University of Virginia Library

The Identification of Paper without Watermarks: The Example of Pope's Dunciad
by
David L. Vander Meulen

I

Various radiographic and photographic processes for reproducing watermarks have in the past two decades made the identification of paper more precise than earlier researchers ever considered possible. But while those methods work well when a watermark is in fact present and when enough of it is visible to be identifiable, there exists no systematic way of describing and differentiating the vast quantities of paper without watermarks. That paper appears in many forms: it may be an entire unwatermarked sheet, or it may be only a single leaf—from a marked or unmarked sheet—used for a cancel, title page, errata list, plate, or other special section. Because a watermark is normally centered in one of the halves of a sheet of paper, 50% of the gatherings produced by half-sheet imposition in formats like the octavo usually have no watermark. On still other occasions watermarks are absent because a zealous binder has trimmed into oblivion a mark appearing at the edge of a leaf.

On the basis of my study of editions of Alexander Pope's Dunciad from 1728 through 1751, I should like to consider features which can be used to distinguish varieties of unmarked paper. Those methods work for watermarked sheets as well, with numerous advantages: they provide a way of describing the entire sheet, not just the part where the watermark appears; they permit identification of the paper when only a partial watermark is present; and they provide a means of recording paper details when watermark reproduction facilities are not available or their cost prohibitive. In the pages that follow I shall also suggest ways that these characteristics might be recorded and, by means of examples from The Dunciad, consider some of the applications of this information.

Common to all paper of the period is the presence of chain lines, with measurable spaces between them. Bibliographers have long noted

variation in the width of those spaces, but no one has pursued the implications of those differences. In his Introduction to Bibliography for Literary Students (1927), Ronald McKerrow merely observes that chains occur "from three-quarters of an inch to an inch apart" (p. 100); he seems to have in mind a variation between different kinds of paper. In the same vein, John Carter notes in ABC for Book-Collectors (1952) that chain spaces "vary in width between different makes" (p. 50); he too seems to suggest that those differences occur between paper varieties rather than within a single sheet. Fredson Bowers' Principles of Bibliographical Description (1949) advocates recording the measurement between chain lines (p. 446), but it does so specifically for nineteenth-and twentieth-century books, for which laid paper would usually be produced by machine and in which the features of the paper, including those distances, would tend to be more uniform.

In this as in so many other areas of paper study, Allan Stevenson was the first to suggest more specific applications of the evidence. One of the tests he recommends for distinguishing twin watermarks is a comparison of the chain spaces touched by each mark.[1] In the examples which follow his article he cites numerous cases where the spacing at the mark in one mould differs from that in another or where the chain spaces near the watermark differ significantly from the average openings in the rest of the sheet. In the text of the article, however, he is equivocal about the usefulness of recording chain line spaces. He confidently states, "The student soon learns the advantage of measuring the chain-spaces as part of the routine of examination," but he then notes, "In measuring large watermarks, internal chains may be ignored, for chain-spaces (after 1500) tend to average 20 mm." (pp. 68-69). Stevenson's attention, moreover, is directed to the chain lines around watermarks, not to those appearing elsewhere in the sheet. In another article, in which he shows how chain line indentations can help to determine conjugacy and cancellation, he again says of the lines, "Their regularity can be observed, their spaces measured."[2] But in the subsequent discussion he refers only in passing to "chain extensions," implying that agreement in the pattern of chain lines on two leaves can indicate whether the leaves are conjugate. Again he does not pursue his important insights by contemplating the usefulness of actual measurements.

Those who have heeded Stevenson's call to scrutinize chain spaces have followed him in devoting their attention to the spaces around watermarks and in considering the other spaces of a sheet to be the same as each other. Stevenson himself continues those emphases in later writings,

particularly in his examinations of the Missale speciale and of early English paper made by John Tate.[3] The latter study is particularly interesting from that point of view, for although he again speaks in terms of averages and focuses on chain space differences adjacent to the watermarks, he also records additional spaces—but without calling attention to the variations they reveal (p. 27). Subsequent summaries of paper evidence based on Stevenson's work reflect his emphases. G. Thomas Tanselle's authoritative survey of paper study urges a recording of chain spaces, though his sample descriptions all present evenly spaced chain lines and concentrate on those around watermarks.[4] Likewise, Philip Gaskell suggestively refers to "chain-lines differently spaced" but later specifies "the spacing . . . of the chain-lines . . . in the vicinity of the watermark."[5]

It is a measure of the significance of those earlier studies that they are able to provoke insights beyond their authors' original intents. Although the ultimate goal of determining paper varieties and moulds has sometimes been overshadowed by the intermediate goal of identifying watermarks, the methods developed for analyzing watermarks can be extended to serve the greater end by being applied to the vast quantity of paper which contains no such marks.

The measurement of the spaces between chain lines for an entire sheet of paper is probably the most fruitful extension of the earlier methods. Unlike watermarks, these lines are present in every leaf of paper manufactured before the introduction of wove paper in the later eighteenth century, and they can almost invariably be found in page margins, unobscured by type. Most important for identification, the spaces between the various chains in the paper I have examined are seldom the same. Equal chain spaces across a sheet are in fact rare enough to be a distinguishing quality of a variety of paper. In the paper of this period the openings usually vary by as much as 10% and sometimes even 20% within a given sheet, or by as much as 3 to 6 mm. Patterns become evident when the measurements are arranged in a series; these patterns serve to identify different paper moulds.

To measure the chain spaces I use a thin metric ruler. While theoretical considerations support the use of the metric system,[6] practical ones also do: this system provides units which are small enough to discriminate properly but remain easy to manipulate; and because chain lines are typically one millimeter thick, measurements to half a millimeter

can easily be made according to a binary system with chain lines sorted according to whether they fall more on a millimeter marking on the ruler or between such marks. Large formats serve the best, for they are the least interrupted by gutters, which obscure chains, and outer margins, from which some of the chain lines may have been trimmed. But sometimes when constructing a chain space model it is useful to take readings from several formats. When the same paper is used for an octavo and duodecimo, as, for instance, in the first 1728 Dunciads, the relative positions of the pages on the sheet will be different. As a result, one format reveals chains and spacings that are hidden or cut off in the other.

