Rapidity of Printing—Who the first English Printer—Caxton the first
English Printer—First English Printed Book—Difficulties of the first
Printers—Ancient Bookbinding—The Printer a Publisher—Conditions of
Cheapness in Books.
At the end of the third book of Caxton's translation of the 'Recuyell of
the Historyes of Troye,' which we have so often quoted, is the following
most curious passage: "Thus end I this book, which I have translated
after mine author, as nigh as God hath given me cunning, to whom be
given the laud and praises. And for as much as in the writing of the
same my pen is worn, mine hand weary and not stedfast, mine eyen dimmed
with overmuch looking on the white paper, and my courage not so prone
and ready to labour as it hath been, and that age creepeth on me daily
and feebleth all the body; and also because I have promised to divers
gentlemen and to my friends to address to them as hastily as I might
this said book, therefore I have practised and learned, at my great
charge and dispense [expense], to ordain this said book in print, after
the manner and form as you may here see; and is not written with pen and
ink as other books are, to the end that every man may have them at once.
For all the books of this story named the 'Recuyell of the Historyes of
Troye,' thus imprinted as ye here see, were begun in one day, and also
finished in one day. Which book I presented to my said redoubted lady as
afore is said, and she hath well accepted it and largely rewarded me."
It was customary for the first printers, which is not according to the
belief that they wanted to palm their printed books off as manuscripts,
to state that they were not drawn or written with a pen and ink.
Udalricus Gallus, who printed at Rome about 1470, says, "I, Udalricus
Gallus, without pen or pencil have imprinted this book." But he further
says of himself at the end of one of his books,—"I printed thus much in
a day; it is not written in a year." It has been held that Caxton uses a
purely marvellous and hyperbolical mode of expression, when he says,
"All the books of this story, thus imprinted as ye here see, were begun
in one day and finished in one day." Dr. Dibdin inquires what Caxton
meant "by saying that the book was begun and finished in one day? Did he
wish his countrymen to believe that the translation of Le Fevre's book
was absolutely printed in twenty-four hours?" Dr. Dibdin truly holds the
thing to be impracticable, because the book consisted of seven hundred
and seventy-eight folio pages. Such feats have been done with the large
capital and division of labour of modern times; but to begin and finish
such a book in one day in the fifteenth century was certainly an
impossibility. We venture to think that Caxton says nothing of the sort.
He puts with great force and justice the chief advantages of
printing,—the rapidity with which many copies could be produced at once.
He promised, he says, to divers gentlemen and friends to address to them
as hastily as he might this book. There were many who wanted the book.
The transcribers could not supply their wants. He could not multiply
copies himself with his pen, for his hand was weary and his eyes dim. He
learned, therefore, to ordain the book in print, to the end that all his
friends might have the books at the same time,—that every man might have
them at once; and to explain this, he says, all the books thus imprinted
were begun in one day. If he printed a hundred copies, each of the
hundred copies was begun at the same time; a hundred sheets, each sheet
forming a portion of each copy, were printed off in one day,—and in the
same way were they also finished in one day. He does not say, as Dr.
Dibdin interprets the passage, that _the book_ was begun and finished in
one day,—one and the same day,—but that _all_ the books were begun on
one day, and all the books were finished on another day. His expression
is not very clear, but his meaning is quite apparent. This was the end
that he sought to obtain at great charge and expense; this is the end
which has been more and more obtained at every step forward in the art
of printing,—the rapid multiplication of copies, so that all men may
have them at once.
