Chapter XI: Part 11

From the early records we can glean nothing which will demonstrate that typography was practised in any part of the Netherlands before 1472. The workmanship of all known Netherlandish printers after this date is of every degree of merit and of demerit, but in all their books it shows the impressions of types founded in moulds of hard metal, and properly printed on a press, on both sides of the paper, and in black ink. As it is a style of workmanship entirely unlike that of the unknown printer, it is a proper inference that typography came into the Netherlands, as it did into all other countries, through the pupils and by the method of Gutenberg.

The table annexed will show how late was the beginning of typography in the Netherlands. It also shows that printing “by the art that is now used,” was introduced almost simultaneously in three different towns of the Netherlands. In the year 1473, John of Westphalia was first printer at Alost; [p324] the partners Ketelaer and De Leempt were at Utrecht; and Veldener was at Louvain. Ketelaer and De Leempt were Netherlanders, but there is no evidence to confirm the conjecture that they had been instructed by the unknown printer. Veldener of Wurtzburg, John of Westphalia, Colard Mansion, William Caxton, Arnold Ter Hoorne, Conrad of Westphalia, Richard Paffroed, Conrad Braem, and Hermann of Nassau were graduates from printing offices at Cologne.[181] It is possible that Thierry Martens also was taught typography in the same city. We have many evidences that Cologne was the school of typography for the Netherlands.

THE TOWNS AND CITIES OF THE NETHERLANDS IN WHICH PRINTING OFFICES WERE ESTABLISHED DURING THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.

[From Holtrop.]

Utrecht Nicholas Ketelaer, Gerard de Leempt, 1473–1474.

William Hees 1475.
John Veldener 1478–1481.
Alost John of Westphalia 1473–1474.
Thierry Martens 1474–1490.

Louvain John Veldener 1473–1477.
John of Westphalia 1474–1496.
Conrad Braem 1475–1481.
Conrad of Westphalia 1476.
Hermann of Nassau, Rud. Loeffs, 1483.
Egidius van der Heerstraten 1485–1488.
Louis de Ravescot 1488.
Thierry Martens 1498–1500.

Brussels Brotherhood of the Life-in-Common, 1476–1487.

Gouda Gerard Leeu 1477–1484.
Godfrey de Os 1486.
Godfrey de Ghemen
Unnamed Printer 1486.

Bruges Colard Mansion 1475–1484.
John Brito

Deventer Richard Paffroed 1477–1500.
Jacques de Breda 1485–1500.

Delft Jacob Jacobzoon 1477–1479.
J. Van der Meer 1480–1487.
Unnamed Printer 1488–1494.

St. Maartensdyk Werrecoren 1478.

Nimeguen Gerard Leempt 1479.

Zwoll Unknown Printer 1479.
Peter von Os 1480–1500.

Audenarde Arn. l’Empereur 1480–1482.

Hasselt Pereg. Bermentlo 1480–1481.

Antwerp Matt. Van der Goes 1482–1491.
Gerard Leeu 1484–1493.
Thierry Martens 1493–1497.

Leyden Henry Henry 1483–1484.

Gand Arnold l’Empereur 1483–1489.

Culenburg John Veldener 1483–1484.

Bois-le-Duc Gerard Leempt 1484–1487.

Schoonhoven Brotherhood 1495–1500.

Schiedam Unnamed Printer 1498–1500.

Haarlem Jacob Bellaert 1483–1486.]

We have no evidences that the unknown printer acquired his poor knowledge of typography through any other channel. His unequal workmanship is an indication that his instruction was imperfect; the neat presswork of his wood-cuts is that of an expert printer of block-books, who, no doubt, had abundant practice in this field before he undertook to print with types; the rudeness of his typographic work is that of one who had never received regular instruction in typography. It is possible that he received only a verbal explanation of the processes of the art,[182] and that he tried, unaided, to graft the new into the old method. His workmanship seems to be that of an imitator, a curious mixture of skill and of ignorance, but its inferiority to the workmanship of other printers of his time is not proof of its greater age or of his originality; it proves only his imperfect instruction or greater incapacity. So far from showing the first steps in an immature invention, his books truly show the degradation of a perfect method. They show the ignorance of a badly taught typographic printer, and [p325] the prejudices of an old block-printer who had adopted the newer method with reluctance. We have seen that Walther’s edition of the _Bible of the Poor_ is every way inferior to the first edition, and have drawn from it the conclusion that there was a wonderful degradation of the art of engraving on wood. When we establish a comparison between the great _Bible_ of Gutenberg and the _Speculum_ of the unknown printer we have similar premises, and have to form the similar conclusion, that the arts do not always improve with age, and that the pupil or the imitator is often inferior to the master.

The evidences in favor of the priority of the unknown printer are very slight. It may be conceded that he was the first printer of the Netherlands, but it has not been proved, nor is it probable, that he printed with types earlier than the year 1463. Still more improbable is the assumption that he was an independent inventor of printing. We have to judge of the merits of this pretended invention as we do of every other—by its fruits. It had no fruit. The facts that this unknown printer made no mark on his age—that he left no work worthy of his alleged invention—that neither he nor his printed work was noticed by any of the chroniclers of his day—that he had no pupils, no successors, no imitators—should be sufficient to prove that he was not an inventor but an imitator.

