University of Virginia Library

Nearly half a century ago, a landmark now famous in the annals of historical research made its memorable appearance; this was Charles M. Briquet's Les Filigranes (Paris, 1907), a work to which many students in varied fields of scholarship still turn daily with gratitude. The value of Briquet's contribution in its broadest implications cannot be questioned, whatever reservations one may entertain in regard to the more precise information to be gleaned from its pages.

For the students of "prototypographica" in 1907, one of Briquet's summaries seemed to hold the greatest potential significance.[1] This concerned the appearance of "filigranes identiques" in the ordinary fifteenth-century formats of paper; according to Briquet's findings (vol. I, p. xx), the extreme limits of their first and last datable occurrence could be determined in this fashion:

• Within 1 to 5 years: 512 instances
• " 6 to 10 " : 255 "
• " 11 to 15 " : 115 "

Thus, 882 of the 978 examples used for this calculation (or 90% of the total) made their initial and final appearance within the limits of fifteen years, the longest recorded extent of duration being 85 years.

Briquet's table further indicated that the use of over half the papers was confined to a maximum period of five years.[2] Despite these ascertained

facts, the theory that "les filigranes" could supply evidence for the dating of incunables was not heartily endorsed by incunabulists. In respect to this, the comment of the British Museum's great catalogue may be cited:

In more recent years, especially since the founding of the Paper Publications Society in 1948, the attention of scholars has again been directed towards the significance of watermarks for the determination of date. It has even been suggested that Briquet's estimates were much too liberal and that the normal elapsed time between the manufacture and the final use of a run of paper was three years, frequently less but sometimes as much as ten years.[4] Naturally enough, such assertions have not gone unchallenged, though one need not, perhaps, go so far as to echo the words of a scholarly Keeper of Printed Books at the British Museum, who publicly stated: "I have no use for watermarks." Sir Henry Thomas was, of course, mildly jesting here, though he was serious enough in his reservations as to their use for dating.[5] Nor can one entirely ignore, in this connection, the statement made (in 1923) by the dean of American experts on paper:[6]

The information that watermarks can supply for purposes of dating is beset with several difficulties. First of all, the employment of averages for specific purposes is always hazardous — as observers of scientific facts are

well aware. We all recall the story of the man who, in wading through a river, drowned in a channel seven feet deep, having been assured that the average depth was only two feet. Special circumstances may always be present to contradict averages; two such instances are conveniently at hand to illustrate this point. My whole correspondence relating to this article has simply been dated by month and day, and I have suggested to my correspondents that the year can easily be deduced from the watermark in the paper: this happens to provide 1909. In 1956, the Morgan Library issued, as a gift to its Fellows, a facsimile of a previously-unknown Dickens letter; entirely by itself, however, the watermark present in the facsimile would suggest that the edition had been printed forty years ago. The "filigrane" in the Dickens facsimile is — at least so far as I can judge — in the identical state as that found in the printed Archives of the General Convention [of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the U. S. A.], New York, 1911-12. It certainly should be identical since all the paper (Kelmscott Handmade) comes from a single purchase made prior to 1911. The Library has, from time to time, made varied use of this paper — but there is still enough on hand to print a sizable edition of some reasonably-sized text. These facts relate, of course, to special circumstances. Nevertheless, it would manifestly be impossible, five hundred years after the event, to single out the special circumstances from those which were entirely usual.

There are, obviously, two prime elements of uncertainty in regard to the use of watermarks for purposes of dating; first, no one is quite certain for how long any particular mould could be used (i.e., how long was it possible to make paper with the same watermark) and, secondly, it is not clear how successful the methods for speedy distribution were — or even if this was considered essential or desirable in those days. Estimates for the "life" of a mould vary between half a year and four years;[7] but how can one ever be sure of the value of such figures in determining the life of any particular mould? It could as well be asked: how long will the machine last upon which the present study is being typed? Clearly, the reader will want to know: (1) who made the type-writer (i.e., question of quality); (2) how is it looked after (problem of maintenance); and (3) how much is it used? This last query is certainly as crucial for a mould for making paper, as Alfred Schulte was quick to recognize, as it is for a type-writer. This scholar[8] preferred to estimate that the average pair of moulds could

produce half a million sheets before they became unfit for further use, rather than to speculate on the conjectural life of a mould.[9] We know, too, from contemporary records that early paper-makers were not particularly reliable as a source of supply:[10] plagues, floods, droughts, and other inconveniences played havoc with the productivity of the makers and frequently curtailed the essential water-supply for the mills or made it unfit for use.[11]

The dubious facilities for distribution in those days create another factor for uncertainty in the estimates under consideration. As BMC (I:xv) reminds us:[12] "we have to reckon with the existence of middlemen, such as Adolf Rusch, who bought paper from the makers and sold or bartered it to other printers." A most significant time-lag[13] is noted by Adolf Tronnier:

If one accepts this statement, set forth by an eminent and reliable scholar, it is apparent that the same paper might be available for purchase in two cities, joined together by the easiest means of communication known to the Middle Ages (the river Rhine), at intervals of ten and more years.

