We know very little of the early life of John Day, the printer of Foxe's great book. We do know that he was born in 1522, as a woodcut profile, dated 1562, bears the inscription: 'Life is death and death is life: ætatis suæ XXXX'.[2] Yet we know nothing of his parentage, place of birth, or where he spent his childhood. Because Day owned a house in Dunwich, Suffolk, scholars have assumed that he was born and raised there.[3] However, no parish registers survive for St. Peter's, Dunwich, to verify Day's putative connection with the town and the name Day does not appear in the local subsidy returns or muster lists for the period 1549-1600.[4] When Thomas Gardner wrote his History of Dunwich in 1574, the name Day was not included in any references. Yet in 1573 the chronicler John Stow wrote a history of Dunwich that is addressed to 'Master Deye'. The work itself suggests that 'Master Deye' had asked personally for such a work to be compiled. However, the man's Christian name and profession are not stated and it cannot be proved that John Day commissioned the work.[5] It has been suggested that Day was of foreign origin, an idea apparently supported by the lack of evidence of an English birthplace. However, the surviving evidence proves nothing substantial.[6] Certainly Day's excellent connections with type founders and other printers, as well as his close ties to the Dutch Stranger Church in London could be partly explained by his being of foreign extraction.[7] It would be highly desirable to know more about Day's origins, background and education, but unless new evidence is found, it looks as if these will remain shrouded in mystery.

C. L. Oastler suggests that Day's father was a printer although, again, there is no evidence to substantiate this theory.[8] It is, however, known that he was originally a member of the Stringers' (or Bowyers') Company.[9] In 1546 the Stringers' Company were allowed to nominate twenty members for redemption, a significantly higher number than usual. These men made free of the City (freemen) are not named in the surviving record, but we know that in 1550 six Stringers translated to other companies. John Day was one of four men made free by redemption. Peter Blayney persuasively argues that the Bowyers' Company, in all likelihood, was allowing anyone with enough money to buy their redemption and it is likely that Day did just that in 1546, around the time he started to print. Day therefore appears to have 'bought' his way into printing through a mildly corrupt company.

The two earliest works with which Day has been associated as sole printer are Robert Legate's Briefe Catechisme (Wesel, 1545) and John Bale's Actes of English Votaryes (published with a Wesel imprint).[10] However, these seem only to be attributed to him on tenuous grounds.[11] As a result, typographical misattribution is often high for this period, not just for Day, but for all printers who used a common supply. In October1547 Day certainly printed A Simple and Religious Consultation by What mean a Christian Reformation May Be Begun by Herman Von Wied.[12] At that time Day was printing at the sign of the Resurrection near Holborn Conduit in St Sepulchre's parish. Day quickly began to establish himself as a printer and therefore promoter of works of the 'godly' reformers.

As Stephen Alford has recently acknowledged, for many printers their own 'godliness' became an essential tool of their trade.[13] Certainly it was the key to obtaining royal favour and patronage from the highest ranks. Such favour would ensure procurement of the premier patents available, providing financial security, not to mention the reputation of being one of the 'godly'. Day's 'godliness' procured for him several favours under Edward, not least from the Duke of Northumberland and the Bishop of Winchester, John Ponet.[14] As Day's list of patents increased, it soon became evident that a printing partner could ease his heavy workload. In 1547 Day went into partnership with another man of 'godliness', the printer William Seres.[15]

Works attacking the Catholic belief in transubstantiation became extremely popular and Day and Seres printed many of these attacks.[16] In fact, fifty per cent of the Day/Seres works published during 1548 denounced eucharistic doctrine. It was during this year that Day and Seres printed their most notable joint publication: Luke Shepherd's poem Iohn Bon and Mast Person, a vitriolic attack on transubstantiation and the Mass. Its publication brought John Day to the attention of the authorities. Edward Underhill, an evangelical Yeoman of the Guard, intervened to prevent the arrest of Day for the work, which Underhill himself considered to be nothing but 'pythe and mery'.[17]

The following year Day and Seres turned their attentions to the Bible, collaborating on a deluxe edition of Edmund Becke's edition of scripture.[18] Sales were clearly doing well, as Day opened a new shop that year by the little conduit in Cheapside, whilst retaining his other shop at the Sign of the Resurrection in St. Sepulchre's parish.[19] At around the same time he moved his family home and his printing business from the Sign of the Resurrection to Aldersgate, in the parish of St. Anne and St. Agnes. Aldersgate was just one of the London parishes popular with the increasing foreign communities in London. Foreign communities meant a ready supply of workmen, and John Day, like Richard Grafton, Edward Whitchurch and Hugh Singleton, eagerly employed foreign workers. In 1549 four Dutchmen are listed in the lay assessments as living with Day: Gysberd Geyson, John Hollinder, Henrye Fleteman and Mychell van Lendon at Day's new residence in Aldersgate.[20]

In 1550 the Stranger Churches were founded in London through the assistance of, amongst others, William Cecil and Katherine Brandon, the Duchess of Suffolk.[21] Day printed a number of works from 1548 onwards that bear the coat of arms of the Duchess of Suffolk.[22] John King places Day's association with Katherine Brandon as a result of his putative childhood connections with Suffolk. However, such a connection is more likely to have come from Day's association with several members of the Dutch Community, a community supported greatly by the Duchess.[23] The works printed by Day and Seres, presumably as clients of the duchess, included an edition of Herman von Wied's A Simple and Religious Consultation, Tyndale's Exposition upon the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Chapters of Matthew, and an English translation Pierre Viret's Very Familiar Exposition of the Apostles Creed, all of which suggest the religious agenda and affiliations of both printers and their patron. William Cecil was known to have facilitated in the printing of works on behalf of the Duchess, such as his request to Edward Whitchurch to print Catherine Parr's The Lamentation of a sinner a little earlier in 1547. As Whitchurch worked with Richard Grafton, whom we know had strong connections with both Day and Cecil, it is possible that Cecil was the intermediary between Day, Seres and Katherine Brandon in the commissioning of works to be printed.[24] The Duchess' device also appears in Day's edition of Hugh Latimer's Sermon on the Plough. Latimer had been a spiritual adviser to Parr's devout circle of associates and rose to become a highly influential preacher under Edward VI. Both Day and Seres were printing reformist texts for some of the most influential figures under the Edwardian regime.

