produced by the Cambridge stationers. Nicholas Spering beside his panel
had several fine rolls which contain his initials and mark.
Naturally the foreign booksellers who sent books over to England
found it to their advantage to put them into popular bindings, such
as would attract purchasers, and many of these bindings have a
distinctly English character. The exploits of St George and St Michael
are favourite subjects, and are often treated in a most decorative
manner. There is one specially fine example dating from about 1500, and
probably Rouen work, which has St George on one side and St Michael on
the other. The binder has not put his initials, but his device, which
occurs on one side, is a head on a crowned shield. It is worth noticing
that the material of which these foreign bindings are made is often
sheepskin rather than calf, which is nearly always used in English
work. One binder, whose initials were A. H. and who used the Tudor
rose, though without the arms of London, produced very good work, but
almost always on this sheepskin, which was not a suitable leather for
giving a clear impression.
It is very interesting to watch how in the later panel bindings
the lettering gradually deteriorated and became simply part of the
ornament. I have three panels, all copied one from the other, and
in the first the legend running round the panel is quite clear and
correct. In the second the letters are confused, though the general
appearance of each separate word is preserved and they can be read.
In the last example letters and words are all run together, and the
general result is wholly unreadable.
So, too, the old style of work with the pictures of saints or Biblical
scenes was given up about 1530 for bad Renaissance patterns of pillars
and classical heads, which are so uninteresting, not to say ugly, that
we can hardly regret the speedy disuse of the panel stamp.
Now it must always be remembered that in England at any rate very
few of these early bindings are signed, and that therefore to assign
particular bindings to particular men is not often possible, but
comparison may enable us to attribute them to particular districts,
and even to particular places. What is wanted is that every small
point about these bindings should be studied carefully and compared in
different examples, because it is mainly by circumstantial evidence
that we can arrive at any knowledge about them. We must class our
bindings by a system similar to that lately adopted for identifying
criminals. The presence or absence of one particular point merely
divides a number of bindings into two divisions. This point, taken in
conjunction with a second point, narrows the field immensely, and we
can soon put the bindings into groups more or less accurately.
Anyone who works at all amongst old bindings will soon begin to note
points which are common to certain bindings, and which most probably
mean a certain thing. For instance, anyone working at the subject would
soon perceive that as a rule octavo or quarto books in an English
binding have three bands to the back, that is three projecting ridges
on which the leaves are stitched, while foreign bindings have four
or more. Of course this is not an absolute rule but it will be found
correct in nine cases out of ten. To take another local instance. A
very great number of early Cambridge bindings, and some that may have
been produced at places not far distant, are remarkable for the curious
red colour of the leather used. The binding has the appearance of
having been painted over with red, and then the red almost all rubbed
off again. This is probably caused by some peculiarity in the process
of tanning or dressing. Whenever I see this curious red colour I
promptly put down the binding as a Cambridge one, and a more careful
examination generally proves it to be correct.
If the boards of the binding have a groove running down the edge you
may be fairly certain that the book inside is printed in Greek. If a
binding has four clasps, one at the top and bottom as well as two in
their usual place, you may be sure that the binding is Italian. Most
of these old bindings had clasps or ties of ribbon to keep them shut,
but in nearly all cases these have disappeared, and the reason is this.
In the early times books were always put on the shelves back first and
with the fore edge to the front, on which was written the title of the
book. Naturally, when readers wanted to take down a book they pulled
at it by the clasp or ribbon till that came off, just as now-a-days
when books are placed backs outwards the ordinary reader pulls them
out by the top of the back, till that comes off. In many cases the
ribbons were of alternate colours, a white opposite a green and a green
opposite a white. Of course as soon as books were put in the shelves
with the backs outwards the use of ribbons was discontinued, for it was
awkward to push into its place a book with two large bows of ribbon in
front. The use of ribbons you will notice has been lately revived by
some faddists who have no sense of the fitness of things.
