Or it is an Italian merchant—Caxton talks his language as well—who has things to propose, barter to effect. The Rector of the Domus Anglorum was, in fact, a kind of consul. He sent home regular reports on the state of trade, on prices and fluctuations, on supply and demand; he received English merchants, made them pay an entrance fee, instructed them in the laws and privileges of the factory, gave them interpreters, and assisted them in their buying and selling, according to the customs of the town. He was also agent to the Merchant Adventurers of London.
In the archives of the town two cases are recorded in which Caxton was concerned, the first in which he had become surety to a merchant of the Staple at Calais, the second in which he consented to arbitration. In the first he is styled simply “English Merchant.” In the second he is “English Merchant and Governor of the English House.” As a merchant, or as Rector of the English House, Caxton did not become rich. This point seems to me abundantly proved by the facts of the case. His biographers have sometimes represented him as returning to England enriched by his calling, and setting up his press as an occupation or recreation for his old age. Let us look again at the facts. Those which bear upon the point are the following:
1. He remained in the Domus for thirty years, leaving it at the age of forty-seven or thereabouts. Merchants who grow rich do not continue in the service of their company so long.
2. He married on leaving the Domus. Those who prosper do not continue in celibacy till they are past their prime.
3. He then remained abroad for a time, and entered the service of the Duchess of Burgundy. Wealthy merchants do not remain in exile, nor did they at any time enter into the service of a foreign prince.
4. During the whole thirty years of Caxton’s residence abroad, his native country was torn to pieces by a long and bitter civil war. It has been shown that the towns suffered comparatively little from this conflict, but its effect upon the Merchant Adventurers was most certainly disastrous. Where, when all the country was covered with armies, and every great noble had to take a side, was the market for imports? Where were they to get the exports when the land was ravaged throughout its length and breadth? The Merchant Adventurers could neither sell their imports nor ship their exports. The condition of London was something like that when the Saxons overran the country on all sides; and also, like that time, the flower of the London youth were called out to fight. Of money-making there was small thought; happy the merchant who could hold his own. “I have known London,” Caxton writes, “in my young age much more wealthy, prosperous, and richer than it is at this day.” While the Red and the White Roses were tearing at each other’s throats one fears that the Domus Angliæ showed empty warehouses and a deserted hall.
Lastly, if there were any doubt on the subject of Caxton’s comparative poverty, it should be removed by the grateful words in which he speaks of the money given him when he entered the service of the Duchess of Burgundy; these are not the words of a prosperous man.
Caxton, therefore, one may be quite sure, left Bruges as slenderly provided as regards store and treasure as when he entered the city.
After this preamble, we now arrive at the invention of printing.
The fifteenth century—the beginning of the Renaissance—was also remarkable for the production of beautiful and costly books. The art of the illuminator had never been finer, the writing had never been more beautiful, the demand for books had never been so great; the numbers of those engaged outside the monasteries in the production of books rapidly increased. In every town they formed themselves into Guilds; thus, at Bruges, there was the Guild of St. John, in which were enrolled booksellers, painters, scriveners and copyists, illuminators, bookbinders, curriers, makers of parchment and vellum, and engravers. And they could not produce books fast enough to meet the increased demand. Now, it is perfectly certain that if the demand for anything that is made, grown, or produced is increased from any cause, the methods of production of that thing will be reconsidered, and men’s ingenuity will devise means of making the production easier, cheaper, and more practicable. What happened with the production of books was exactly what happened with everything else. “Give us more books,” cried those who, a hundred years before, had wanted no books; “give us more books.” Those who were interested in the production pondered continually over the enormous labor and cost of copying. Could there be found any way to lessen that labor? The result was the invention of printing.