The place where Caxton learned the art of printing, and the persons of
whom he first learned it, are not shown in any of his voluminous
prologues and prefaces. But an extraordinary statement was published in
the year 1664, by a person of the name of Richard Atkyns, who sought to
prove that printing was a royal prerogative, because, as he says, the
art was first brought into England at the cost of the crown. His
narrative is held to be altogether a fiction; for the document upon
which he rests it was never forthcoming, and no person has ever
testified to the knowledge of it, except Richard Atkyns himself, who
laboured hard to obtain a patent from the crown for the sole printing of
law-books, upon the ground which he attempts to take of the crown having
brought printing into England. "Thomas Bourchier, Archbishop of
Canterbury, moved the then king, Henry VI., to use all possible means
for procuring a printing-mould, for so it was then called, to be brought
into this kingdom. The king, a good man, and much given to works of this
nature, readily hearkened to the motion; and taking private advice how
to effect this design, concluded it could not be brought about without
great secrecy, and a considerable sum of money given to such person or
persons as would draw off some of the workmen from Haarlem in Holland,
where John Guttenberg had newly invented it, and was himself personally
at work. It was resolved that less than one thousand marks would not
produce the desired effect: towards which sum the said archbishop
presented the king with three hundred marks. The money being now
prepared, the management of the design was committed to Mr. Robert
Turnour, who then was keeper of the robes to the king, and a person most
in favour with him of any of his condition. Mr. Turnour took to his
assistance Mr. Caxton, a citizen of good abilities, who, trading much
into Holland, might be a creditable pretence, as well for his going as
staying in the Low Countries. Mr. Turnour was in disguise, his beard and
hair shaven quite off, but Mr. Caxton appeared known and public. They
having received the sum of one thousand marks, went first to Amsterdam,
then to Leyden, not daring to enter Haarlem itself; for the town was
very jealous, having imprisoned and apprehended divers persons, who came
from other parts for the same purpose. They stayed till they had spent
the whole one thousand marks in gifts and expenses. So as the king was
fain to send five hundred marks more, Mr. Turnour having written to the
king that he had almost done his work, a bargain, as he said, being
struck between him and two Hollanders for bringing off one of the
workmen, who should sufficiently discover and teach the new art. At
last, with much ado, they got off one of the under workmen, whose name
was Frederick Corsells, or rather Corsellis; who late one night stole
from his fellows in disguise, into a vessel prepared before for that
purpose; and so the wind, favouring the design, brought him safe to
London. It was not thought so prudent to set him on work at London, but
by the archbishop's means, who had been Vice-chancellor and afterwards
Chancellor of the University of Oxon, Corsellis was carried with a guard
to Oxon, which constantly watched to prevent Corsellis from any possible
escape, till he had made good his promise, in teaching how to print. So
that at Oxford printing was first set up in England." This is certainly
an extraordinary story, and one which upon the face of it has traces of
inconsistency, if not of imposture. Richard Atkyns says that a certain
worthy person "did present me with a copy of a record and manuscript in
Lambeth House, heretofore in his custody, belonging to the See, and not
to any particular Archbishop of Canterbury. The substance whereof was
this; though I hope, for public satisfaction, the record itself in its
due time will appear." The record itself did never appear, and, though
diligently sought for, could never be found. But Atkyns further stated
that the same most worthy person who gave him the copy of the record,
trusted him with a book "printed at Oxon, A.D. 1468, which was three
years before any of the recited authors [Stow and others] would allow it
[printing] to be in England." He does not mention the book; but there is
such a book, and it is entitled 'Expositio Sancti Ieronimi in Simbolum,
ad Papam Laurentiam;' and at the end, 'Explicit Expositio, &c., Impressa
Oxonie, et finita Anno Dom. MCCCCLXVIII, xvii die Decembris.' Anthony
Wood repeats the story of Atkyns in his 'History of the University of
Oxford;' and he adds, "And thus the mystery of printing appeared ten
years sooner in the University of Oxford than at any other place in
Europe, Haarlem and Mentz excepted. Not long after there were presses
set up in Westminster, St. Albans, Worcester, and other monasteries of
note. After this manner printing was introduced into England, by the
care of Archbishop Bourchier, in the year of Christ 1464, and the third
of King Edward IV." Wood's version of the story makes it a little, a
very little, more credible, for it brings it nearer to the time when the
newly discovered art of printing might have attracted some attention in
England. But even in 1464 there were, with scarcely more than one