These bindings that we have been considering were of course what we
should call trade bindings or publishers’ bindings. Very few people
seem to have had books especially bound for them, and those kind of
bindings had generally gilded ornaments upon them, which are not found
on early stamped work. The custom of impressing coats of arms on books
did not begin until about 1535, when it was started by some Scottish
collectors, the earliest known armorial stamp having been used by
William Stewart, Bishop of Aberdeen.
The books specially bound for Henry VIII were ornamented in what was
called the Venetian manner, that is with tools obtained perhaps from
Venice, but clearly cut in imitation of those used by Aldus for his
bindings; the binder of these books was the well-known stationer,
Thomas Berthelet.
While these bindings and their designs afford valuable bibliographical
information, the materials employed in making the bindings are also
often of great importance. The boards were often made of refuse printed
leaves pasted together, and were always lined, after the binding was
completed, with leaves of paper or vellum, printed or manuscript. To
show you how important these fragments may be, I may mention that of
the books printed in England or for England in the fifteenth century
no less than fifty-three are known only from fragments obtained from
bindings. The great find of Caxton fragments made by Blades at St
Alban’s I have mentioned before. Not long ago I took to pieces the
boards of a primer of Edward VI and obtained the title and some other
leaves of Constable’s _Epigrams_, printed by Pynson in 1520, and of
which but one perfect copy is known, four leaves of a Whitinton’s
_Grammar_ printed by W. de Worde, eight leaves of an early _Abridgement
of the Statutes_, probably printed by Middleton, a perfect copy of
an unknown edition of the _Ordynaunce made in the time of ye reygne
of kynge Henry VI to be observed in the Kynge’s Eschequier by the
offycers_ _and clerkes of the same for takyng of fees of ye kynges
accomptis in the same courts_, printed by Middleton, and last an
unknown broadside ballad relating to the burning of Robert Barnes in
1540, printed for Richard Bankes by that little-known printer, John
Redman, who put his name only to one or at the most two known books.
From a binding in Westminster Abbey some years ago came two leaves of
an unknown early Cambridge book, Lily’s _De octo orationis partium
constructione_, edited by Erasmus, and lately at Oxford Mr Proctor
found in a binding in New College some fragments of a _Donatus Melior_
on vellum, printed by Caxton, a hitherto unknown book. As Bradshaw
said over twenty years ago: “It cannot be any matter of wonder that
the fragments used for lining the boards of old books should have an
interest for those who make a study of the methods and habits of our
early printers with a view to the solution of some of many difficulties
still remaining unsettled in the history of printing. I have for many
years tried to draw the attention of librarians and others to the
evidence which may be gleaned from a careful study of these fragments;
and if done systematically and intelligently it ceases to be mere
antiquarian pottering or aimless waste of time.”
Of course the majority of fragments found in bindings are of no value,
and should not be moved; indeed, fragments should never be taken out of
bindings unless it is absolutely necessary, for by doing so the binding
is almost certain to suffer some injury.
* * * * *
To study effectively the early English book a certain knowledge about
these early bindings is required, for the printer, as we have seen,
was probably his own binder. What I said about the stationers applies
also to the binders, their history is an almost unworked subject,
new details are found from time to time, but we have no work on the
subject to which we can add them, and our knowledge at present consists
mostly of isolated facts. Bradshaw, writing twenty years ago, spoke
of the subject as still in its infancy, and I am afraid that English
bibliographers cannot boast of much progress. This is not, perhaps, to
be much wondered at when we consider how few are willing to work on
in the steady, quiet way which he practised and taught. We can do no
better than follow in the path that he pointed out, add fact to fact,
and detail to detail, avoiding vain theories and idle speculations, so
that whatever advance we make in our knowledge of the subject, whether
it be much or little, it may at any rate be accurate, and serve as a
secure foundation for the work of the future.
PART II.
1501-1535.
LECTURE V.
WYNKYN DE WORDE AND THE POPULAR PRINTERS.
In the four lectures which I had the privilege of giving as Sandars
Reader in the Lent term of 1899 I dealt with the printers, stationers,
and bookbinders of London and Westminster in the fifteenth century. In
the present series I propose to continue their history up to the year
1535.
