the workshop of Plato de Benedictis, a most skilled master of
this art, a book printed with very beautiful types, in which
the origin and position of Bologna, its illustrious men, both
native and foreign, who have become famous for their ability,
its temples also and the bodies of the saints there buried,
moreover the towns, villages, and parties which formerly
flourished here, and the exploits of the Bolognese, briefly set
forth, together with the illustrious descent of the Bentivogli,
are all enumerated. Should anything faulty or erroneous have
been inserted in it, you must think it was overlooked, not by
any neglect of the printer, but rather by the carelessness of
his workmen. For he himself is endowed with exceptional ability
and literary gifts, and in such practices is preëminent among
the rest.
Better than this is the frank plea that misprints in a learned book
are very hard to avoid, put forward by Anima Mia at the end of a book
by Raphael Regius containing discussions on a letter of Pliny’s and on
passages in Persius and Quintilian:
Si quid forte litterarum immutatione: transpositione:
inuersione omissione offenderis studiose lector: id non ulli
negligentiae sed correctionis difficultati ascribas: quoniam
nihil verborum praetermissum esse depraehendis: rogat Gulielmus
Tridinensis cognomento Anima Mia: cuius opera hoc opusculum
Venetiis fuit descriptum. Principe Augustino Barbadico decimo
Calendas Iunias. M.cccc.lxxxx.
Studious reader, if by chance you find a stumbling-block in
any alteration, transposal, inversion, or omission of letters,
ascribe it not to any carelessness, but to the difficulty of
correction, since you find that none of the words have been
omitted. This is the prayer of Guglielmo of Tridino, called
Anima Mia, by whose exertion this little work has been set
forth at Venice, when Agostino Barbadico was doge, on May 23,
1490.
From the colophon of the Lecture of Antonius de Alexandro “super secundo
codicis Iustiniani,” printed at Naples by Sixtus Riessinger in 1473-74,
we learn, though only by mysterious hints, that at least some printers
had other enemies besides war and pestilence to contend against. This
colophon appears to have been written by the literary partner in the
firm, Francesco Tuppo, since no one but himself would have used the
Chinese humility of the phrase “inter trecentos studentes minimus.” From
the books which he took up, Tuppo must have been a man of some culture;
but his Latin, if we may judge by this colophon, was not his strong point.
Finis huius utilissime lecture ordinarie codicis Iustiniani
Almani In florenti studio Neapolitano impresse per
expertissimum ac clarum Sixtum Riessinger Almanum, qui inter
sua aduersa floret uiret atque claret Nec perfidos maliuolos ac
uersutos existimat maiora perficiet [_sic_] ad gloriam eterni
Dei et felicitatem Ferdinandi Regis patrie. Et licet non miniis
apparet ornata Attamen claret decisionibus et singularibus
iurium ciuilis et poli ut lector studendo doctissimus perfici
poterit mendisque caret. Nam summis uigiliis et laboribus
fideliter correcta est per Franciscum Tuppi Partenopensem
tanti clarissimi utriusque iuris interpretis Antonii de
Alexandro legum perule [_sic_][6] inter trecentos studentes
minimus [_sic_]. Qui una cum fido sodali Sixto hanc preclaram
et lucidam lecturam de propriis sumptibus sumpserunt [_sic_]
Finieruntque xxi. die mensis Februarii Anni .M.cccc.lxxiiii.
Feliciter. Amen.
The end of this very useful ordinary exposition of the Codex
of Justinian the German, printed in the flourishing University
of Naples by the most expert and renowned Sixtus Riessinger,
a German, who, amid his obstacles, flourishes, thrives, and
wins renown, nor thinks that traitors, malignants, and shifty
rogues will accomplish more for the glory of Eternal God and
the welfare of the country of King Ferdinand. And although it
appears unadorned by red printing, yet it is clearly set forth
with decisions and single points of the civil and heavenly
laws, so that a reader by studying it may be able to become
very learned. Moreover, it is free from errors, for it has
been faithfully corrected with the utmost watchfulness and
toil by Francesco Tuppo of Naples, the least among the three
hundred students of that so renowned interpreter of both codes,
Antonius de Alexandro. He and his trusty partner, Sixtus, at
their own cost have taken up this noble and lucid exposition
and have brought it successfully to an end on the twenty-first
day of February, 1474.