There are some circumstances under which the measurements of a particular chain space may vary for the same variety of paper: the sheets may have shrunk at different rates; a chain line may wander from adjacent ones as it runs from one end of the sheet to the other, and the different examples may have been measured at different parts of the sheet; the lines may have moved gradually during the life of the mould; or the measurements themselves may have been slightly inaccurate. The measurements ordinarily do not deviate by more than a millimeter per opening, however, and even when they do vary this much the pattern of wide and narrow chain spaces generally remains the same.

To help insure that a series is representative for a sheet, it is best to measure the leaves at the point that is most likely to provide an average reading, i.e. at the center of the sheet. That is also the usual location of watermarks, and measurements taken there when watermarks are present both will fit with previously published reports of chain spaces around watermarks and will yield measurements for future researchers who wish to cite only that information. For a folio, that means measuring across the center of the page; for a quarto, down the gutter; for an octavo, across the top of the leaf; and so on. The leaves one selects to measure will be based on standard imposition diagrams for the period; Gaskell's New Introduction to Bibliography provides handy illustrations of the usual formats. The measurements of leaves containing watermarks, however, should always be recorded. A researcher may also wish to measure other leaves or different places on the leaves to test the amount of variation between a pair of chain lines from the top to bottom of a sheet. Because the chains do not always lie square with the printing on the page, it is also useful to scan the unmeasured leaves of a gathering to see whether any reveal a chain—and thus the datum of an additional chain space measurement—that might have been trimmed off in other leaves. A record of the chain spaces of every leaf of a sheet would provide a means of detecting cancels, whose chain patterns would

almost certainly differ from the dominant one, but because of the time required a person may wish to test only previously suspected cancels this way.

Because the array of numbers produced by the measurements is potentially confusing, especially when consulted after the actual book is many days and many miles away, it is important to have a systematic way of recording the initial data. For formats with vertical chains, I place a ruler whose scale begins at the tip into the gutter of the book and note every point at which a chain crosses. Because of the tightness of most bindings the distance from the inside chain to the fold at the spine cannot be measured precisely anyway, so a slight bit of wear at the end of the ruler does not matter. On the other hand, it is useful to get as accurate a measure as possible, and hence the advantage of a thin ruler, which will slip farther into the gutter than a thick one will. The actual width of the leaf, which usually will have been recorded for the general description of paper but otherwise should be noted specially, and the amount of the leaf visible along the ruler together enable the bibliographer to infer the number of chain lines concealed between the innermost chains of conjugate leaves. That number eventually is important for constructing the chain space model of the entire sheet. Pushing the ruler snugly—but without undue force—into the gutter also helps to steady it during the measuring. Recording the positions of the chain lines seriatim across the rule seems preferable to measuring individually each chain space, for it is less confusing and therefore less prone to error. Such a series also provides a context for the individual measurements, one which can later help to explain errors which have crept into the record.

The procedure for formats with horizontal chains is essentially the same, though the measurement is then from the head to the foot of the leaf, or, usually, from the center toward the outside edge of the sheet. In this case the tip of the ruler lies flush with the edge of the page and the ruler itself usually can lie lengthwise in the gutter. Consistently measuring from the same side of the leaf reduces the confusion that can easily result from attempting too many processes simultaneously; I use the recto. That policy holds for watermarks too, even if that means reading and sketching them backwards. I make a record of the mould side of each leaf examined and, if necessary, make adjustments to the placement of the watermark when putting the information into final form. Meanwhile I have the information in a consistent format and can spot differences more readily.

Once I have measured each sheet, I convert the series of readings into actual chain space distances and arrange them on a page according

to the way they would have lain in the original sheet. If the two leaves of a sheet in folio have been measured, for instance, the measurements from the gutter of the first leaf might be: 18 28 27 29 27.5 28 20 19 12, and in the second: 5 26.5 28 28 28 27 29 27 10. When the readings are combined to form the complete pattern, those of one leaf (here, the first) would be reversed so that the measurements at the gutter would be contiguous:

To align properly the corresponding chain spaces from different sheets, it is best to list the openings from the back fold outward, orienting the measurements around that point. Although leaves will not be trimmed at the inner margin, they may well be at the outer ones, with a potential effect on the number of chain spaces that are recorded. Once the measurements from different sheets have been arrayed, they can be grouped. For each group, a composite reading can be established and the model of an "ideal" sheet—and in many cases a nearly exact determination of the sheet length—can be formed for each paper variety which appears. Because of the potential variations mentioned earlier, slight differences may appear among the individual sheets which seem to be the same variety; the basic pattern of wider and narrower spaces usually does not vary. In establishing the model, however, I do not include examples which vary by 1.5 mm. or more for a particular chain space.

One of the challenges in grouping like sheets is to get all of the sheets positioned in the same direction. The mould side does not matter for paper without watermarks; merely turning the sheet top-over-bottom would change the sheet from the mould or felt side to the other one. But turning the sheet end-over-end reverses the pattern of spaces. Watermarks, tranchefiles, or any of the other distinguishing characteristics to be discussed later can serve as useful points of reference. Watermarks are a special boon at this stage. By determining how the watermark reads from the mould side and by positioning the mark so that the top and bottom of the mark itself are properly oriented, one can situate the watermark on the sheet and often at once discriminate paper varieties.

