Chapter C: I. Cæcilii Hermiæ Signum (3)

“Why does he not come? May God preserve him from unreasonable men;” and she caught up her work to while away the time. An hour passed, seeming to Anna much longer, when a cricket, warmed into consciousness by the genial heat, hopped out of his covert, coated with dust, and blithely sang.

“A good omen!” mused Anna; and shortly after, true enough, there was a stamping on the step, and a shaking of garments; and, springing to the door, she welcomed her husband.

“O, it is yourself! come at last. But you look like a huge white bear!” And she gayly laughed as she drew him in, and brushed off the snow. “I was in fear lest some evil had overtaken you, until our dear little cricket piped on the hearth, as if to assure me that you were almost here.”

“Yes,” replied Gutenberg, throwing off his cloak, and hanging it on its peg in the corner, “and my Anna and my home welcome me as cheerily as ever.”

“We at least ought to comfort thee when the world without weareth such dark frowns.”

“Ave, aye, there is need of comfort. But I divine that some one has been here in my absence, and given thee cause of anxiety.”

“O, nothing worth minding,” returned the little wife. “Let us sup, and speak of the bright side of life.”

“I am puzzled to find it; but thou canst point it out doubtless.”

“Shall we forget,” said Anna, “the mercy and the blessing that we are spared to each other, and that no lawless mob has invaded our peace?”

“Aye, we do well to remember that it might be worse with us,” was the reply; and having reverently said grace, for a time supper was discussed in silence, for Anna’s last question had awakened grave thoughts. Suddenly the cricket broke out anew with his shrill note.

“What does the creature mean?” asked Gutenberg. “Does he dream that it is summer?”

“Bethink thee; he is the insect prophet of hope. He is saying, ‘Bright days are coming, never fear!’”

“I trust the hearth minstrel is right; he will at least be useful in making me sleep well; his song sounds like a lullaby! But now that supper is over, what of thy visitor?”

“It was John Schultheiss’ wife,” replied Anna.

“That dark-browed woman! Why came she?”

“To comfort me with evil tidings; to tell me that it had been clearly proved in court that thy hidden art was no better than witchcraft, but that such was the inefficiency of the magistrates that they gave decision in thy favor. Some believe that thou art in league with the devil, and can enchant them or spoil their goods.”

“What superstition!” exclaimed Gutenberg; “this comes of ignorance, and the scarcity of books!”

“I did not reason with her, or make reply, and she soon left; and soon after, Simon, the Barefoot Friar, appeared. His religion, as you know, consists in clothing himself in rags, begging from house to house, and paying for his welcome in prayers and benedictions. As I opened the door in answer to his loud knocking, he cried out, ‘God save the house!’ then, as he came in, added, ‘God save the house, and all that’s in it! God save it to the north!’ and he made the sign of the cross in every direction towards which he turned. ‘God save it to the south! + to the east! + and to the west! + Save it upwards!’ turning his eyes heavenward, and crossing himself, ‘and save it downwards! + Save it backwards! + and save it forwards! + Save it right! + and save it left! + Save it by night! + and save it by day! + Save it here! + and save it there! + Save it this way! + and save it that way! + Save it eating! + + + and save it drinking! + + + + + + + + Oxis Doxis Glorioxis, Amen.’”

Gutenberg joined Anna in a merry laugh at this farce, as she went on rehearsing the idle priest’s performance.

“‘And how are you, gracious lady, now that I have blessed the place in the name of Saint Peter and all the Apostles and the nine patriarchs? Isn’t a merry Christmas coming to you? And isn’t there plenty of good cheer in the house?’ So I made him welcome, giving him a seat by the fire, and a dish of the best food the house afforded.

“‘You don’t say that you’re prospering,’ said he, as I helped him to the second supply; for he ate like some great animal.

“‘We are in trouble!’ I answered.

“‘I know it!’ he exclaimed, with a laugh, munching a mouthful and clapping his hands. ‘I had it revealed to me! I know all about it; and I know the prayer for it. Oxis Doxis! + + + If you’d only sent to me in the first of it, I could have kept your trouble back, and I can now be a hindering cause to it, and get you safely through, for I know the prayer for it; Oxis Doxis! + and I’ll go at it directly when I get refreshed.’”