exception, no printed books known in Europe but the first productions of
the press at Mentz. The story of Caxton going to Haarlem in the time of
Henry the Sixth, that is, in some year previous to 1461, must altogether
be a fabrication, or a mistake. The accounts that would ascribe the
invention of printing to Laurence Coster, of Haarlem, set up a legendary
story that John Fust, or John Guttenberg (not the real Guttenberg, but
an elder brother), stole the invention from Coster and carried it to
Mentz in 1442. If Caxton, therefore, went to Haarlem in Holland, with a
companion, in disguise, to learn the art of printing, he must have gone
there before 1442; for the story holds that Coster was not only robbed
of his secret, but of his types, and gave up printing in despair to his
more fortunate spoiler. Bourchier was not Archbishop of Canterbury till
1454. We may be sure, therefore, that, wherever Caxton went to learn the
art of printing at an earlier period than is generally supposed, he did
not go to Haarlem in Holland. Substitute Mentz for Haarlem, and Atkyns's
story is more consistent. It is by no means improbable that Henry the
Sixth and Cardinal Bourchier might have seen the magnificent Latin
bible, called the Mazarine bible, which was printed by Guttenberg,
Schoeffer, and Fust, and is held to have appeared about 1455. Of this
noble book Mr. Hallam says, "It is a very striking circumstance, that
the high-minded inventors of this great art tried at the very outset so
bold a flight as the printing an entire bible, and executed it with
astonishing success. It was Minerva leaping on earth in her divine
strength and radiant armour, ready at the moment of her nativity to
subdue and destroy her enemies." The king and the archbishop might have
desired that England should learn the art of executing so splendid a
work as the first bible. At that period we know that Caxton was residing
abroad, and he was a fit person to be selected for such a commission.
But kings at that day were scarcely better supplied with money than
their subjects; and if Henry the Sixth had sent to Mr. Robert Turnour or
Mr. William Caxton seven hundred marks at one time and five hundred at
another, the gifts must have been registered with all due formality. We
have the Exchequer registers of Henry the Sixth and his great rival; and
although we learn that Edward the Fourth gave Caxton twenty pounds,
neither his name nor that of Mr. Tumour, nor even of the archbishop, is
associated with any bounty of Henry the Sixth. We may, therefore, safely
conclude, with Dr. Conyers Middleton, with regard to all this story,
that "Mr. Atkyns, a bold vain man, might be the inventor of it, having
an interest in imposing upon the world, to confirm his argument that
printing was of the prerogative royal, in opposition to the stationers;
against whom he was engaged in expensive lawsuits, in defence of the
king's patents, under which he claimed some exclusive powers of
printing." The date of 1468 on the Oxford book is reasonably concluded
to have been a typographical error. There are niceties in the printing
of that book which did not belong to the earliest stages of the art; and
the same type and manner of printing are seen in Oxford books printed
immediately after 1478. The probability therefore is, that an X was
omitted in the Roman numerals.
We could scarcely avoid detailing this story, apocryphal as the whole
matter is upon the face of it, because the claims of Oxford to the
honour of the first printing-press were once the subject of a fierce
controversy. The honest antiquarian Oldys complains most bitterly of
Richard Atkyns, "How unwarrantably he robbed Master Caxton of the
honour, wherewith he had long been, by the suffrage of all learned men,
undeniably invested, of first introducing and practising this most
scientifical invention among us." But had this story been true, Caxton
would not have been robbed of his glory. He would still have been what
Leland, writing within half a century of his death, calls him, "Angliæ
Prototypographus"—the first printer of England. For it is not the man
who is the accidental instrument of introducing a great invention, and
then pursues it no further, who is to have the fame of its promulgation.
It is he who by patient and assiduous labour acquires the mastery of a
new principle, sees afar off the high objects to which it may be
applied, carries out its details with persevering courage, is not
deterred by failure nor satisfied with partial success, works for a
great purpose through long years of anxiety, is careless of honours or
rewards, and finally does accomplish all and much more than he proposed,
planting the tree, training it, rejoicing in its good fruit,—he it is
that is the real first introducer and practiser of a great scientific
invention, even though some one may have preceded him in some similar
attempt—an experiment, but not a perfect work. We may well believe that,
for some ten years of his residence abroad, the knowledge that a new art
was discovered, promising such mighty results as that of printing, must
have excited the deepest interest in the mind of Caxton. He says
himself, in his continuation of the Polychronicon, "About this time
[1455] the craft of imprinting was first found in Mogunce in Almayne."