One would like to hear something more about the traitors, malignants, and
shifty rogues (perfidos, maliuolos ac versutos) against whom the colophon
declaims; but I have failed to discover any other references to them. The
phrase “cum fido sodali,” used of Tuppo’s relations to Riessinger, raises
the question as to whether any real partnership existed between them. In
the colophons to three other books their names appear conjointly; three
more of later date (1480-89), of which Riessinger appears to have been
the actual printer, are stated to have been printed by Tuppo. The point
is of some little interest as possibly throwing some light on the vext
question of who were the “fidelissimi Germani” who printed Tuppo’s Aesop
in 1485, and also in the same year the account of the process of King
Ferdinand against his rebellious nobles. As to this Mr. Proctor wavered
between the claims of Johann Tresser and Martin of Amsterdam on the one
hand, and “Matthias of Olmutz and his German workmen” on the other. (See
his Index, p. 450, and “CCC Notable Books,” pp. 107 _sq._) But Riessinger
also was a German, and from his relations both to Tuppo and to the king
(of whom he calls himself, in the “Super feudis” of Andreas de Ysernia
in 1477, the “devotus atque fidelis servus”) seems to have some claim
to consideration. The phrase “fidelissimi Germani” is in itself a very
curious one, as it leaves us wondering whether they were “fidelissimi”
in the abstract, or to one another, or to the king. If to one another,
we may find a parallel in the frequency with which John of Cologne and
Manthen of Gerretzem proclaim their loyalty to each other. Thus in their
first dated book, the Sallust of 23d March, 1474, we find them writing:
Haec Crispi Sallustii opera quam optime emendata Venetiis fuere
impressa, ductu et impensa Iohannis Colonie Agripinensis,
necnon Iohannis Manthen de Gherretsem, qui una fideliter
uiuunt. Anno a natali Christi M.cccc.lxxiiii. die xxiii Martii.
These works of Crispus Sallustius, most excellently corrected,
were printed at Venice under the guidance and at the expense of
Johann of Köln and also of Johann Manthen of Gherretsem, who
loyally live together. In the year from the birth of Christ
1474, on the twenty-third day of March.
As another example we may take their Bartolus of 1476, where a phrase of
the same kind is followed by another of some interest:
Finis partis prime Bartholi super ff. nouum que peroptime
emendata Venetiis impressionem habuit impensis Iohannis de
Colonia sociique eius Iohannis manthen de Gerretzem: qui
vna fideliter degentes ipsius laboratores conduxerunt. Anno
M.CCCC.LXXVI.
The end of the first part of Bartolus on the New Digest, which
has been very excellently corrected and printed at Venice
at the expense of John of Cologne and of his partner Johann
Manthen of Gerretzheim, who, loyally living together, have
hired the workmen engaged on it. In the year 1476.
While many publishers pure and simple took to themselves the credit of
being their own printers, these careful statements on the part of the
loyal partners, that their function has been that of superintendence
and finance (ductu et impensa), and as to the hiring of the workmen
(laboratores conduxerunt), are rather notable. When John of Cologne
joined with Jenson and others as publishers in employing Johann Herbort
of Seligenstadt to print for them, he still carried with him one of his
old phrases—witness this typical colophon from the “Super Decretis” of
Guido de Baysio, 1481:
[Illustration: Guido de Baysio. Super Decretis. Venice: John of
Cologne and Nicolas Jenson, 1481.]
Exactum insigne hoc atque preclarum opus ductu auspitiis
optimorum Iohannis de Colonia, Nicolai ienson sociorumue. Qui
non tantum summam curam adhibuere ut sint hec et sua queque
sine uicio et menda, verumetiam ut bene sint elaborata atque
iucundissimo litterarum caractere confecta, ut unicuique
prodesse possint et oblectare, more poetico, et prodesse uolunt
et delectare poete. Huiusce autem operis artifex extitit
summus in hac arte magister Ioannes de Selgenstat alemanus,
qui sua solertia ac uigiliis diuoque imprimendi caractere
facile supereminet omnes. Olympiadibus dominicis Anno uero
millesimo.cccc.lxxxi. tertias nonas Apriles.
This noble and distinguished work was finished under the
guidance and auspices of the most excellent John of Cologne,
Nicolas Jenson, and their partners, who have applied the
greatest care not only that this and all their works might be
free from fault and stain, but also that they might be well
finished and set up in a most pleasant style of letter, for
general profit and delight, according to the fashion of the
poets, who desire both to profit and please. And of this work
the craftsman is the distinguished master in this art, John of
Seligenstadt, a German, who in his skill and watchfulness and
in the divine character of his printing easily surpasses all.
In the Olympiads of the Lord and the year 1481, on April 3d.