Although any procedure which works well is acceptable for initially recording data, it is advantageous that when formally presenting the findings a bibliographer avoid the idiosyncratic and work within a system that is already understood. For that reason, and because it works well, I have adapted Allan Stevenson's method of recording watermark positions to the presentation of chain space models for entire sheets.[7]

The essence of Stevenson's method is to separate chain spaces by

vertical lines and to enclose watermark widths within brackets. Thus, the notation 28 | 3 [24 | 22] 5.5 | 27 describes a watermark 46 mm. wide (millimeters being the standard unit of measure), 3 mm. from the chain on the left and 5.5 mm. from the one on the right; the adjacent chain spaces are 28 and 27 mm. To those elements I have added parentheses, ellipsis points, and a mark to indicate deckle edges. When a number in parentheses occurs amid a series of chain space measurements, it is an estimate of the width of an opening; such numbers are used when the opening occurs in the gutter or at the trimmed edge of a sheet and can not be measured directly. Parenthetical numbers at the end of a series represent the greatest width found for that opening when the sheet has been cut between chain lines. Ellipsis points at the end of a series mean that what is presented is only a part of a sheet—usually either a half-sheet or, as with readings from a duodecimo, one-third or two-thirds of a sheet. The percentage sign [%] indicates a deckle edge; I have chosen it because it has no other special use in bibliography. When no examples of a deckle occur but tranchefiles or other evidence imply the original edge of the sheet, that symbol occurs in parentheses. Because in most formats the watermark spreads over several leaves, a record of the width and position of both the top and bottom halves is often an aid to identifying paper in which only one part of the watermark is present. The chain space model can simply be made two-tiered at that point. Thus, one of the varieties of paper with the eagle watermark in the fine-paper copies of the 1729 quarto Dunciad Variorum can be described in this way:

 

(%) (9)

30

29.5

27.5

31

28

29

28.5

29

29

(29)

29.5

30

 

28.5

4.5 [24.5 7.5 [21.5

26] 4 20] 10

29

28

19.5

20

(13) (%)

Some special chain lines, the tranchefiles, have features not characteristic of other chains and therefore provide a second group of variables to distinguish unwatermarked papers. A tranchefile is usually described as an extra wire between the final chain wire and the frame of the mould, and hence also as the extra chain line such a wire forms at the end of the sheet. Tranchefiles look like other chain lines, except that they are spaced closer than usual to other chains and, because the tranchefile wire typically does not have a supporting wooden rib, they lack the customary bar shadows. While tranchefiles often occur at both ends of a sheet, sometimes a tranchefile appears only at one end, and sometimes at neither. Kenneth Povey and I. J. C. Foster provide examples of each of these varieties of "close chain-lines" in their discussion of paper with turned chain lines.[8] The number of ends of a sheet which

have a tranchefile, then, serves as one identifying feature of a sheet.

The pattern of the chain spaces around the tranchefiles also varies. In one common pattern, the outermost chain (or tranchefile) line is usually 5 to 10 mm. from the edge of the sheet. A space of about half the usual distance between chain lines then follows before the first chain line of the normal pattern in the sheet. In the Dunciad comprising volume V of the small-paper octavo Works of Pope in 1751, for instance, typical chain spaces at the end of a sheet are: % 5 | 13.5 | 27 | 27.5 . . . . In most other cases where tranchefiles are identifiable in Dunciads, there are instead two narrow spaces between chain lines. A common paper variety in the first 1728 edition thus measures: % 11 | 20 | 21 | 25.5 | 26 . . . . When there is a pair of narrow chain spaces, only the penultimate chain seems technically a tranchefile, since the outermost chain often has the customary bar shadow. Such a chain line is not part of the normal pattern of chains in the sheet, however, since the combined distance from it to the tranchefile and from the tranchefile to the next chain is significantly more than the usual distance between two chains. Regardless of the source of the chain line, the number of narrow chain spaces, as well as the actual width of those spaces, provides additional ways of differentiating paper varieties. Although several writers have made use of the presence of tranchefiles, Stevenson has again provided leadership by using the absence of tranchefiles, as well as the actual width of the spaces adjacent to tranchefiles, as bibliographical evidence. More recently, Annemie Gilbert and Sylvia Ransom have observed that the patterns of tranchefiles and their adjacent spaces do indeed differ in eighteenth-century papers.[9]

A third way of identifying unmarked paper again involves chain lines. Much of the paper in the Dunciads of the 1720s through the 1740s has double chains: about 6 mm. to one side of a chain is a second one, so that the chain lines in a leaf look like sets of railroad tracks. In one of the few acknowledgments of this feature, Edward Heawood points out that such "subsidiary chain-lines" as well as countermarks in the corner of the sheet (he emphasizes the initials CM over T, a combination which is frequently found in copies of The Dunciad) are characteristic of early eighteenth-century paper from Genoa. W. A. Churchill illustrates

the double-chain pattern in paper used from 1599 through 1744; he too cites Genoa as its source.[10] When double chains occur, the shadows caused by the wooden ribs beneath the mould may be centered on each of the chains, just as in single-chain paper, or they may fall between the chains, as they do in all examples from The Dunciad. When a shadow lies between two chains, one of the chains is more clearly visible than the other. Even when the second chain is nearly invisible, the shadow to one side of the primary chain can be seen.

Double chain lines can thus provide distinctions by whether they are present and by whether the rib or bar shadows center on the chains, but they can also do so according to whether uncentered shadows appear to the left or to the right of the primary chain. For those arbitrary directions to be meaningful, there needs to be some way of orienting sheets of paper consistently. For watermarked sheets, the standard sheet position for reading watermarks (from the mould side, with the top of the mark toward the top of the sheet) is appropriate. Unmarked sheets also have helpful features. Often they have tranchefiles at only one end; for ease of comparison, I consider such lines to be at the left edge of the sheet. Occasionally sheets may have a broken or bent chain line which can serve as a means of positioning them consistently. Other times the chain space pattern as the bibliographer has established it will serve arbitrarily to distinguish "left" and "right." Unmarked half-sheets appear especially often, for they come not only from unmarked sheets but also from the unmarked half of each watermarked sheet. In half-sheets there can be only one deckle edge parallel to the chain lines and, at most, a single set of tranchefiles. If either is present, the secondary chain can be described as being either toward or away from that edge (or, similarly, to the outside or inside of the sheet). In lieu of that specific evidence, one can usually determine from standard imposition diagrams the leaf edges which represent the outside edge of the sheet. In octavo half-sheets, for instance, the outer edge of leaves 1 and 2 will usually be at the end of the sheet.

When measuring chain spaces in double-chain paper I usually have not recorded the exact position of secondary chains. My chain space models for such paper, therefore, indicate the positions of only the primary chains. One reason for the omission is that often the secondary chains are not clear enough for the precise measurement which is necessary to make meaningful a report of the distances involved. Furthermore, in the examples that I have studied, those additional measurements have not yielded significant variations beyond the ones revealed

by the pattern of primary chains alone. That is not to deny, however, that in other instances such measurements could be important.