During his residence at the court of Burgundy he would see the art
multiplying around him. Italy, where it most extensively flourished
before 1470, was too distant for his personal inspection. Bamberg,
Augsburg, and Strasburg brought it nearer to him. But Cologne, where
Conrad Winters set up a press about 1470, was very near at hand. A few
days' journey would place him within the walls of the holy city of the
Rhine. Cologne, we have no doubt, fixed the employment of the remainder
of his life; and made the London mercer, whose name, like the names of
many other good and respectable men, would have held no place in the
memory of the world but for the art he learnt in his latter
years,—Cologne rendered the name of Caxton a bright and venerable
name;—a name that even his countrymen, who are accustomed chiefly to
raise columns and statues to the warlike defenders of their country,
will one day honour amongst the heroes who have most successfully
cultivated the arts of peace, and by high talent and patient labour have
rendered it impossible that mankind should not steadily advance in the
acquisition of knowledge and virtue, and in the consequent amelioration
of the lot of every member of the family of mankind, at some period,
present or remote.
The provost of the city of Mentz, on the occasion of the festival of
Guttenberg, published an address full of German enthusiasm, at which we
may be apt to smile, but which breathes a spirit of reverence for the
higher concerns of our being which we might profitably engraft upon the
practical good sense on which we pride ourselves. He says, "If the
mortal who invented that method of fixing the fugitive sounds of words
which we call the alphabet has operated upon mankind like a divinity, so
also has Guttenberg's genius brought together the once isolated
inquirers, teachers, and learners—all the scattered and divided efforts
for extending God's kingdom over the whole civilized earth—as though
beneath one temple. Guttenberg's invention, not a lucky accident, but
the golden fruit of a well-considered idea—an invention made with a
perfect consciousness of its end—has above all other causes, for more
than four centuries, urged forward and established the dominion of
science; and what is of the most importance, has immeasurably advanced
the mental formation and education of the people. This invention, a true
intellectual sun, has mounted above the horizon, first of the European
Christians, and then of the people of other climes and other faiths, to
an ever-enduring morning. It has made the return of barbarism, the
isolation of mankind, the reign of darkness, impossible for all future
times. It has established a public opinion, a court of moral judicature
common to all civilized nations, whatever natural divisions may separate
them, as much as for the provinces of one and the same state. In a word,
it has formed fellow labourers at the never-resting loom of Christian
European civilization in every quarter of the world, in almost every
island of the ocean."
Filled with some such strong belief, although perhaps a vague belief, of
the blessings which printing might bestow upon his own country, we may
view William Caxton proceeding, about the end of 1470, to the city of
Cologne, resolved to acquire the art of which he had seen some of the
effects, without stint of labour or expense. That he was an apt and
diligent scholar his after works abundantly prove.
The first book printed in the English language, the 'Recueil of the
Histories of Troy,' which we have so often noticed, does not bear upon
the face of it when and where it was printed. That it was printed by
Caxton we can have no doubt, because he says, "I have practised and
learned, at my great charge and dispense, to ordain this said book in
print." He tells us, too, in the title-page, that the _translation_ was
finished at Cologne, in September, 1471. That Caxton printed at Cologne
we have tolerably clear evidence. There is a most curious book of
Natural History, originally written in Latin by Bartholomew Glanvill, a
Franciscan friar of the fourteenth century, commonly known as
Bartholomæus. A translation of this book, which is called 'De
Proprietatibus Rerum,' was printed in England by Wynkyn de Worde, who
was an assistant to Caxton in his printing-office at Westminster, and
there succeeded to him. In some quaint stanzas which occur in this
edition, and which appear to be written either by or in the name of the
printer, are these lines, which we copy, in the first instance, exactly
following the orthography and non-punctuation of the original:—
"And also of your charyte call to remembraunce
The soule of William Caxton first prȳter of this boke
Jn laten tonge at Coleyn hȳself to auaūce
That euery well disposyd man may theron loke."