Herbort was fond both of the phrase about the Olympiads (which might be
more idiomatically translated by “in the Christian era”) and also of
his eulogy on himself, and several others of his colophons run on the
same lines. The pride which many of the early printers took in their
work was indeed immense. Of some of its manifestations we have already
had more than enough; but we may stop to note two colophons which show
that they sometimes expected their customers to recognize the origin of
a book by its types, though they can certainly never have anticipated
the scientific investigations of Mr. Proctor in this field. The first
of these is from Hain *10614, a Mandeville, of which I have never seen a
copy.
Explicit Itinerarius a terra Anglie in partes Ierosolimitanas
et in ulteriores transmarinas, editus primo in lingua gallicana
a domino Iohanne de Mandeuille milite, suo auctore, Anno
incarnacionis domini Mccclv. in ciuitate Leodiensi et paulo
post in eadem ciuitate translatus in dictam formam latinam.
Quod opus ubi inceptum simul et completum sit ipsa elementa,
seu singularum seorsum caracteres litterarum quibus impressum,
vides venetica, monstrant manifeste.
Here ends the Itinerary from the land of England to the parts
of Jerusalem and to those further off beyond the sea, published
first in French by Sir John de Mandeville, Knight, its author,
in the year of the incarnation of the Lord 1355, in the city
of Liège, and shortly after in the same city translated into
the said Latin form. And as to where this work has been both
begun and completed, its very elements, the characters of the
single letters with which it has been printed,—Venetian, as you
see,—plainly tell its tale.
A good many literary mistakes, and the investigations needed to correct
them, would have been spared if this quite accurate statement of the
supremacy of the French Mandeville as compared with the Latin (and also
the English) had been generally accepted. What we are here concerned with
is the attention called to the fact that it is printed in the Venetian
letter. Of course, even before the invention of printing a school of
handwriting would have grown up at Venice sufficiently distinct for
experts to distinguish it; but this expectation that any buyer of the
book would recognize at once where it was printed is interesting, and
would be made much more so if a copy of the edition could be found and
the press identified. In our next colophon the printer expects his
capital letters to serve his readers instead of his name. This is from
the first Augsburg edition of the “Catholicon” of Joannes Balbus, about
the Mainz edition of which we have already had to speak. The Augsburg
colophon runs:
Grammatice partes et vocum proprietates
Verius inuenies hoc codice: si quoque queres
Nomen qui libro scripturam impressit in illo,
Tunc cito comperies per litterulas capitales:
Hinc poteris certe cognomen noscere aperte.
Ex Reutling Zainer hic dicitur esse magister,
Recte presentis artis doctissimus ipsus.
Vt pateat nomen libri qui dicitur esse,
Sumptus de varijs autoribus atque poetis
Katholicon, fertur quem collegisse Iohannes,
Cui nomen patrium dat ianua, iuncta sit ensis.
Hoc compleuit opus lux vltima mensis aprilis,
Dum currunt anni nati factoris in orbem,
Mille quadringenti, quis sexaginta nouemque
Adijce. Vindelica finitur in vrbe serena,
Quam schowenberg tenuit qui libro preludia dedit
Titulo cardineus praeses vbique coruscus.
Terminat sed diuus presul ex Werdemberg altus.
Cum paulo secundo papa, imperante fridrico.
Deo Gratias.
The parts of grammar and the proper meanings of vocables you
will truly find in this codex. If you also ask his name who
printed the text in the book, you will quickly discover it by
the capital letters. Hence you will be able for certain to know
openly his surname. He is called Zainer of Reutling, in truth a
most learned master of the present art. To reveal the name of
the book, as it is taken from various authors and poets it is
called Catholicon, and it is said to have been compiled by the
John whose place-name is given by _Janua_ with _Ensis_ joined
to it. The last day of April completed the work, while fourteen
hundred, to which you must add sixty-nine, years are running
since the Creator was born into the world. It is finished in
the town of the Wendels (Augusta Vindelicorum=Augsburg), where
resided he who gave the book its prologue, Schowenberg, called
Cardineus, a distinguished moderator; and it is finished by a
divine president who comes from Werdenberg, Paul II being pope
and Frederick emperor. Thanks be to God.