I have found the "direction" of the shadows to be consistent throughout a sheet, with one class of exceptions. At the end of a sheet where a tranchefile is present and where the chain lines are parallel to the deckle edge, the chain space pattern might be: . . . 27 | 28 | 27 | 20 | 20 | 8 %. The variation is this: when the secondary chains appear to the outside (here, the right) of the main chains, the penultimate chain or tranchefile usually has no secondary chain, and the outer chain or tranchefile has a secondary chain to the inside (here, the left).

A fourth identifying feature not dependent on watermarks is the density of the wire lines. Like chain lines, these marks are a useful guide because they are present in all laid paper. There has been little published consideration of the recording of information about wire lines, though Gaskell and Stevenson reveal two main approaches. Gaskell recommends trying to record the spaces between the impressions, just as with chain lines: the bibliographer should "measure the distance across a particular number of marks and . . . divide the result by that number" (New Introduction, p. 76). Stevenson, on the other hand, quotes a writer at the turn of the century who reports the number of wire lines per inch.[11] In an important article on American paper making in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, John Bidwell shows that the ledgers of the mould-making firm N. & D. Sellers do in fact describe moulds in terms of the number of wires per inch.[12]

Because of the historical precedent and because of the small distance between the lines, the record seems better made in terms of density than of spacing. Eliminating the process of division both saves a step in the recording of the data and also yields more meaningful results. The difference in spacing which is created by an additional wire per inch in the common densities, for instance, is only about a tenth of a millimeter —a difference impossible to detect without special equipment. A bibliographer who wishes to compare paper at hand against the published measurement therefore either has to reconvert the published one to a reading for a larger distance or else carry out a mathematical operation upon the new measurement. It is much easier to report the number of wires per unit. I have found no problem that results from expressing the measurements for the chains and wires in slightly different terms; there is no inherent connection between the two anyway. The person

who does need to know the distance from one wire to another has available the numbers to make that calculation. On the other hand, including the density fraction does not mean that the spacing distance could not be added in parentheses.

The measurement should be made on the metric scale rather than in inches. Again standardization is an argument for the choice of metric, but again there is also a special practical consideration: because wire lines average about a millimeter apart, the researcher can make a quick initial estimation of the lines by seeing whether they occur more or less frequently than the marking for each millimeter on a ruler. I have found it useful to report wire lines by recording the number of lines per three centimeters (about 1.2 inches). That measure is long enough to record subtleties of spacing that a shorter one would have missed (e.g. 28/3, where wires in a single centimeter would probably be read as 9) while short enough to preserve the eyesight of the person counting. The number of lines per sample varies slightly in a sheet, but seldom by more than two. In fact, a difference of two wires per three centimeters is sometimes sufficient to distinguish paper samples. In analyzing paper in the first octavo edition of the 1729 Dunciad Variorum I was surprised to find that the paper varieties which I had identified by other means corresponded in all but one case with the division of wire lines between 24/3 and 26/3. That one exception from a book now thousands of miles away may have been the result of an inaccurate measurement and serves as a reminder of the need for vigilance even when one is confronted by the imminent closing hour of a library.

While the difference in wire line frequency is thus of use to modern students, there is evidence that the eighteenth century also used it as a basis for discriminating kinds of paper. The description "fine" was normally used as an indication of quality, with the other main categories being "second" and "ordinary."[13] But in Charles Ackers' printing ledger from this period, the term several times stands in opposition to "coarse," suggesting that the words refer more specifically to the texture and perhaps the wire lines of the paper.[14] The Oxford English Dictionary specifies that when "coarse" and "fine" are contrasted in the eighteenth century, "fine" indicates delicacy: "consisting of minute particles or slender threads and filaments." In the only Dunciad in which the size of an ordinary paper and "fine" paper issue are the same but the wire lines different (the quarto Dunciad Variorum of 1729), the regular

copies have wires of 24/3 while those of the special copies are 29/3. Bidwell's account of the Sellers moulds at the end of the century confirms this pattern of wire density: the wires in moulds for writing-quality paper had the thinnest wire and the greatest number of wires per inch, while moulds for printing and wrapping qualities were increasingly coarse (p. 312).

Other qualities of unmarked paper also have the potential to characterize specific varieties. Some are general qualities and provide help mainly by their presence or absence. Turned chain lines, for instance, merely distinguish the paper from the more common kind, unless uncut copies are available in order also to reveal from edges whether the paper was made as a double sheet or as side-by-side sheets. The basic distinction between turned and ordinary chains can be useful, though; in a 1742 edition of The Dunciad which appeared as volume III, part ii of Pope's Works (Griffith 579),[15] it instantly reveals which of the leaves are cancels. Various other qualities are not amenable to easy quantification or categorization. Variations in color in the leaves may be too slight to be distinguished without more elaborate measurement than a color chart provides, but they still may offer hints. In a slightly different manifestation of color, the sprinkling on the edges of at least some copies of the 1751 small-paper Dunciad has discolored at different rates according to the variety of paper on which it lies. The texture of paper is also difficult to describe. What Stevenson speculates might well be "knots from woolen underwear" in some paper does not serve as an adequate description of the paper's texture but does provide him with a clue for linking papers possessing different watermarks ("Tudor Roses," 27).

Finally, some features such as paper thickness may be quantifiable but ambiguous in their significance. Gaskell notes the possible variation of thickness within a given sheet (New Introduction, pp. 76-77); my own checking in The Dunciad has turned up variations of as much as 100% within a single leaf. But although it is unwise to assign paper to a particular group solely on the basis of its thickness, it does seem worth-while to record the thickness, both to have available the range of measurements for particular paper and to provide the information for determining an average thickness. I have found that when the readings from different groups of what is demonstrably the same paper are averaged, the result is the same, within a tolerance of ±.001 inch or .025 mm. Although none of these paper features provide as much help in identifying paper as the four discussed earlier, they often do provide clues that the paper researcher may find valuable.

The method providing the most precise identification of paper varieties, then, is that which establishes a record of the skeletal structure of a mould, the pattern of its chain lines and spaces. The procedure requires no specialized equipment, merely a ruler. In examining paper it is useful to apply as many tests as are convenient, of course, for the identity is thereby established not only more conclusively but also in many cases more easily. The various grosser differences can often help to define broader classes of paper and in the process also provide initial groupings for the more precise chain space patterns. In all attempts at identification the bibliographer is also aided by the knowledge that varieties were normally produced in multiples of two or, in the case of double moulds, four.

