Creative type-founding stimulates the typographer, and paves the way
for the machine cutting. We need ignore competition in the foundry
field, and all we have is one tired monopoly. Perhaps most of us are
too polite to point, but let us not think that we can ignore the
foundry situation, and supply the lack of types with calligraphy. Every
creative period in printing history has produced its own new types. The
present period can make no important contribution without doing the
same.
WILL RANSOM
WHAT IS A PRIVATE PRESS?
From _Private Presses and Their Books_, by Will Ransom. Copyright 1929
by R. R. Bowker Co. Reprinted by permission of author and publisher.
Corrected and amended by the author.
Whenever private presses are mentioned, one of two questions is certain
to be heard. The layman asks, "What do you mean, a private press?"
while a collector smiles quizzically and inquires, with gentle malice,
"How do _you_ define a private press?" There have been many answers and
much discussion, but common agreement has not yet fixed upon a single
definite phrase. Perhaps one fascinating element of the subject is this
very uncertainty.
There is really little question about the meaning of "private" in
any connection, with its connotation of complete personal freedom
in thought and expression and exemption from exterior influence or
compulsion. So it is a simple matter to define a private press in
those terms. The usual argument, however, is less concerned with a
fundamental definition than with its interpretation. The uncertainty
is about which of the many presses of past and present shall be
considered, from the collector's viewpoint, private enterprises
as distinguished from commercial ventures. Actually the line of
demarcation is so broad and nebulous that decision must always remain
a matter of personal opinion. For a working basis, the following
statements provide the best available material.
John Martin, in his _Bibliographical Catalogue of Books Privately
Printed_ (1834), included certain presses whose productions "were not
intended by the writers for sale, and the circulation of which has
been confined entirely to their friends and connexions or to those
who took an interest in the matter contained in them." The intent is
apparent, but it applies equally to privately printed and private press
printing, which are different matters. The restriction to "writers" is
unfortunate, and Martin contradicts himself by including at least one
press, Strawberry Hill, many of whose books were offered for public
sale. On the other hand, he omitted many which were clearly within his
own terms.
M. Claudin, the French bibliographer, explains at greater length that
a private press is "one set up in a monastery, a palace, a residence,
or a private house, not the office of a printer. In fact it is a press
reserved for personal and not for public use, patronized, held, owned,
or hired for the occasion by a private person at his own house, or by
a congregation in, or close to, their buildings. Whether the copies
issued were merely intended for the use of an ecclesiastical order or
to be presented to high personages, whether they were exposed for sale
or reserved for exchange ... makes no essential difference." That seems
to cover the ground pretty thoroughly.
Alfred W. Pollard, one of the foremost English authorities, says: "For
a press to be private a double qualification seems to be necessary:
the books it prints must not be obtainable by any chance purchaser who
offers a price for them and the owner must print for his own pleasure
and not work for hire for other people." And Falconer Madan, another
noted English bibliographer, condenses his decision into "a press
carried on unofficially by a person or group of persons for his or
their private purposes."
The following paragraph, as originally written, erroneously ascribed
the quotation to John T. Winterich. It should have read: Still another
neatly phrased version occurs in _English Books 1475-1900_, by Sawyer
and Darton: "Perhaps, in the end, the best definition of a private
press is that it is an enterprise conceived, and masterfully and
thoroughly carried out, by a creative artist who (whether or not he
likes to cover some of his expenses by sales) does his work from a
sincere conviction that he is so expressing his own personality."
Except that any book offered for sale may easily come into the hands
of "any chance purchaser" who learns of it, and that "creative artist"
is a severe limitation, the common factor of independent expression is
apparent in all these.
Granting the connotation of "privacy" as an imperative factor, a
survey of impulses and characteristics provides a better understanding
of the matter. Actually, the principal differences of opinion and
the major argument derive from the question of whether or not the
productions of a press are sold or given away. But what difference
does that make if the fundamental impulse and continued purpose prove
monetary return to be a minor consideration, a casual effect rather
than a desired result? It is true that many private presses, even
some of the greater ones, continued for longer and more prolifically
than they would have without patronage, but that was because their
subscribers liked the result of what was done in free personal
expression. Even the Kelmscott Press produced an edition for Way and
Williams with a Chicago imprint, but it should be noted that the
publishers bought the book and the book-making of Morris' choice
instead of engaging him to carry out their wishes. So there seems to
be sufficient justification for disregarding the financial element, so
long as it is clearly secondary, except to note that a private press
must be free from the necessity of considering that phase of the matter.
As individual expression chooses many avenues, each with its particular
attraction, the reasons for establishing private presses are numerous
and varied. They have sprung from the dreams and desires of craftsmen,
authors and artists, prophets and dilettantes. Broadly, they divide
into two general classes, one being concerned with literary content
and the other with typographic form, with perhaps a third division
concerned only with enjoying something to play with. The typographic
viewpoint seems to attract popular interest to the greatest extent.