By many authors the question of his possible priority has been decided, not from an examination of known and proved facts, but from the assertions of prejudiced and untrustworthy witnesses. The frequent presentation of the statement of the _Cologne Chronicle_, and of the legends that find their support in it, has not been without effect. There is a general belief in the tradition that types were first made in Haarlem by Coster, and that the German method was the outgrowth of the Dutch method. This proposition has been repeated so frequently and so confidently that it becomes necessary to give a critical examination to the legend of printing in Haarlem.

[p326]

XVII

The Legend of Loureus Janszoon Coster.

Coornhert’s Notice of Printing in Haarlem . . . Notice by Van Zuren . . . By Guicciardini . . . The Statement of Junius . . . Fac-simile of Scriverius’s Portrait of Coster . . . Sketch of Junius’s life and Works . . . Examination of his Statement . . . Vagueness of the Date . . . Junius’s Story is Incredible . . . Wood Types could not be Used . . . Metal Types made too soon . . . This story an Imitation of a Spurious German Story . . . Fust was not the Thief . . . Absurdity of the Accusation . . . Evidence of Cornelis . . . Our knowledge of Cornelis from other Sources . . . Cornelis not an Eye-Witness . . . Talesius not a Satisfactory Witness . . . Disappearance of the Art more Wonderful than its Invention . . . Legend Cherished for Patriotic Reasons . . . Its Growth and its Exaggerations.

* * * * *

He who is satisfied, as regards a fact like that of the invention of typography, with the simple assertion of people who talk of things which are said to have happened more than a century before their time, is destitute of scientific morality: he is ignorant of the passion of truth; in short, he belongs to the plebeians. We have not only the right to reject the fable fabricated by Junius, . . . but as honest men we are bound to do it.

_Van der Linde._

* * * * *

In the year 1561, Jan Van Zuren and Dierick Coornhert, with other partners, set up a printing office in Haarlem. Van Zuren was a native and burgomaster of the town of Amsterdam; Coornhert, who was a notary and an engraver, is said to have been the instructor of the famous engraver Goltzius. Their first book was an edition of _Cicero de Officiis_, to which they prefixed the following quaint dedication:

To the burgomaster, sheriffs and councilors of the town of Haarlem, D. V. Coornhert wishes as his honorable and commanding masters, salvation to soul and body.

“I was often told, in good faith, honorable, wise, and prudent gentlemen, that the useful art of printing books was invented first of all here at Haarlem, although in a very crude way, as it is easier to improve on an invention than to invent; which art having been [p327] brought to Mentz by an unfaithful servant, was very much improved there, whereby this town, on account of its first having spread it, gained such a reputation for the invention of this art, that our fellow-citizens find very little credence when they ascribe this honor to the true inventor, as it is believed by many here on incontestable information, and is undoubtedly known to the elder citizens. Nor am I ignorant that this fame of Mentz has taken so deeply root in the opinion of all, by the heedless carelessness of our forefathers, that no proof, however apparent, however clear, however blameless it may be, would be capable of removing this inveterate impression from the hearts of the people. But—for truth is no less truth when known only to a few, and because I implicitly believe what I have said before, on account of the trustworthy evidence of very old, dignified, and grey heads, who often told me not only the family of the inventor, but also his name and surname, and explained the first crude way of printing, and pointed with their finger the house of the first printer out to me—I could not help mentioning this in few words, not as an envier of another’s glory, but as a lover of truth, and to the promotion of the honor of this town; which proper and just ambition seems to have also been the cause for the re-establishment and recommencement of this printing office (as a shoot from the root of an old tree). For it often happened, when the citizens talked to each other about this case, that they complained that others enjoyed this glory unjustly, and (as they said) without anybody contradicting them, because no one exercised printing in this town.”[183]

The claim of Haarlem to the invention of printing is confidently stated, but Coornhert has neglected to give the name or describe the process of the inventor, to fix the date of the invention, or to specify any of its products. He and his venerable informants, the “honorable, wise and prudent gentlemen,” knew all these matters, but Coornhert prudently kept silence. It is worthy of notice that Coornhert admits that, in 1561, “the fame of Mentz” had taken so deep a root in the minds of many people that no proof could remove it.

A full notice of the details of early printing might have been considered out of place in the preface to a classic text book, but it would have been pertinent in a “_Dialogue on the First Invention of the Typographic Art_,” which was the title of a book said to have been written by Jan Van Zuren. Of [p328] this dialogue nothing is known but the introduction. Whether the author grew weary of his task, and abandoned it before completion, or whether the manuscript was destroyed, as is alleged, during the siege of Haarlem in 1573, cannot now be ascertained. All we know of this manuscript is through Peter Scriverius, who, diligently gleaning every scrap of history that favors the Haarlem invention, has preserved the preface. It is too long and rambling for a literal translation; this is the substance, which Van Zuren approached with great delicacy:

He does not wish to deprive Mentz of its rightful honors, but he will see that the honors of Haarlem are not altogether lost. The town of Mentz, so justly lauded, first introduced this art, received from us, in public life. The first crude foundations of this excellent art were laid in our town of Haarlem. Here the art of printing was born. No doubt it was here carefully cultivated and improved; here it remained during many years, until at last it accompanied a foreigner and made, at last, its public appearance at Mentz.

Here again is a noticeable absence of names, dates, books, evidences and authorities.[184] From beginning to end there is nothing in this statement but naked assertion.