In 1550 Day took steps towards his own solo career as a printer, ending, apparently on good terms, his partnership with William Seres. Day was quick to establish his reputation as a quality printer in his own right, producing works on Christian education, polemic and translation. In 1551 he re-printed Edmund Becke's edition of the Byble under his sole imprint.[25] Still under the age of thirty, Day was establishing reputation as a premier printer of deluxe editions of the Bible, and as a key printer to both influential courtiers and to clerics.[26] Working alone, Becke's Byble must have cost Day a considerable amount of money, and suggests some substantial financial backing by one or more patron. In producing such a work alone, at such a relatively young age, Day was showing not only the ability to finance a large work that he had previously printed with Seres but also his desire not to share the acknowledgement.

After the fall of Protector Somerset in the winter of 1549, tensions over religious policies arose between Archbishop Thomas Cranmer and the Earl of Warwick (Duke of Northumberland from November 1551) the new strongman of the Edwardian regime. Northumberland favoured what Diarmaid MacCulloch refers to as 'the more angular evangelical', such as those connected to the Stranger Churches and Johannes à Lasco.[27] In September 1552 Cranmer was more than a little reluctant to go to the Duke with his suit to gain a desireable patent - to print the Catechism - for the printer he most favoured, Reyner Wolfe.[28] Instead, Cranmer wrote to William Cecil (Northumberland's secretary, but also a close friend of the archbishop's) in the hope of advice on how to secure the patent for Wolfe.[29] Wolfe's rival for the patent was John Day, who was already in favour with the new Stranger Churches in London and was therefore backed by Northumberland in his suit for the patent. It appears that Cecil had to mediate between Wolfe and Day on the issue.[30] Wolfe already had the patent to print all manner of works in Latin.[31]

In September 1552 Day recevied the letters patent to print the works of John Ponet and Thomas Becon. His patent for the works of Ponet, meant that Day had the rights to Ponet's Catechism. However, this enraged Wolfe, and the patent had to be reissued to clarify that Day had the right to print the Catechism in English, and Wolfe the right to continue to print it in Latin. The result was, in effect, a compromise. However, it was a compromise that tipped in Day's favour, as it was the English version of the Catechism that would be used most for the tutoring of the godly youth of England.

By 1552 Day's business and private life were prospering. Although we do not know the name or parentage of Day's first wife, we do know that he must have married at some point around 1551-52, as his first son, Richard, was born on 21 December 1552.[32] His second son, Edward, was born the following year.[33] As Day's professional success increased, so did the size of his household. His move to Aldersgate was shortly followed by the arrival of a new group of foreign journeymen, a new wife and a new baby son. We know of at least two other staff that resided at Day's Aldersgate home one Christmas around this time, thanks to their appearance as characters in William Baldwin's tale Beware the Cat. One was a man named Thomas who had travelled and worked in Ireland (but probably was not born there), and the other a young man from Staffordshire, whose name is not given.[34]

Day had secured a series of profitable patents that allowed him to continue with some considerable prosperity in his role as printer to the godly reformers. Life therefore looked good for Day until disaster struck with the death of Edward VI and the accession of his half sister, the Catholic Mary, in 1553. It has generally been assumed that Day fled overseas during Mary's reign and that he sought to continue his printing of Protestant polemic from the Continent. In fact we now know that Day was in Lincolnshire, printing clandestine works under the pseudonym 'Michael Wood'.[35] The Michael Wood texts are a mix of Protestant polemic, religious exhortation and attacks upon Queen Mary and some of her leading counsellors. Day set up his clandestine press on land owned by William Cecil, in the village of Barholm, Lincolnshire. Barholm lies five miles north-east of Stamford and four miles north-west of Market Deeping; hence not far from the eventual seat of Lord Burghley.[36]

Thanks to an entry in Henry Machyn's diary, we know that Day was arrested on 16 October 1554 and sent to the Tower for the printing of illicit books. As he came out of Norfolk, Machyn spotted 'John Day the prynter and hys servand, and a prest and anodur prynter, for pryntyng of noythy bokes, [being taken] to the Towre'.[37] By far the most likely explanation for Day's trip to Norfolk is that he went down to collect a shipment of paper sent in from the Continent to one of the ports. Kings Lynn would have been a probable port of call for a supply of paper. The frequency of shipments into the port from the Continent and the port's relative proximity to Stamford, together with the trade in cargoes such as corn, which would have provided excellent cover for a cargo of illicit paper, made King's Lynn a very likely port for Day to receive a shipment of paper.[38] He was released at some point in 1555.

The circumstances behind and the reasons for Day's liberation remain shadowy, but we do know from a reference Day made in a preface to his edition of Roger Hutchinson's Sermons in 1560 that Day was free before 15 June 1555 (when Hutchinson's will was proved).[39] How and why Day was released remains unknown but it is possible that there may have been conditions attached to his release. He resumed printing, in London, in 1556 with his former partner William Seres. It is ironic, and perhaps a condition of their release, that these men, both zealous Protestants, spent the latter years of Mary's reign (after their release from prison) printing books of Catholic devotion for the Catholic printer John Wayland. Outside of this work, Day also undertook work in his own right after his return to London. In 1556, for example, he printed Leonarde Digges' A Boke called Tectonicon.[40]

Entries in the Stationers' Register during the period 1556-58 confirm that he also undertook the role of City Printer (an office in which his Protestant affiliations did not preclude him from taking).