The simplest and perhaps the truest type of private press is that
maintained by one who is, at least by desire, a craftsman and finds a
peculiar joy in handling type, ink, and paper, with sufficient means
and leisure to warrant such an avocation. His literary selection may
leave something to be desired and art may be disregarded or amazingly
interpreted, but he has a good time. As a correspondent recently wrote:
"This small effort shows the difficulties of an amateur both with ink
and with type. But as it is a matter of the mere fun of the thing,
rather than business, I am in that singularly fortunate position of
being able to tell anyone who doesn't like it to go jump in the lake."
Another version of the same spirit was happily expressed by Edwin Roffe
(Rochester Press) in 1861:
_I must confess,
I love my Press;
For when I print,
I know no stint,
Of joy._
At the other extreme is the author who is entirely or largely
concerned with producing his own writings. He may turn printer by
choice or for economy, or may hire a workman, but he must, to qualify
as a private press, maintain the equipment in his own ownership or
control. In this group the personal element is usually the one point
of interest, as the typography is generally a mere means to an end.
Somewhere in this rating may be included the secret presses devoted
to political and religious propaganda in the days when free speech
was a hazardous adventure; also those which, like Middle Hill, were
established to preserve and distribute rare or unique items of
information and record.
Then there is the dilettante who dabbles a little in both phases but
performs few of the functions in his own person. His viewpoint is more
nearly that of a publisher, yet insofar as he maintains a press and
follows an individual program he is a member of this goodly company.
Horace Walpole was an excellent example. "Present amusement is all
my object," he said at the start, and no doubt he accomplished that
purpose not only for himself but for many of his friends.
Another distinct approach to private press activity, most familiar
because its results have been more significant and have affected
typography as a whole more emphatically, is from the standpoint of
aesthetic or artistic vision. Men with a fine feeling for beauty have
done marvels with available materials, but the impulse usually includes
type design. "Let's make a new fount of type" voiced the conception of
the Kelmscott Press and the next ten or twelve years saw almost as many
types designed, not all successful but certainly bearing the impress of
individual expression. Even Dr. Daniel, with no assumption of creative
ability, served the cause well by searching out and reviving the Fell
types.
Finally, there is a kind of press which may or may not be considered
private but is certainly not commercial, a press maintained by a school
for educational purposes of one form or another. Rarely do these reach
a collector's attention, since their products are distinctly localized,
but there are instances of significant accomplishment. The notable
example is the Laboratory Press where, under the direction of Porter
Garnett, students of printing learn something of typography in terms
of the ideal, not to mention other cultural by-products. Mr. Garnett's
statement may well be added to the definitions already quoted. "Issuing
publications (for such, in spite of their slenderness, our students'
specimens are), and having no commercial function, the Laboratory Press
is, in the purest sense of the term, a private press; and its purpose
being solely educational, it may be said to be the first private press
to be dedicated exclusively to educational ends." On the sole point of
priority the Whitnash and School Presses might be offered in evidence,
but no comparison of purpose can fairly be suggested.
Somewhat in the same spirit is the use of a private press for
experimental work, as proposed by James Guthrie, who has said: "The
artist at the press is, before everything, an explorer. His true
mission is to suggest and demonstrate, not ideas thirty years old,
but new ideas, which may take our friend the fine printer (by easy
methods) another thirty years to see the drift of!" That approach, as
well as another stated intention towards "a gesture of protest and
criticism," is of a part with the purpose animated by vision of new and
finer achievement. That there was feeling of experiment in the first
Kelmscott type and book is a matter of record, as is the fact that
subsequent experience and development have changed the result in some
important details.
While these groups serve to distinguish the main differences between
various kinds of private presses, very few individual instances lie
within one classification. Craftsmen have turned to writing, authors
to printing, and dilettantes to both. Some have achieved simultaneous
distinction in type design, writing, and book-making. Such versatility
is rare, yet it is illuminating to note that the outstanding figures,
those who have contributed most of permanent worth to subsequent
culture, of which William Morris is the chief example, are the ones who
have combined the greatest number of elements in their activities.
Out of all these has come something more than individual purpose and
personal endeavor. Though the poorest of them have earned nothing
more than pity or at best a genial tolerance, the significant presses
have contributed richly to the program of typography and to aesthetic
progress in general. Although the story of private presses is no
more than a tiny chapter in the annals of graphic art, although all
of them are but an infinitesimal part of the deluge of printers and
printing since the middle of the fifteenth century, their influence,
particularly upon book design, is strikingly impressive out of all
proportion to their size and number. Verily, they are "the little
leaven that leaveneth the whole lump."