“His own comfort first!” said Gutenberg, laughing.

“Yes,” replied Anna, “and isn’t he a good specimen of that class of priests, who are really only beggars? All so wise in their own opinion, and so ready to instruct every one they meet. How different from the devout and learned priests who minister the services of our holy church!”

“But how didst thou get rid of him?”

“After he had eaten like a glutton, he was ready to give me religious instruction. ‘Do you know, gracious lady,’ said he, devoutly crossing himself, ‘that you are the very likeness of the Blessed Virgin? I know it, for she communicates with me from heaven.’

“‘Does she speak to you, Simon?’ I asked.

“‘The Blessed Virgin herself does so, and no one else,’ he answered. ‘And now let me tell thee, daughter, what she said to me only last night. I was just composing myself to sleep, after opening my window a little ways to let her in,--for she is in the habit of appearing to me,--when a silvery cloud came floating through the air, and the Blessed Lady alighted, came in, and took her seat upon my bed. I made haste to say my “Ave Maria,” she the while sweetly smiling; and after I had said _Ora pro nobis_ exactly nine hundred and ninety-nine times, our holy Queen of Heaven and Mother of God opened her ruby lips, showed me her pearly teeth, and revealed to me that the Barefoot Friars are the dearest to her of all the orders of monks; and she showed me an easy way to get to heaven, making me a solemn promise that whoever dies with a Barefoot Friar’s cloak on, shall assuredly go to heaven.’”

“The impostor!” exclaimed Gutenberg. “Does he teach such doctrines as these? Of what avail could his cloak be in such a matter? I do not wonder that John Wickliffe was stirred up to denounce such men almost a century ago!”

“When I remember,” said Anna, “that Henry II. found out one hundred murders committed by priests, I am afraid to refuse the beggar friars when they ask for food. I know not what they might do when angry. They would at least curse me, and call down the judgments of Heaven.”

“Which would harm thee as little as it did Wickliffe,” said Gutenberg. “It is related of him that when he was very sick, the friars burst into his room with abusive language and curses, prophesying his death and torment, which so roused him that he sprang from his bed and drove them out, saying, ‘I shall not die, but live to declare the evil deeds of you friars.’”

“Would there were more like him!” said Anna.

“We have some pious priests,” replied Gutenberg, “but others are corrupt and time-serving. Occasionally one studies the Bible, and is guided by its precepts; but there are so few copies of the sacred Word, that all cannot have it if they would. If its laws were more generally known, there would be a reformation in the lives of many of these men. I had my heart on multiplying copies of this Book of books, but alas! my plans have been frustrated!” and the tears dimmed his eyes.

“Never fear, thou wilt yet be prospered,” returned Anna, soothingly. “Wickliffe did not fail in what he attempted, neither wilt thou fail of accomplishing something worthy of thy aims and efforts.”

“But my work is done in Strasbourg. I cannot stem this tide of prejudice and jealousy.”

“Strasbourg is not all the world,” rejoined Anna. “We can remove where people and priests are not against thee.”

“But unless God interposes,” said Gutenberg, “I have no hope that I shall ever return to my art.”

At the close of the lawsuit, Gutenberg found himself overwhelmed with debt. His presses, type, and all his printing materials were destroyed. He was a poor man, and must start anew in the world. And such was the popular prejudice against his beloved art, that he saw it was useless to attempt it again. Besides, Riffe and Hielman were now wholly averse to the business; they urged that it had never been profitable, and that defeat and disaster had attended its prosecution. It only remained for them to resume the lapidary trade in the little shop of Gutenberg’s cottage. This served a good purpose in allaying the excitement which had been stirred up by the revelations of the lawsuit. And the inventor was thankful that he had something positive to fall back upon in the hour of his extremity, and often contrasted his condition with what it would have been otherwise.

