[These posts are lightly edited versions of the 2023-4 student projects from our undergraduate unit, Studying and Making Early Printed Books, in which students adopt a book from Bristol University’s Special Collections, and work in groups to produce a creative response to it using our historic letterpress equipment. The group blog post is one of the two assessments for the unit]
Printing Purgatory: Capturing Canto Nono
By Archie Powell, Danny Jones, Emily Coates & Marco Lautier
What was your book?
Dante Aligieri, Divine Comedy, (Venice: Francesco Marcolini, 1544) (University of Bristol: Special Collections, PQ4302).
La Comedia Di Dante recounts Dante’s journey through Hell, Purgatory and Paradise, divided into three books (cantiche), each containing thirty-three shorter sections (canti), as well as an additional one in Inferno. This edition also included commentary throughout the text, as well as a great many illustrations, both of which provided by Alessandro Vellutello.
What interested you about it?
Upon our first examination of the book, there were a number of details that stuck out to us, both from a visually aesthetic perspective, as well as a reader-friendly perspective. As strange as it might be, the choice for our particular extract came from an intriguing element that revealed itself a few canti into Dante’s Inferno. Unlike the prior sections of Dante’s first cantiche, all of which written in roman numerals, his ninth was spelt out it in its full Italian: Canto Nono. Only a small detail, but one that we felt leapt out at the reader and begged the question of why.
We were intrigued by the arrangement of Vellutello’s commentary around Dante’s verse, surrounding it so completely that it made for a challenging reading experience. And we were also interested by the intricate, hand-drawn illustrations are throughout the volume, including with angelic figures, animals with religious connotations, and in an intriguing instance, a face-baring sun.
What were you inspired to make?
First and foremost, we were drawn to the unusual, and slightly humorous presentation of the verse title ‘Canto Nono’, as well as the verse itself, and the commentary which ran alongside. We also wanted to convey the rich symbolism and allegory in Dante’s Inferno, particularly the themes of journeying, deceit, doubt, hell, hope, and storytelling.
We chose Canto Nono as our main title, with The Divine Comedy and Inferno as subheadings beneath it. Our design echoed that of our adopted book, which, despite being in excellent condition considering its age, showed signs of deterioration and mishandling, with a dark smudge tainting the centre of the page which was hard to ignore. Rather than detracting from its appeal, this imperfection gives this particular copy a stamp of individuality and demonstrates the book’s journey over time. To honour this life cycle, the ‘smudge’ became the hallmark of our title page, depicted as a solitary fish, as close to the sizing and shape of the smudge, allowing this particularity to show through.
Inside our pamphlet, our design was inspired by the canto-commentary layout. In our adopted book, this was printed in two adjacent columns, and to recreate this, we opted to print the poem on page 2, parallel to the commentary printed on page 3. Upon examination, the texts appeared disappointingly ordinary, lacking the intrigue it possessed in the original book where the formatting had made it stand out. We therefore made the decision to vary the placement of the text, prioritising the preservation of the book’s eccentric traits.
We resolved to reproduce the verse as close to the original text as possible, including the italicised font, punctuation (which was plentiful and varied) and line count. This allowed us to have more freedom when designing the commentary whilst using canto 9 as a guidance. The commentary was translated from Italian to English, then de-italicised and tailored to fit the same 16-line structure as the canto, now sharing a similar format as the poem.
We noticed due to the similarity of their formatting, the commentary could easily be mistaken for a translation of the poem. Rather than making alterations to rectify this possible dilemma, we committed to the charade. By employing a play on words in the last line of the commentary – ‘No no Canto Nono’, this is not Canto Nono! The revelation becomes apparent once reaching the final line of the text, which now ends on line 17. This light-hearted deception pays homage to Dante’s storytelling of doubt and resolution, a journey to enlightenment, and that is only if one can see through it.
Of course, as Canto Nono is an extract from the Inferno section of The Divine Comedy, it was crucial that our project reflected an aspect of hell. Throughout, Dante uses images of demons and other hellish creatures, sinners, and celestial beings. For our pamphlet’s back page, we sought an array of animals, splayed stars, a flight of swallows and a horseman. We deliberated over the use of red ink to print, recognising its status not as a cliché but a classic technique appreciated by traditional and modern artists and audiences.
What were some of the processes and challenges involved in making your book?
Once we had decided on our line length, tpesetting was the next daunting task that lay ahead. Composing stick in hand and having set the appropriate number of Ems to ensure a line length of 36 points, we confronted this challenge head on and with haste. This proved to be problematic as during our first typesetting session we made countless errors. Initially we placed the lines in the wrong order on the composing stick, believing that it should read in the same direction as on a page. Our first mistake. Exacerbating the situation, we were also not on the same page regarding spaces before and after punctuation.
Rectifying these errors with a pair of tweezers and steady hands proved time consuming; in the first session we only managed to set a total of 6 lines between three people. In the next session we learnt from our missteps and operated at a slower place, yet with greater precision. We verified by our work by photographing the set lines and reversing the image. For example, in these photos that were taken during setting, you can see the ‘s’ is upside down:
In our second typesetting session we managed to set a total of 20 lines between four people. This was a significant improvement from the previous session, but this time our Achilles heel would prove to be not pre-checking the type cases for sufficient type before beginning typesetting. This meant we had to switch from Caslon italic to Caslon roman for the verse due to a shortage of certain letters.
Once the text was set and scrutinised, we transferred the set lines from the compositors stick to the galley tray. Immediately we realised the importance of sliding the lines onto the tray, taking great care not to lift it. Whilst it was necessary to lift the line slightly, we overlooked how easily the type would fall out. This misplaced confidence led to one group member attempting to pick up an entire section of set type and move it into the form which, as you can imagine, went disastrously. Hours of hard work crumbled away in front of our eyes, letter by letter, falling out onto the table. The recovery from this blunder required all hands-on deck for about half an hour.
Then we entered the most exciting phase of the project: bringing our book to life.
Using a beautiful single-pull printing press, it quickly became apparent that the whole process was an art form. We were perhaps, overly enthusiastic in our pursuit of producing the perfect print, and soon became aware that achieving perfection was harder than we had initially anticipated. In fact, it was simply impossible. During this part of the process, we struggled to correctly position the paper in the frisket, which, after several attempts, seemed to work best with two people.
We chose to use black ink for the textual elements and red for the decorative features. Inking the inner forme (pages 2 and 3) was easy because there were no decorative features, but the image-heavy outer forme (pages 1 and 4) needed far greater caution, and a range of different size rollers.
Naively we had one member of the group both inking and positioning the paper which resulted in smudge marks on some copies. We also found that there was an art to how hard to pull on the lever as we had certain copies where the impression was too deep and others where the impression was too shallow.
Nevertheless, by the 4th printed copy, we had successfully found this middle ground. Fortunately, after months of continuous mistakes, heavily relying on course tutor Adrian to ease our collective states of panic, our beautiful prints have finished drying in the print shop and have been folded into books.
What are your overall reflections on the project?
Our experience, despite at times being frustrating, was incredibly rewarding. Learning the basics of the printing process, suffering setbacks, and watching our project take shape provided us with a new level of appreciation for the early modern book, and the skill that was involved in making it.