That we are asked to call to remembrance the soul of William Caxton is
perfectly clear; but how are we to read the subsequent members of the
sentence? The most obvious meaning appears to be that William Caxton was
the first printer of this book in the Latin tongue; that he printed it
at Cologne; and that his object in printing it was to advance or profit
himself, in addition to his desire that every well-disposed man might
look upon it. But there is another interpretation of these words, which
is certainly not a forced one;—that William Caxton was the first printer
of this book, the English book, and that the object of his printing it
was to advance himself in the Latin tongue at Cologne. "This book" would
appear then to be, this English book, this same book. If a copy of this
book, whether in Latin or English, printed at Cologne at so early a
period, could be found, the question would be set at rest. There is a
Latin edition printed at Cologne, in 1481, by John Koelhoff; and there
is an edition in Latin without date or place. The first English edition
known is that by Wynkyn de Worde, and that translation was made much
earlier than the time of Caxton, by John de Trevisa. Caxton could
scarcely have been said to have desired to have advanced himself in the
Latin tongue, unless he had translated the book as well as printed it.
The mere fact of superintending workmen who set up the types in Latin
would have done little to advance his knowledge of the language. We
believe, therefore, that we must receive the obscure lines of Wynkyn de
Worde as evidence that Caxton did print at Cologne, and that he
undertook the Latin edition of Bartholomæus as a commercial speculation,
"himself to advance," or profit.
And, indeed, when we look at the state of England after the return of
Edward IV. from his exile,—the "great divisions" of which Caxton himself
speaks,—we may consider that he acted with discretion in conducting his
first printing operations in a German city. It must be also borne in
mind that this was by far the readiest mode to obtain a competent
knowledge in the new art. Had he come over to England with types and
presses, and even with the most skilful workmen, the probability is that
the man of letters who, two or three years before, had little or nothing
to do in his attendance upon the Burgundian court, would have ill
succeeded in so complicated and difficult a commercial enterprise.
Lambinet, a French bibliographical writer, tells us that Melchior de
Stamham, wishing to establish a printing-office at Augsburg, engaged a
skilful workman of the same town, of the name of Sauerloch. He employed
a whole year in making the necessary preparations for his office. He
bought five presses, of the materials of which he constructed five other
presses. He cast pewter types, and, having spent a large sum, seven
hundred and two florins, in establishing his office, began working in
1473. He died before he had completed one book; heartbroken, probably,
at the amount of capital he had sunk; for his unfinished book was sold
off at a mere trifle, and his office broken up. This statement, which
rests upon some ancient testimony, shows us something of the
difficulties which had to be encountered by the early printers. They had
to do everything for themselves; to construct the materials of their
art, types, presses, and every other instrument and appliance. When
Caxton began to print at Cologne, he probably had the means of obtaining
a set of moulds from some previous printer,—what are called strikes from
the punches that form the original matrices. The writers upon typography
seem to assume the necessity of every one of the old printers cutting
his punches anew, and shaping his letters according to his own notions
of proportionate beauty. That the great masters of their art, the first
inventors, the Italian printers, the Alduses, the Stephenses, pursued
this course is perfectly clear. But when printing ceased to be a
mystery, about 1462, it is more than probable that those who tried to
set up a press, especially in Germany, either bought a few types of the
more established printers, or obtained a readier means of casting types
than that of cutting new punches,—a difficult and expensive operation.
Thus we believe the attempts to assign a book without a printer's name
to some printer whose types that book resembles, can be little relied
upon. Caxton's types are held to be like the type of this printer and
the type of that; and it is said that he copied the types, with the
objection added that he did not copy the best models. What should have
prevented him buying the types from the continent, as every English
printer did until the middle of the last century? or at any rate what
should have prevented him buying copies of the moulds which other
printers were using? The bas-relief upon Thorwaldsen's statue of
Guttenberg exhibits the first printer examining a matrix. But all the
difficulties in the formation of the first matrix overcome, we may
readily see that, at every stage, the art of making fusile types would
become easier and simpler, till at length the division of labour should
be perfectly applied to type-making, and the mere casting of a letter,
as each letter is cast singly, exhibit one of the most rapid and
beautiful pieces of handiwork that the arts can show.
