In Mr. Hessels’ last work, Haarlem the Birth-place of Printing, not Mentz, he gives a most interesting list of forty-seven books and fragments of books, all connected together typographically, and all without doubt printed in Holland at a very early stage of the art. For these, eight different founts of type were used, and the proofs of their origin are in the language of some, which is Dutch; in the shape of the t and r, a form peculiar to Holland, and especially peculiar to Dutch MSS. of the first half of the 15th century; and in the typographical treatment. All are rude in workmanship, though not contemporaneous, and twenty-one out of the forty-seven are editions of the school-book known as Donatus, the very book which the Cologne Chronicler refers to as having suggested to Gutenberg the idea of improved movable types.

Forming as these do a group of books having similar peculiarities all their own, we want a general title by which to speak of and identify them; and the word “Costeriana,” by which already some of them are known, seems a fit designation for the whole class.

Of these forty-seven “Costeriana,” thirty-five are printed on vellum and twelve only on paper. Now, this great prevalence of vellum over paper undoubtedly points to an early period of printing.⁠[14] Seven editions of the Alex: Galli Doctrinale, another well-known school-book, are also among the “Costeriana.” Being all in Latin, they would be equally useful as school-books in other countries, and would naturally travel away from the seat of their production. It is therefore nothing extraordinary to find them in towns outside Holland. When they became injured by use, or, in the course of time, obsolete, they naturally fell into the hands of the book-binders, who, according to a well-known custom, cut them up and used them to strengthen the backs and sides of any books they had to bind. Thus the great bulk of “Costeriana” have been rescued from the sides and backs of old books, and from the covers of a variety of 15th-century works. They have turned up at Haarlem, Delft, Deventer, Strasbourg, Reutlingen, and even at Cologne. Haarlem supplies five varieties, all found in the town or cathedral archives, the earliest of which is a manuscript volume begun in 1474, which belongs to Haarlem Cathedral. Of course a book which begins in 1474, and is partly made up of fragments of a utilised book, must have been bound earlier and with material already old. How far back this would take us must remain a matter of conjecture: if we reckon it as twenty years, we should just precede the Indulgence of 1454-55 attributed to Gutenberg.

Reverting to the eight varieties of type found in the forty-seven “Costeriana,” there are no data at present by which to determine their sequence. They ought all to be studied side by side by an expert in early types,—apparently an impossibility, as they are scattered through various libraries in Europe,—for, if their typographical peculiarities were carefully and scientifically observed, I feel sure that they would yield very important data, and probably supply us with evidence of a true chronological sequence. There is no certain evidence of their issue from one press, or even from one town. They are, however, in one way or another closely related. When two sorts of type, as happens with types 1 and 2, are used in the same book, we may safely attribute them, as is the case with others, to the same printing-office. Types 3, 4, 5, and 6 are in like manner closely related, and with the same Gothic peculiarities as Nos. 1 and 2; while types 7 and 8, though distinct, are plainly of the same class, and with the others form an interesting family group.

Again, we must note that not one of these “Costeriana” has catchwords, or signatures, or headlines, or hyphens. Four editions of the Speculum Humanæ Salvationis are printed by using the “froton,” and therefore upon one side only of the paper, in a manner similar to that used by our modern wood-engravers when they want to prove their work. These rank among the “Block-books.” Certain pages in these books are entirely cut in wood, certain others have a wood-block printed separately in the upper part of the sheet, while the text beneath is printed at a press, and with movable types. It would be absurd to place these typographical customs anywhere in Germany so late as 1470—a period when books printed with types were being sold in every capital of Europe.

But suppose that an early date is admitted for these “Costeriana,” can we then place them before 1454, which is the date written upon an Indulgence admittedly of German printing? Honestly speaking, I think the direct proofs insufficient; but if we study the typographical evidence by the light of the Cologne Chronicle, the probabilities seem to me quite on the side of the “Costeriana.” Time, however, will show. Mr. Hessels, reckoning the Donatus editions backwards from 1471, thinks that the demand which necessitated so many as twenty-one editions must have been spread over a series of years long enough to bring back the earliest edition to a period before the Indulgence of 1454. I am afraid this is a weak argument; and I would rather rest upon the fact that these early Dutch prints fit in exactly with the allusion to them in the Cologne Chronicle—that is, before 1450; that, try as much as you like, you cannot place them in any other period, or with any other group of Dutch typography. Bring them up to 1470, or near it, and they are anachronisms; leave them, or some of them, anterior to Gutenberg, and they “fit in.”

We should also remember that the evidence is not, and cannot for many years to come, be complete. There are many collections in Europe which have never been searched for “Costeriana,” and it is not often that bibliographers can boast of a good “hunter,” who unites will, knowledge, and devotion to the search. Several “Costeriana” have been discovered within the last few years, and looking at the spoils already snatched from the hands of time, we may well exclaim—

Quanta fuisti si tanta sunt reliquia!