By the end of Mary's reign, therefore, Day was working in the capital, and had his family back with him in his Aldersgate house and print shop. He had contacts with key figures, such as William Cecil, who would quickly rise to power under the new Elizabethan regime. Mary died with the re-establishment of papal authority and the restored English Catholic Church both still in their infancy.[41] Those printers who had suffered enforced exile - or at the very least unemployment - due to their Protestant beliefs, reaped the rewards as printers to the Protestant revival under Elizabeth. Both the reformers and the new Elizabethan regime saw printing as an essential medium for disseminating their beliefs and intentions. Day soon took steps to ensure that he received the monopoly rights to the key Protestant texts, such as the Catechism, which had held under previously under Edward VI.

One major consequence of Elizabeth's accession of enormous benefit to Day was the elevation of his former patron, William Cecil, to the de facto position of Elizabeth's first minister. Day also seems to have forged useful links with Elizabeth's favourite, Robert Dudley. By 1560 Day had received, through Dudley's influence, a seven-year monopoly right to print the Metrical Psalms, the ABC and the Catechism in English.[42] This patent was one of the foundation stones of Day's success. These monopolies epitomise the contradictory tendencies in Day's printing. On the one hand they were a basic staple of his business being cheap to produce yet having a guaranteed profit. Day's response in many ways seems to have been to try and increase this profit by cutting corners on expenses. Yet it is possible that he also sought to make the work visually impressive, albeit somewhat unsuccessfully. If so, this would typify another aspect of Day's printing: the search to produce books of high visual quality irrespective of their expense.

William Cunningham's Cosmographical Glasse was the first major publication to come from Day's presses after the queen's accession. It was also protected by his first Elizabethan patent.[43] Significantly, this patent covered not only Cunningham's work but also all new works printed at Day's expense (a phrase that would become of particular importance to his success). The work contained several quality illustrations, as well as the first English appearance of François Guyot's Double Pica italic type. Such a wealth of illustration and quality type would have cost Day a significant amount of money, on top of what he would have laid out for paper, but he was willing to do this. The reason for this was that Day used the work as an advertisement of his abilities as a printer and it was indeed produced with impressive skill. As the first work of any visual merit to appear under Elizabeth, it guaranteed that Day would be acknowledged for his impressive illustrations and the quality of his printing.

More important in some ways was the patent that Day secured for the work. It allowed him, for the coming seven years, to print any number of unspecified new works or commissions, so long as he funded them. It opened the door to all sorts of possibilities for new commission and projects. This patent to print Cunningham and any new works produced by Day was exploited by him to the maximum extent, since it allowed him to print other major, deluxe works - most notably the Acts and Monuments - and maintain the monopoly over them, since they would indeed be new works, produced at his expense.

Day produced other deluxe, high quality works apart from those of Foxe, not least of these was Day's mammoth edition of the works of Thomas Becon.[44] He may have printed those works partly out of friendship with Becon. The second edition of Becon's Gouernaunce of virtue came out early in Elizabeth's reign and was dedicated to John Parkhurst, Bishop of Norwich.[45] The same year that this work was published, Day acted as patron to Becon, standing surety for his first fruits on 4 November 1563 for his living at St. Dionis, Backchurch.[46] Becon was one of the most popular Edwardian ministers. Yet none of this explains Day's commitment to printing his writings.

When Day had stood surety for Becon, John Parkhurst, the Bishop of Norwich, wrote to Day to thank him for his actions.[47] In 1561, John Foxe and his family had stayed with Parkhurst, while Foxe did research for the first English edition of his martyrology. During Foxe's stay there, John Day printed Parkhurst's injunctions for the diocese of Norwich, most probably as a favour to Parkhurst in return for his assistance on the work for the Acts and Monuments. Day would later print an edition of Parkhurst's epigrams, J. Parkhurst Ludicra sive Epigrammata juvenilia, in 1573.[48]

A study of just how Day produced the first edition of the Acts and Monuments is covered in the Bibliographical Introduction in this Preface and does not so much concern us here. Suffice to say that it soon became apparent that the financial risks Day took in producing so large a work as Foxe's Acts and Monuments were clearly worth his while. The work had cost Day a considerable amount of capital and time lost which could have been devoted to other works but he was soon rewarded by the book's good sales and the acclaim it received. Although it is not clear what financial return Day received on the work, it must have been quick and considerable, as in 1564 Day and Foxe announced that they would produce another new edition of their martyrology.[49]

With Foxe's work, and later Henry Bull's Letters of the Martyrs, Day cornered the market in English Protestant martyrological writing. His production of Foxe's huge work smothered all other English competition, putting an end to what could otherwise have been an open market for printers of smaller, ephemeral English martyrological works.[50] The Acts and Monuments was immediately considered an authoritative and indispensable work on the English martyrs; it not only dominated the market, it expanded it, as demand steadily grew. Thanks to the patent granting exclusive rights to works printed at his expense, Day created yet another prized monopoly.

