THE revival of classical literature in Europe is generally assigned to the middle of the fifteenth century, and is, perhaps, coeval with the invention of printing, when for the first time it became possible to multiply books not only rapidly but without the multitude of mistakes which invariably occurred in ordinary manuscripts. We have seen that in the palmy days of Rome some of the large publishing houses were quite capable of turning out extensive editions at a few hours' notice. No modern type-setter could possibly keep pace with one of the trained slaves of Atticus, and when some hundreds of the latter were assembled in a room transcribing the MS. of some favourite author through the medium of a professional reader, many copies would be completed in an incredibly short space of time. If, however, the reader made a mistake, it would be faithfully and universally reproduced, while in addition each transcriber might fairly be credited with a number of errors of his own. To this extent the printing press was a great improvement. If it did its work more slowly, less workmen were required; and though each movement of the machine would perpetuate the same errors, these might be reduced to a minimum by the very simple expedient of carefully reading and correcting the "proofs".

The year 1450 ushered in, as is supposed, the great art which was destined to revolutionise the world; and although the pen was employed for many years after that, it gradually gave place to its more convenient if less nimble rival, taking at last a position more congenial to it. "The pen for the brain, the press for reproduction," became henceforth a motto which had for its basis a new division of labour as convenient as it was efficacious.

In the same year,[7] at Sermonetta, a little Italian town, Aldus Manutius, the great printer and editor, first saw the light. The earlier portion of his life was devoted entirely to scholastic duties and in preparing himself, by hard and assiduous study of the Greek and Latin classics, for the more important work of revising and printing the text. It was not until 1490 that the preliminaries were complete, and he found himself, with a little money and an immense stock of knowledge, a comparative stranger at Venice, where already 160 printers and publishers had been engaged for some time in glutting the market with almost worthless books. The old Greek manuscripts especially were a source of inconceivable trouble and continual annoyance. They were written for the most part in bastard characters, and crowded with mistakes and omissions, the result of some hundreds of years of repeated transcriptions. They were, moreover, almost as difficult to procure as they were corrupt in text. Nor was this the only difficulty that faced the intrepid pioneer editor. Greek was a language but rarely used, having given place to Latin in all but the most cultivated circles; the demand for books in that character was accordingly limited, while even at that early period competition was ruinous. To say nothing of the army of printers at Venice, there was a large number at Rome who more than supplied the Italian and foreign markets, turning out books in such profusion that the important and oldest printing house, that of Sweinheym & Pannartz, was compelled to petition the Pope to save themselves from bankruptcy. In their petition they state that they had printed no less than 12,475 separate volumes, a statement most likely exaggerated, but none the less cogent evidence of the fierce struggle which was being carried on when Aldus determined to swell the ranks of the already crowded profession.

He was disgusted with the slipshod efforts of the ignorant proprietors of these numerous printing shops, who were so eager to forestall one another that they could not pay any attention to the quality of their work, even assuming they had the aptitude for doing so. He took his stand upon his accomplishments alone, apparently not doubting for an instant that conscientious work, coupled with a superior education, would in the long run repay him for the years of anxious toil which he well knew would be his lot.

The Greek types of Rome, Milan, and Florence, hitherto in use, and all cut to a single pattern, were abominable, and Aldus commenced by casting types of his own. A fount of Roman and Italian letters consisted of only 24 capital and an equal number of small letters—the J and U were the same as I and V—but a complete collection of Greek types with all the varied accents and double characters, with which the language abounds, amounted to no less than 600. Many of these he was compelled at the outstart to forego, and he set to work upon his first book, the Grammatica GrÆca of Lascaris, with barely a tithe of that number. It was well that Aldus should commence with this work, for it was the first which had been printed in Greek, some eighteen years previously by Paravisinus, of Milan, whose small and crabbed type presents a remarkable contrast to that of Manutius. Closely following upon this venture comes the Editio Princeps of Aristotle, which, in its 5 vols. folio, is unquestionably the most splendid and lasting monument of the Aldine press. It was issued, one volume at a time, between the years 1495-8, and was sold by the editor and publisher for a sum equivalent to about £5 of our money. Next comes the Editio Princeps of Aristophanes, also in folio, and dated 1498, which, like all the other productions of this press at that early date, was printed from large open types with broad margins. The expense of production and consequent cost of these sumptuous volumes were great, too great in fact to command a speedy sale, and Aldus at last began to realise that it was infinitely preferable to print and sell a large number of works at a cheap price than a smaller number at a high one. Accordingly he had a more minute fount of type cast, and in April, 1501, published his famous Virgil, a small book of 228 unpaged leaves, measuring not quite 8 inches by 4. The text, so it is said, was modelled after the neat handwriting of Petrarch, and became known throughout Italy as the Aldino type, though in France it was called Italic, the name it goes by to this day throughout Europe. This book was sold for about 2s. of our money, and was the first serious attempt ever made to produce cheap printed classics.

No sooner was the success of this venture assured than an unknown printer of Lyons took advantage of the opportunity to issue a wretched reprint, alike in every detail except the quality of the workmanship. Aldus' painstaking textual corrections were slavishly copied: even his title-page was stolen, and the whole immoral production foisted on the public as a genuine example from Venice, and at a little more than half the cost. Horace and Juvenal, Martial and Ovid, shared the same fate as fast as they issued from the legitimate press; the Lyonnese printer was as persevering as he had proved himself unscrupulous, and kept good time with the movements of Aldus. But the fame of the latter was proof against servile imitations, his types alone being so extravagantly praised by his admirers that there were some who seriously contended that their beauty was owing to the silver of which they were made. There is, indeed, no mistaking them, and the collector has only to place an original side by side with one of the reprints from Lyons, to fix the superiority distinctly and irrevocably in his mind. Aldus during his life printed altogether 126 editions known to bibliographers, 78 of which are in quarto or folio, and many in two or more volumes. Some of these consist of choice copies printed on white linen paper, notably the Opera of Ovid and Plutarch, and many more passed through several editions during his lifetime and after his death, which, to the great loss of the world of letters, took place on the 6th February, 1515, when he was 65 years of age.

The distinguishing mark of the Aldine press is the well-known dolphin and anchor which first makes its appearance on the edition of the Terze Rime of Dante of 1502, and with few exceptions on all the books afterwards issued from the press. The story is that Aldus was engaged in printing Columna's Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, which appeared in 1499 (a good copy sold in February last for £80), and which contained numerous illustrations, most probably by Andrea Mantegna. One of these represents a dolphin twining about an anchor, a mark so pleasing to Aldus that he subsequently adopted it, using it over his office door as well as on the title-pages of all his books.

At the death of Aldus Manutius his son Paolo, or Paulus, being only three years of age, went to reside with his maternal uncle Andrea Torresano, himself a famous printer of Asola, who subsequently, with his sons, carried on the Aldine press at Venice for the benefit of the parties interested. From that date until 1524 most, if not all, of the books printed at the press bear the imprint: "In Ædibus Aldi et AndreÆ Asulani soceri," and though, as usual, bearing the anchor, a fresh block had been cut which slightly alters its appearance.

From the year 1524 to 1529, when Torresano died, an exact copy of the first anchor was again employed and continued to be so used until 1540, when Paulus Manutius, the son of Aldus, took exclusive possession of his father's business. It will be noted that during the three years following the death of Torresano (1530-31-32) no books were issued from the press; and when it recommenced operations in 1533, it was for the benefit of Paulus Manutius and the representatives of Torresano "In Ædibus hÆredum Aldi Manutii et AndreÆ Asulani soceri". In 1540, as before stated, Paulus Manutius took entire control of the business, and a third variation of the anchor was introduced, the inscription on the title-pages being "apud Aldi Filios".

From 1546 to 1554 yet another variation of the anchor was adopted, sometimes without the surrounding device. In 1555 a slight modification of the third anchor, surrounded sometimes with scroll work, came into fashion again, and so continued until the death of Paulus Manutius on the 6th of April, 1574.

With the death of Paulus, the glory of the Aldine press departed. He, like his father, had patiently striven to infuse neatness and accuracy into his work, and is said to have been in every respect his equal.

Aldus, the son of Paulus, who is known among bibliographers as "the younger," had not perhaps the same opportunities as were afforded to his predecessors. The art of printing had advanced universally, and there was not so much room for improvement as there had been formerly. He printed in a good, but by no means exceptional, style, from 1574 until the time of his death in 1597, when the Aldine press ceased to exist. During a period of 103 years some 823 books had been issued, many of which are among the prizes of book collecting.[8]

Aldus Junior, like his father and grandfather, used the anchor, but between the years 1575-81 it is so hidden in the foliage of a magnificent coat-of-arms which had been granted to the family by the Emperor Maximilian, that it is likely to be overlooked by any who have not made the Aldine press their special study.

The collector will need to be cautioned against accepting every work bearing the anchor as a genuine example from the Aldine press. Some are mere forgeries, but so badly executed as to deceive nobody who has seen half-a-dozen of any of the originals. Some printers assumed the mark by licence, as did Torresano, who used Anchor No. 3, with the words "Ex Aldina Bibliotheca," and occasionally Anchor No. 1, but, these exceptions apart, it may usually be taken for granted that a book if well printed and bearing the mark in question is authentic. If any doubt exists it is easy to turn to the pages of Renouard, where every genuine example is catalogued and described. Some fifty years ago, Aldine collectors were more numerous than they are now, and as a consequence prices were higher. This particular branch of bibliography demands the sacrifice of much time, and cannot be even approached without a fair knowledge of Latin, Greek, and French. As a consequence, the new school of collectors, whose knowledge of those languages is not always as well grounded as it might be, have long since severed their allegiance from old traditions and now confine their attention to sober English, where, it must be admitted, there is plenty of scope for good work.

Even yet, however, the earlier productions of the Aldine press maintain their former position: perhaps they have even surpassed it, for as specimens of ancient typography they stand unrivalled. Reference is made chiefly to works dated before 1500, and to such exceptional specimens as the Virgil of 1501, some of which are still worth more than their weight in gold. The majority of works from this famous press have, however, fallen enormously in value of late years, as witness the fine copy of Augurellus, 1505, 8vo, beautifully bound in blue morocco, which quite recently was sold by auction for less than a sovereign: some few years ago it would have brought three times the amount, and been considered cheap even then.

By way of illustration, I cannot do better than give a few examples of modern prices, comparing them with the approximate amounts which would have been obtained some twenty-five or thirty years ago.

Homeri Opera, 2 vols. 8vo, red morocco extra, gilt edges, Venetiis, Aldus, 1524, £3 15s. Would have sold for £9 or £10.

Silius Italicus de Bello Punico, old Venetian binding, gold tooling, lettered in gold, gilt edges, Venetiis, Aldus, 1523, £1 18s. Would have sold for about £5.

Virgilius, cura Aldi Pii Manulii, red morocco, gilt edges, by Roger Payne, Venetiis, Aldus, 1514, £4 5s. Sold in 1825 at from £10 to £12 in equally good binding.

Psalterium GrÆce, a fine copy, in blue morocco, with gilt edges, Venetiis, Aldus, no date, but about 1498, £12. Notwithstanding the fact that this is one of the few fifteenth century books from the Aldine press, its value has declined about 25 per cent.

Quintiliani Institutiones, fine copy in russia, gilt edges, Venetiis, Aldus, 1521, on title 1522, 14s. Former price about £4.

Aristophanis ComoediÆ, first edition, fine copy in russia, gilt edges, Venetiis, Aldus, 1498, a rare book, £4. Former price about £15.

Thucydidis Historia, first edition, and one of the few copies printed on fine paper, old russia, gilt, Venetiis, Aldus, 1502, a very scarce book in this condition, £2 14s. Former price from £12 to £15.

The above examples are taken from a single catalogue, and, if occasion demanded, the list could be indefinitely increased. They will, however, be sufficient to show that if the good old days when Eliot's Indian Bible of 1661, now worth considerably more than £500, could have been got for thirty shillings or less, are not likely to return, there is yet plenty of opportunity for picking up rare books at a moderate price, and for much less than would at one time have had to be paid for them.

Who knows that the fashion will not change again some day, and that the most coveted of all volumes will not be choice examples from the Aldine press?