One fact of real value may be gleaned from the preface of Van Zuren and the dedication of Coornhert. There was even then in Haarlem a strong prejudice against Mentz; there was a wavering belief among some of the townsfolk that printing had been invented in Haarlem, and that the pretension of [p329] Mentz was unfounded. Whether this prejudice had been fostered by the obscure language of Zell, or whether it took its rise in the conceit of the simple people of the town, who may have thought that Ballaert, the first printer at Haarlem, was also the first printer in the world, cannot now be ascertained. There was a prejudice, and Van Zuren and Coornhert thought that it would be to their interest as printers to propitiate it.

The publication of these mysterious allusions to an early printer in Haarlem strengthened the belief of Hollanders in the legend. It was imposed as veritable history on intelligent foreigners who were unable to disprove it. Luigi Guicciardini, a Florentine nobleman, for many years resident of Antwerp, and who there wrote and published, in 1567, a _Description of the Low Countries_, was the first author of distinction who gave a world-wide publicity to the legend. In his book he says:

According to the common tradition of the inhabitants and the assertion of other natives of Holland, as well as the testimony of certain authors and records, it appears that the art of printing and stamping letters and characters on paper in the manner now used, was first invented in this place [Haarlem]. But the author of the invention happening to die before the art was brought to perfection and had acquired repute, his servant, they say, went to reside at Mentz, where, giving proofs of his knowledge in that science, he was joyfully received, and where, having applied himself to the business with unremitting diligence, it became at length generally known, and was brought to entire perfection, in consequence of which the fame afterward spread abroad and became general that the art and science of printing originated in that city. What is really the truth I am not able, nor will I take upon me to decide, it sufficing me to have said these few words that I might not be guilty of injustice toward this town and this country.[185]

The story is told as it had been heard, without comment, and without hearty belief. It will be noticed that no really important fact has been added to supplement the previous story. We are still in the dark as to the name of the printer, the date of the invention, and the titles of his books. The authors mentioned by Guicciardini were probably Coornhert [p330] and Van Zuren; the inhabitants who gave him information were probably the same men who had previously given it to these printers. Guicciardini’s story differs from theirs in one point only. His description of the translation of typography from Haarlem to Mentz does not impute dishonesty to the workman who carried it thither. The insinuated accusation of theft was not repeated by the scrupulous Italian.

Guicciardini’s book, which was of marked merit, was published in an age of credulity. It was translated and reprinted in many languages. This legend of an unnamed inventor at Haarlem was taken up by other writers. It was published as valid history by George Braunius of Cologne, in his geography, dated 1570–88; by Michael Eytzinger of Cologne, in a book on the Netherlands, dated 1584; by Matthew Quade of Cologne, in a compend of history and geography dated 1600; by Noel Conti of Venice, in a universal history, dated 1572. These authors have been frequently quoted as men who had examined and confirmed the legend; but it is obvious that they copied the statements of Guicciardini without investigation. Their approval of the legend must be considered as an exhibition of credulity rather than of knowledge.

The specification of the name of the alleged proto-typographer of Haarlem was made for the first time in a book now known as _Batavia_, which was published in 1588, and of which Hadrianus Junius or Adrien de Jonghe was the author. The story of the invention, as here related, is far from complete, but it is positive and definite: it gives the time, the place, the book and the man. It can be fairly presented only in an unabridged translation of the author’s words:

About one hundred and twenty-eight years ago, there dwelt in a house of some magnificence (as may be verified by inspection, for it stands intact to this day) in Haarlem, near to the market, and opposite the royal palace, Laurentius Joannes, surnamed Æditus or Custos, by reason of this lucrative and honorable office, which by hereditary right appertained to the distinguished family of this name. To this man should revert the wrested honor of the invention of the typographic art, which has been wrongfully enjoyed by others. A just judgment [p331] should give to him before all others, the laurel which he has deserved as the most successful contestant.

When strolling in the woods near the city, as citizens who enjoyed ease were accustomed to do after dinner and on holidays, it happened that he undertook as an experiment to fashion the bark of a beech tree in the form of letters. The letters so made he impressed the reverse way, consecutively, upon a leaf of paper, in little lines of one kind and another, and the kindness of his nature induced him to give them, as a keepsake, to the grandchildren of his son-in-law [Thomas Pieterzoon]. He had succeeded so happily in this that he aspired to greater things, as became a man of cultivated and enlarged capacities. By the aid of his son-in-law, Thomas Pieterzoon, to whom were left four children, most of whom attained the dignity of burgomaster (I say this that all the world may know that this art was invented in a reputable and honorable family, and not among plebeians), he invented, first of all, an ink thicker and more viscid than that of the scribes, for he found that the common ink spread or blotted. Thereupon he made, by the addition of letters, explanations for pictures engraved on wood.

Of this kind of printing I myself have seen some stamped block-books, the first essays of the art, printed on one side only, with the printed pages facing each other, and not upon both sides of the leaf. Among them was a book in the vernacular, written by an unknown author, bearing the title of _Spieghel onzer behoudenis_ [the edition in Dutch of the _Speculum Salutis_]. This book was among the _a b c s_ of the art—for an art is never perfected at its inception—and the blank sides of the leaf were united by paste, to hide the uncouthness of the unprinted pages. He subsequently changed the beech-wood letters for those of lead, and these again for letters of tin, because tin was a less flexible material, harder, and more durable. To this day may be seen in the very house itself, looking over on the market-place as I have said (inhabited afterward by his great-grandchild, Gerrit Thomaszoon, who departed this life but a few years since, and whom I mention only to honor), some very old wine flagons, which were made from the melting down of the remnants of these very types.