The date which has been fixed upon is not a purely arbitrary one, but
has been chosen for two reasons. In the first place, it is the year
in which Wynkyn de Worde, by far the most important and prolific of
all the early English printers, died, and secondly, it just includes
and allows us to examine the remarkable change brought about in the
English book trade by the passing of the Act relating to printers
in the twenty-fifth year of Henry VIII, which came into force on
Christmas-Day, 1534.
Though Westminster was joined with London in the earlier lectures, it
ceased after 1500 to have any printers of its own, for in that year
De Worde moved to London to be nearer the centre of trade, and he
was followed almost immediately by Julian Notary. In this lecture I
am going to take, besides De Worde, all the printers and stationers
who were connected with him in business, and who formed what might be
called the popular school of printers, who neglecting legal, political,
and learned books, such as were issued by the King’s Printers, confined
their attention to books of a lighter and more ephemeral kind.
Wynkyn de Worde, who had probably been an assistant of Caxton’s
from the time of the introduction of printing into England in 1476,
was certainly married and settled in Westminster by 1480, in which
year his wife Elizabeth is mentioned in a deed. He inherited all
Caxton’s printing material and continued to lease his old house and
printing-office from the Abbot of Westminster, John Esteney, in whose
account-book he is entered from the year 1491 onward. Mr Scott, of the
British Museum, who first made known these entries, which he had found
when calendaring the Abbey muniments, noted that he was called Jan
Wynkyn in them, and wrote a letter to the _Athenaeum_ to point out that
the printer’s Christian name, hitherto unknown, was John. It appears to
me that about this name there is some confusion or mistake.
Wijnand or Wynkyn is itself a Christian name, and De Worde like most
other foreign printers made use of his Christian name joined to the
name of the place from which he came. Thus we have Joannes Lettou (John
of Lithuania), Willelmus de Machlinia (William of Malines), Jan van
Doesborch, Christopher van Ruremond, John Siberch, and so on, while
we have no example of a surname joined with the name of a place. In
all the hundreds of colophons to De Worde’s books, in his patent of
denization, even in his will, there is no hint of such a name as Jan,
and the combination Jan Wynkyn could only mean John the son of Wynkyn.
We must presume that De Worde knew better than the Abbot what his own
name was and that the Abbot’s entry is the result of some confusion. I
am the more anxious to point out this confusion about the name because
entirely without my knowledge and after I had returned my last proof
the editor of the _Dictionary of National Biography_ inserted this
piece of information, extracted from Mr Scott’s letter, in my notice of
Wynkyn de Worde, and thus made me responsible for a statement which I
do not in the least believe.
De Worde continued to print in Caxton’s house until some time in 1500,
when he moved to the sign of the Sun in Fleet Street. The position
of the house can be settled almost exactly. It is described as over
against, that is, opposite the Conduit, and this was situated in Fleet
Street, just where Shoe Lane entered it on the north side. De Worde’s
house being in St Bride’s parish and near the church must have been on
the south side of the street and therefore opposite the entrance of
Shoe Lane. He rented two houses, one no doubt a dwelling-house, the
other his printing-office, and for these he paid a rent of sixty-six
shillings and eight-pence. On leaving Westminster De Worde either
destroyed or parted with a considerable portion of his printing
material. Some of his type used up to this time never appears again,
and many of the wood blocks used to illustrate his books are found in
the hands of other printers, more especially Julian Notary.
The year 1501 was apparently mostly taken up with settling into his new
premises; for this year his output was the smallest during his whole
career, and we know of but one dated book issued in it, a new edition
of Bishop Alcock’s _Mons Perfectionis_ which appeared on May 27. Three
copies of this book are known, in the libraries of Peterborough and
Lincoln Cathedrals, and the third in the University Library, which came
in the bequest of Mr Sandars.