With the weight of a bitter disappointment resting upon him, he wrought successfully at his trade, despite the efforts of certain evil disposed persons, who sought to crush him in the hour of his defeat. Now he had little intercourse with his fellow-citizens and the monks of the Cathedral, save in the way of business. It was the time of his reverses, and he had fewer friends than formerly.

By constant application he managed to get a comfortable support and pay his most pressing liabilities; for the rest he suppressed his noble tastes. It was vain to stem the tide of poverty, ill-will, and evil surmisings which would infallibly meet him, had he the means even to attempt the prosecution of his favorite aims. Yet in his dreams he was often cutting type and working his press as of old. How he sighed to find them only dreams!

Thus, with alternations of hopes and fears, the latter predominating, passed the period till the close of 1441, at which time he was glad to be released from all connection with Riffe and Hielman. There was little congeniality to make their daily intercourse agreeable, and no one of the firm proposed another term of contract.

XII.

Congenial Quiet.--Making Type again.--Gutenberg issues “Absies.”
--Peter Schoeffer.--Decides to remove to Mentz.--Emotions of
Gutenberg.--Fraternal Sympathy.--The Meeting with Faust.--Table
Talk.--Removal.

The dissolution of the firm was in some respects a benefit to the lapidary. He had time for quiet thought, and, as in years gone by, his shop was his sanctum. Feeling at ease, his work progressed rapidly, and his day’s task was often accomplished ere the sun declined, when instinctively his hand followed the bent of his mind, and engaged in cutting _stucke_. He said nothing of this to Anna, until, by accumulations of spare hours’ work, he had made a fount of type. He then surprised her by showing his treasures.

“That is so much like thee, John!” she exclaimed. “I do believe thou wilt yet even receive the reward of thy perseverance; but thou canst not attempt great things now, not having the means of making a press, and with no one to assist thee.”

“I have made this type in the leisure after my daily work,” was the reply; “I can, moreover, devote a portion of my energies to preparing apparatus for imprinting; it will, however, avail me little in this place. Nevertheless, I shall work on, hoping that it will at some time turn to account.”

Gutenberg’s evenings were henceforth occupied in constructing a frame to inclose the type, and a printing-press; but it was some two years from the time of the disbanding of the firm before he was ready to print. He then issued an alphabetical table, called the “Absies.” This was a one page book, and had besides the alphabet, an Address to the Virgin Mary, and the Lord’s Prayer. He had designed it for the use of the pupils in the Cathedral school, but it was some time before he had courage to attempt introducing it.

A little incident decided him. It happened one morning that Peter Schoeffer, a scholar who had assisted in selling the block books, and now famed for his skill in penmanship, came into the shop. He had at one period called often, and a friendship had sprung up between himself and the inventor. The latter, sure of his sympathy, showed him a copy of the “Absies.” Schoeffer was highly pleased, and said,--

“According to my thinking, this is what we need in our school. The letters are regular and plain, and it would save great labor in copying.” He then volunteered to bring the work to the notice of his teacher; and after inquiry and examination the school was furnished with the “Absies.”

Time passed, Gutenberg leading much the same life,--mostly engaged in the lapidary business, and printing a small page occasionally; in this last work having little patronage. It was, indeed, useless to attempt printing at Strasbourg; the old prejudice reviving as soon as it was known that he had made any new issues. He resolved, therefore, to abandon the place forever. But where should he go? As was natural, he decided to return to Mentz, the home of his childhood and youth. In this decision Anna fully concurred, sensible that her husband could never succeed in the place of his defeat.