We must now refer shortly to the account of Coster, given by the historian Junius. This writer’s character and work have been most unfairly treated by Dr. Van der Linde. Junius narrates the story of the Dutch invention of printing as it was current in Holland in 1568, and because his account overthrows Dr. Van der Linde’s pet theory, he is accused of every base artifice and historical deceit. Now, who was Junius? The Dutch form of his name was De Jonghe; but as he lived in a scholarly age and wrote mostly in Latin, and as the fashion in his time was to Latinise surnames, he was universally known as Junius. Few men had a more extended fame in the latter part of the 16th century than he. Wherever throughout all Europe men of culture and learning congregated, his name was known and respected; and in any collection of letters from and to literary men of that period, you are sure to meet with his name. His career was brilliant, and it has been left for one of his own countrymen to bolster up a weak cause by attributing base motives to him after the general consent of 300 years had agreed to yield him honour. Junius, writing in 1568, the true date of his Batavia, gives a rather lengthy account of the origin of printing in Haarlem—not as a proved historical narrative, but as reported to him on trustworthy testimony. He states the general belief of the Dutch people at that time, which was that a native of Haarlem, named Laurens Janszoon Coster, about the year 1440, discovered the means of printing from separate wooden types, which shortly afterwards led to the use of metal types, and that he printed small books with them. This is the pith of the story; for whether he was a tallow-chandler or Custos of the Cathedral, whether he had children and grandchildren, or whether his types were years afterwards cast into wine-pots, is of no moment whatever. What is of moment is this: When Junius wrote the story of Coster, he depended upon what had been handed down through three or four generations to his time, and was quite unaware that the Town Registers of Haarlem sustained his account in some important particulars. For instance, Junius gives the name of the man who invented printing as Coster of Haarlem, and sure enough, between 1436 and 1483, the name of Laurens Janszoon Coster appears frequently in the Haarlem Town Records. Coster there is a tallow-chandler, and of course the occurrence of such a name is no evidence that the Coster of Junius was the Coster of the Haarlem Records. Still it is worth remembering. Again, Junius says Coster had a servant named Cornelis, and here again is a curious agreement in name, for the Cathedral Records of Haarlem mention several times the employment of “Cornelis, the book-binder.” Here, too, we must remember that several fragments of “Costeriana” have been extracted from volumes bound by this very Cornelis. Many minor arguments and coincidences might be adduced to show that if the story of Coster has not been handed down with that accuracy of statement we so much desire in old history, but which, alas, we so seldom get, there is nevertheless a foundation for it stronger than mere rumour, and in it a history free from intentional misrepresentation.

Turning now to Gutenberg, we have much firmer ground to stand upon. We have, to begin with, abundant evidence of his existence, and of his having been a printer. We have the general consent of Germany, Italy, and France as to the art, as practised by them, having been derived from him, and the natural tendency is to attach greater weight to this evidence than upon critical examination it will bear. Workmen whose tuition had come more or less directly from him, and book-buyers, who were naturally in ignorance of the steps which led up to Gutenberg’s success, attributed to him, not only priority in producing the books which called forth their admiration, but believed him to have been the first to use movable types. And yet, as we have seen, the testimony is not given with that perfect assurance of its truth that one might expect if they spoke of things within their own knowledge. The weak part of Gutenberg’s case is that, notwithstanding several opportunities, he never claimed the invention, although others around him were taking the honour to themselves; that there is not a single piece bearing his name; and that the earliest efforts attributed to him may with just as much probability be put down to Pfister, the first printer at Bamberg. Not indeed until 1472 do we meet with a direct mention of Gutenberg’s name in connection with the discovery, and then (it is Prof. Fichet, of Sorbonne, who is writing) the statement is not positive; “ferunt enim illic,” which may be rendered by the French “on dit.” In the sense that he improved so far on his Haarlem originals as to enable him to print grand instead of unimportant books, Gutenberg was an inventor; but had the question been put to him, “Had you any idea of movable, separate types before you saw a Dutch Donatus?” his answer would, I believe, have been “No!”

Perhaps the best verdict upon the whole question has come from the pen of M. Madden, of Versailles. This biographer is a strong adherent of Dr. Van der Linde, yet this is the conclusion of an article in the February number of La Typologie Tucker:—

“Sans les humbles Donats de Haarlem nous n’aurions pas l’admirable Bible de Trente-six lignes, et sans les persévérants et féconds efforts de Gutenberg pendant dix ans, de 1440 à 1450, l’humanité ne jouirait pas de l’art que son génie créateur a élevé à une perfection qui laisse très loin en arrière les premiers et nécessairement très imparfaits produits des essais de Laurent Coster. En un mot: Coster nous a donné Gutenberg, et Gutenberg nous a donné la Typographie.”⁠[15]⁠