It is ironic that Elsevier’s founder, Jacobus Robbers, chose to name his small
Dutch publishing company after a defunct seventeenth century publishing house.
Nevertheless it makes sense: for in spite of the fact that the House of
Elzevir had been out of business since 1712, the reputation of Elzevir
publications had grown rather than declined by March of 1880 when the modern
Elsevier was founded. At that time Robbers chose the modernized name Elsevier
for his new company — simultaneously honoring the venerable tradition of the
Elzevirs yet humbly differentiating his own endeavor — because he understood
that old publishing name carried great cachet, both in and beyond the
Netherlands.
For by the late 19th century "Elzevirs"— small
original reprints of the classics, scholarly books of diminutive proportions
that could be carried in one’s pocket — had become greatly prized and were
avidly collected. These original "Elzevirs" had become valuable collector's
items because the old House of Elzevir had produced such a superb body of work
between 1580 and 1712, publishing a wide range of scholarly and important
texts ranging from Virgil’s Opera Omnia (1636) to Erasmus's edited version of
the New Testament — known simply as Textus Receptus or "received text." (1663).
The Original House of Elzevir
The original House of Elzevir was founded in 1580 in Leiden by Lowys (Louis)
Elzevir, after William the Silent established the first Dutch university there
in 1575.
Entering what was already a competitive and risky
business the Elzevir family (Lowys and six successive generations of sons,
grandsons and nephews) ensured the success of their fledgling publishing house
by developing a strong relationship with the new university, for whom they
printed theses as well as reprints of classic texts. One Elzevir family member
or another would serve as both “beadle” (the official who kept order on
campus) and official printer from 1590 until 1712, when the last of the
original Elzevir family publishers died, leaving behind no heir willing to
continue the business.
The reputation of the Elzevir name did
not die with the business however, as the Elzevirs left behind a considerable
legacy of important books. Between 1580 and 1712 the House of Elzevir
published an estimated 2,000 to 3,000 titles, a significant achievement even
by today’s standards. During its tenure as a university press Elzevir
published reprints of virtually all the major works of classical antiquity,
including Aristotle, Terence, Cicero, Pliny and Horace. Elzevir also published
new editions of Erasmus’s Colloquia, along with Pierre Charon’s De La Sagesse,
Descartes’ Geometrica and Opera Philosophica, and Milton’s De Pro Popula.
Risk-Taking
This is not to say that Elzevir was an elitist press. The Elzevirs were
sometimes obliged to publish popular titles — such as The Grim and
Bloody Siege of the City of Ostend in Flanders, a thrilling true history,
with the emphasis on the thrills — in order that they might subsidize other
less profitable, yet more daring and scholarly, publications such as Galileo
Galilei’s Discorsi e Dimostrazioni Matematiche, Intorno a Due Nuove Scienze
(Two New Sciences). |
The Elzevirs took both a personal and a
financial risk in publishing Two New Sciences even after the work had been
banned by the Inquisition in Italy and Galileo himself placed under house
arrest.
Galileo’s last and greatest study, Two New Sciences
is considered by many to be the first important work of modern physics, a
groundbreaking treatise on the nature of motion and the strength of materials.
The work was smuggled out of Italy to the Netherlands for publication by the
Elzevirs in 1638. It was as a result of such risk-taking, as well as a
reputation for printing excellence that the word "Elzevir" became symbolic of
intellectual enterprise, albeit largely in scholarly circles.
"Elzevir"
Indeed, the use of the word "Elzevir" as a noun describing a "pocket-book"
sized collector’s edition of the classics became quite commonplace in the
educated parlance of the late nineteenth century. There is ample evidence of
this usage of the term in well-known works of nineteenth century fiction. In
1748, 30 years after the "House" went out of business, the fourth Earl of
Chesterfield warned his 15-year-old son never to brag that he happened "to
have an Elzevir classic" in his pocket. Fifty years later Victor Hugo used the
term more loosely to describe collectors’ books, as did the prolific popular
author Mrs. Catherine Gore and the American novelist J.P. Kennedy, who wrote
of going on "buying expeditions" to pick up "some famous Elzevirs."
Additionally, at this time, according to The Oxford English Dictionary, the
term "Elzevirian" also became popular as a reference not only to "one who
collects or fancies the editions of the Elzevirs" but to bookish, perhaps even
snobbish, antiquarian collectors.
The founder of the modern Elsevier publishing company was, one might suggest
without insult, an "Elzevirian". A book lover rather than a businessman,
Jacobus Robbers went into publishing intending, just like the original Elzevir
family, to reproduce fine editions of literary classics for the edification of
others who shared his passion, other "Elzeverians". Robbers even co-opted the
Elzevir family’s old printer’s mark, visually stamping the new Elsevier
products with a classic old symbol of the symbiotic relationship between
publisher and scholar.
Elsevier's Logo
There is some debate over the meaning of the original Elzevir printer’s mark
that is still used as Elsevier’s logo today and features an old man standing
beneath a vine-entwined elm tree under which is inscribed the Latin term Non
Solus (not alone). The mark, first introduced by Isaac Elzevir (son of Lowys)
in 1620, was featured on all Elzevir works from that time forth. That the
Elzevir family took pride in their mark is undisputed; what they intended it
to mean is less clear. Although most scholars agree that the elm represents
the tree of knowledge, they cannot agree on the meaning of the intertwined
vine. The Parisian librarian Adry posited in 1806 that the elm tree entwined
with the grapevine symbolized the bond between brothers Isaac and Abraham
Elzevir and that the old man, a hermit, symbolized the seclusion of study.
However, contemporary art historian Lucy Schlüter suggests more persuasively
that the old man represents a wise scholar, a philosopher — evoking Erasmus’
image of Socrates sitting under a tree in a rural setting delivering fruitful
and inspiring lectures.
Symbiosis
In this context the intertwined tree and vine represent a fruitful
relationship — and the story therefore carries a moral. As Erasmus said,
referring to the classic metaphor of tree and vine:
“Like the vine which, though the most distinguished of all trees, yet
needs the support of canes or stake or other trees which bear no fruit, the
powerful and the learned need the help of lesser men.” [1]
Viewed this way, the logo represents, in classical symbolism, the symbiotic
relationship between publisher and scholar. The addition of the Non Solus
inscription reinforces the message that publishers, like the elm tree, are
needed to provide sturdy support for scholars, just as surely as scholars, the
vine, are needed to produce fruit. Publishers and scholars cannot do it alone.
They need each other. This remains as apt a representation of the relationship
between Elsevier and its authors today — neither dependent, nor independent,
but interdependent.
Honored Traditions
Although the modern Elsevier company cannot in any way take credit for the
achievements of the seventeenth century Elzevirs, or even lay claim to the
creation of the Elsevier printer’s mark, it is fair to say that the company
was founded upon an idealistic vision of continuing the original publisher’s
honored traditions. The adoption of both the Elzevir name and printer’s mark
was deliberate — a gesture of respect for the past as well as a promise that
the name Elsevier would always be synonymous with excellence.
[1] Erasmus, A Complaint of Peace (translated and annotated by Betty Radice)
in Collected Works of Erasmus, Vol. 27 (Toronto, 1986) p.294, and quoted in
Lucy Schluter and Pierre Vinken, The Elsevier Non Solus Imprint (Elsevier
1997), p. 20.