But the type obtained, Caxton would still have much to do before his
office was furnished. We have seen how Melchior of Augsburg set about
getting his presses: "He bought of John Schuesseler five presses, which
cost him seventy-three Rhenish florins: he constructed with these
materials five other smaller presses." To those who know what a
well-adjusted machine the commonest printing-press now in use is, it is
not easy at first to conceive what is meant by saying that Melchior
bought five presses, and made five other presses out of the materials.
The solution is this:—in all probability this printer of Augsburg bought
five old wine-presses, and, using the screws, cut them down and adapted
them to the special purpose for which he designed them. The earliest
printing-press was nothing more than a common screw-press,—such as a
cheese-press, or a napkin-press,—with a contrivance for running the
_form_ of types under the screw after the _form_ was inked. It is
evident that this mode of obtaining an impression must have been very
laborious and very slow. As the screw must have come down upon the types
with a dead pull,—that is, as the table upon which the types were placed
was solid and unyielding,—great care must have been required to prevent
the pressure being so hard as to injure the face of the letters.
A famous printer, Jodocus Badius Ascensianus, has exhibited his press in
the title-page of a book printed by him in 1498. Up to the middle of the
last century this rude press was in use in England; although the press
of an ingenious Dutch mechanic, Blaew,—in which the pressure was rapidly
communicated from the screw to the types, and all the parts of the press
were yielding so as to produce a sharp but not a crushing
impression,—was gradually superseding it. The early printers
manufactured their own ink, so that Caxton had to learn the art of
ink-making. The ink was applied to the types by balls, or dabbers, such
as one of the men holds who is working the press of Badius. Such dabbers
were universally used in printing forty years ago. As the ancient weaver
was expected to make his own loom, so, even this short time since, the
division of labour was so imperfectly applied to printing, that the
pressman was expected to make his own balls. A very rude and nasty
process this was. The sheepskins, called pelts, were prepared in the
printing-office, where the wool with which they were stuffed was also
carded; and these balls, thus manufactured by a man whose general work
was entirely of a different nature, required the expenditure of at least
half an hour's labour every day in a very disagreeable operation, by
which they were kept soft.
There were many other little niceties in the home construction of the
materials for printing which Caxton would necessarily have to learn. But
in the earlier stages of an art requiring such nice arrangement, both in
the departments of the compositor, or setter-up of the type, and of the
pressman, it is quite clear that many things which, by the habit of four
centuries, have become familiar and easy in a printing-office, would be
exceedingly difficult to be acquired by the first printers. Rapidity in
the work was probably out of the question. Accidents must constantly
have occurred in wedging up the single letters tightly in pages and
sheets; and when one looks at the regularity of the inking of these old
books, and the beautiful accuracy with which the line on one side of a
page falls on the corresponding line on the other side (called by
printers "register"), we maybe sure that with very imperfect mechanical
means an amount of care was taken in working off the sheets which would
appear ludicrous to a modern pressman. The higher operation of a
printing-office, which consists in reading the proofs, must have been in
the first instance full of embarrassment and difficulty. A scholar was
doubtless employed to test the accuracy of the proofs; probably some one
who had been previously employed to overlook the labours of the
transcribers. Fierce must have been the indignation of such a one during
a course of painful experience, when he found one letter presented for
another, letters and even syllables and words omitted, letters
topsy-turvy, and even actual substitutions of one word for another.
These are almost unavoidable consequences of the mechanical operation of
arranging moveable types, so entirely different from the work of the
transcriber. The corrector of the press would not understand this; and
his life would not be a pleasant one. Caxton was no doubt the corrector
of his own press; and well for him it was that he brought to his task
the patience, industry, and good temper which are manifest in his
writings.
[Illustration: Ancient Press.]