The new invention met with favor from the public, as it deserved, and the new merchandise, never before seen, attracted purchasers from every direction, and produced abundant profit. As the admiration of the art increased, the work increased. He added assistants to his band of workmen; and here may be found the cause of his troubles. Among these workmen was a certain John. Whether or not, as suspicion alleges, he was Faust[186]—inauspicious name for one who was [p332] equally unfortunate and unfaithful to his master—or whether he was another of the same name, I shall not trouble myself to ascertain—for, I am unwilling to disturb the _shades_ of the dead, inasmuch as _they_[187] must have suffered from the reproaches of conscience as long as _they_ lived. _This_ man, although bound by oath to [preserving the secrets of] the typographic art, when he knew himself to be perfectly skilled in the operations of type-setting, in the knowledge of type-founding, and in every other detail appertaining to the work, seized the first favorable opportunity—and he could not have found a time more favorable, for it was on the night of the anniversary of the nativity of Christ, when all, without distinction, are accustomed to assist at divine service—and flew into the closet of the types, and packed up the instruments used in making them that belonged to his master, and which had been made with his own hands, and immediately after slunk away from the house with the thief. He went first to Amsterdam, thence to Cologne, and finally regained Mentz, as it were to an altar of safety so it is said, and as if beyond all possibility of a recapture, where, having opened his office, he reaped an abundant reward from the fruits of his theft. That is to say, within the space of a year, or about 1442, it is well known that he published by the aid of the same types which Laurentius had used in Haarlem, the _Doctrinal_ of Alexander Gallus, the most popular grammar then in use, and also the _Treatises_ of Peter of Spain, which were his first publications.

These are the facts. Nearly all of them are from old men worthy of belief, who, each in turn, have accepted and transmitted them, as they would pass a lighted torch from hand to hand. I knew these facts long time ago, and have positive knowledge from other sources which have attested and confirmed them. I remember that Nicholas Gallius, the preceptor of my boyhood, a man of tenacious memory, and venerable with gray hairs, narrated these circumstances to me. He, when a boy, had more than once heard Cornelis, an old bookbinder and an under workman in the same printing office, when not an octogenarian and bowed down with years, recite all these details as he had received them from his master, embracing the inception of the enterprise, the growth and cultivation of the rude art, and other transactions connected therewith. But as often as he made mention of the theft, he involuntarily would burst into tears at the recollection of the infamy of the sequel; and then the anger of the old man [p334] would flash up, as he thought of the glory of the invention that had been stolen with the other theft; and he wished, if his life had been spared, that he might have been able to set forth the thief in irons, ready to be pronounced a subject for the executioner; and then again he was wont to consign his sacrilegious head to the direst punishment, and to curse and execrate the nights which he had passed upon the same bed for many months with that villain. These details do not disagree with the words of Quirinius Talesius, burgomaster; for I acknowledge that a long time ago I received nearly the same story from him as was received from the mouth of the bookbinder.[188]

[From Moxon.]]

The story of Junius is the real foundation of the modern legend of Haarlem. All that had been written before is of little value; all that has been written since is but in explanation of its obscurer features. Before any criticism is given [p335] to this important document, the capability and credibility of the learned author of _Batavia_ should be considered.

The learning of Junius cannot be questioned; but Junius must be judged not by his dead reputation, but by his living performance. _Batavia_, although written in unexceptionable classical Latin, is not a valuable, nor even a mediocre book. The author was not above the pedantry and the bad taste of his age. His book is full of classical allusions, lugged in, not to illustrate the subject, but to display the author’s omnivorous reading;[189] his style is rhetorical, and his arrangement of facts is bewildering. These faults would be overlooked, if we could be sure of his so-called facts; but one cannot read many pages of _Batavia_ without being convinced of the credulity of the author, and of the thorough untrustworthiness of many of his [p336] descriptions. His defenders must confess that the book would have been of higher authority, if he had been more chary of rhetoric and more exact in description.[190]

The fixing of the period in which the inventor lived seems to have been made with a studied carelessness and intended obscurity. If we deduct the 128 years from the year 1568, the year in which the manuscript of _Batavia_ was completed, we have the date 1440. In this year Coster lived. When he was born, when he died, and how long he had been occupied with the practice of printing, is not related. If we infer that Junius intended that this year 1440 should be considered as the year of Coster’s death, the inference is purely conjectural. He does not say so. It may be supposed, but it is not said, that Coster printed with types before 1440. Whatever may have been the intention of Junius, the year 1440 was at first accepted by the authorities of Haarlem as the true date of the [p337] invention of typography.[191] It was thought that the fixing of the invention within this year would sufficiently establish the priority of Coster, for the year 1442 was the date then assigned to the rival invention in Germany. The authority of Junius for the year 1440 was, no doubt, a pedigree of the Coster family, of which he makes no mention.

There are troublesome entanglements connected with this date of 1440. Subsequent defenders of the legend, who tried to supply the deficiencies and correct the errors of Junius, made discoveries which compelled them to acknowledge that Lourens Janszoon (supposed by them to be Lourens Janszoon Coster) died in the year 1439. If he died in 1439, and if we believe that the invention was made in 1440, then he did his typographic work in the year after his death.[192] The absurdity of this date was clearly perceived when it was afterward discovered that Gutenberg had been engaged as early as 1436 in experiments with printing. To preserve the appearance of probability, the date of the invention was removed to 1423, so as to allow Coster time for experiment and for the perfection of his invention.