We may now particularize and inquire how palaeographers and art historians view the evidence afforded by watermarks for the purpose of dating. One may cite such views as those of Arthur M. Hind ("the date of manufacture [of paper] is only certain as a terminus a quo")[15] and Arthur

E. Popham[16] ("But in few cases can a water-mark, even when it actually contains a date, afford more than an approximate indication of period post quem").[17] Palaeographers display similar caution. Regrettably enough, there seems to be no adequate (modern) handbook in English on "Handschriftenkunde",[18] so that we are obliged to fall back upon the recent judgements of two German scholars:

The significance of all these remarks will not fail to impress itself upon the reader. Palaeographers and art historians are accustomed to assign material

which cannot be identified with an individual, school, or related group of artifacts to quarter-centuries;[21] those scholars who willingly fix such items within specific decades are often considered rash by their colleagues. It is suggested by scholars in these disciplines, then, that watermarks as evidence even for such broad datings must be treated with caution.[22]

Among bibliographers, the incunabulists — whether directly or by inference — also suggest that such evidence as "filigranes" afford for establishing dates cannot be employed with precision. Paul Heitz (art historian, palaeographer, and incunabulist) found the same watermarks appearing over wide intervals of time in the incunabula,[23] as well as in documents belonging to the archives,[24] of Strassburg. This fact was further emphasized by Karl Schorbach in his study of the press of Johann Mentelin:

Similar reservations as to the validity of the evidence of watermarks for dating — whether made directly or implied in practice — can be traced even to experts on the making of paper, its history and use.[26] In connection with this, the above-quoted statement by Dard Hunter may be recalled. We are further reminded that watermarks are "a kind of circumstantial evidence to be used with great caution by bibliographers."[27] Finally, so recently as 1952, the director of the Forschungsstelle Papiergeschichte in the Gutenberg Museum at Mainz,[28] accepted Briquet's judgements in regard to the dating of certain watermarks (nos. 13034-43) "dass einige derselben 50-60 Jahre ohne Veränderung bestanden." Dr. Kazmeier,[29] moreover, cites Briquet without hesitation as the authority for the fact that the Gutenberg Bible's watermark (no. 13040) was used in documents from 1440 to 1495. Solely on the basis of the "filigranes," one wonders, how would this Bible be dated? In the Gutenberg Jahrbuch for the previous year (1951, p. 36), this German scholar expressed the belief that "durch längere Benutzung einzelner Formen, als auch durch Lagerung von Papieren können entsprechende Wasserzeichen um Jahrzehnte verschieden in der Zeit auftreten." This would imply considerable hesitation on the part of a most distinguished "Papier-Forscher" as to the value of the "evidence" which watermarks could furnish for purposes of dating.[30]

What value, then, have watermarks for the dating of prototypographica? It seems certain that a "filigrane," without external controls or confirming

evidence from other sources, cannot be regarded as a sure guide for the dating, within narrow limits, of mediaeval documents or early printed books. Equally, I am sure, no one will deny that watermarks can, and do, provide essential and valuable pieces of evidence for this purpose; they certainly have a corroborative — though not an absolute — value in arriving at an approximate date for an early printed book. Allan H. Stevenson, for example, has shown that the watermarks in a certain Caxton volume can supply a date for it[31] — and it so happens that this date is one that is made probable by other evidence.[32] But what, one wonders, would the decision have been if the evidence had been contradictory? Relying only upon a watermark with a 1608 date[33] — and with no other evidence to go upon — it would clearly have been impossible to prove that a Shakespeare quarto with the printed date "1600" was actually produced in the year 1619 and at no other time. The watermark would certainly cast suspicion on the year 1600, but it could never have pointed to 1619 as the one likely year of publication.[34]

In conclusion, then, it may be stated that watermarks, instead of suggesting a date based on an approximate maximum of three years between manufacture and ultimate use, do furnish the student of fifteenth-century books with an additional (and important) tool for the dating of an incunabulum "sine ulla nota," possibly within a score or so of years as Briquet intimated. It has not been demonstrated, however, that watermarks provide the incunabulist with that absolute criterion which some filigranologists believe to see in them.