The primary difficulty with the procedures I have been suggesting, especially the measurement of chain spaces, is not a new one to the bibliographer: they take time. The efforts can ultimately save time, of course, in facilitating the identification of paper samples. In some ways radiographs or other reproductions would be preferable for such work; several narrow strips across the direction of the chain lines could provide the necessary information and serve as paradigms against which to check other samples. Practical difficulties with such reproductions are their cost and availability. Radiographic prints from the major libraries that can provide them appear to average about $10 each. Because the libraries often have the legitimate wish to retain the original negatives for their own files, the bibliographer who wishes to have them in order to compare patterns by overlaying them often needs to pay an additional $5 per reproduction to have duplicate ones made. As a result, even a record of each paper variety in a single book such as the first octavo Dunciad of 1729, whose sixteen different half-sheets would require at least thirty-two exposures for complete coverage of a single copy, would be prohibitively expensive. Photographic reproductions are potentially cheaper, but the libraries that have the necessary books are also the ones most likely to require the work to be done by their photographic departments—at nearly the same cost as the radiographs. A researcher who wants a reproduction of each watermark design does not fare much better. A watermark appearing in an octavo is often spread over four leaves and requires four exposures for each variety, with still more if countermarks are present. Apart from other considerations, then, a bibliographer may wish to use chain space models instead of reproductions for financial reasons.

There are also theoretical grounds for presenting chain space models instead of or in addition to reproductions. An obvious function of descriptive bibliography is to describe—that is, to give an account of the

material at hand in words or other typographical symbols. By presenting the chain space model, the bibliographer conveys information such as measurements not immediately evident from the actual leaf or its reproduction and also provides a standard form of the data that can be more easily re-used and transmitted. Although reproductions are particularly useful supplements to verbal reports of complex designs like watermarks, they provide little additional insight into the features of chain spaces.

Another problem the bibliographer must be mindful of is the temptation to force aberrant patterns of paper characteristics into the procrustean beds of established designs. Given the number of times paper is handled between its removal from the vat and its placement on the tympan, it is easy for anomalous sheets to slip into a grouping. For instance, one half-sheet gathering in one of the seventeen copies of the first octavo edition of the 1729 Dunciad that I have examined has the watermark of a horse inside a large circle. Some copies of James Bramston's The Art of Politicks produced by the same printer and same publisher the same year also have that watermark, and the lot of paper for that book may be the source of the stray sheet. What is important here is that the other half-sheet of that paper is probably unmarked and thus would prove puzzling if it were recorded in a Dunciad. Another danger in trying to fit unusual paper samples into existing models is that sometimes paper varieties may be represented by only one or two examples in a book. For instance, the sheets used for gatherings A and B of the 1743 edition of The Dunciad, in Four Books (Foxon P796) are similar to paper used throughout the volume but do not match exactly. The bibliographer who resists the temptation to group those examples with the established ones is rewarded to find those anomalies occurring as one of the main varieties in a companion edition of Pope's Essay on Man published in February 1744.

II

In considering ways in which information about paper can be used, it is possible to distinguish at least three levels of application. Initially one can merely describe and identify the material at hand. From that, one can make inferences about the process of manufacturing the book, and beyond that consider the textual implications of those physical qualities. Each step considerably widens the range of possible implications and applications of the preceding level. In what follows I shall deal with the first two stages, beginning by showing how the procedures for identifying paper actually operate in several editions of The Dunciad.

The first 1728 edition was issued as both a duodecimo and an octavo (Foxon P764-765). The same general varieties of paper were used for both impressions: the chain lines are double, and the watermark, when present, is 'BF' and lies on the right-hand half-sheet. As a reflection of the fact that both impressions were imposed in half-sheets, about half of the gatherings are unmarked. The presence or absence of watermarks provides the first means of distinguishing the papers. The watermarked ones can be divided into two groups: some of the paper has chain shadows to the right and has tranchefiles, while other paper has the shadows to the left and no tranchefiles. The marked paper with tranchefiles can be further divided according to the position of the watermark: sometimes it lies in the chain space adjoining the tranchefile space, while at other times a complete chain space lies between the one occupied by the edge of the watermark and the nearest tranchefile space. The chain space measurements of those two varieties reveal that no further subdivision is possible. Other chain space measurements show that the marked paper without tranchefiles also divides into two varieties; overall, then, there are four varieties of paper with the 'BF' watermark.

Similar methods help to sort the unmarked half-sheets. Some of the paper lacks tranchefiles and has chain-line shadows away from the deckle edge. The paper that does have tranchefiles has the shadows toward that edge. Because there are no watermark positions to provide points of identification here, and because the variation in the wire line density is not great enough to be relied on, the chain spaces provide the next step of discrimination. The measurements of each class of paper fall into two groups, yielding the same number of varieties as the watermarked sections.

It is extremely likely that the eight varieties of half-sheets were originally mates of each other in some combination. But at this point it is not clear whether each whole sheet had one marked and one unmarked half or whether some sheets had two marks and some none. Although some combinations can be ruled out on the basis of the shadow direction (complementary half-sheets can not both have shadows going toward the deckle edge), not all possibilities are thereby tested. One way of positing matching pairs is to examine the distribution of each variety throughout numerous copies and make tentative links between half-sheets that appear in the same sections of the book. That process yields clear patterns here, but it can not be considered conclusive. What does yield decisive evidence is a feature of the imposition patterns of the two impressions of this Dunciad. A half-sheet in octavo is either the left or right half of the original sheet and ordinarily contains half of the chain spaces (which run vertically) on that sheet. A half-sheet in duodecimo,

on the other hand, is the top or bottom half of the original sheet and therefore contains part of every chain space on that sheet. One-third of a duodecimo full- or half-sheet is of course cut off, and there is little assurance that a particular cutoff will be reunited with its former companions. But that still leaves two-thirds of the original chain lines and spaces present. Because the paper varieties in both formats of The Dunciad are demonstrably the same, the chain space models for half-sheets of the octavo are effectively extended to two-thirds of a sheet when combined with the duodecimo readings. That means that chain space models from two ends of the same sheet will overlap for the center third and that the pairs of extended half-sheets can be reliably matched. The chain space models that result each have one end with tranchefiles and one without. Interestingly, those paper models match the characteristics of the paper Gaskell identifies as produced by end-to-end two-sheet moulds: "paper from pairs of such moulds will show combinations of four different examples of the watermark, not two, and it is also likely that only one of the shorter edges of each sheet will have the tranchefile and drip marks" (New Introduction, p. 64). If this 1728 paper, probably from Italy, is from double moulds, it is a fairly early example. Gaskell cites such paper from the 1690s, probably from Holland; the earliest documentation he finds for its manufacture in England and France, however, is from 1768 and 1788 respectively.

