A History of Secret Printing

What I hope to do in this post is something very speculative and I hope that readers can help me out if they have any information about this topic. I will explore a text that has fascinated me for quite a while now, Davies and Marlowe’s Epigrammes and Elegies. Bound together in this book were the barbed epigrams written by Sir John Davies of Hereford in the style of Juvenalian (rather than Horatian) satire and Christopher Marlowe’s translations of Ovid’s Amores. The Davies epigrams appear first, the editor’s (or someone who wished to go by “Ignoto”) sharply satirical poems follow, and ten of Marlowe’s translations bring up the rear in a section titled Certaine of Ovids Elegies. But that’s not what I want to talk about. Although what is inside the book is part of what fascinates me about it, I want to explore what is on the outside: the title page and its relationship to one John Wolfe, AKA “Il Barbagrigia,” or Graybeard.[1] Wolfe was a stationer (and onetime member of the Fishmongers’ Company) under Queen Elizabeth I, and earned a reputation for printing works of a not-so-savory quality. He self-applied the moniker “Il Barbagrigia” in the prefatory material to the edition of Aretino’s La Prima Parte di Ragionamenti that he printed surreptitiously in London in 1584. The book was the early modern version of pornography, so it had to be printed secretly (to attract more buyers). Wolfe also did not have permission to print and profit off of this text which is why he styles himself as Graybeard, the piratical printer. However, his lack of permission did not bother him and is not why he chose to claim the book was printed in Italy and not London on the title page. Rather (and this is another intriguing element to Wolfe’s practice that deserves its own blog post), he saw a foreign imprint as enticing more readers—it was surreptitious not to avoid punishment but to make a profit. In the early 1580s Wolfe often printed texts that he had no right to print, and even went after the privileged books of the Queen’s Printer, Christopher Barker. He was not only a printer of scandalous Aretino, but a rebellious printer who did not fear consequences of upsetting the Queen’s Printer—Graybeard indeed. What’s more, he became a leader of the movement against monopolies in printing in the 1580s. He was a rabble-rouser, too.

However, something changed in 1586. The Star Chamber decreed in June of that year that the licensing and entering of books would be much more strictly enforced, and the decree eliminated the loophole for books printed wholly in foreign languages. It is no coincidence that Wolfe’s Aretinos, none of which were in English, appeared in the Stationers’ Register after this decree. Another result of the decree was a closer monitoring of not only the licensing and entering of books but also of the printing itself. Many of the texts that the Star Chamber wanted to eliminate, such as Catholic or extremist Protestant texts undermining the authority of the Anglican Church, were printed surreptitiously in mobile illicit presses (think Breaking Bad, but the meth is illicit, sometimes erotic, sometimes religious books). The Stationers’ Company was to root them out. That is, the Stationers’ Company was charged with the surveillance and destruction of illegal presses. Who did the stationers turn to? None other than “Il Barbagrigia” himself, the man who had been deep in the seedy underbelly of London printing since the early 1580s. His extensive contacts among the more desperate sort of printers served him well, and he served as Beadle from 1587 until 1592 (even after this date he was heavily involved in censorship and enforcement of Star Chamber decrees related to illicit reading matter). Everyone knew the Beadle’s real job was to track down “outlaw printers,” and, in the words of Harry Hoppe, Wolfe “showed exemplary zeal” in destroying the presses of his former comrades (265, see note).

Now, what does any of this have to do with the Epigrammes and Elegies? It makes for a crazy story (and I have to admit I get carried away when I talk about Wolfe), yes, but does not seem to be connected to Davies or Marlowe. Here is the part where I get speculative and ask readers to please be patient or share some of their knowledge (which, compared to mine, is vast) of early modern English printing with me and help me feel less crazy. I think there is a tenuous link between Wolfe and the Epigrammes and Elegies. He was the captain of the piratical printers in London and knew surreptitious printing inside and out. He also printed surreptitious works for the Elizabethan regime, especially after the defeat of the Armada. He was so deeply involved in surreptitious printing in London that few texts would have escaped his notice. But I do not want to stop at the claim that he was informed of the Epigrammes and Elegies from afar. I am sure many knew about this book before it was finally printed.

In 1591 Wolfe published an edition of Giambattista della Porta’s 1563 De Furtivis Literarum Notis uulgo, De Ziferis Libri IIII, one of the most famous treatises on ciphers and the use of coded language for spying and espionage in early modern Europe. He dedicated that edition to Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, the “Wizard Earl.” At the bottom of the title page the imprint reads, “Cum priuilegio / Londini, / Apud Iohannem Wolphium, 1591.” 

Dedicatory epistle to Percy:
note the border on the
 top of the page!

1591 title page with Wolfe's name

Wolfe's attempt to curry favor with an influential and intellectually inclined patron, though, seems to have backfired. After all, Percy himself was desperate to gain favor, and he sought it from the Queen. He therefore avoided anything that could lead Elizabeth or her ministers to suspect that he was sympathetic to the Catholic cause like his father and uncle were. He was himself under surveillance and did not want to raise any suspicions or give any hint that he was intent on carrying on the family legacy of covertly (sometimes overtly) opposing Elizabeth’s Protestant state. Percy likely was very upset at being associated with a text that informs people on how to speak and write in cipher—a must for any Catholic communicating with allies on the Continent since all letters were under surveillance at the time. Wolfe quickly published another edition of De Furtivis, surreptitiously, under the original 1563 imprint, without any florid dedication to Percy, and placed before the original 1563 dedication the very ornament on the title page of the Epigrammes and Elegies (see images below). This false-dated edition was printed using the same type and blocks (I am sorry to say I do not have a complete typographical analysis for you, but for an excellent account by someone who did have time to do some typographical analysis, please see http://hiwaay.net/~paul/cryptology/falsedate.html). Wolfe had to have been involved in its printing since he admits to printing the first edition. 