But the ancient printer had something more to do before his manufacture
was complete. He was a bookbinder as well as a printer. The ancient
books, manuscript as well as printed, were wonderful specimens of
patient labour. The board, literally a wooden board, between which the
leaves were fastened, was as thick as the panel of a door. This was
covered with leather, sometimes embossed with the most ingenious
devices. There were large brass nails, with ornamented heads, on the
outside of this cover, with magnificent corners to the lids. In
addition, there were clasps. The back was rendered solid with paste and
glue, so as to last for centuries. Erasmus says of such a book, "As for
Thomas Aquinas's Secunda Secundæ, no man can carry it about, much less
get it into his head." An ancient woodcut shows us the binder hammering
at the leaves to make them flat, and a lad sewing the leaves in a frame
very like that still in use. Above are the books flying in the air in
all their solid glory.
But the most difficult labour of the ancient printer, and that which
would necessarily constitute the great distinction between one printer
and another, was yet to come. He had to sell his books when he had
manufactured them, for there was no division of the labour of publisher
and printer in those days. His success would of course much depend upon
the quality of his books; upon their adaptation to the nature of the
demand for books; upon their accuracy; upon their approach to the beauty
of the old manuscripts. But he had to incur the risk common to all
copying processes, whether the thing produced be a medal or a book, of
expending a large certain sum before a single copy could be produced.
The process of printing, compared with that of writing, is a cheap
process as ordinarily conducted; but the condition of cheapness is
this,—that a sufficient number of copies of any particular book may be
reckoned upon as saleable, so as to render the proportion of the first
expense upon a single copy inconsiderable. If it were required even at
the present time to print a single copy, or even three or four copies
only, of any literary work, the cost of printing would be greater than
the cost of transcribing. It is when hundreds, and especially thousands,
of the same work are demanded, that the great value of the
printing-press in making knowledge cheap is particularly shown. It is
probable that the first printers did not take off more than two or three
hundred, if so many, of their works; and, therefore, the earliest
printed books must have been still dear, on account of the limited
number of their readers. Caxton, as it appears by a passage in one of
his books, was a cautious printer; and required something like an
assurance that he should sell enough of any particular book to repay the
cost of producing it. In his 'Legend of Saints' he says, "I have
submysed [submitted] myself to translate into English the 'Legend of
Saints,' called 'Legenda aurea' in Latin; and William, Earl of Arundel,
desired me—and promised to take a reasonable quantity of them—and sent
me a worshipful gentleman, promising that my said lord should during my
life give and grant to me a yearly fee, that is to note, a buck in
summer and a doe in winter." Caxton, with his sale of a reasonable
quantity, and his summer and winter venison, was more fortunate than
others of his brethren, who speculated upon a public demand for books
without any guarantee from the great and wealthy. Sweynheim and
Pannartz, Germans who settled in Rome, and there printed many beautiful
editions of the Latin Classics, presented a petition to the Pope, in
1471, which contains the following passage:—"We were the first of the
Germans who introduced this art, with vast labour and cost, into your
holiness' territories, in the time of your predecessor; and encouraged
by our example other printers to do the same. If you peruse the
catalogue of the works printed by us, you will admire how and where we
could procure a sufficient quantity of paper, or even rags, for such a
number of volumes. The total of these books amounts to 12,475,—a
prodigious heap,—and intolerable to us, your holiness' printers, by
reason of those unsold. We are no longer able to bear the great expense
of housekeeping, for want of buyers; of which there cannot be a more
flagrant proof than that our house, though otherwise spacious enough, is
full of quire-books, but void of every necessary of life." For some
years after the invention of printing, many of the ingenious, learned,
and enterprising men who devoted themselves to the new art which was to
change the face of society, were ruined, because they could not sell
cheaply unless they printed considerable number of a book; and there
were not readers enough to take off the stock which they thus
accumulated. In time, however, as the facilities for acquiring knowledge
which printing afforded created many readers, the trade of printing
books became one of less general risk; and dealers in literature could
afford more and more to dispense with individual patronage, and rely
upon the public demand.