The name of the inventor is as uncertain as the date of the invention. Junius names him Laurentius Johannes, surnamed Ædituus, or Custos. In the pedigree, the name was [p338] written Lourens Janssoens Coster. Surnames were not then in common use; the son was identified through a name which described him in words as the son of his father. Lourens Janssoen Coster is literally, Lourens, son of John, the keeper, or the sexton.[193] He is most widely known in typographical literature by the name of Coster.

By the record, it appears that Coster was both a printer and a publisher. He cut blocks and made types, he mixed printing inks, he printed books, he employed many workmen, he had an honorable reputation as a printer, he reaped abundant profit from the sale of his merchandise. These statements are inconsistent with the eulogy which represents him as an idle man who experimented with types for amusement.[194]

That Coster knew nothing whatever about printing when he took his walk in the wood may be properly inferred from a careful reading of the story. His experiments with bark seem to have surprised and amused him as much as they did his [p339] grandchildren. There is nothing unreasonable in this part of the legend, but faith fails us when Junius says that Coster printed his book with types of wood.[195] The statement must be put aside as entirely unworthy of belief, for it has been shown that types of wood are impracticable, and that the types of every known edition of the _Speculum_ were made of founded metal.

No part of Junius’s statement is more incredible than his description of the ease with which Coster solved the problem of typography. Coster knew nothing of printing; but having carved a few letters on bark, and having cherished the idea that books could be printed from single types, he undertook to make—not types, but wood-cuts. Eager to realize his idea of typography, he began work with a formidable task of engraving. Here is an absurdity. To design, engrave, and print the illustrations of the _Speculum_ was a task almost as great as that of making the types. If the engravings were not in the possession of Coster before he made this experiment (and Junius does not authorize this hypothesis), it is not possible that he could have added to his task by attempting so many large wood-cuts. What follows is equally incredible. He passed from the work of cutting letters and pictures to that of making types without hesitation or experimentation; [p340] he struck out the correct method of making the types at the outset. His only mistake with types was in the selection of materials; wood was laid aside for lead, and tin supplanted lead; his greatest difficulty was encountered in the manufacture of the ink. If this story is true, then typography was invented through inspiration, for its origin was unlike that of all great mechanical inventions.

Junius describes this pretended invention of typography, not as he knew it was done, but as he thought it should have been done. Ignorant of the necessity for that strict accuracy of body, which is the vital principle of typography, and which can be secured only by the most ingenious mechanism, he thought, as thousands have thought, that the merit of the invention consisted in the conception of the idea. The construction of the mechanism he has skipped over as a little matter of mechanical detail entirely unworthy of notice. He tells us nothing about it. He shows the extent of his reading and the weakness of his judgment, by treading in the footsteps of German authors who attempted to describe the German invention of typography, not from positive knowledge, but through the exercise of a lively imagination. He makes Coster follow the road which they say was taken by Gutenberg: first, the types of wood; then, engraved letters on blocks of wood; next, types of lead; lastly, types of tin.[196]

The artful insinuation that John Fust was the false workman is discreditable. Junius does not unequivocally say that Fust was the thief, but his language authorizes the calumny. That John Fust of Mentz could not have stolen the implements of Coster will be positively established by records of [p341] the highest authority. The Dutch historians of typography who defend the story of Junius, say that Junius did not know the name of the real thief, but that the name of Fust is properly inserted, because Fust was honored as the inventor of typography in Mentz; that there was, probably, a complicity between Fust and the false workman, and that Fust was, for that reason, properly mentioned as the real offender.[197]

The determination of Junius to fasten this theft on Fust is shown in his statement that the thief regained or returned to Mentz, as to “the altar of safety.” At that time Paris, Rome and Venice had more schools and scholars, more book-readers and buyers than Mentz, and offered greater inducements for the founding of a printing office. These were the cities to which printers from Mentz subsequently went, and to which a thievish printer from Haarlem should have gone. But Junius finds it necessary to send him to Mentz to explain the introduction of typography in Germany.

The charge of theft is not corroborated by the discoveries of bibliographers. The two books which Junius says were printed in Mentz in 1442, with the types of Coster, cannot be traced to Mentz. Fragments of a copy of the _Doctrinal_ of Alexander Gallus, the work of some unknown printer, have been found, not in Mentz, but in the Netherlands. The types [p342] of this book resemble those of the _Speculum_, but they are sufficiently unlike to establish the fact that they could not have been cast from the matrices used for the _Speculum_. This edition of the _Doctrinal_ could not have been printed at Mentz.

The zealous indignation of Cornelis does not compensate us for his mysterious concealment of the name of the thief.[198] His evidence is extremely unsatisfactory. Cornelis, who was in the employ of Coster when the theft was made, who knew the process, who bound the printed work, who was an old resident of Haarlem, who had business relations with every printer that succeeded Coster, of all men, should have been the one most [p343] competent to describe the work of Coster. But the information that he has furnished through Junius is ridiculously trivial, scanty as to facts and dates, inconsistent, and, in some points, entirely untrue.