Not every one could be expected, even at a time when interest in the new
art must have been very keen, to identify the printer of a book from the
type or initials used in it; and, as has already been noted, the whole
reason for the existence of printers’ colophons was to identify the
master-craftsman with any book of which he was proud, and so to advertise
his firm. To make this advertisement more conspicuous many printers add
their device at the end of the colophon, and five or six of them call
special attention to this in their colophons, Peter Schoeffer leading the
way in this, as already noted. _Suis consignando scutis_ and _cujus arma
signantur_ are the phrases Schoeffer used (see Hain, 7885, 7999, 8006),
and Wenssler of Basel, who was often on the lookout to follow Schoeffer’s
leads, followed him also in this. The elaborate praise of his own work,
which we find in his 1477 edition of the Sixth Book of the Decretals by
Boniface VIII, is of a piece with this desire to hall-mark it as his own
by affixing his device:
[Illustration: Boniface VIII. Decretals. Basel: M. Wenssler,
1477.]
Pressos sepe vides lector studiose libellos
Quos etiam gaudes connumerare tuis.
Si fuerint nitidi, tersi, si dogmata digna
Contineant et sit litera vera bona.
Dispeream nisi inuenias hec omnia in istis
Quos pressit Wenszlers ingeniosa manus.
Nam quecunque fuit hoc toto codice pressa
Litera solicito lecta labore fuit.
Insigne et celebratissimum opus Bonifacii octaui quod sextum
decretalium appellant In preclarissima vrbe Basiliensi ingenio
et arte Michaelis Wenszlers Impressum, glorioso fauente deo
suis consignando scutis, feliciter est finitum Anno domini
septuagesimo septimo post millesimum et quadringentesimum
quarto ydus Decembris.
Student, you oft must see a printed book
And think how well upon your shelves ’twould look:
The print of shining black, the page pulled clean,
A worthy text, and misprints nowhere seen!
Where Wenssler’s skilful hand the work has printed
I’ll die for it if of these charms you’re stinted;
For throughout all this book no single letter
Has ’scaped his reader’s care to make it better.
The notable and most celebrated work of Boniface VIII, which
is called the Sixth of the Decretals, printed in the renowned
city of Basel by the skill and art of Michael Wenssler, by the
favor of the glorious God, marked with the printer’s shields,
has come happily to an end, in the year of the Lord 1477, on
December 12.
[Illustration: Fasciculus Temporum. Louvain: Veldener, 1476.]
[Illustration: Ioh. Faber. Breuiarium super codice. Louvain: John of
Westphalia, c. 1475.]
So, in 1475, Sensenschmidt and Frisner at Nuremberg issued their
Latin Bible “suis signis annotatis”; and at Cologne, in 1476, Conrad
Winters ends an edition of the “Fasciculus Temporum”: “Impressum per me
Conradum de Hoemberch meoque signeto signatum” (printed by me, Conrad
de Hoemberch, and signed with my signet); and in the same year we find
Veldener at Louvain using nearly the same phrase (proprio signeto
signata) in his edition of the “Fasciculus Temporum.”[7] As an amusing
variation on this we have the custom adopted by John and Conrad of
Westphalia, in some of the books they printed at Louvain, of placing
their own portraits after their colophons and referring to them as their
“solitum signum.” Thus in an edition of Laet’s “Pronosticationes euentuum
futurorum anni lxxvi” John of Westphalia writes in this very interesting
fashion:
Hec ego Ioannes de Paderborne in Westfalia, florentissima
in uniuersitate Louaniensi residens, ut in manus uenerunt
imprimere curaui: nonnullorum egregiorum uirorum desideriis
obsecutus, qui prenominatum pronosticantem futura uere, inculto
quamuis stilo, compluribus annis prenunciasse ferunt. Non
reuera quo utilitatem magnam ipse consequerer (utilius enim
opus eam ob rem suspendi) sed quo simul plurimorum comodis ac
uoluptati pariter inseruiens, stilum meum nouum, quo posthac
maiori et minori in uolumine uti propono, signi mei testimonio
curiosis ac bonarum rerum studiosis palam facerem.
These things have I, John of Paderborn in Westphalia, residing
in the most flourishing University of Louvain, caused to be
printed as they came to hand, following the desires of some
noble gentlemen who say that the aforesaid prognosticator
has in many years truly foretold future things, though in an
uncultivated style. Of a truth my object was not to obtain
any great advantage for myself (for I held over, on account
of this, a more profitable work), but that, while at the same
time serving alike the convenience and pleasure of many, I
might make publicly known to the curious and connoisseurs my
new style which hereafter, both in greater and smaller size, I
propose to use as a witness of my sign.
Laet’s Prognostications were the Moore’s Almanacs of the fifteenth
century, and by putting his new device (which he used again about the
same time in the “Breviarium super codice” of Iohannes Faber) on such a
publication John of Westphalia secured a wide advertisement.