Gutenberg was deeply moved on approaching his native city, Mentz. He had left it in the buoyancy of youth, a chevalier; less than a score of earnest, struggling, eventful years pass, and he returns an artisan. Humiliation, indigence, and glory had wrestled in his destiny. The lawsuit had spread his fame through Germany; but poor, ruined, condemned, he comes back with aching heart and disappointed hopes to reconstruct, if possible, his fallen fortunes. His parents were no more; and hesitatingly he drew near the old home, a stately ancestral dwelling. How would his brother receive him and his in the day of his adversity? Would he find him estranged by the cruel slanders of the Strasbourg busybodies? He well knew that he should miss the loving ministrations of his sister Hebele, as, soon after his departure, she had joined the St. Claire Convent; and now he realized as never before, her living burial. Alas! she seemed dead to her friends. Forebodingly he crossed the threshold of his fathers; but Friele, true brother that he was, met him joyfully, bidding him welcome again and again. This sympathy was most grateful to the wanderer in his reverses; still he was only half-satisfied, he so much longed for help in his beloved art; but how could he speak of it, and perchance break the spell of their happy meeting? Friele had, however, learned many passages of his late history from Gutenberg’s occasional letters to his mother, and eagerly questioned him for farther particulars. This led the inventor to dwell on his struggles to bring out an art which would multiply books, and lessen the labor of making them. Friele listened intently, yet was doubtful of new things. He promised, however, to aid him in some feasible way. This might be the work of time, and meanwhile he begged him to be hopeful and happy, expressing his conviction that all would yet turn out for the best. This loving reception was balm to the wounded spirit of the inventor; and feeling that he could safely confide in his brother, he showed him some of the works he had printed, and the printing materials which he had brought with him, at the same time acknowledging more fully his strong wish of commencing the business in Mentz.

Friele was increasingly interested, and hoped to be able to assist him; meanwhile Gutenberg decided to rent a small cottage, and pursue his business of the lapidary; occupying himself as he might be able, in fitting up his printing apparatus.

One day, some time after, as he was passing the Church of St. Christopher, he met his brother Friele in earnest discourse with a stranger, whom he introduced as John Faust, saying to Gutenberg, smilingly,--

“We were just speaking of thee, brother John!”

“I am most happy to meet thee!” said Faust, cordially. “I should know you from your resemblance to your father. I am well-acquainted with your cousins and all your kindred; I esteem them highly, and heartily welcome back a former townsman,--a member of one of our patrician families.”

Friele pleasantly bowed and passed on, as Faust continued:--

“Your brother has given me some account of your efforts in the arts; and I am desirous of learning more respecting them.”

The heart of Gutenberg was touched by the genuine interest in himself and his endeavors, manifested by the rich goldsmith; and the two new friends were soon walking the streets absorbed in conversation.

“I have devised a most important invention,” said Gutenberg, “and it remains hidden like a buried seed till the rain and sunshine bring it up to light and fruitage. Would that I had my hoarded patrimony, that I might render my discovery available! But such is the necessity of keeping the details of my processes, that I have not ventured to apply for money to prosecute the art.”

“If I had a full understanding of what it is, I might perhaps assist thee,” returned the banker.

“It concerns book-making,” explained Gutenberg, for Faust was fast winning his confidence. “You are aware that the great work of the monasteries in Germany, as elsewhere, is copying books, and that they receive vast sums for their works. My new process doth entirely supercede their toil, and fashioneth books without the labor of copying.”

“Impossible!” ejaculated Faust.

“But I can demonstrate it!”

“Good, if thou canst prove it beyond all question. But what money is needed to carry out thy wonderful discovery?”

“Some two or three thousand florins,” answered Gutenberg.

“If I were convinced,” returned the other, “that it would pay better than goldsmithing,--but I must see specimens of thy work, before committing myself to the enterprise.”

“And I will with pleasure show them you, provided you will pledge yourself that, if convinced, you will invest in the undertaking. Meanwhile rest assured that it will yet pay richly. Why, consider what moneys the monks receive; and my books will be more in demand, since they are better executed.”

“As to books,” remarked the goldsmith, “according to my thinking there are enough in the world already. They serve little purpose save to turn active men into mopers. Nevertheless, as people will have them, there can be no harm that we should make a profit by furnishing them. They may as well have books as jewelry and mirrors, which gratify their vanity.”

“I think so,” replied the inventor, smiling; “and when you come to know my art, you cannot fail to admire it.”

“Art!” exclaimed Faust jocosely, “hath it aught to do with the black art? I could not abide that. Much as I value money, I would not league myself with the Evil One.”

“By no means,” said Gutenberg, a mirthful expression breaking over his care-worn face, “and you have no greater abhorrence of such wickedness than myself.” Then seriously, “I believe in using the wisdom that God giveth. As saith St. James, ‘If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth unto all men liberally, and upbraideth not.’”

