions of this
keeper. Junius says that this Lourens Janszoon was the keeper of a
church; that this keepership was an honorary office which belonged to
Coster’s family by hereditary right. The duties of the office seem
to have been those of a church trustee. Some writers say that this
custos was nothing more than a sexton, but it is of no moment whether
custos means sexton or trustee. The care with which Junius introduces
evidences of the respectability of Coster’s house and the dignity
of his family implies his fear that there might be, on the part of
a heedless reader, some doubt concerning the social position of a
custos. Nothing is said of the ancestors of Coster. Probably, there
was reason for this omission. Coster’s distinction in Haarlem was not
that of patrician blood. His wealth was not, so far as we can learn,
derived from any inheritance, nor could it have been acquired through
the emoluments of a custos, which was an honorary but not a lucrative
office. He had been engaged in some occupation which Junius considered
derogatory to his dignity. Of this occupation we shall hear more
hereafter.
[194] The assurances of his wealth, leisure and respectability seem
to have been provoked by the published statements, with which Junius
was familiar, that Gutenberg, the rival German inventor, was of noble
birth. It is not the only instance in which the Dutch legend is the
echo of the German history. The first coincidence is that Coster,
like Fust, was indebted to his son-in-law for valuable assistance in
perfecting typography. And both sons-in-law were named Peter.
[195] If Junius had not said that Coster changed the characters of wood
for letters of lead and of tin, and that the false workman was expert
in composing letters and in founding types, there might be some doubt
whether these characters of wood were made disconnected or conjoined.
His language is obscure, for he has used the words form and character
as the equivalent of type, where these words could be applied with
equal propriety to a letter engraved on a block. This obscurity was
not caused by the poverty of the Latin language, for he afterward
described types with clearness. There was obviously some confusion in
the mind of Junius. It is not certain that he clearly understood the
broad difference between typography and xylography; it is certain that
he intended to convey the idea that Coster was the inventor of printing
in its broadest sense—the inventor of printing from blocks as well as
from movable types. The absurdity of this broad claim must be obvious
to all who have read about early image prints and playing cards and the
printed fabrics of Italy and Sicily.
[196] The wine-flagons of Thomaszoon may have had some features which
carried conviction to the observer of the seventeenth century, but the
modern reader of the story will fail to see that they should have been
made of worn-out types. But the tin wine-flagons and the noticeable
house on the market-place are not to be despised. Useless as proofs of
the credibility of the legend of Junius, they illustrate to some extent
the pedigree of the Coster family, a pedigree with which Junius was
well acquainted, but for which he could find no place in his legend.
These wine-flagons were the pewter pots of a tavern about a century old.
[197] There were many Johns among the early printers of Mentz: John
Fust, John Gutenberg, John Petersheim, John Meydenbach. When it was
thought proper to acquit Fust of this accusation, John Gutenberg was
selected as the man; but the discovery of records which proved that
Gutenberg was making experiments in typography at Strasburg during the
year 1436, compelled the withdrawal also of this accusation. Meerman,
with a skill in casuistry equal to the occasion, then undertook to
prove that there were two Gutenbergs—brothers, but with different
surnames—Johan Gensfleisch, the elder, and Johan Gutenberg, the
younger; and that it was the elder brother who betrayed Coster and
revealed the secret to John Gutenberg. It was a weak artifice. German
historians have fully proved that Gutenberg’s brother Frielo had
nothing to do with typography; that John Gensfleisch, the elder, was an
uncle, not a brother,—old, rich and blind—of all men, most incapable of
any attempt at the purloining or practising of an intricate art like
printing. There is no evidence to inculpate Petersheim or Meydenbach.
[198] The story of theft is not only improbable, but it is unsupported
by external evidence. Jacobus Koning, a diligent searcher in the
archives of Haarlem, discovered that, on and after Christmas day, 1440,
the constabulary of Haarlem were often sent to Amsterdam upon important
business. The inference attempted is that the constables were in search
of the workman who stole Coster’s implements. The records do not say
that they were sent for a thief. Their business was of another nature.
There had been a great mortality in Haarlem, and the officers of the
town had left it while the pestilence was raging. The journeys of the
constables were made to the temporary residences of the magistrates
who, from a more healthy city, sent directions for the government of
the town. Koning knew this fact but suppressed it.