the historiographer of the Netherlands, to the effect that an eminent citizen of Haarlem, named Laurence Coster, had made the discovery by accident in 1430, had employed it to print certain books, one of which, named the “Speculum Humanæ Salvationis,” he had himself seen; and that it was in consequence of the treachery of a servant that Fust had been able to print his book in 1442 at Metz. This statement has the defect of being founded on hearsay, but its circumstantiality, the probity of Junius, and the technical evidence furnished by the book itself, favour the conclusion that it is correct, though the question is yet controverted.
An admirable fac-simile of this book, on paper, and with ink of the same description, as were employed by Coster,—reproducing so accurately the peculiarities which render it dear to bibliographers, that it is not improbable that, at some future time, it may be palmed on the unwary as the original—has recently been published by Mr. C. J. Stewart, of King William Street, Strand, with a learned introductory essay by M. Berjeau; and since the work, interesting as it is in many aspects, is not of a character to get into general circulation, Mr. Stewart having obligingly permitted us to reproduce two of its illustrations, we propose adding some description of the work.
The “Speculum Humanæ Salvationis” is a rhymed Latin poem,—the Latinity of which is respectable, though not exactly Ciceronian, consisting of a proem and forty-five chapters, whereof the last sixteen being omitted by Coster—on the Redemption and its prefiguration in History. MSS. of it yet existing are dated 1324, but conceal the author’s name “from humility.” The first printed edition, now under consideration, consists of sixty-four leaves, printed on one side only, so that thus the two cuts, which the size of our page compels us to separate, are in the original printed side by side, and form the upper half of a folio page, the letter-press being subjoined below. Besides the proem, it exhibits fifty-eight folio pages in double columns, each headed by a pair of illustrations within an architectural frame. The engravings, and twenty pages of the text, are printed in pale brown, and the remaining pages in rich black ink; the distinction indicating that this, the first edition, must have been printed partly from wood-blocks and partly from metallic type; and was therefore produced at the very period of transition from the ruder to the improved process; though there is neither date, place, nor printer’s name in this or in the three later editions wherein the text is typographed throughout. This conclusion is confirmed by the unique character of the types,—not found in any other books of the period but those of Coster,—by the use of masked type to fill up lines, and by the exceptional substitution, from paucity of type, of certain letters for syllables—such, for instance, as m for ni, in, iu, &c., and nn for im, mi, uv, &c. The similarity observable in subject, style, and artistic execution of the plates of the “Speculum” to those of the “Biblia Pauperum,” and other works known to have been produced by the excellent Brethren of the Common Lot, justifies the supposition that the community prepared the plates and partly engraved the text, but, disconcerted by some untoward occurrence—such as the loss of their artist—the latter plates being very inferior to the earlier—or perhaps by Coster’s discovery, parted with the imperfect impressions to him to be completed by the new process.
Apart from the value attaching to it on account of the peculiar circumstances under which it was produced, the “Speculum” is very interesting as illustrating the state of art, peculiar theology, imperfect instruction, and costume of the age.
As conventional modes of artistically treating sacred subjects had prevailed for centuries, and were abundantly exemplified in missals painting, sculpture, stained glass, and orféverrie, much originality is not to be expected from one restricted by traditional rules to imitation of his predecessors. Designs varying but little from some of these are to be found among the relics of early Christian art disinterred from the catacombs of Rome. If, where they may fairly be supposed original, the designs generally betray poverty of conception, they are always pure in idea, and without other errors in drawing or perspective than a disproportion between buildings and their inhabitants attributable to lack of room. Scripture and the narratives of pilgrims being the only sources of information about oriental life then available, the artist was reduced to pourtray the life around him. Hence Patriarchs, Egyptians, Israelites, Philistines, Syrians, Babylonians, and Romans, all alike recline on couches, and sit in chairs whose medieval form and carving would be at a premium in Wardour Street; attire themselves in doublet, hose, and pointed shoon; put on the uncomfortable Christian hat; travel in boots and spurs, begirt with sword and dagger; and combat under knightly pennons with lance, mace, battle-axe, and two-handed sword, arrayed in all that variety of armour wherewith, as worn by rapacious counts and their ruffianly followers, the peaceful citizens of the day were unhappily too familiar. It is impossible to refrain from smiling at Abraham clad in steel, and courteously doffing his plumed hat to Melchizedek; at Jephtha armed cap-à-pie, and stooping from his destrier to clutch his kneeling daughter by the hair;—at David in plate armour, his shield emblazoned with a harp, and with the head of Goliah on his lance, making his triumphal entry surrounded by men-at-arms; at David sitting in his palace in regal state, wearing a broad-brimmed hat; at Sampson in top-boots bearing away the gates of Gaza; at Eliezer in boots and spurs communing with Rebecca at the well; at high priests in episcopal mitres, and kings reposing, according to the nursery fancy, with their crowns for nightcaps.
There are many singularities in addition to these and other incongruities. The idea of Satan differs somewhat from that of later times, for he is not only represented as κερκοκεριονυχα, but with a monstrous supplementary visage on his abdomen, and once with the head of a swine. In one place the serpent, as in Raphael’s picture, has the form of a dragon in every respect but the long-haired feminine head. At her birth Eve is a pigmy rising and but half emerged from the side of the slumbering Adam. After the fall our first parents are arrayed in flowing garments, Adam