“But what if thou art deceived in thy business calculations? What then will become of my money?” asked Faust.

“There can be no mistake,” was the answer. “I have put the discovery to practical use; I have made books by it, and there can be no illusion. This I will demonstrate before we sign a contract. If it were not a great discovery, and most beneficent and far-reaching in its results, I would not be thus earnest to bring it out. But to delay is risking too much; in case of my death, it would perish with me.”

“If I can be convinced that it is a certainty,” returned Faust, “I will furnish capital; but I cannot abide a doubt. As I said, if I am satisfied, we will draw up and sign an agreement; you, on your part, to teach me the secrets of the art; I, on my part, to provide money; and the profits to be shared equally.”

He then agreed to come and spend the ensuing day at Gutenberg’s house, examining specimens of his work and investigating the practicability of his invention.

It was noon the next day when Gutenberg took Faust home with him, to the dismay of Anna, who, since her preoccupied husband had forgotten the marketing, had only the prospect of a dinner of herbs for her guest. At length, in her anxiety, she heard the sound of a fisherman’s horn; and, sallying out into the street, she purchased a great treasure,--a fish. In due time the simple repast was ready; and when they were seated at the table, Faust, reverting to the subject of their previous conference, said,--

“Your invention has something to do with engraving on wood. How can that be less laborious than copying?”

“It is precisely to draw your attention to that point that I spoke of it,” replied Gutenberg. “With that alone we could not even imprint a large work in a life-time. But if, instead of engraving a whole page on a solid block, we use a small movable block for engraving each letter, you see that we can then use the same letters any number of times, and so lessen our labors beyond all calculation. This is the first great step of my invention. Does it not seem simple? Why did no one think of it before?”

He then described the process by which he reached his various improvements, dwelling especially on his invention of the press.

“You must have a world of perseverance!” observed Faust, admiringly.

“When one gets on the track of a great idea,” said Gutenberg, a handsome glow tinging his cheeks, “it is hard to give it up.”

“But you are an artist in gems,” interrupted Faust. “Who executed the work in wood for you?”

“Conrad Sachspach, at Strasbourg, made the frame, following my directions. But I must show you some of my books;” and, rising, he produced a number, and among them the “Speculum,” which was made partly from blocks and partly from movable type.

“Are these really specimens of books, Master Gutenberg?” asked Faust with surprise. “Wonderful! wonderful! thou hast wisely devised a most useful art, that will shortly bring thee both riches and renown!”

“And thou hast the faculty to quickly comprehend my art,” replied Gutenberg with a beaming face.

“That is true,” added Anna, “and it is so blessed to be appreciated. But while you warm over your theme, dinner gets cold!” and a laugh went round the table.

“This is a worthy deed of thine, madam,” replied Faust, “preparing a good dinner, and making us laugh. Physicians would commend thee.”

“What would they say to my husband? wouldn’t they counsel him to descend from the clouds and eat like other people?”

“No doubt of it, madam, since ideas, however original, have not the nourishing elements of food. You have been tried by your husband’s application to his one idea?”

“At times,” replied Anna, “I have failed to see the service of it.” Faust laughed heartily, adding,--

“Time enough for the utility, madam. The invention must go through a process to become available; it must creep before it can walk. Have patience, madam!”

“I try to have a great store,” she playfully said, “but he is so taken up with his projects that I can scarcely ever get a word from him. When he leaves his work-shop for the day, and draws his chair to the fire, one would think he might have the grace to be sociable; but there he sits and pokes the fire, reads the fire, studies the fire, half the night, and I would like to know what is the necessity of so much meditation?”

“Ah, madam,” returned Faust, “it is the common experience of inventors to meet many adversities in the outset. You have reason to be proud of your husband. As I understand it, he has made a great discovery,--the beginning of something of vast importance.”

Then, turning to Gutenberg, he added, “I am ready to advance thy invention. But how shall we move? Secrecy is indispensable. We must live in the same house in which we work,--we must consult much together. Where is there a suitable building?”