After all is said, the distinguishing quality of a private press is no
less than a matter of spirit, indefinable except by inference. Whatever
decision is made concerning the status of a press, with regard to its
being private or not, must be based upon a recognition of the ideal
apparent in its works, with due consideration for the human elements
of its activities. Freed from the confining strictures of details,
a private press may be defined as the typographic expression of a
personal ideal, conceived in freedom and maintained in independence.
[Illustration: The Village Press.
PRESS MARK, ITS SECOND, BY FREDERIC W. GOUDY.
Mr. Ransom was associated with the Village Press during its beginning
months at Park Ridge, Ill., in the Summer of 1903.]
POSTSCRIPT, 1951:
Twenty-four years later the question is still academic. Instead of
a few distinguished private presses there is now a spate of "press
books," some of which are produced in home privacy, others designed
or printed or published by an outstanding personality, and a few,
regrettably, on the border line of the commercial limited editions
racket. But the meaning of "privacy" remains unchanged and a private
press is what it has always been, a personal activity. I cannot improve
on my original statement.
To fill out the record with some definitions that were unknown or
omitted in the earlier chapter, and to get all of the statements into
one place, we may begin with William Morris's _Note on His Aims in
Founding the Kelmscott Press_ (1898): "I began printing books with the
hope of producing some which would have a definite claim to beauty,
while at the same time they should be easy to read and should not
dazzle the eye, or trouble the intellect of the reader by eccentricity
of form in the letters."
C. R. Ashbee, of the Essex House Press, stated in _The Private Press:
A Study in Idealism_ (1909): "A private press as we understand it at
the present day in England and America is a Press whose objective is
first of all an aesthetic one, a press that if it is to have real worth
challenges support on a basis of Standard, caters for a limited market
and is not concerned with the question of the Commercial development
of printing by machinery." In 1933 (also twenty-four years later) he
repeated that definition in _The Book-Collector's Quarterly_ (No. XI,
p. 72) and added: "That, I think, is as near as we shall get."
For the Doves Press, T. J. Cobden-Sanderson explained his purpose in
the three _Catalogues Raisonné_ of 1908, 1911, and 1916, shortened in
the last: "... to attack the problem of Typography as presented by
ordinary books in the various forms of Verse, Prose, and Dialogue and,
keeping always in mind the principles laid down in the Book Beautiful,
to attempt its solution by the simple arrangement of the whole Book,
as a whole, with due regard to its parts and to the emphasis of its
capital divisions rather than by the addition & splendour of applied
ornament."
Among the commentators and bibliographers, Robert Steele, in _The
Revival of Printing_ (1912) makes no attempt at definition, and G. S.
Tomkinson, in his _Select Bibliography of Modern Presses_ (1928) "still
seeks the right answers." In the latter book, Bernard H. Newdigate's
introduction contains two statements which indicate the spirit that
informs private presses and in recent years has expanded into more
public book-making: "... a zeal in the pursuit of their art which has
been inspired by something more than mere money-making, and in many
cases by the attainment of a degree of excellence which invests their
work with a peculiar interest for all those who study printing..."
and specifically about operators of private presses who "have printed
their books because they have judged the books worth printing for
their own sakes, or worth printing in some particular way; and it is
the particular way in which each of these printers has sought to give
expression to his conception of how his books should be printed and the
way in which he has overcome the limitations of his type and plant and
solved the several problems which beset the studious printer in every
detail of his work, that give them so much individual interest...."
In later years, we have had noble bibliographies of the Nonesuch,
Grabhorn, and Ashendene Presses, Bruce Rogers' _Paragraphs on
Printing_, and Daniel Berkeley Updike's _Notes on the Merrymount Press_
and _Some Aspects of Printing, Old and New_. All of these are required
reading for collectors of press books, and each represents a personal
viewpoint, but only one defines a private press.
That is the Ashendene _Bibliography_, but one who seeks for a formal
declaration will not find it. The few phrases that can be
isolated--"... the absorbing interest of an otherwise busy
life...."--"The Press was started solely for the sake of the interest
and amusement I expected to derive from it...."--"... the striving
after an ideal...."--these casual comments are slender evidence. If,
however, the entire Foreword is read, one discovers just why and how a
private press is operated--"the letter killeth, but the spirit maketh
alive."
COMPOSED IN ELDORADO TYPES
[Illustration]ALFRED W. POLLARD[Illustration]
_The Trained Printer and the Amateur: and The Pleasure of Small Books_
From the Centaur announcement booklet, Lanston Monotype Corporation,
Ltd., London, 1929.