The arts of advertisement must assuredly have been needed by the early
printers when they came as strangers and aliens to a new town and began
issuing books at their own risk. Even with the help of Latin as a
universal language, and with the guidance of native patrons and scholars,
pushing their wares must have been a difficult matter. Sweynheym and
Pannartz at Rome tried to make their names known, and to express at the
same time their obligations to their patron, by a set of verses which
recur frequently in their books:
[Illustration: S. Cyprian. Epistulae. Rome: Sweynheym and
Pannartz, 1471 (and in many other of their books).]
Aspicis illustris lector quicunque libellos
Si cupis artificum nomina nosse lege.
Aspera ridebis cognomina Teutona: forsan
Mitiget ars musis inscia uerba uirum.
Conradus Suueynheym Arnoldus pannartzque magistri
Rome impresserunt talia multa simul.
Petrus cum fratre Francisco Maximus ambo
Huic operi aptatam contribuere domum.
.M.CCCC.LXXI.
Illustrious reader, whoever you are, who see these books, if
you would know the names of their craftsmen, read on. You will
smile at the rough Teutonic surnames: perhaps this art the
Muses knew not will soften them. Conrad Sweynheym and Arnold
Pannartz have printed many such books together at Rome. Pietro
da Massimi and his brother Francis have lent a house fitted[8]
for the work.
1471.
Ulrich Han, another German printer at Rome, advertised himself in many
of his books in another set of verses, perhaps the only instance of a
colophon deliberately intended to raise a laugh, which recall the part
played by the Sacred Geese in defending the Capitol against the Gauls
(Galli), Gallus being also the Latinized form of Han’s name (Cock).
[Illustration: Cicero. Orationes Philippicae. Rome: Ulrich Han
[1470] (and in several other of Han’s books).]
Anser Tarpeii custos Iouis: unde quod alis
Constreperes: Gallus decidit: ultor adest.
Udalricus Gallus, ne quem poscantur in usum
Edocuit pennis nil opus esse tuis.
Imprimit ille die quantum non scribitur anno
Ingenio: haud noceas: omnia vincit homo.
Bird of Tarpeian Jove, though died the Gaul
’Gainst whom thou flap’dst thy wings, see vengeance fall.
Another Gallus comes and thy pen-feather
Goes out of fashion, beaten altogether.
For what a quill can write the whole year through,
This in a day, and more, his press will do.
So, Goose, give over: there’s no other plan;
Own yourself beaten by all-conquering man.
In addition to their colophons, the printers, at least in Germany, used
many modern forms of advertisement. When he returned to Augsburg from
Venice, Ratdolt issued a splendid type-sheet with specimens of all his
different founts. Schoeffer, the Brothers of the Common Life, Koberger,
and other firms printed lists of their new books as broadsides, and
gave their travellers similar sheets in which purchasers were promised
“bonum venditorem” (a kindly seller), and a space was left for the name
of the inn at which he displayed his wares, to be filled in by hand. We
have all heard of Caxton’s advertisement of his Sarum Directory (most
indigestible of “Pies”) and its final prayer, “Please don’t tear down
the bill.” In 1474 Johann Müller of Königsberg (Iohannes Regiomontanus),
the mathematician-printer, issued what I take to be the first fully
developed publisher’s announcement, with a list of books “now ready”
(haec duo explicita sunt), “shortly” (haec duo opera iam prope absoluta
sunt), and those he hoped to undertake. Its last sentence is not strictly
a colophon, but I am sure that I shall be forgiven for quoting it.
“Postremo omnium,” it runs, “artem illam mirificam litterarum formatricem
monimentis stabilibus mandare decretum est (deus bone faueas) qua re
explicita si mox obdormierit opifex mors acerba non erit, quom tantum
munus posteris in haereditate reliquerit, quo ipsi se ab inopia librorum
perpetuo poterunt vindicare.”—“Lastly it has been determined to commit
to abiding monuments that wondrous art of putting letters together (God
of thy goodness be favorable!), and when this is done if the craftsman
presently fall asleep death will not be bitter, in the assurance that
he has left as a legacy to posterity this great gift by which they will
forever be able to free themselves from lack of books.” Shortly after
writing these words Müller was called to Rome by Sixtus IV to give his
help in reforming the calendar, but his foreboding was not unfulfilled,
for death came to him in 1476, only two years after this announcement was
written.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
V
PUBLISHERS’ COLOPHONS