What we see then after the first edition of the Acts and Monuments is a shift in Day's agenda as a printer. Day clearly channelled most of his energies and funds into printing the more expensive works. Peter Martir Vermigli's Most fruitfull & learned Co[m]mentaries on the book of Judges (dated 28 September 1564) is not only dedicated to Robert Dudley, but its very high quality suggests that it was printed under Dudley's auspices.[51] Vermigli's Com[m]entaries reuse some of the quality woodcuts from the Cosmographical Glasse and also contain the portrait from the Acts and Monuments that would also be used in the collected works of Becon.[52] What we see here is a high quality, expensive, superbly executed piece of printing dedicated to an important and influential patron. His smaller printed works, as mentioned above, do not have such dedications and do not show any real signs of care and attention on Day's part. The large, expensive works were unlikely to sell well, due to their cost, but they provided Day with the favour of the patrons sponsoring him. Day's edition on the commentary on Judges, it should be remembered, was dedicated to the future Earl of Leicester, the very member of Elizabeth's court that had sealed Day's monopoly on the works that would sustain him while he printed the larger works.

Day had a similar relationship with Henry Bull to that which he maintained with John Foxe. The researches of Professor Susan Wabuda and Tom Freeman have demonstrated that Henry Bull, a close friend of Foxe's who had gone into hiding during Mary's reign, was the anonymous editor of the Certain most godly, fruitful, and comfortable letters of such true Saintes and holy Martyrs of God, as in the late bloodye persecution here within this realme … (otherwise referred to as the Letters of the Martyrs), printed in 1564. Many of the letters in this work would be incorporated, unchanged, into Foxe's Acts and Monuments. In fact Day announced his intention to print a second edition of the Acts and Monuments in Bull's Letters of the Martyrs. [53]

Day was Warden of the Stationers' Company when he produced Henry Bull's work. Towards the end of his first term as Warden, there were a number of primers printed illicitly that infringed Day's monopoly.[54] It appears that these primers came to his attention just as his wardenship came to a close, and so Day would have made his concerns known to the new wardens, William Seres, his former partner, and James Goneld.[55] Yet Seres (possibly still smarting from Day's encroachment on his patents) and Goneld appear to have taken no action against these clandestine printers. A few months into the wardenship of Seres and Goneld, Day was fined for 'mysvsyng of master Warden'.[56] What exactly is meant by this cryptic passage is uncertain (the phrase does not occur elsewhere among the fines). Day had got into an altercation with one of the wardens, whether the abuse given was verbal or physical, is unclear. Probably the 'misusing' is connected to Day's desire for the wardens to deal with the piracy problem. What is certain is that as soon as Day returned to office the following year he made sure that he dealt with the problem.

In 1566 Day took over the wardenship with Richard Jugge. At the behest of the Privy Council, they appointed two men to search out the printers of illicit texts and the sellers of pirated books.[57] It appears that Day knew exactly who the culprits were and ensured that they received maximum humiliation and financial penalty. Day's particular target was Thomas Purfoot, who had pirated some of Day's own works.[58] Yet Purfoot's piracy was not the only problem facing Day's retention of his printing monopolies. He needed to be assured that his patents for the primers and Metrical Psalms would be renewed. Here again William Cecil came to Day's assistance. In a letter written to Cecil around 1568 Foxe made several requests of Cecil.[59] Most importantly, Foxe asked that Day's monopoly in printing the Psalms in English be renewed 'because it is the sole means by which his household is sustained'.[60] Day's patents were indeed renewed, allowing him to focus his attention on much larger projects. Though these large, expensive works were financially dangerous for Day, they were printed for the benefit of influential patrons. In return, these influential patrons secured Day's financial security and status.

The most important and technically difficult works commissioned from Day in this period were Ælfric's A Testimonie of Antiquitie (1567) and William Lambarde's edition of the Archaionomia (1568).[61] The first work was a collection of Ælfric's writings, including two sermons on the Eucharist and settings of the Lord's Prayer and Creed.[62] The second, a treatise on English law, contains numerous Anglo-Saxon documents. The problem was that there was no Anglo-Saxon type to print these documents in existence at the time. Parker commissioned Day to get a new Anglo-Saxon sorts cut in 1566, at some considerable cost.[63] As with other types required for deluxe editions, the acquisition of quality materials for Day's editions ensured both prestige and ensured patronage. The cost of this new type was borne by Parker and not by Day himself.

The Second edition of the Acts and Monuments was, from the outset, designed to cover a far greater chronological span than the first by extending from the time of the Apostles to the accession of Elizabeth. The result was a gigantic, two-volume folio of around 2300 pages. Day once again turned to William Cecil, his great patron, for help. This time Cecil took specific steps to ensure that the time, effort and cost involved in the printing of Foxe's martyrology were repaid.[64] In fact, the edition received the backing of the Privy Council who, in a letter to the archbishops of York and Canterbury and the Bishop of London, urged them to ensure that the work be profitable to John Day as its printer. The letter stresses that Day had 'with his honest travail and great expense published the actes and monuments' and so they commend Day as 'an honest man' to the archbishops.[65] The Privy Council were keen to see that the book not only worked to the benefit of the English Church but also to the benefit of John Day. The letter stands as further proof that William Cecil and Robert Dudley facilitated Day's press and his career.[66]

Day and Foxe collaborated on another important project a year later, in 1571: the first printed edition of a code of canon law, first drawn up in 1553. Foxe dubbed this code the 'Reformatio Legum Ecclesiasticarum'.[67] This was not an antiquarian endeavour: it has been recently argued that this was part of a projected parliamentary reform of the Book of Common Prayer devised by Thomas Norton with Foxe's co-operation. Most importantly for purposes of this argument, Day must have been involved in this project with a full knowledge of, and sympathy with, its goals.[68]

A key part of the plan involved Day's printing the Reformatio before the opening of Parliament in April 1571.[69] The plan failed and the attempted revision of the Book of Common Prayer never materialised for reasons which are not relevant here.[70] Here we see Day once again printing a work that offered no hope whatsoever of making a profit. This was not done, however, to impress a patron, but out of what appears to have been genuine religious conviction. It is also worth noting that the partnership with Foxe, which had formed so great a part of Day's career, was still active.

