It is interesting to note that the Printer’s Mark preceded the
introduction of the title-page by nearly twenty years, and that the
first ornamental title known appeared in the “Calendar” of
Regiomontanus, printed at Venice by Pictor, Loeslein and Ratdolt in
1476, in folio. Neither the simple nor the ornate title-page secured an
immediate or general popularity, and not for many years was it regarded
as an essential feature of a printed volume. Its history is intimately
associated with that of the Printer’s Mark, and the progress of the one
synchronizes up to a certain point with that of the other. In beauty of
design and engraving, the Printer’s Mark, like the Title-page, attained
its highest point of artistic excellence in the early part of the
sixteenth century. This perhaps is not altogether surprising when it is
remembered that during the first twenty years of that period we have
title-pages from the hands of Dürer, Holbein, Wechtlin, Urse Graff,
Schauffelein and Cranach. In his excellent work entitled “Last Words on
the History of the Title-Page,” Mr. A. W. Pollard observes “From 1550
onwards we find beauty in nooks and corners. Here and there over some
special book an artist will have laboured, and not in vain; but save for
such stray miracles, as decade succeeds decade, good work becomes rarer
and rarer, and at last we learn to look only for carelessness,
ill-taste, and caricature, and of these are seldom disappointed.” These
remarks apply with equal force to the Printer’s Mark, although some
exceptionally beautiful examples appeared after that period.
The position allotted to the Printer’s Mark may not be of very great
importance, but it offers some points of interest. It appeared first in
the colophon, in which the printer usually seized the opportunity not
only of thanking God that he had finished his task, but of indulging in
a little puff either of his own part of the transaction or of the work
itself. The appearance of the Mark in the colophon therefore was a
natural corollary of the printer’s vanity. It soon outgrew its place of
confinement; and when a pictorial effect was attempted it became
promoted, as it were, to the title-page. In this position it was nearly
always of a primary character, so to speak, but sometimes, as in the
case of Reinhard Beck, it was almost lost in the maze of decorative
borders. But it is found in various parts of the printed book: in some
cases, among which are the Arabic works issued by Erpenius of Leyden, we
find the Mark at what we regard as the beginning of the book, but which
in reality is its end. Sometimes the Mark occupies the first and last
leaves of a book, as was often the case with the more important works
issued by Froben, by the brothers Huguetan and others. These two Marks
at the extreme portions of a book either differed from one another or
not, according to the fancy or convenience of the printer. The Mark also
appeared sometimes at the end of the index, or at the end of the
preliminary matter, such as list of contents or address of the author,
and its position was generally determined by several circumstances.
[Illustration: REINHARD BECK.]
Now and then we have what may be described as a double Mark; that is, of
printer and bookseller, the one keeping a sharp look out to see that the
other did not have more than his fair share of credit. This is the case
with several books printed by Jehan Petit for Thielman Kerver, Paris, of
which an example is given in the previous chapter; Wynkyn de Worde used
Caxton’s initials for a time on his Mark, but the only motive which
could have prompted this was an affectionate regard for his master. Some
of the books which Jannot De Campis printed at Lyons for Symon Vincent
contained not only the printer’s, but two examples of the bookseller’s
Mark.
[Illustration: HUBERT GOLTZ.