Before we accept all that Junius has said about Cornelis, it will be well to learn what we can about him from other sources. The first entry in an account book of the cathedral of Haarlem for the year 1474 is to this effect: “Item. . . . I have paid to Cornelis, the binder,[199] six Rhine florins for binding books.” Similar items, describing Cornelis as a bookbinder, are found in similar account books between the years 1485 and 1515. Payments were also recorded to Cornelis for coloring the initial letters of the “bulls of the indulgences.” After the year 1515 his name appears no longer as a bookbinder; in 1517 another binder did the work of the church. Seiz mentions an old book, printed by Jacob Bellaert of Haarlem in 1485, on the last leaf of which was written: “Bought at Haarlem in the Cruysstraet, of Cornelis the bookbinder, in May, 1492.” The register for the year 1522 contains this entry: “Cornelis the bookbinder was buried in the church. For the making of his grave, twenty pence.” There can be no doubt that there was a bookbinder Cornelis at Haarlem, and that the Cornelis of Junius is the Cornelis of the church record. The dates in these records will enable us to test the accuracy of one portion of the chronology of the legend.

Junius said that Cornelis told his story before he was an octogenarian. Eighty years might properly be considered as the limit of his life, which, according to the record, ended in 1522. If, to ascertain the date of the birth of Cornelis, we deduct eighty years from 1522, the result would show that he must have been born in 1442. But this was at least one year, perhaps two years, after the alleged theft. If Cornelis lived to the age of ninety years, the allowance of ten years more would not reconcile the discrepancy. Cornelis would have [p344] been a child of eight years of age; but the story of Junius requires, not a child, nor even a boy, but a man, an under-workman, the associate and room-mate of the false workman. To call it by the mildest name, here is a grievous blunder. The blunder is not in the record of the church, in which the chronology is consistent, for it represents Cornelis as beginning to work for the church when he was about thirty-two years of age. It would be a waste of time to show that the chronology of Junius is impossible: it is enough to say that the first link in the attempted chain is broken, and that Cornelis could not have been an eye-witness of the facts.[200]

It is a suspicious circumstance that the testimony of Cornelis should be recorded for the first time nearly half a century after his death. Hasback, Andrieszoon and Bellaert, the early printers of Haarlem, should have heard from Cornelis this story about Coster and his invention. The people of Haarlem, we are told, were proud of Coster, and envious of the honors conceded to Gutenberg. Why the printers and the people of Haarlem allowed the important testimony of Cornelis to remain unpublished for so long a time is a question that cannot be answered.

At this late day, it is impossible to discover the kernel of truth that may be concealed in the heart of so great a husk of fiction. It may be that Cornelis, who seems to have been a simple-minded man, and who appears as a binder in the church record about nine years before Bellaert opened his printing office, imagined that this first printing office in Haarlem was the first printing office on the globe. There may have been a theft of types and of secrets from the office of Jacob Bellaert at or about 1485. Cornelis blundered about dates, and his inaccuracies have been exaggerated by the gossip of the next generation. These are possible conjectures. [p345] But we must remember that this story of Cornelis is not told by himself, but by Junius.

One of the authorities referred to by Junius is Talesius, burgomaster of Haarlem when Junius was writing _Batavia_. In referring to him, Junius is careful in his choice of words. “My account does not disagree with that of Talesius. . . . I recollect that I have heard from him nearly the same story.” This is a timid assertion—one that Talesius could have modified in some of its features. Talesius himself has not spoken. Talesius was, in his youth, the secretary, and, in mature age, the intimate friend of Erasmus, to whom he must have spoken about the legend, but he did not make Erasmus believe it.[201]

The mysterious disappearance of the practice of the art from Haarlem is even more wonderful than its introduction. The tools may have been stolen, but the knowledge of the art must have remained. Coster may have died immediately after the theft, but his son-in-law Thomas Pieterzoon, and the workmen, who knew all about the details of typography, were living, and able to go on with the work.[202] The making of books may have been temporarily suspended, but the curious [p346] public who clamored for them should have persuaded Coster’s successors to fill their wants. The new art of printing which found so many admirers should not have been completely forgotten fifty years afterward. There is nothing in the story of Junius to satisfy these doubts. If we accept his account of the invention, we must rest contented with the belief that typography in Haarlem died as suddenly as it was born, leaving behind as its only relics one edition of the _Speculum_ and the old wine-flagons of Thomaszoon. The same strange fatality followed the alleged thief John who fled to Mentz and printed two books in 1442. Immediately after, his types, his peculiar process and his printed books disappear forever.

The improbable features of this legend were not seen in the uncritical age in which _Batavia_ was written. Patriotic Dutchmen did not wish to see them. Holland, at the close of the sixteenth century, was flushed with pride at her successful resistance to the power of Spain. Grateful to the men who had made her famous, she exaggerated the services of all her eminent sons. Coster was not forgotten. The name of Junius gave authority to the Haarlem legend, and the story of Coster was read and believed throughout the Netherlands. There were dramatic features connected with it which pleased the imagination and fastened themselves to the memory. To people who had no opportunity to examine the evidences, the legend of Haarlem soon became an article of national faith, to disbelieve which was to be disloyal and unpatriotic. But this enthusiasm would have subsided if it had not been nourished. If subsequent writers had added nothing to this legend of Junius, it would not be necessary to write more about it. Long ago it would have been put aside as untrue. But the legend has grown: it has been almost hidden under the additions that have been made to it. The snow-ball has become a snow-heap. It is necessary to expose the falsity of the additions as well as of the legend, and to show how recklessly this chapter of the history of typography has been written.