On April 22, 1502, De Worde issued an edition of the _Manipulus
Curatorum_, which is worthy of notice. It is a very small octavo,
printed in a small neat black-letter, and all the copies I have seen,
with one exception, have on the title-page the small square early
device of the printer. The copy, however, which belonged to Richard
Farmer and is now in the Bodleian, has a device of De Worde which so
far as I know is found in no other book. It is, like his most common
device, divided into three parts. The upper contains the sun, two
planets, and thirty-six stars, the middle Caxton’s mark and initials,
and the lower the unicorn and Sagittarius above a ribbon containing
De Worde’s name in full. The engraver has made a not uncommon mistake
and has engraved the large initial _C_ so that it prints the wrong way
about. Another device of De Worde’s had the mark reversed, but that was
not so obvious an error; in this case the printer seems to have thought
the mistake too flaring and to have suppressed the device.
There is a curious little undated tract in the University Library which
cannot be later than the beginning of 1502, describing the doings of
Margerie Kempe of Lynn, a religious enthusiast who travelled about
the country with an axe asking people to cut her head off. In this De
Worde used, probably for the last time, the beautiful cut of the
Crucifixion which he had inherited from Caxton, but which beginning to
split in 1499 had now broken in half and was in other ways more or less
damaged.
[Illustration: UNRECORDED DEVICE OF W. DE WORDE.]
In 1504 De Worde began the use of his best known device, first used in
a _Grammar_ of Sulpitius, of which the unique copy is in the library
of Shrewsbury School. It is square in shape and divided into three
parts. In the upper are the sun, two planets, and twenty stars, in the
middle Caxton’s initials and mark, and in the lower the printer’s name
on a ribbon, above which are a dog and a centaur. This device was used
until 1518, when having got cracked and broken it was replaced by an
almost exact facsimile. This in its turn was used until 1528, when it
was replaced by a third copy. So similar to the eye are these three
varieties that no writer on bibliography has noticed the differences,
though they form the most valuable date test we have for De Worde’s
books, as it was this device he most generally used.
Towards the end of 1508 when Pynson was appointed printer to the King,
De Worde appears to have received some sort of official appointment as
printer to the Countess of Richmond and Derby, the King’s mother. He
had printed several books before this time at her request, a phrase
which I suppose meant that she had helped to defray the cost, but he
had not called himself specially her printer. In most of the books
printed in 1509 before the 29th June, when the Countess died, he gives
himself an official title, as printer to the King’s mother.
Among the books printed in 1508 is one entitled _The Book of Kerving_,
of which there were several editions. A copy of one of these editions,
which was in the collection of Rawlinson, contained the following rhyme
in an old hand,
Wynken de Worde
Sate at the borde
Wyth hys cosyn forde
And kyld hym with a sworde.
Below this the learned owner has written “Whether this last writing be
not a whymsy I know not but feare much it is.”
Two books of 1508 were printed on vellum, Fisher’s _Sermon on
the Fruitful Sayings of David_, and Richard of Hampole’s _Devout
Meditacions_, and there are copies of both in the British Museum.
The year 1509 was a very important one in De Worde’s life. The death
of Henry VII was very soon followed by that of Margaret, Countess of
Richmond and Derby, De Worde’s special patroness. However, the output
of books this year was the largest of any year of his life. The royal
funerals and the coronation would no doubt attract large crowds to
London and so encourage business. Out of some thirty books printed this
year I can only trace five as having been issued before Henry VII’s
death, that is roughly during the first four months of the year. To one
of these I should like to draw your particular attention. It is called
_Nicodemus Gospel_ and there is a copy in the University Library. Its
colophon runs “Enprynted at London in Flete strete at the sygne of the
sonne by wynkyn de worde, printer unto the moost excellent pryncesse
my lady the Kynges moder. In the yere of our lorde god MCCCCC.ix. the
xxiii. daye of Marche.” This colophon and that to the _Golden Legend_
of 1498 are two of the proofs we possess that De Worde began his year
on January 1 and not as was very common on March 25. The book you will
notice was issued on March 23, 1509, and Henry VII and his mother the
Countess of Richmond are both referred to as alive. Had De Worde begun
his year on March 25 and meant by March 23, 1509, March 23, 1510, both
these persons would have been dead. The point is interesting because
the custom of printers varied, and, as I shall show later, De Worde’s
contemporary Julian Notary dated the other way. In a few books printed
between the death of Henry VII and that of the Countess of Richmond and
Derby De Worde calls himself printer to the King’s grandmother.