“I had thought of the Zum Jungen,” said Gutenberg.

“The very place. It is almost a palace in size, and will afford ample room; is in the city, and yet retired from its bustle. It is now vacant, and I will go and engage it at once. This evening let us draw up a written contract, or articles of agreement, and I will advance the needed funds. When can you remove?”

“To-morrow, can we not, Anna?”

“Why,” exclaimed she, “can we get ready so soon? We are scarcely settled yet.”

“The easier to remove,” replied Gutenberg; adding, “moreover, the Zum Jungen is a very beautiful place, and reminds me of the old castle Thür, where I first met my Anna!”

“Let us go at once,” immediately returned the wife; “it must be delightful. Why cannot De Becktoff de Hanau come and help us remove?” alluding to an old servant and valet of the Gutenberg family, who, like others of their servants, had been allowed to hire himself out, since he could not be maintained.

“A good thought, wife; he shall take charge of our goods, and we shall avoid some of the fatigue of a second removal. I will bring him hither;” and Faust having taken leave, Gutenberg hastened to find the old valet.

XIII.

The Zum Jungen.--The Old Valet.--A Happy Change.--Going over the
Process anew.--Type of Lead.--Peter Schoeffer.

The Zum Jungen, that famous old house on the Rhine, was engaged; the articles of agreement duly drawn up and signed. Faust advanced 2,020 florins, taking a mortgage of Gutenberg’s printing materials as security; and the firm, having removed their families to the building, commenced operations in the printing rooms. Hanau, the valet of the elder Gutenberg, was especially serviceable in the removal, and was soon installed as a faithful helper in the office.

“What think you of this?” said Gutenberg to Anna one morning, soon after the settlement in their new quarters, as they stood on the balcony that overlooked the river.

“O, it is so beautiful!” she replied. “Never will I tire of this scenery. There; do you see those swallows sitting so still upon their nests under the roofs? Now one flies off zigzag to the ground, after a worm; now she bears it back, perches upon her nest, and chippers with her little ones as they eat their breakfast. Hear them chatter! Then how fragrant the flowers! How pretty the hills, clad in vineyards! I feel at home already, and I mean to be happy, and let no foreboding trouble me. I do not yet ride in a coach, and dine like a queen, but my home is in a palace. How good it was in Faust to advance money! What a difference it makes in our circumstances!”

“Besides, how it affects my art!” returned Gutenberg. “How could I prosper without it? And, Anna, we do well to remember that there has been providential interposition in our affairs. We must acknowledge it if we would be directed. Think of the long trial we have had, and of our deliverer.”

“It does seem like a miracle. But how canst thou ever make new types and presses like those which were destroyed at Strasbourg?”

“Trust me I shall not be long of doing that,” answered Gutenberg. “I am encouraged. The prospect was dark until my arrangement with Faust; but we shall do well enough, now that abundant means are provided.”

At first the firm was occupied with some of the block books which had been issued at Strasbourg. Among these were the “Absies,” or alphabetical tables, the “Doctrinale,” and a manual of grammar, or “Donatus.”

The work did indeed go prosperously forward. Gutenberg, Faust, Hanau, and Martin Duttlinger,--the last named a Cathedral scholar who had assisted in printing at Dritzhn’s shop,--were occupied from early in the morning till late at night in cutting type and setting it up. Faust had also occasionally some of his workmen--a Hamburgher among them--in the printing hall. They wrought in two well-lighted, convenient rooms in the second story,--so surrounded by other rooms as not to be accessible to strangers,--which apartments they kept constantly locked.

Step by step, the company went through in a few months what caused Gutenberg years of experimenting, as we in a few hours can read a book which cost the author the study of a life. Not that they really mastered everything as did their teacher. That which he himself elaborated, was indeed a part of his mind, his inventions being his thoughts embodied. Hence the propriety of giving him so prominent a place in this volume. The art cannot be fittingly portrayed without sketching its originator. Like soul and body, they belong together; it is impossible to picture one without the other.