I was lucky enough to find this
 when I went to the U of Illinois 
(UIUC) Rare Book & MS Library. 
This title page bears Wolfe's false 
imprint. It was actually printed 
in 1591, in London,right 
after the edition dedicated to
Henry Percy.

This is the modified dedicatory 
epistle from the edition printed 
right after the edition dedicated 
to Henry Percy. In the middle 
of the page you can see the same 
ornament that comprised the top 
border of the dedicatory
epistle to Henry Percy.

Title pages side-by-side, with the Percy edition on the left, the subsequent 1591 false imprint in the middle, and the original 1563 edition from Naples on the right.

               

Dedicatory epistles side-by-side

This from edition with the 
false imprint 

This is a picture of the
original 1563 dedicatory
epistle and shows that
Wolfe used a different
ornament from the
one used in 1563.

Here is the title page of a copy of the
Epigrammes and Elegies that
is known as O1 or the "Isham" edition,
so named for a previous owner. The
copy is in the Huntington Library.

Another title page for the Epigrammes and 
Elegies. This one is from a copy of O2, 
or the "Bindley" edition, which is likely a 
reprint of O1 (hence O2) and is from 
the British Library.

This is an extra-large image of the dedicatory epistle from the surreptitiously printed 1591 De Furtivis, enlarged so you can get a good look at the ornament and compare it to the dedicatory epistle to Percy and the two copies of the Epigrammes and Elegies.

Does any of this amount to a smoking gun? No. Ornaments and type moved quickly among printers, especially those literally on the move and trying to avoid detection by the authorities. Wolfe could have given this to anyone before the Epigrammes and Elegies were printed.

Furthermore, no one thinks Wolfe himself printed the book. Fredson Bowers posits that Robert Waldegrave or Thomas Scarlet was responsible based on the system of signing the leaves. Roma Gill and Robert Krueger speculate that James Roberts was the printer based on the title-page ornament, making an argument that is as fragile as my own. But this particular ornament was used on many title pages, none of which was attributed to Roberts—or to anyone. It was a marker of surreptitious printing, traceable to no one. Except Wolfe. The first 1591 edition with the dedication to Percy clearly includes Wolfe’s name. The next edition was printed hastily to mitigate Percy’s displeasure at being associated with a text that informs people on how to speak and write in cipher—a must for any Catholic, as I mentioned before, and so something Percy would never want to be associated with. The hastily printed edition has the ornament from the title pages of the Epigrammes and Elegies. All this suggests is that maybe Wolfe grabbed this ornament in a hurry back in 1591.

But, I can’t figure out what to do with Wolfe’s international contacts. He was trained in Italy, printed in London, and sold his books as the famous Frankfurt Fair. Denis Woodfield has found evidence that Wolfe’s Buchhändler, who handled his books for him at the Fair, was based in Middelburg, or “Middleborough” (7). Now, the Epigrammes and Elegies bears a false imprint that says it was printed “At Middleborough.” There are a plethora of reasons why, none of which I can go into now. Wolfe, though, also had a connection to Middelburg. If only the transitive axiom were applicable here. Plus, Wolfe was connected to Marlowe because both worked for the government’s surveillance apparatus, even though they did so in different capacities. I find it difficult to believe that Marlowe was not keeping an eye on the stationers and actors he mingled with. He might have been informing the authorities about what he saw. Marlowe was an informer, and Wolfe relied on informers as Beadle. Finally, who was it who had possession of Marlowe’s texts after his untimely death? We know of one person who had Hero and Leander: Wolfe entered it into the Register after Marlowe died.
All of this is speculation. I have no idea if Wolfe was involved in the printing of this book. I hope, though, to start a conversation and to see if others out there can help me to figure out exactly what is the nature of John Wolfe’s connection to the book titled Epigrammes and Elegies.

Canon Confidential Time:

This is a fuller explanation of how Ernest Hemingway was involved in espionage. Hemingway, who was a member of the CPUSA (even though the Party did not like how he portrayed International Brigades’ chief Andre Marty in For Whom the Bell Tolls) was in contact with KGB agents and spied on by the FBI. He first felt sympathy for the Communist Party when in Spain during the Spanish Civil War. Ironically, he also spied for the Americans in China and Cuba, getting information on infrastructure and transportation in China and on German U-boats or anything German in Cuba (Haynes et al. Spies: The Rise and Fall of the KGB in America 152-4).

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[1] There are many narratives of this man’s life, all more eloquently written than my hasty

blogging. I recommend you read them all, but, if you cannot (and who has time?), here

is a short list some to check out: Harry R. Hoppe’s “John Wolfe, Printer and Publisher,

1579-1601,” The Library, 4^th Series 14.3 (1933): 241-90 is a great introduction, as is

Harry Sellers’s “Italian Books Printed in England Before 1640,” The Library, 4^th Series

5.2 (1924): 105-125. Denis Woodfield’s Surreptitious Printing in England 1550-1640,

(New York: Bibliographical Society of America, 1973), is essential reading for Wolfe, as

is Huffman’s Elizabethan Impressions: John Wolfe and His Press (New York: AMS

Press, 1988). I also recommend Peter Blayney’s “William Cecil and the Stationers” in

The Stationers’ Company and the Book Trade 1550-1990, ed. Robin Myers and Michael

Harris (New Castle, DE: Oak Knoll Press, 1997), for its informative discussion of how

the Stationers’ Company was involved in the early modern English spy apparatus.