This first 1728 edition of The Dunciad proves to be a useful one, for it shows the extent to which various features of paper which are usually overlooked can help to differentiate varieties. While easily detectable characteristics define broad classes, I was able to note those differences most readily because I had before me the array of data collected from numerous copies of the works, usually in conjunction with chain space measurements. The final distinctions, however, had to rely on the time-consuming measurement of spaces. Only after the features of the varieties were ascertained could hypotheses be safely entertained about the nature of the moulds. As so often, watermarks played an equivocal role in the identification. Their position helped to distinguish the half-sheets in which they were present, but they were absent from about half of the gatherings. In addition, the portions of the initials that remained after trimming usually were too small to provide points of comparison on the marks themselves.

The temptation to incorporate anomalous chain space patterns also arises here. In at least two copies of the octavo, gathering B has a countermark 'G' in the lower corner. Both of these copies are at libraries which might be outside the group that a bibliographer would be most likely to check—the National Library of Wales, and Edinburgh University.

A difference in shadow direction indicates that the two examples are different. What is implicit, therefore, is that these samples have corresponding half-sheets, perhaps unmarked ones that are in the 10% or so of gatherings that I have been unable to assign with certainty. A bibliographer who would force those remaining examples into the models to which they were only approximately similar would therefore risk obscuring evidence of variant papers.

Another interesting array of paper varieties occurs in the first octavo edition of The Dunciad Variorum in 1729 (Foxon P776-780). The collation for the most common forms of the book is: 8°: A4 (—A2, A1 + χ2) B-Aa4 Bb4 (± Bb3) Cc-Gg4 Hh1. A1 is a blank and Hh1 an errata leaf; an engraved plate of either an owl or an ass may appear as the frontispiece or may be inserted at the beginning of Book I or II in the poem. The greater part of the work, gatherings B-Bb, is printed on the same two varieties of 'S'-marked paper with double chain lines that comprise the quarto edition of the poem, which was circulating privately about a month before the octavo was first advertised. The problem of matching the correct marked half-sheets with unmarked ones again arises but here is solved by recourse to the quarto, where full sheets reveal the entire chain space sequence.

The watermark 'TM' with the corner countermark 'CM' over 'T'[16] occurs in the half-sheet gatherings A and Cc-Gg. These can be subdivided into two groups according to the frequency of wire lines and the position of the watermarks. Four varieties have fine wires (33/3), and they never have the countermark and main mark in the same half-sheet. The directions of bar shadows indicate that these four varieties constitute two pairs of half-sheets, or two sheets. With only one exception in the seventeen copies checked, only this fine-wired paper is used in gathering Cc. A few scattered examples also occur in three of the other gatherings in this non-'S' section.

The other sub-group, with noticeably coarser wire lines and with the watermark and countermark on the same half-sheet, occurs in two varieties with wire lines of 24/3 and two with wires of 26/3. Both of the 26/3 papers have the mark 'TM' upside down with respect to the countermark. Again the shadow directions clearly indicate which of the unmarked gatherings are the likely complements of the marked ones. Only papers with wires of 24/3 occur in Dd, and they are by far the predominant varieties in Ff and A. Ee and Gg, on the other hand, consist mainly of varieties with wires of 26/3.

The cancel Bb3 and the errata leaf, which were printed together and are occasionally found conjugate, sometimes have a 'TM' watermark. On the basis of the chain-space models established for varieties of paper with that watermark, unmarked examples of these leaves can also be identified as coming from those sheets—almost invariably ones with the coarse chain lines. The same is true for the cancel leaves χ2, the new title page and the owl frontispiece which replaced the original title page. Sometimes that owl plate appears separately later in the volume; then too it is on 'TM' paper. The ass plate, on the other hand, is never on that paper. Sometimes portions of the watermark 'BF' appear on that plate, and sometimes a fleur-de-lis, suggesting that the paper may be the kind represented by Heawood's design 1715 (dated 1729), with one of the marks in each original half-sheet. The initials suggest a possible connection with the 'BF' paper of the 1728 editions, but a comparison of the chain spaces with the 1728 models reveals that the paper is not the same. Again, then, the features of chain and wire lines provide a means of identifying paper varieties. In a moment I shall consider some possible implications of that information.

Other special leaves in 1729 editions can also be identified by recourse to chain space models. Most copies of the second octavo edition of The Dunciad (Foxon P781) have a half-sheet of errata. It is on paper different from the rest of the book but, with the hint provided by an occasional watermark and the confirmation from other paper characteristics, it can be shown to be on the two 'TM'-marked sheets with wires of 24/3 that appear in the first octavo. 'TM' paper shows up in another place as well: the addenda leaf at the end of the 1729 quarto is printed on marked and unmarked sections of these sheets. Meanwhile, back in the second octavo edition the three cancel leaves and single-leaf errata list can be proven to be from the same paper as the rest of the book.

The next example, the octavo edition of The Dunciad which appeared as volume V of Pope's small-paper Works in 1751, differs from the previous ones by having turned chain lines, single chains, and many sheets with no watermark at all. Some of the features useful in identifying paper thus are not present (though their absence is itself a distinguishing factor), and the effectiveness of the chain space measurements has been reduced because there are fewer spaces—and hence, fewer potential variations—per sheet.