To describe the process by which Gutenberg taught his art, would be to repeat the progress of the Strasbourg firm, save that the Mentz printers were more hopeful, earnest, and intelligent, and did not so easily yield to obstacles; and also the difference that they were immediately advanced to movable type.

“We are making fine headway,” said Faust to Gutenberg, when the works referred to had been printed.

“Yes, but we sadly need a designer for our engravings. How I miss my Andreas Dritzhn, of happy memory, who did excellent service in this line at Strasbourg.”

“Cannot some one be found to fill his place?”

“I know of only one man that would do,” replied Gutenberg, “and that is young Peter Schoeffer, a teacher of penmanship, now residing in Paris. I must send him word to join us.”

As the printing went on, Gutenberg encountered the old difficulty of the softening of the type, and, on being questioned by Faust respecting it, set his ingenious mind to work to remedy it.

Turning to a drawer of odds and ends, and taking out some bits of metal, he said, “Suppose we make our type of lead!” Faust took up a strip, and, commencing a rude letter on the end of it, said, “This will do, assuredly. It is hard, and yet we can cut it, and it will not become soft, as does wood, by absorbing ink.”

“We can at least test it,” said Gutenberg. “If it should not prove to be just what we need, it may suggest something useful. My progress has been made by a series of experiments; and because we fail once, is no reason for discouragement. We have only to try until we succeed.”

Faust’s letter gave him much satisfaction. “We have discovered the right thing for our type!” said he, after making an impression with it. He then strode up and down the room, now looking at this form, now that, then stopping to dab the leather ink-balls on the type, then taking up a manuscript, and generally making himself at home in the printing-office. Since he had become a partner and patron, his manner had grown pompous and somewhat lordly. Although a mere novice in the new art, he was fully sensible of the honor he conferred on the firm in associating himself with it, and very naturally assumed a general oversight. The inventor saw the infirmities of his friend, but forebore remark. He was both discerning and patient.

One afternoon, some weeks later, as a shower was rising, Anna sat by her window, alternately sewing and watching the clouds as they gathered in dark columns and overspread the sky. The brown sparrows that frequented the roof of the Zum Jungen, chattered as the large drops fell, perching upon the tiles and laughing at the rain. Just then who should be coming up the street but Gutenberg and Peter Schoeffer, in earnest discourse, seeming to heed the weather as little as did the birds. Gutenberg had opened his heart to Schoeffer as to an old friend; he felt confidence in doing so, for Schoeffer had proved himself estimable and trusty when in his employ at Strasbourg. As they came nearer and entered the house, Anna heard Gutenberg say, “Canst thou tell me, Master Schoeffer, now that we are on my art, what is the most notable and important book in the world?”

“I do not consider myself learned enough to answer that question,” answered Schoeffer, after a pause. “The scribes who spend their lives in making libraries should know.”

“That is true,” was the reply. “But, judging from the works which you have seen, which is the most celebrated and useful?”

“I recollect,” replied Peter Schoeffer, “when I was in the Cathedral school, that Father Melchoir showed us the Gothic Gospels, or Silver Book, and remarked that more art and expense had been spent on the Bible than on any other book. From this I must infer that in the opinion of the wise, it is the most useful and important book in existence.”

“Right,” replied the inventor; “more time has been spent in copying the Bible than any other book, and justly; for the Word of God is before all human productions.”

“But is not the Breviary made more prominent by our priests?”

“Although in more common use, you will notice that it is not generally so highly ornamented and so costly as the Bible. This last is the foundation of the Prayer-book, as also of the institutions of our religion. Whatever we enjoy of Christianity and civilization is due to that sacred Book. Hence it is of all others the most to be prized and preserved. There are, however, comparatively few copies of it in the world,--only two or three thousand, it is said, and these mostly hoarded in monasteries, universities, and royal libraries. Suppose now, that in the conflict of nations, evil should befall the depositories of the sacred Book, and, through some devastation or edict, the Bible be lost to us. Moreover, the Holy Book is sold to kings when they can afford to pay six hundred crowns for it; if _they_ may have the Bible, why may not their subjects? My purpose is to print a Bible in the best style of my art, and multiply copies of it. I shall need in this work a skillful engraver of letters.”