Day also seems to have had ties with Thomas Norton and to have undertaken the printing of the play Gorboduc, written by Norton and Thomas Sackville, as an act of friendship toward Norton, rather than out of the desire for profit.[71] On Twelfth Night 1562 Gorboduc had been performed at court before the queen. Robert Dudley, Elizabeth's favourite, presided over the revels, and the play was repeated at court shortly afterwards on the 18 January. The Commons had recently raised the issue of Elizabeth's lack of a husband and the threats it imposed to the stability of her realm, due to the lack of an heir.

In 1571 Day printed another expensive, deluxe work for one of his patron, Matthew Parker: The Gospel of the fower Euangelistes translated into vulgare toung of the Saxons, newly collected out of auncient Monumentes of the sayd Saxons, and now published for testimonie of the same.[72] This work contained a Anglo-Saxon/English parallel text, with a foreword by John Foxe. The English text was that of the 'Bishops' Bible', the version that Convocation required to be placed in churches with the Acts and Monuments.[73] The Anglo-Saxon text was most probably prepared for publication by John Joscelyn, Parker's Latin Secretary, as there is no evidence of Foxe having ever been a great authority on Anglo-Saxon.[74] However, with the success of Foxe's second edition of the Acts and Monuments so fresh, the work was likely to sell better if promoted as another work from the better known, godly theologian Foxe as issued by the renowned godly printer Day.

The following year Day issued an edition of Matthew Parker's De Antiquitate Britannicae.[75] George Ackworth and John Josecelyn assisted Parker in this work. The first edition was apparently privately printed for Parker by Day on a press set up at Lambeth. This hypothesis is suggested by a comment written by John Parker, the archbishop's son, on the fly-leaf of a copy in the Bodleian Library: 'liber iste et impressus est propriis in aedibus Lamathae positis'.[76] Yet there is no mention of a press at Lambeth amongst Parker's papers. However, in order to have the work printed correctly, it would have been beneficial to have Parker for checking his own proofs, when the work became ready for the press. Foxe may have stayed at Day's house during the printing of the Acts and Monuments, but it is unlikely that a primate ever would. The fact that such a work was privately printed by Day for the archbishop at Lambeth, exemplifies the level of commitment Day showed to Parker's projects.

By late 1573 Day was again busy working for Parker on an edition of Asser's Ælfredi Res Regis res gestae.[77] Parker's edition of Asser's Life of King Alfred was based on a manuscript that was later owned by Sir Robert Cotton, in whose library it was Otho A. xii. The manuscript, however, did not survive the fire of 1731, which destroyed several works in Cotton's prized collection. Parker's edition was in the well-executed Anglo-Saxon type with interlinear English, followed by the Latin. This was yet another luxury work produced by Day at the request of the archbishop, as part of his revival of England's Anglo-Saxon past. Once again, Day was making his presses available to the influential archbishop for the production of deluxe editions, rather than accepting smaller commissions from less influential figures. He did so in expectation of assistance in his own affairs as and when it was needed.

On 13 December 1572 Matthew Parker wrote to Cecil about Day's printing of Bartholomew Clerke's attack on Nicholas Sander's De Visibili Monarcia Ecclesiae.[78] Parker reported that 'I have spoken to Daie the printer to caste a newe Italian letter which he is Doinge, and it will cost him xl marke[s]'.[79] Day had agreed to have the new type made for Clerke's Fidelis Servi Subdito Infideli Responsio (Clerke's answer to Sanders), but made it clear to Parker that he was reluctant to do so: 'Loth he [and] other printers be to printe any lattin booke, bicause they will not heare bee uttered, and for that Bookes printed in Englande be in suspition abroad.'[80]

Day was clearly prepared to voice his dissatisfaction to Parker, and took pains to point our that the work would not sell well and therefore not make a profit. Nevertheless, Day did agree to print the work, but in return for this, and for past works for Parker, he asked the archbishop for assistance in another matter than was having a detrimental affect on his book sales. Day had a vast amount of books in his warehouse that he could not shift (over £3000 pounds worth of stock).[81] Parker assisted Day in the acquisition of a book shop in St Paul's churchyard. It should be noted that Parker had taken an interest in Day's plight after being prompted by the Privy Council: 'you of the Councell haue written to me, and other of the Commission, to helpe Daie'.[82] Hence again we see the Privy Council coming to Day's assistance. He was not averse to using his friends in high places and his skills to get exactly what he wanted.

The verbal attacks Day was subjected to by other printers over his acquisition of the book shop in St Paul's churchyard were nothing when compared to the physical attack on him and his family in 1573, which clearly left Day more shaken. On 13 November 1573 Matthew Parker wrote to William Cecil about an attempt on Day's life by a young apprentice named Asplyn.[83] Arber identifies this Asplyn as the Thomas Asplyn who was made apprentice to Day on 25 March 1567.[84] Oastler and Greg, however, suggest that it was not Thomas but Robert Asplyn who attacked Day. Robert Asplyn had been apprenticed to Edward Sutton in 1561 and subsequently made free of the Company in 1569.[85] The Asplyn who attacked Day is mentioned by Parker as having been involved in the printing of Thomas Cartwright's Second Admonition to the Parliament in 1572.[86] In his defence, Day's attacker said nothing more than that 'the spryte moued him' to attack Day.[87] In the light of no further evidence coming to light, we cannot be sure which Aspyln attacked Day or even if the two Asplyn's were related.