The presence of watermarks provides the first distinguishing feature of the paper. Because most of the gatherings in the volume are full sheets, it can be determined with reasonable certainty whether they are marked. Gatherings a-b and A-G never have a mark, while the remaining ones—πA, c-d, and H-R—usually have the initials 'RW'. One way to begin

sorting the marked sheets is to classify them according to the portion of the mark that shows. The method is by no means foolproof, for the sheets might have been placed in slightly different positions on the tympan, thereby causing the printed impression—whose outline, and not the edges of the sheet itself, were used by the binder as folding guides—to vary in respect to the position of the watermark. But in the present case the watermark sections do help. Some sheets have the top of the mark showing, and others the bottom. A comparison of the chain line spacings reveals three subgroups of each kind. Double-checking the space patterns of these six groups against each other confirms that they are separate varieties.

Six varieties of paper is an unusual number for sheets which, as the turned chain lines indicate, were almost certainly produced on double moulds. These sheets would be expected to occur in multiples of four: two sheets per mould, with a pair of moulds. The occasional unmarked sheets which appear in the sections of the book which are usually watermarked provide an explanation. When the chain spaces of these sheets are analyzed, they yield two patterns, bringing the total number of varieties to eight. The patterns are different from those in the marked sheets, meaning that they are not merely states of the marked ones in which the designs had come loose from the moulds. Nonetheless, these two varieties may have had marks of some sort at one time. It might also be that one pair of moulds had marks on the two sheets on one mould but no marks on the other mould, or, more likely, one marked and one unmarked sheet on each mould.

The section of the volume where only unmarked sheets appear poses greater difficulties, for there are no clear distinguishing features to provide initial subgroupings. But most of them have tranchefiles at only one end of the sheet; these provide a way of orienting them for easier comparison. When the chain spaces are checked against each other, four distinct patterns emerge. It is possible that some of these varieties are the ones occurring throughout the watermarked sections, but another check of the chain spaces reveals that all are distinct. Finally, it is also necessary to consider the volume's four cancel leaves and the errata leaf (which appears in two settings), none of which is marked. Their chain spaces match none of the twelve identified varieties in the book. That lack of correspondence fits the information in the paper ledger of the book's printer William Bowyer; the paper he ordered was sufficient only for the 20½ original sheets of volume V. Cancels and errata lists are not planned before the printing of a work begins, and they were apparently machined on other paper.

Thus far the second part of this essay has been concerned with ways

in which the techniques discussed in the first part can be used to discriminate varieties and determine characteristics of sheets of paper. But already we have moved beyond that initial stage by considering how that information can be used in identifying special single sheets such as errata and cancel leaves and in helping to detect double moulds. In the remaining part we shall look at additional applications of the descriptions. Those uses are not exhaustive, but they do suggest the kinds of insights to which the material can lead.

Paper without watermarks can be used for many of the same bibliographical purposes as that with marks, but because more of a sheet is now relevant, the potential frequency of use increases. The newly noted characteristics can provide new ways of performing old tests—such as that for conjugacy, for instance. When one leaf of a suspected pair has a type impression on only one side and the test for first forme impressions does not work or when the leaves have been pressed so smooth that neither that test nor the one for the mould side of the paper can apply, a check of the chain-space pattern, shadow direction, and wire line frequency may solve the problem. In the first 1729 octavo Dunciad, for instance, one can determine on those grounds that the owl frontispiece and cancel title page are conjugate but that the ass plate and title never are.

Paper identifications can also suggest relationships between different works, even if the precise meaning of those relationships is not immediately clear. As noted earlier, two gatherings of preliminaries in The Dunciad, in Four Books in 1743 are of the same paper as several in the Essay on Man published a few months later. One possible inference clearly is that those sections may have been machined at the same time. A more complex relationship occurs in the 1729 editions, all printed by John Wright and published by Lawton Gilliver.[17] The first Dunciad of that year was a quarto edition, issued on both ordinary and fine paper. The ordinary paper has varieties of an 'S' watermark; as we have seen, this paper is also used for most of the first octavo edition of that year. The quarto's addenda leaf, when present, is on 'TM'-marked paper, the same as in the rest of the first octavo. That paper appears still again in the half-sheet errata section in the second octavo edition.

Meanwhile, the varieties of eagle-marked paper of the fine-paper quarto recur throughout the second octavo. A curious problem arises here: why would this special—and presumably more expensive—paper be used for a reprint edition in a small format? The answer may lie partly in the significance Pope attached to the edition; he wrote Swift

that he wanted it to be used as the copy for future printings.[18] But the answer may also lie in other facts revealed by paper. An octavo piracy ('Printed for A. Dob'; Foxon P774-775) published by a group of London booksellers within days of the authorized first octavo was on the same varieties of good paper. The publishers had also taken special effort to reproduce the engravings of the title page and the headpiece at the beginning of Book I. In Gilliver's lawsuit which followed, the defendants noted that, among other problems, the copies of the quarto edition tardily deposited with the Stationers' Company were not on the better paper but "upon much worse."[19] The pirates' main strategy in court was to show that copyright for the book had not been clearly established and that therefore their edition was in fact not a piracy. Pointing out the inferior quality of the quarto deposit copies served the logical point of challenging the copyright claims for that book but also served the ethical point of showing these pirates' good intent, for their edition appeared not as a cheaply constructed attempt to capitalize on a popular work but rather as an expensively produced edition of a work not formerly available in a small format. It may be, then, that to produce an octavo edition on paper of comparable quality Pope specified that the next edition under his control, the second octavo, be printed on the same eagle-marked sheets. Whatever the ultimate explanation, it is again paper evidence that reveals connections among these four books.

