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As documented in Daniel Featley& #39;s Cygnea cantio (1629), some 800–900 copies of Edward Elton& #39;s Gods holy mind were burned at Paul& #39;s Cross on 13 February 1625.
Featley called it "[t]he greatest holocaust that hath beene offered in this kinde in our memorie, for ought I know."
![As documented in Daniel Featley& #39;s Cygnea cantio (1629), some 800–900 copies of Edward Elton& #39;s Gods holy mind were burned at Paul& #39;s Cross on 13 February 1625. Featley called it "[t]he greatest holocaust that hath beene offered in this kinde in our memorie, for ought I know."](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EehcWwvWsAcNerf.jpg "As documented in Daniel Featley& #39;s Cygnea cantio (1629), some 800–900 copies of Edward Elton& #39;s Gods holy mind were burned at Paul& #39;s Cross on 13 February 1625. Featley called it \"[t]he greatest holocaust that hath beene offered in this kinde in our memorie, for ought I know.\"")
![As documented in Daniel Featley& #39;s Cygnea cantio (1629), some 800–900 copies of Edward Elton& #39;s Gods holy mind were burned at Paul& #39;s Cross on 13 February 1625. Featley called it "[t]he greatest holocaust that hath beene offered in this kinde in our memorie, for ought I know."](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EehdicXXkAAvQyw.jpg "As documented in Daniel Featley& #39;s Cygnea cantio (1629), some 800–900 copies of Edward Elton& #39;s Gods holy mind were burned at Paul& #39;s Cross on 13 February 1625. Featley called it \"[t]he greatest holocaust that hath beene offered in this kinde in our memorie, for ought I know.\"")
Featley called it "[t]he greatest holocaust that hath beene offered in this kinde in our memorie, for ought I know."
At the very end of Cygnea cantio, its publisher—also the publisher of Elton& #39;s book—includes a note from the "Printer to the Reader" that provides further information about the burning and about early modern bookbinding practices:
"I had taken from me…bookes, bound & in quires."
"I had taken from me…bookes, bound & in quires."
In that line, Robert Mylbourne indicates that he had at least some portion of the edition (how much!?) bound up in anticipation of sale. It& #39;s possible—probably likely—that he was binding only copies that he intended to sell in his own retail shop, but he may have wholesaled some.
Mylbourne& #39;s aside is one of many available pieces of evidence that point away from what many still teach in their history of the book classes—namely, that early modern bookbuyers purchased books in sheets and then took them to binders.
For England, the evidence points to the conclusions that a) for some titles, retailers would bind up copies on spec for quick sale & b) that when a customer did want to purchase a book not available bound, they usually commissioned a binding right there, through the bookseller.
In Cygnea Cantio, Daniel Featley also discusses the process by which manuscripts were authorized for print. Featley, you see, is the one who licensed Elton& #39;s book—the one that got burned—for the press. Well, the one who licensed part of it, anyway:
Featley writes that he had only read 52 pages of Elton& #39;s book and found nothing controversial. As evidence, he says he inscribed his imprimatur on that 52nd page and that the Warden of the Stationers& #39; Company signed the same. Featley says he stopped reading b/c Elton had died.
Featley writes that, were Elton alive, he would have worked with him to ensure a safe text, but, since he was dead, he just stopped.
Nevertheless, "the booke tooke the libertie to flie out of the Presse without licence"!
The printed book as /agent/ of change, indeed!
Nevertheless, "the booke tooke the libertie to flie out of the Presse without licence"!
The printed book as /agent/ of change, indeed!
(Basically, all of that thread is just to say that Daniel Featley& #39;s Cygnea cantio (1629) is a goldmine for book historians.)