Around 1572 Day commenced work on an edition of the complete works of William Tyndale, John Frith and Robert Barnes, edited by John Foxe.[88] In his Preface to the work Foxe reveals that Day did not simply invest capital in the work, but was actively involved in research for the work. John Day himself collected information for the edition and preserved many of godly texts that, without him, might have been lost. Foxe tells the reader that 'We have much to prayse God for … such Printers in preseruing by their industrie and charges such bookes from perishing … '[89] He contrasts the godly enterprises of Day with those printers who 'respect more to their owne priuate gain, then regarde to the publike edifying of Christe Church, or necessary preferment of Religion'.[90] Throughout his career, Day was frequently accused of putting a desire profit before any consideration of the content of the works he printed. Foxe therefore rebukes such claims, noting that many of the works of 'these three learned fathers' had only survived through the diligent research of John Day: 'the Printer of this book hath diligently collected, & in one volume togither, inclosed the workes I meane of William Tyndall, Iohn Frith, and Robart Barnes … '.[91]

Day both financed and researched this luxury work himself. Unlike previous luxury works on this scale, commissioned by powerful and influential courtiers and clerics, Day himself was the driving force behind this effort. The investment of time and money on the work must have been considerable. Foxe was eager to promote Day's willingness to preserve and print godly works 'in defence of Christes true Religion'.[92] The work clearly did not make a profit, as it did not reach a reprint in Day's lifetime, but it did prove to Day's critics his level of commitment to the English Church and its Protestant regime.

When the second edition of the Acts and Monuments was finished in the spring of 1570, it appears that Foxe and Day regarded this edition as definitive. There appears to have been no plans, as there had been after the first edition, to bring out another edition of the work in the near future. Both Day and Foxe moved on to other projects, on their own, and together, such as for the works of Tyndale, Frith and Barnes. The situation changed suddenly when in 1575 John Day's son Richard, who had been studying at King's College, returned home. In a chancery suit brought against him by his step-mother shortly after John Day's death, Richard claimed that he had left Cambridge university without matriculating because his father had requested him to return to be the 'corrector of his print'.[93] This was not in fact the case, as Richard returned home for personal not professional reasons. Richard had apparently fallen in love with a young woman who lived near to his father's printing house. However, it is true that Day had lost his key proof-reader, William Gace, and workers in Day's printshop later testified that it had been John Day's intention that Richard should be trained in the post.[94] Gace would indeed have been hard to replace, but it soon became apparent that Richard was a less than adequate substitute for the knowledgeable and erudite Gace.

It was Richard Day's departure from Cambridge that seems to have triggered the publication of the third edition of the Acts and Monuments. John Day allowed his son a baptism of fire as the printer of this edition, whose work on the edition is covered elsewhere in this Preface. This criticism this edition received for its poor quality printing and visual appearance was ultimately detrimental to John Day's reputation. Worse still, John Day's patents were also due for renewal. As a response to the attacks brought upon the father by the printing of the son, Day sought to put Richard to work under close scrutiny. Allowing him little freedom to do as he wished, Day imposed constraints upon his son that would eventually result in Richard's refusal to respect his father's wishes, severing relations between the two men. John Day's primary concern was to retain his patents. Richard appears to have given suit to the Earl of Leicester, or at the very least appointed Richard Killigrew to speak for his father, so that John Day's patent might be renewed.[95] John Day paid for a great seal and also a copy of the Acts and Monuments valued at the exorbitant price of £10 as a gift to Killigrew for his part in bringing the issue before the Earl of Leicester. However, it is clear that Richard used this opportunity to manipulate the patents won for his father, in order to free himself from the constraints of working for his father by printing the works in his own right.

When John Day was successful in renewing his prized monopolies, the complaints made about his exclusive rights to these monopolies were voiced once again. In August 1577 several stationers and printers petitioned Elizabeth, demanding an end to 'priuiledges granted to privatt persons', or more accurately, an end to privileges granted to individual printers.[96] Complaints were made about monopolies granted to a number of prominent printers, but Day's rights to the ABC and the Catechism came in for particularly aggrieved denunciation. The petitioners lamented the ABC and Catechism were 'the onlie relief of the porest sort of that companie' and that Day's monopolies were driving smaller printers to ruin.[97] The petitioners were unsuccessful: Day retained his monopoly rights but this incident increased pressure upon him to recompense poorer members of the Company by releasing his monopoly on certain 'steady sellers'. Day vigorously resisted this pressure but eventually circumstances would undermine his ability to fight off his poorer colleagues.

Despite the threats, these popular works continued to roll from Day's presses, as well as various works by Becon, Latimer and Luther, new sermons and even an English translation of Seneca.[98] However, in some respects this calm is deceptive; Day's lack of innovation may well have been caused by his need to direct his energies into two struggles: one with printers who tried to poach in Day's cherished preserve, the printing of the primers, and the other with the most obnoxious of the poachers, his eldest son, Richard.

Few could have expected the extent to which the enraged Day, now Master of the Company, took vengeance against his own son in 1580. The manager of the bookshop in St Paul's churchyard, Richard Vernon, described how John Day had shown his son no mercy once he had discovered his piracy. He not only made an example of him, he ensured that Richard would no longer have the means to pirate his monopolies or print anything for himself, by seizing his printing equipment and stock by force.[99] Richard Day was in substantial financial debt to his father by this time.[100] John Day had probably loaned his eldest the very money used to buy the equipment to pirate his works. By showing no mercy to his own son, John Day showed that he truly meant business when dealing with piracy in his role as Master of the Company. Having suffered piracy when other printers were Masters, Day as Master himself ensured that others knew that he would give no quarter to pirates.