Precise identification of paper varieties can also on occasion help to establish the dates that the paper was used. Bowyer's paper ledger reveals that the paper for volumes II and V of Pope's small-paper Works of 1751 was ordered together.[20] That spring and summer 92 reams were received on March 21, 52 reams on April 9, 40 reams on June 27, 24 reams on July 2, and 12 reams on July 12. All of the 14½ original sheets of volume II and 9 of the 20½ sheets of volume V are on unwatermarked paper, though the varieties in the two books are not the same. As indicated earlier, the remaining 11½ sheets of volume V (the last gatherings and some of the preliminaries) have the mark 'RW' or one of two special varieties of unmarked paper. The ratios of the number of similar sheets in the volumes to the total number of sheets are similar to the ratios of reams in individual shipments to the total number of reams ordered for these volumes:

         

14.5 sheets	(unmarked, vol. II)	[1:2.4]	92 reams	[1:2.4]
9	(unmarked, vol. V)	[1:3.9]	52	[1:4.2]
11.5	(marked, and unique	[1:3.0]	40}
	unmarked, vol. V)		24} =76	[1:2.9]
			12}

If those correspondences are in fact significant, and if, as is likely, the paper was used in approximately the order purchased, then within this group volume II was printed first, followed by the unmarked sections of volume V and then by the marked ones—i.e. the last gatherings of the poetic text, the appendix and indexes, and most of the preliminaries. From the dates the paper was purchased, the actual printing dates of the sections could also be estimated. A final determination of the correspondence would require a test of the typographical evidence as well as possible adjustments for the number of sheets in these particular reams, the paper which the ledger indicates was returned to the wholesaler, the wasted sheets, leftover paper from other projects which found its way into this one, and the number of copies actually printed (which, as Bowyer's ledgers reveal, often differed from the number officially ordered.) The estimation of the printing dates based on paper evidence is by no means conclusive, then, but the investigation itself is possible only because the similarities and differences among the paper varieties have been precisely determined, primarily by the measurement of their chain spaces.

Still another use of such detailed paper evidence is to determine the original relationships or imposition patterns of specially printed leaves that are not currently conjugate. This procedure depends on an earlier establishment of chain space models and of the other relevant features of the paper. The 1729 quarto Dunciad provides the first example. K1.2 is a pair of cancel leaves, and gathering P is a half-sheet. In the ordinary-paper issue, both of the predominant varieties of the 'S' watermark occur in each section. In the seven copies for which I have measurements, one of the half-sheets is always marked and one is not, and the chain spaces reveal that they are always from the same variety of paper as each other. The tantalizing inference is that these half-sheets were originally part of the same sheet. That conclusion is confirmed by the Edinburgh University copy, in which the half-sheets are bound together and are conjugate. With that copy available, the evidence provided by the paper is largely superfluous, although besides corroborating the other finding it presents evidence of the binder's practice in apparently inserting both halves of a particular sheet into the same book. The example

is useful in showing the potential of such paper evidence. The facts here lead to the correct conclusion, although they are not themselves conclusive. But by suggesting a relationship, they encourage the researcher to seek further evidence. Here, for instance, the bibliographer who would go on to examine running titles would find that those on K1.2 and P2 are the same ones as elsewhere in the book and that when those from the two half-sheets are combined they form the same set that appears in other gatherings.

A second case in which an imposition pattern may be inferred comes from the second octavo Dunciad of 1729. With only one exception, which will be considered in a moment, the cancel leaves D3, E2, and P3 and the single-leaf errata 2 B1 are all from the same two varieties of eagle paper as the rest of the book. Tranchefiles occur only in examples of D3 and 2 B1, indicating that these leaves were printed at the end of the sheet of paper. On the other hand, the most easily identifiable portion of watermark, the portion of an eagle design which occurs toward the center of the sheet, occurs only in E2 and P3. These leaves, then, were printed as the inside ones of the octavo imposition. The absence of tranchefiles in any examples of these leaves in the three dozen copies checked support that positioning.

That the leaves come from adjacent parts of the sheet suggests that some of them may have been pairs. This is certainly true for 2 B1 and the new P3, for they are bound together and conjugate in a copy at Oxford. The paper evidence also supports Foxon's surmise that "the cancels for D3 and E2 were probably printed together" (P781). But Foxon does not think that these two quarter-sheets in turn were conjugate: "Deposit copies apparently have one pair of leaves or the other, which suggests they were not part of the same half sheet and were therefore printed at different times, though before publication." The word apparently is very likely inserted because of the difficulty in ascertaining copyright deposit copies. But in at least one of those apparent deposit copies, that at Aberdeen University, both pairs of leaves are present. Among the other deposit copies various combinations of old and new leaves appear, a pattern reflected in the non-deposit copies. It is by no means clear, then, that the two sets of leaves were printed separately. The details of the leaves indicate that they were all printed on the same two varieties of paper, and those details are at least commensurate with those leaves being part of the same half-sheet. 2 B1 and D3 would be the outer leaves on the sheet, and P3 and E2 the corresponding inner ones. That hypothesis gains further strength from paper evidence in the only identified exceptions to the pattern of double-chain, eagle-watermark paper for the cancels. In a personal copy, formerly that of James M.

Osborn, 2 B1 and the new D3 and E2 are from the same setting of type as the other examples but are all on single-chain paper. (P3 was can-celled but then the original leaf reinserted.) That all of these anomalous leaves are on the same paper suggests that at least in this case—and very likely in the other instances—the cancels were printed together.[21]

In the pursuit of paper evidence, just as in other bibliographical study, it is important that the bibliographer search as widely as possible. As shown by the single occurrence of single-chain paper in the cancels of the second octavo Dunciad Variorum, that search first of all needs to encompass as many copies as possible. But ultimately that research should also extend to other works produced by the same publisher or printer, and even to works by other publishers and printers produced about the same time. We have seen hints of the benefits of such study in the identification of the anomalous horse watermark in one Dunciad and in the explanation of a couple of unusual sheets of a 1743 Dunciad by reference to a slightly later edition of An Essay on Man. In practice, such widespread investigations remain merely ideal goals. But precisely because such goals are difficult for a single worker to achieve, they serve to remind researchers of the importance of recording the results of smaller projects so that those findings may cumulatively form a body of reference material.

Throughout this essay we have considered reasons for recording particular characteristics of paper that are usually overlooked. They can often extend the range of insights available from more familiar features such as watermarks, but even more importantly they can provide evidence which those other qualities cannot furnish. These methods are valuable even if they merely duplicate other findings, for they give additional credibility to those interpretations. Likewise, they are important even if they are not conclusive, for they often stimulate new approaches which do yield such results. Finally, if they do nothing else, these ways of analyzing paper serve as another reminder for bibliographers to be cautious when claiming that two items are printed on "the same paper."[22]

Notes