About this time De Worde had a second shop in St Paul’s Churchyard with
the sign of Our Lady of Pity, but he does not appear to have kept it
long and it is only mentioned in some colophons of this year. It was
perhaps in reference to this sign that in some of his books he placed
at the end a small cut of Our Lady of Pity in place of his usual device.
The books issued in 1509 were of all kinds. Funeral sermons on Henry
VII and the Countess of Richmond, congratulatory poems addressed to
Henry VIII, and a very large number of popular poems and stories,
among them such books as _Richard Cœur de Lion_, _The Conversion of
Swearers_, _The Fifteen Joys of Marriage_, _The Parliament of Devils_,
and Hawes’s _Pastime of Pleasure_. Perhaps the most interesting of
all is the edition of Henry Watson’s version of the _Ship of Fools_.
Only one copy of this beautiful book is known, which is printed on
vellum and is preserved in the Bibliothèque Nationale. Henry Watson
was an assistant of De Worde’s and acted partly as printer and partly
as translator. Another book of this year is worth noticing, the first
edition of the York _Manual_. Though it has a full and clear colophon
stating that it was printed by De Worde, in fact the statement is
repeated twice over, there can be no doubt that it was printed abroad;
the type both of text and music, the illustrations, the device, the
peculiar size of the paper all go to prove this.
In 1510 a much smaller number of books, only about eight, were issued.
The printer seems to have been taking a rest, for he never in any
future year prints so small a number. Two curious books were issued in
this year, _King Apolyn of Tyre_, and the _Birth of Merlin_, and in the
following year _The Demaundes Joyous_. This delightful though sometimes
unedifying little book of riddles contains specimens which I remember
having been asked as a child, and I suppose they are asked yet. “How
many cows’ tails would it take to reach the moon?” with the simple
answer “One if it were long enough.” “How many sticks go to a crow’s
nest?” “None, for lack of feet.”
In 1512 appeared the _History of Helias, Knight of the Swan_, another
book only known from a single copy printed on vellum, now in the
library of Mr Hoe of New York. One fact about the book is worth noting
for the benefit of future bibliographers and that is that neither in
the catalogue of the sale in which it appeared nor, consequently,
in Mr Hazlitt’s description in his last volume of _Bibliographical
Collections and Notes_, is there any reference to the book being
printed on vellum.
In 1512 there appeared also the first grammatical work by Whittinton,
whose various books became so popular that De Worde sometimes issued as
many as four editions of one work in a year. At that time printers had
not enough type to admit of their keeping it standing for any length of
time, and as labour was very cheap they preferred to reset the type for
small editions and not print off a very large edition, which perhaps
might lie on their hands for a long time.
So many and so varied were the productions of De Worde’s press--he
printed between seven and eight hundred known books--that it is hard
to pick out any for special notice. In 1515 he issued an edition of
the _Way to the Holy Land_, which was reprinted in 1524. In 1516
Capgrave’s _Nova Legenda Angliae_, of which a copy on vellum is in the
Bibliothèque Nationale. In 1517 we have _Troylus and Cressede_; in 1518
_Oliver of Castile_. In 1519 the _Orchard of Syon_, of which several
copies were printed on vellum. In 1521 he issued a book of _Christmas
Carolles_, of which there is a fragment in the Bodleian; it contains
the well-known carol,
“The bores head in hande bring I
With garlands gay and rosemary
I pray you all synge merely
Qui estis in convivio.”
In 1522 an edition of the _Mirror of Golde for the sinful soul_
appeared with De Worde’s name in the colophon, but the edition is
identical with one issued simultaneously by John Skot. From the type it
is clear that Skot was the printer, and an examination of several of
De Worde’s books about this time shows that they were also produced by
Skot.
Erasmus begins about this time to be represented amongst De Worde’s
books by his _Colloquiorum formulae_, _De copia verborum_, _Good
manners for children_, and a few others, but the printer does not seem
to have printed many editions, which is the more remarkable as the
booksellers’ accounts of the time point to a large demand for Erasmus’
books.