As a result of this quarrel Richard found himself out of work. By December 1580 he was in holy orders.[101] The parent-child relationship had been shattered and, once again, John Day found himself battling to hold on to his monopolies - this time at the cost of good relations with his own son. Richard had suffered the same problem as many of his co-printers. He had tried to promote new works but did not have the funds to promote large, quality works without the financial backing of monopolies that were 'steady sellers'. His father owned them and anyone discovered pirating them in order to make additional capital would pay a stiff price. It should be noted that this severe, if legal, action by Day exemplifies two familiar themes that would now plague him until his death: distrust of his son's actions and the exhausting task of holding on to his monopolies. Day made an example of his own son in a final attempt to ward off piracies.

By 1582, however, the problem of piracy had not gone away. In a long, drawn out law suit lasting from 7 February through to 10 July that year, John Day sued the printer Roger Ward for his piracy of the 'little' Catechism. [102] But the biggest assault upon John Day's patents came, however, from one of his former employees, John Wolfe. Wolfe had been apprenticed to Day in 1562, but stayed with him only seven of his ten years' apprenticeship. After leaving Day's employment, Wolfe travelled in Italy, doing some printing there, returning to England around 1579.[103] Although he printed works legitimately in his own right and for other printers, such as Christopher Barker, Wolfe made huge clandestine profits by pirating other works, in particular, Day's Metrical Psalms.[104]

In April 1584, Day told the Privy Council that Wolfe's property had been searched the previous year because Wolfe had 'latelie imprinted secretlie diu[er]s bookes' of Day's.[105] In order to uncover Wolfe's clandestine activities the Recorder of the City, and two Sheriffs accompanied Edward Day (John's son), Gregory Seton (who ran the bookshop beneath Aldersgate) and John Day to search Wolfe's premises.[106] Wolfe complained to the Star Chamber against John Day for damage caused to his house and property during the search. Wolfe's account of the seizing of his pirated copies of the Metrical Psalms suggests that considerable force was used, although Day claimed that he had simply acted within his rights. Day does not appear to have been held to account for his actions as a result of Wolfe's suit against him.[107] But if Wolfe's account of the force used by Day in closing down his illicit printing is accurate, then Richard Day, back in 1580, had not suffered the worst of his father's wrath:

Iohn Day, Edward Daye his sonne, Gregorye Seton of London Stacyoners, and dyverse and sondrye others to the nomber of twentyee att the leaste … wythe fforce & in ryotous manner Entered into … his house, and broken oppen dyverse doores, and Chestes locked, and wythe the lyke force, and outrage, Hathe overthrowne, and broken in sondre, the frames, presses and Ingens, for the vse of printinge whiche they founde in the same house, and wythe noe lesse wronge haue taken awaye divers prynted bookes, and papers … the said Iohn Daye not beinge contented to have taken awaye dyverse of your said Subiecte his bookes and to have ymprysoned him and his servant[s], severall tymes heretofore, He … wythe the said Edwarde Daye his sonne and the said Gregorye Seton and dyvers others … being in moste ryotous and foryble manner accompaned [sic] wythe sword[s] and daggers and other[s] such … [did] resorte to the dwellinge house of youre said Subiecte scytuate and beinge in the parishe of Sainct Nicholas Gold abbey in London, and then and there dyd moste forcyblye & riotouslye in the absence of your said Subiecte … break vppe wythe theire said forcible weapons and other engens, the Hall doore of the howse of your said Subiecte and soe entered into the said howse And … not beinge therwythe Contented or satisfied, but seekinge the vtter spoyle of youre siad Subiecte, Dyd then breake oppen the lock[s] and doores of the Chambers, Countinge howses, Chestes and other places … wrestinge his poore oulde father by the throate beatinge and threatnynge his gooddes … [108]

After John Day's death, his son, Richard took Wolfe on as one of his assigns (along with Edward White, William Wright, Thomas Butter, and Francis Adams). In a later moment of poetic justice, Wolfe found himself in position of having to complain to the Star Chamber in an attempt to stop the tens of thousands of pirated copies that were being made in infringement of the patent he now legitimately worked on.

Despite his success in handling (or perhaps mis-handling might be a better term) John Wolfe, the pressure put upon Day by Wolfe and his co-complainants to release some of his monopolies during the early 1580s was immense. The group of Stationers and booksellers (headed by Wolfe) who petitioned the queen on the matter of monopolies and dispersal of patents finally made some headway in 1582, as Day finally released the work on the ABC to a group of printers. A few month's after the alleged attack on Wolfe's property, possessions and father, Thomas Norton wrote to George Goring, Justice of the Peace and father of the Earl of Norwich, about the unrest in the Company, noting that Day had finally dispersed these printing duties on the ABC to 'vii or Eight householders of the Companie'.[109] As we shall discuss shortly, the amount of work Day would eventually release was considerable.

It is possible that Day had relaxed his vicelike hold of these patents in response to the increasing pressure against him from the poorer but united members of the Company. There were also two further reasons for Day's gradual withdrawal. The first was that work had begun on the fourth (and final) edition of Foxe's Acts and Monuments, a task which consumed all his dwindling energies. The second, more grave reason, was that Day's health was deteriorating - rapidly. Having been taken ill in around 1582, he did not return to full health, and his actions show clear signs of a man coming to terms with his own mortality.