[p347]

XVIII

The Growth of the Legend.

Perversion by Bertius . . . Romance of Scriverius . . . Date of Invention removed to 1428 . . . Illustration of First Statue to Coster . . . Date of 1420 given by Boxhorn . . . Rooman’s Date of 1430 . . . History and Chronology of Seiz . . . Doubts of Hollanders . . . Discrepancies in the Dates on Medals . . . Meerman and his Unsatisfactory System . . . Fac-similes of Medals . . . Koning and his Prize Essay . . . Dr. De Vries’s Theory . . . Radical Disagreements of the Authors . . . All Versions Enlargements of the Legend as given by Junius . . . An Article of Patriotic Faith in Holland . . . Monuments to Coster . . . Illustration of Last Statue.

* * * * *

Who is there that has not opinions planted in him by education time out of mind, which by that means came to be as the municipal laws of the country, which must not be questioned, but are to be looked on with reverence . . . when these opinions are but the traditional grave talk of those who receive them from hand to hand without ever examining them?

_Locke._

* * * * *

At the end of the sixteenth century, the legend had two strong supports—the authority of an eminent scholar, and the patriotic pride of the Hollanders, who accepted it as truthful history. It did not, however, pass the ordeal of criticism unharmed: the weaker points of the legend were exposed by many German authors, and the weight of their objections compelled Dutch writers to attempt new explanations. Bertius,[203] writing in 1600, and evidently perplexed by the carelessness with which Junius had noticed Coster’s first experiments, says, but without producing any proof, that “Coster invented the art of printing with engraved blocks or xylography . . . . the three-fold villain John Faust stole the invention.” Here we see the unavoidable result of Junius’s [p348] malignant innuendo: Bertius does not hesitate, as Junius did, to name Fust as the false workman who stole Coster’s tools.

Peter Scriverius thought it necessary, in 1628, to enlarge and embellish the story of Junius. He wrote a new version of the invention, which appeared with a curious poem called the _Laurecrans_.[204] This, says Scriverius, was the manner of it: In the year 1428, Laurens Coster, then a sheriff of Haarlem, strolled in the Haarlem wood. He took up the branch of an oak-tree, cut a few letters in relief on the wood, and after a while wrapped them up in paper. He then fell asleep, but while he slept, rain descended and soaked the paper. Awakened by a clap of thunder, he took up the sheet, and, to his astonishment, discovered that the rain had transferred to it the impress of the letters. Here was the suggestion of xylography, which he at once followed to a successful conclusion. He printed a great many block-books and a _Donatus_, but finding to his surprise that letters cut upon a solid block could not be used for other work, he thereupon invented typography. John Gutenberg, who had been employed as a workman, stole the tools and the secret. Disheartened with this misfortune, Coster abandoned printing and died. He proceeds:

It is my opinion that the art was first invented ten or twelve years before the year of our Lord 1440 (in which the most trustworthy authors agree), in Holland, at Haarlem. Junius has told its beginning and progress before us. And although he discovered some particulars about the invention, yet he has (I may be allowed to say it without disturbing his ashes) his errors, and may not be pronounced free from inadvertence. To-day (A. D. 1628) is just two centuries since the [p349] excellent and valuable art of printing made its appearance (A. D. 1428). Not in the manner that is used now, with letters cast of lead and tin. No, it did not go on like that; but a book was cut, leaf for leaf, on wooden blocks . . . . We must not think that every letter was cut separately on wood, and that these letters were collected and put together to a line, and in a certain number of lines. . . . . Our acute Laurens first cut the letters, twisted and close to each other, in the manner of writing on wood or tin; but afterward, when he was so successful, he changed his method of working, and, having invented the matrices, cast his letters. (!)

I will not say further how the noble art of engraving and printing of engravings is connected with the invention of printing, which arose afterward. But just as the dexterous Jan Fuyst imitated the appropriate art of printing, so the excellent and talented printers and designers, who also handled the artistic chisel and knife, contrived to multiply and publish their engravings, cut after the printing of the Haarlem figures. And all have been instructed by, and got their first experience from, our clever and talented Laurens Koster.[205]

Scriverius has given dates and new details, but he has not thrown any clear light on the subject. He has not made the story of Junius more credible, but he has exposed himself as a romancer and a fabricator. In trying to mend the legend, he has destroyed it. If the story of Scriverius is true, then that of Junius is false, for they contradict each other. The statements of Junius were based on the pedigree and the gossip of the old men of Haarlem; the statements of Scriverius were based on nothing, for he had no authorities which the most lenient critic could accept.

Scriverius said that Lourens Janszoen or Laurens Koster was the inventor of xylography as well as of types. After an examination of the _Speculum_, he had wit enough to see what Junius did not, that the printer of the book must have had practice with blocks, and that printing on blocks necessarily preceded printing with types. His description of the growth of the new art is not at all satisfactory. The careless manner in which he skips over the invention of matrices and the making of the moulds is that of a man who knows nothing [p350] about type-founding, neither from instruction nor observation. Encouraged by the praise which Scriverius had received for his performance, Marcus Zuerius Boxhorn undertook to place the date of the invention eight years earlier. In his _Dissertation on the Invention of Typography_, printed by Vogel at Leyden in the year 1640,[206] Boxhorn says that the invention was made in 1420. Here we encounter a curious fact. The story of Junius had been published less than fifty years, yet the writers disagreed concerning the date of the invention. Believers in the legend had been taught by one teacher that typography was invented in 1440—by another, in 1428—by another, in 1420. And it is a noticeable circumstance that the authors farthest removed from the date of the invention were the most positive in their statements. The later writers, who knew the least, give us the earlier dates.