Printers, as a class, like all other craftsmen, can only thrive by
supplying their customers with what they want at prices which they are
willing to pay. Here and there an exceptionally gifted and courageous
craftsman may rely on being able to obtain a better price for better
work, and be rewarded for his confidence, but success will always
depend not only on himself but also on two external factors over which
he has very little control; the existence of enough customers, or
potential customers, able to recognise better work than that which they
have been getting, and the ability and willingness of these customers
to pay a higher price for it as long as a higher price is necessary
for its production. But occasionally the discriminating customer (or
potential customer) may not find a master-craftsman able and willing
to do for him what he wants, and if so, if he cares enough about it to
be an enterprising amateur, he starts a press of his own to print the
books he wants as he thinks they ought to be printed. Very often he
fails; almost always he finds that he must engage at least one skilled
journeyman to help him through. But occasionally he succeeds, and when
he succeeds he brings new life into the craft of printing.
Definitions of what constitutes an "amateur" have always proved
difficult. The two characteristics of the class of which I am thinking
are that they have been readers and lovers of books before they have
become printers and that they will not knowingly print any book badly
for the sake of making a profit off it. As a rule they will only print
the books they like, and they will print them according to their own
standards. That some of them have made a good living by their work,
does not alter their status.
In the early days of printing amateurs abounded, but not at the very
first. When printing was invented it was applied first of all to
multiplying a few much-used Latin grammars and calendars for which
there was a large and steady sale, because the production of manuscript
copies had been too slow and too expensive. These early efforts, which
have come down to us mainly in fragments found in binding, are rude and
ugly enough. There is no evidence of any effort to make them beautiful
for the sake of making them beautiful, and there was no need to do so.
Fifteenth-century schoolmasters did not cosset their pupils with pretty
school-books; they beat them. Their standard in printing was strictly
utilitarian. But when the adventure was once undertaken, whether it
was by Gutenberg, or by Fust and Schöffer, of printing large Bibles
for use in church, there was at once admitted a standard of dignity,
and this the Church for centuries did more than any other body to
maintain. Furthermore when the goldsmith Fust and the scribe Peter
Schöffer, greatly daring, set themselves to produce psalters for use
in choir which, by red printing and by large and small capitals in red
and blue, should rival the beauty of the hand-written and hand-painted
psalters then in use, to the dignity of the first Bibles there was
added beauty and charm, and in a few years bookmen all over Europe were
eager to apply the new craft to multiplying the books in which they
were specially interested. A few secular highbrows stood aloof. As some
old ladies still drive out in their carriage and pair (a very pleasant
and dignified way of getting about) and abjure motor-cars, so there
were a few great bookmen who clung to manuscripts and would not have a
printed book in their libraries. In the same way for some twenty years
bishops looked askance at presses and types, and it was not until 1474
that a printed missal was placed upon an altar, and not until 1479 that
more than two editions were printed in any year, or anywhere outside
Italy. But when Milan and Rome had continued to set the example, German
bishops were content to follow it, and when they decided to print they
found a vigorous way of maintaining a high standard. They commissioned
the best printer they could get to do the work; they allowed him to
charge an agreed price for it, and they obliged every Church in their
province or diocese to provide itself with a copy before a specified
date.[33]
In France in several instances a Bishop, or the Canons of a Cathedral,
arranged with a printer to come to the Cathedral town and print a
missal or breviary under their supervision. These good men were perhaps
rather amateur publishers than amateur printers working private presses
with a hired man to do the heavy work. But if we choose to think of
them only as customers, they were customers who knew what they wanted
and brought the printer under their roof as the best means of seeing
that they got it.
As regards the printing of secular books in the fifteenth century,
since the craft was a new one, it was necessarily run in the first
instance by men who had been brought up in other occupations. In this
sense nearly every native printer outside Germany was an amateur.
At the outset the newcomers were largely clerks in minor orders and
professional scribes; but merchants, professors and men of letters
generally were attracted to the new craft, many of them doubtless only
to make money, others to print books in which they were specially
interested. Even more than in the case of the bishops or canons who
commissioned missals and breviaries, we must think of this motley crowd
of recruits rather as amateur publishers than amateur printers. It may
be doubted whether even Caxton (who was by trade a mercer) in all his
fifteen years in the business, set up the equivalent of one of his
small folios with his own hands. He started his press because he wanted
to get his books into print as the easiest way of circulating them; but
there are no signs that he took any special interest in fine printing
for its own sake, or took any joy in producing a handsome book. His
standards were those of a competent but unenterprising scribe, who
only wanted to set his words down accurately on the page so that they
could be easily read. The master printers all over the Continent of
Europe, when they had the courage to stand out against the pressure to
cut prices or increase profits by using cheaper and cheaper paper, and
crowding more on to it, were doing much better work than Caxton, and
when they found customers who encouraged them to do their best, their
work altogether outclassed his.