The
first printed books came with a question: What do you do with these things? (courtesy of Alan Richardson) By Tom Scocca August 29, 2010 In the beginning, before there was such a thing as a
Gutenberg Bible, Johannes Gutenberg laid out his rows of metal type and brushed
them with ink and, using the mechanism that would change the world, produced an
ordinary little schoolbook. It was probably an edition of a fourth-century
grammar text by Aelius Donatus, some 28 pages long. Only a few fragments of the
printed sheets survive, because no one thought the book was worth keeping. “Now had he kept
to that, doing grammars...it probably would all have been well,” said Andrew
Pettegree, a professor of modern history at the University of St. Andrews and
author of “The Book in the Renaissance,” the story of the birth of print.
Instead, Gutenberg was bent on making a grand statement, an edition of
Scripture that would cost half as much as a house and would live through the
ages. “And it was a towering success, as a cultural artifact, but it was
horribly expensive,” Pettegree said. In the end, struggling for capital to
support the Bible project, Gutenberg was forced out of his own print shop by
his business partner, Johann Fust. Inventing the printing press was not the same thing as
inventing the publishing business. Technologically, craftsmen were ready to
follow Gutenberg’s example, opening presses across Nor was print clearly destined to replace manuscript,
from the point of view of the book owners of the day. A few fussy
color-printing experiments aside, the new books were monochrome, dull in
comparison to illuminated manuscripts. Many books left blank spaces for adding
hand decoration, and collectors frequently bound printed pages together with
manuscript ones. “It’s a great mistake to think of an absolute disjunction
between a manuscript world of the Middle Ages and a print world of the 16th
century,” Pettegree said. As in our own Internet era, culture and commerce went
through upheaval as Pettegree explores this time of cultural change by
looking at the actual published matter it produced. Drawing on the power of
21st century information technology, he and a team of researchers pulled
together the catalogs of thousands of small, scattered libraries, assembling
the broadest picture to date of the earliest publications. What made print viable, Pettegree found, was not the
earth-shaking impact of mighty tomes, but the rustle of countless little pages:
almanacs, calendars, municipal announcements. Indulgence certificates, the
documents showing that sinners had paid the Catholic church for reduced time in
purgatory, were especially popular. These ephemeral jobs were what made
printing a viable business through the long decades while book publishers — and
the public — struggled to find what else this new technology might be good for. Pettegree spoke to Ideas by phone from IDEAS: People
hadn’t really figured out how to find customers and sell books. PETTEGREE: What
you’ve got to do once you’ve got 300 identical copies of a book is you’ve got
to sell it to people who don’t even yet know they want it. And that’s a very,
very different way of selling. And whereas the printers were taking advice from
15th-century humanist scholars, who said, “Wouldn’t it be good to have this?
Wouldn’t it be good to have that?” they weren’t in any position to give them
any advice on how to dispose of these 300 copies. And in due course they found
that the only way to do this is to create a market which is trans-European. It’s this classic example of how you get technological
innovation without people really being aware of the commercial implications, of
how you can make money from it. There’s quite a little similarity in the first
generation of print with the dot-com boom and bust of the ’90s, where people
have this fantastic new innovation, a lot of creative energy is put into it, a
lot of development capital is put into it, and then people say, “Well, yeah,
but how are we going to make money from the Internet?” And that takes another
10 years to work out. IDEAS: The
one thing that most early printers seemed to do was to go out of business. PETTEGREE: And
the ones who didn’t were the ones who tended to have a close relationship with
official customers. And this really I think is the new part of the story that
we’ve been able to put together. Most narratives of print have relied on looking at the
most eye-catching products — whether it’s Gutenberg’s Bible or Copernicus or
the polyglot Bible of Plantin — these are the ones which seem to push
civilization forward. In fact, these are very untypical productions of the
16th-century press. I’ve done a specific study of the IDEAS: And
it’s these smaller books that there’s been this perceptual bias against. PETTIGREE: The
most astonishing single fact that’s emerged from the work we’ve done: We’ve
documented I think now about 350,000 editions published throughout Many of the books that are best known are actually not at
all rare. Because they were collected near the time, they survived in a great
number of copies. The famous Nuremberg Chronicle, one of the great 15th-century
books — I think something like 500 copies of that survive. But these little books, they weren’t collectible. They
were pragmatic announcements by the town council that bread prices would go up,
or they were indulgence certificates, or they were almanacs for the following
year, which would lose currency, or they were little schoolbooks which the
school kid would be only too pleased to throw away when they got out of the
class. IDEAS: We
think of the book as this tremendous force for innovation, but you write that
books were confronting a customer base that was conservative in its tastes,
both in what sort of texts they wanted to read and in the typography. Roman
type showed up and then people didn’t like it — PETTEGREE: So
they went back to the black letter. I mean, people could be trained to treat
the book, the printed book, as a different thing and not inferior. That was, I
think, the work of about 40 years. But the conservatism in terms of choice of texts seems to
be an enduring phenomenon. The result is that for authors, it’s a very, very
hard period. Contemporary authors clearly think that print is an opportunity
for them. What they find, though, of course, is that the printers are looking
for surefire winners. And first of all, they think this is going to be the
texts humanists admire, editions of the classics, and they flood the market
with those. When they get their fingers burned with that, what they reach back
for is medieval medical textbooks, medieval scientific works, and medieval
literature, so the opportunity for living authors is very restricted. And in
the first instance is mostly for celebrity preachers, who manage to get volumes
of their sermons printed and circulated. IDEAS: There’s
the case of Martin Luther, and his effect on the industry, where he both took
away a huge part of what their business depended on, in the indulgences, but
then became a prolific source of small books. PETTEGREE: It’s
really not been remarked before, that when Luther was attacking indulgences, he
was actually attacking a mainstay of the press. But he really was. I mean, the
quantities that were published of these indulgences is quite phenomenal and
often in very large editions. And this is the absolute dream commission for a
printer, when they’re asked to produce a very large quantity of a single sheet
item, a broadsheet, printed on only one side, which is what an indulgence is. But the speed with which Luther’s works take off as a
popular phenomenon is quite extraordinary. It’s fair to say that by 1530, 1540,
Have you ever been to But you can see how the people who lived off Luther spent
their loot. Lucas Cranach, the famous painter, also had a monopoly on woodcuts
for these Reformation [religious pamphlets]. And you can stand in front of the
town hall and see the two houses he built with the money he made. Tom Scocca writes the blog ”Scocca” for Slate.com.
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