Adrien Rooman, a printer of Haarlem, and apparently a conservative and conciliatory man, thought that these differences could be most satisfactorily adjusted by fixing the date midway between the extremes. He was not in the possession of any newly discovered facts, and had no authority for the arbitrary selection, but this incompetency did not prevent him from publishing a portrait of Coster, with an inscription which made the year 1430 the date of the invention.

To the thinking men of Haarlem the assumptions of Boxhorn were as unsatisfactory as those of Junius and Scriverius. There was an air of improbability, or at least of uncertainty, about the statements of all the authorities, which filled their minds with doubts as to the truth of the legend. The statue to Coster, which was soon after put up in the Doctors’ Garden, had no date of invention on the pedestal. To remove these doubts, Seiz[207] undertook, in 1742, to furnish “a true and rational account of the invention” by Coster. The truth and reason of this new description of the invention of Coster are most strikingly illustrated in its chronology. [p352]

[From Seiz.]]

1428 Laurens Coster engraved a few letters upon the bark of a tree.

1429 He gave one year to experimental engraving on wood.

1431 He printed the _Temptations of Demons_ or _Ars Moriendi_.

1432 Printed the _Bible of the Poor_.

1435 He began to engrave and print an edition of the _Donatus_.

1436 He cut separate letters or single types out of lead.

1437 After prolonged experiment, he abandoned this method.

1438 He invented a method of casting types of lead.

1439 He began to print an edition of the _Donatus_, and the Dutch edition of the _Speculum_. In this year Gutenberg took service with Coster, and began to print for him, by which he earned the title of the Book-printer of Haarlem. (!)

1440 Gutenberg absconded with some knowledge of the invention. He was able to cut, but not to cast types. (!)

1441 He established a printing office in Mentz.

1442 Gutenberg printed an _A b c_ book, the _Doctrinal_ of Alexander Gallus and the _Treatise_ of Peter of Spain. By this time Coster had repaired the damages of the theft.

1443 Coster printed the second edition of the _Speculum_ in Dutch.

1444 Coster printed a Latin edition of the _Speculum_.

1446 Gutenberg also induced Gensfleisch, called afterward Faust, (!) and Meydenbach to join him in printing a _Latin Bible_.

1457 Coster’s art was well known, and excited the envy of the Archbishop of Canterbury and of King Henry VI of England.

1457 The Archbishop persuaded the king to get a knowledge of the art from Gutenberg, the first book printer of Haarlem. (!)

1459 Turnour and Caxton, who were sent on this mission, bribed Frederick Corsellis, a workman of Coster, to run away from Haarlem in disguise. To prevent his escape, Corsellis was taken to Oxford, in which town he began to print in 1468.

1467 Coster died, about the same time that Gutenberg and Faust died. (!) His printing office ceased to exist.[208]

Seiz has not told us where he obtained this curious information, but we shall make no mistake if we attribute it to an imagination disordered by national pride. His chronology is so absurd that serious criticism would be a waste of time.

Notwithstanding the strong efforts of Seiz to remove the impression created by the contradictory accounts of his predecessors, the citizens of Haarlem seemed to be involved in [p353] greater doubts than ever about the chronology of the invention. For, in 1740, upon the occasion of the third jubilee of Coster’s invention, two silver medals were struck, with legends curiously unlike. We here see that the name of the inventor is printed in different forms; one medal bears the date 1440, and the other contains the date 1428. These irregularities prepare us for what is to follow.

[From Seiz.]]

In 1757, Gerard Meerman, subsequently a distinguished champion of the Haarlem legend, wrote “that the pretentious assertion of the invention of printing by Laurens Coster begins to lose credit more and more. The particulars that have been related by Seiz are mere suppositions, and the chronology of Coster’s invention and enterprise is a romantic fiction.”

But, in the year 1760, Daniel Schoepflin, an eminent scholar of Strasburg, wrote a valuable contribution to the history of typography, under the title of _Vindiciæ Typographicæ_. Meerman was provoked to emulation. He had not believed in the legend, but he thought that he could construct a theory of the invention, which would, to some extent, concede the claims of the rival cities of Haarlem, Strasburg and Mentz. In this illogical manner, by the construction of a theory before [p354] he was in possession of the facts, he began to write the _Origines Typographicæ_. The entire book was published in 1765, with a portrait of Lourens Coster by the eminent Dutch engraver Houbraken, and a portrait of Meerman himself by Daullé. In the matter of scholarship, Meerman was thoroughly qualified for his task. He wrote in a clear style and with admirable method. But he knew nothing of the mechanics of printing nor of type-founding, and, unfortunately, he was too conceited to accept correction or instruction even from the hands of experts like Enschedé, Fournier and others. In trying to make facts suit theories, he went so far as to order the engraver of a fac-simile to stretch the vellum of a _Donatus_ so that the types used upon this _Donatus_ should appear to be the same as the types of the _Speculum_.

[From Seiz.]]

These are the conclusions submitted by Meerman as the result of his study of, and reflection on, the legend of Haarlem: