There is some probability that this art originated in China, where it
was practised long before it was known in Europe. Some European
traveller might have imported the hint.[30] That the Romans did not
practise the art of printing cannot but excite our astonishment, since
they actually used it, unconscious of their rich possession. I have seen
Roman stereotypes, or immoveable printing types, with which they stamped
their pottery.[31] How in daily practising the art, though confined to
this object, it did not occur to so ingenious a people to print their
literary works, is not easily to be accounted for. Did the wise and
grave senate dread those inconveniences which attend its indiscriminate
use? Or perhaps they did not care to deprive so large a body of scribes
of their business. Not a hint of the art itself appears in their
writings.
When first the art of printing was discovered, they only made use of one
side of a leaf; they had not yet found out the expedient of impressing
the other. Afterwards they thought of pasting the blank sides, which
made them appear like one leaf. Their blocks were made of soft woods,
and their letters were carved; but frequently breaking, the expense and
trouble of carving and gluing new letters suggested our moveable types
which, have produced an almost miraculous celerity in this art. The
modern stereotype, consisting of entire pages in solid blocks of metal,
and, not being liable to break like the soft wood at first used, has
been profitably employed for works which require to be frequently
reprinted. Printing in carved blocks of wood must have greatly retarded
the progress of universal knowledge: for one set of types could only
have produced one work, whereas it now serves for hundreds.
When their editions were intended to be curious, they omitted to print
the initial letter of a chapter: they left that blank space to be
painted or illuminated, to the fancy of the purchaser. Several ancient
volumes of these early times have been found where these letters are
wanting, as they neglected to have them painted.
The initial carved letter, which is generally a fine wood-cut, among our
printed books, is evidently a remains or imitation of these
ornaments.[32] Among the very earliest books printed, which were
religious, the Poor Man's Bible has wooden cuts in a coarse style,
without the least shadowing or crossing of strokes, and these they
inelegantly daubed over with broad colours, which they termed
illuminating, and sold at a cheap rate to those who could not afford to
purchase costly missals elegantly written and painted on vellum.
Specimens of these rude efforts of illuminated prints may be seen in
Strutt's Dictionary of Engravers. The Bodleian library possesses the
originals.[33]
In the productions of early printing may be distinguished the various
splendid editions of _Primers_, or _Prayer-books_. These were
embellished with cuts finished in a most elegant taste: many of them
were grotesque or obscene. In one of them an angel is represented
crowning the Virgin Mary, and God the Father himself assisting at the
ceremony. Sometimes St. Michael is overcoming Satan; and sometimes St.
Anthony is attacked by various devils of most clumsy forms--not of the
grotesque and limber family of Callot!
Printing was gradually practised throughout Europe from the year 1440 to
1500. Caxton and his successor Wynkyn de Worde were our own earliest
printers. Caxton was a wealthy merchant, who, in 1464, being sent by
Edward IV. to negotiate a commercial treaty with the Duke of Burgundy,
returned to his country with this invaluable art. Notwithstanding his
mercantile habits, he possessed a literary taste, and his first work was
a translation from a French historical miscellany.[34]
The tradition of the Devil and Dr. Faustus was said to have been derived
from the odd circumstance in which the Bibles of the first printer,
Fust, appeared to the world; but if Dr. Faustus and Faustus the printer
are two different persons, the tradition becomes suspicious, though, in
some respects, it has a foundation in truth. When Fust had discovered
this new art, and printed off a considerable number of copies of the
Bible to imitate those which were commonly sold as MSS., he undertook
the sale of them at Paris. It was his interest to conceal this
discovery, and to pass off his printed copies for MSS. But, enabled to
sell his Bibles at sixty crowns, while the other scribes demanded five
hundred, this raised universal astonishment; and still more when he
produced copies as fast as they were wanted, and even lowered his price.
The uniformity of the copies increased the wonder. Informations were
given in to the magistrates against him as a magician; and in searching
his lodgings a great number of copies were found. The red ink, and
Fust's red ink is peculiarly brilliant, which embellished his copies,
was said to be his blood; and it was solemnly adjudged that he was in
league with the Infernals. Fust at length was obliged, to save himself
from a bonfire, to reveal his art to the Parliament of Paris, who
discharged him from all prosecution in consideration of the wonderful
invention.
When the art of printing was established, it became the glory of the
learned to be correctors of the press to eminent printers. Physicians,
lawyers, and bishops themselves occupied this department. The printers
then added frequently to their names those of the correctors of the
press; and editions were then valued according to the abilities of the
corrector.
The _prices_ of books in these times were considered as an object worthy
of the animadversions of the highest powers. This anxiety in favour of
the studious appears from a privilege of Pope Leo X. to Aldus Manutius
for printing Varro, dated 1553, signed Cardinal Bembo. Aldus is exhorted
to put a moderate price on the work, lest the Pope should withdraw his
privilege, and accord it to others.
Robert Stephens, one of the early printers, surpassed in correctness
those who exercised the same profession.[35]
To render his editions immaculate, he hung up the proofs in public
places, and generously recompensed those who were so fortunate as to
detect any errata.
Plantin, though a learned man, is more famous as a printer. His
printing-office was one of the wonders of Europe. This grand building
was the chief ornament of the city of Antwerp. Magnificent in its
structure, it presented to the spectator a countless number of presses,
characters of all figures and all sizes, matrixes to cast letters, and
all other printing materials; which Baillet assures us amounted to
immense sums.[36]
In Italy, the three Manutii were more solicitous of correctness and
illustrations than of the beauty of their printing. They were ambitious
of the character of the scholar, not of the printer.
It is much to be regretted that our publishers are not literary men,
able to form their own critical decisions. Among the learned printers
formerly, a book was valued because it came from the presses of an Aldus
or a Stephens; and even in our own time the names of Bowyer and Dodsley
sanctioned a work. Pelisson, in his history of the French Academy,
mentions that Camusat was selected as their bookseller, from his
reputation for publishing only valuable works. "He was a man of some
literature and good sense, and rarely printed an indifferent work; and
when we were young I recollect that we always made it a rule to purchase
his publications. His name was a test of the goodness of the work." A
publisher of this character would be of the greatest utility to the
literary world: at home he would induce a number of ingenious men to
become authors, for it would be honourable to be inscribed in his
catalogue; and it would be a direction for the continental reader.
So valuable a union of learning and printing did not, unfortunately,
last. The printers of the seventeenth century became less charmed with
glory than with gain. Their correctors and their letters evinced as
little delicacy of choice.
The invention of what is now called the _Italic_ letter in printing was
made by Aldus Manutius, to whom learning owes much. He observed the
many inconveniences resulting from the vast number of _abbreviations_,
which were then so frequent among the printers, that a book was
difficult to understand; a treatise was actually written on the art of
reading a printed book, and this addressed to the learned! He contrived
an expedient, by which these abbreviations might be entirely got rid of,
and yet books suffer little increase in bulk. This he effected by
introducing what is now called the _Italic_ letter, though it formerly
was distinguished by the name of the inventor, and called the _Aldine_.