Fearful that his son, Richard, might seize the chance to return to printing should his father become incapacitated, Day took some drastic steps to ensure that his eldest son did not get his hands on the printing empire John Day had built for himself. It was around this time that Day made a deed of conveyance to his wife's brother, John le Hunte, that put his lands, goods and chattels in the hands of his wife's brother. This negated the need for a detailed will and therefore avoided the possibilities of any such will being challenged over the dispersal of possessions indicated within it. Day sought completely to disinherit his eldest son once and for all (although Richard would still be entitled to the remaining patents).[110] If this was done to put John Day's mind at rest, he did so at the expense of his work on the final 'big book' of his illustrious career, the Acts and Monuments. But the dispersal of his goods and collateral meant that he was without secure funding for the work, resulting in Day having to borrow money to complete his fourth and final edition of Foxe's martyrology. Much of the money raised for this went to ensure a quality supply of paper. Day's wife saw him putting his need for paper for the edition before his own health and even tried unsuccessfully to sell the stock he had so far acquired in order to end the project and allow him to rest.[111] Her brother, on the other hand, did finance Day with £200 for the acquisition of such paper, clearly aware that Day would stop at nothing to finish this edition. Even he, however, urged the workmen to hurry, telling them that a great deal of money would be lost if the edition was not finished before John Day's death.[112] The print room staff later talked of the palsy that affected Day as he worked on the edition and of how it 'ympaired and hindered' him; his 'weake and ffeeble' frame a now piteous sight to behold.[113]

After a long and painful illness, John Day finally died on 23 July 1584, whilst travelling to Overall Manor in Little Bradley in Suffolk, the seat of his brother-in-law.[114] After a gruelling period working on the Acts and Monuments one last time, Day had finally relinquished many of his patents to the Company on 8 January 1584.[115] This was the no doubt the action of a tired and now frail printer, yet it is still significant that he retained the most important of his patents: the ABC, Catechism, Metrical Psalms, and Foxe's Acts and Monuments. In an unusually generous gesture, Day yielded 36 of his key patents, which included many of Day's 'big books', such as the Whole works of Tyndale Frith and Barnesand Bullinger's One Hundred sermons, but it did not include Day's 'steady sellers' or the Acts and Monuments.

His remaining patents passed on to Richard Day, who in turn, unsurprisingly, sold them to the Stationers' Company. Richard's decision was at least partly motivated by this dismantling of the privileges that provided the foundation for his father's publication of Foxe's magnum opus. Richard had taken holy orders in a last attempt to win back his father's respect, or at least his patents, and it is noticeable that Richard resigned his post as soon as John Day died. Yet again, his attempts to make his mark as a printer in his own right were somewhat thwarted by the loss of these patents and the fact that Richard did little of the printing for himself, preferring to make his profit through assigning the hard work to others.

By 1588, Timothy Bright had been given a patent that permitted him to translate or abridge any works that he wished, thus allowing him to created the smaller, more affordable (but less comprehensive and visually impressive) abridgement of the Acts and Monuments, which appeared the following year.[116] The next large edition of the work printed after Day and Foxe's death was financed by a partnership of ten booksellers and produced under the auspices of the Stationers' Company.[117] After that the number of both printers and sponsors increased, as the 1631 edition of the Acts and Monuments was printed by a partnership of three printers, financed by sixteen booksellers.[118] The days of a single printer using his influence with patrons to finance vast tomes was now over.[119]

Day's epitaph, in Little Bradley church in Suffolk, makes clear the fact that John Day wished to be remembered, above all, as the godly man who printed John Foxe's seminal martyrology, the Acts and Monuments:

Heere lies the Daye that darkness could not blynd
when popish fogges had ouer cast the sunne
Thus Daye the cruell night did leaue behynd
To view and shew what bloudi Actes were donne
he set a FOX to wright how Martyrs runne
By death to lyfe. FOX venturd paynes & health
To giue them light DAYE spent in print his wealth
But GOD with gayne retornd his wealth agayne
And gaue to him as he gaue to the poore.
Tow wyuves he had pertakers of his payne
Each wyfe twelue babes and each of them the more
Als was the last encreaser, of his storore.
who mourning long for being left alone.
set upp this toombe her self turnd to a Stone.[120]

The final line of the memorial verse is a pun upon the new name of Alice Day: in 1585 she married a London merchant, William Stone.[121] The same year that Alice remarried, her eldest step-son, Richard Day sued his step-mother over the deed of conveyance that deprived him of a financial share in his father's vast estate.[122]

The information known about the headstrong eldest sons from John Day's first marriage contrasts sharply with what is known of two of John Day's sons from his second marriage. The eldest son of Alice, who took his father's name, John, was, by all accounts, a mild mannered and gentle-natured cleric.[123] The eldest son by John Day's second wife fulfilled his father's hopes for a son that would grow up to be a godly cleric. Having studied first at Eton and then Oriel College, Oxford, he was elected fellow there four years after his father's death and became a popular preacher in the diocese. John Day (junior) went on to have a number of his own works put into print by the first Oxford University printer, Joseph Barnes.[124]

Another son by John Day's second marriage was Lionel, who was born in 1570 and became a fellow of Balliol College, Oxford.[125] We know little else of Lionel, other than that he was a favourite of his step-mother's brother-in-law, Gregory Seton. Seton ran a bookshop underneath Aldersgate and was married to Alice's sister.[126] In his will Seton refers with affection to Lionel as his 'kinsman', whilst leaving his best Bible to Lionel's godly elder brother, John.[127] Other than this, we know little of John Day's other children, other than a son, Bartholomew, was buried in Bradley Parva (near Overall Manor) on 6 May 1581. Day had a daughter who married George Pen, a former apprentice of Day, who later became a bookseller in Ipswich.[128] There appears to have been another son, Paul, who gave a book to King's College, Cambridge 'in memoriam clarrissimi fratis Richardi Day', who was perhaps a son by Day's first marriage. Other than these few, we know nothing of Day's 24 children from his two marriages, most of whom probably died in infancy.