“But what an undertaking, to print the entire Bible!” said Schoeffer.

“Yea, a stupendous work!” was the answer, “and it will take years to accomplish it; hence I am the more anxious to begin. Can I not depend on thy aid?”

Peter Schoeffer had assisted Gutenberg in Strasbourg, and admired him, and now was only too happy to accede to his request, and take charge of designing letters for engraving.

Thus early in the history of his invention did Gutenberg conceive the project of printing the Bible; consecrating his art to the honor of God, and the welfare of his fellow-men. Well does Mr. Hallam say, “It is a very striking circumstance, that the high-minded inventors of this great art tried at the outset so bold a flight as the printing an entire Bible.”

XIV.

Working of the Press.--The Medallion.--An Acquisition.--Experiments.
--A Failure.--Schoeffer’s Invention.--Discovery of Cast Metal Type.

Entering the printing rooms, Gutenberg introduced Peter Schoeffer to John Faust, and then called his attention to the new press, which was a noticeable improvement on those broken up at Strasbourg.

“Admirable!” exclaimed Schoeffer, as the inventor explained the working of the machine. “Good progress has been made since I was in your shop, years ago.”

As Martin Duttlinger, the workman, dabbed the type with ink, slid under the platen, and, having pressed it, removed the printed page, Peter was delighted with the facility with which the press operated.

“This is truly wonderful,” cried he. “Pray, friend Martin, how many impressions can be made by this press in a day?”

“About three hundred, if we work it constantly.”

“Is it possible!” exclaimed Peter. “Now indeed will books multiply. What will the plodding copyists say to this?”

Simple man of the ancient time! What would you say to the speed of our cylinder presses, which throw off twenty thousand printed sheets an hour, or more than three hundred a minute! Think of it, shade of Peter Schoeffer,--it would take one hundred and ninety-two thousand of the swiftest scribes to furnish by copying the same amount as one of these presses supplies in one hour!

Contrast the speed of the snail and the lightning!

But what was Peter Schoeffer’s personal appearance? some one asks. We shall let you judge for yourself,--in our opinion he was not handsome. However, as “handsome is that handsome does,” if we can find in history that he did to others as he would have others do to him, we will forgive his plain face, since it was no fault of his. Suppose also we look at the three together.

The portraits are taken from a medallion, and are faithful likenesses of the individuals acknowledged in Germany as the first printers. The subject from which the picture was copied, is said to have been engraved by the famous Gubitz of Berlin, from an old German painting.

We shall become more interested in Schoeffer when we learn what he achieved; but it is high time he was described.

His forehead is high, hair scanty and smooth, the perceptive ridge stands out over the eyes,--which are black and piercing,--nose long and decided, mouth large and smiling, and the chin entirely hidden by a flowing beard. He is called the _Improver_ of the art of printing.

Faust, on the same medallion, is a better-looking man than Schoeffer, and twenty years his senior. His brow is not so lofty, but it is care-worn, while his hair is jet-black. He has the hawk’s eye, keen nose, and pursy mouth of the shrewd and thrifty business man. A scanty beard discloses a well-turned chin, and altogether he makes a fine appearance. He is distinguished as the _Promoter_ of the art.

Gutenberg has been already described in a preceding chapter.

GUTTENBERG
FUST
SCHOEFFER

(From an old painting.)]

To return to Schoeffer.

Opening his travelling bundle, he produced specimens of his own hand-writing. These were in the most elegant style of the practiced monks. The letters were clear, legible, and uniform, charming the eye.

“Your nice taste and delicate execution, my son,” said the inventor, “will nobly aid the art of printing. Abide with us, devote your talents to the art, and you shall not be the loser.”

“You do me too much honor,” replied Peter. “I shall only be too happy to serve thee in my former capacity. I feel that I have everything to learn in this invention, which has made such advancement in my absence.”

Gutenberg was by no means a good penman, neither could he cut very legible letters in type.

But what Gutenberg lacked, Peter Schoeffer could supply, and the type which was made after he joined the firm, showed the benefit of his coöperation.

As the wooden type had in a measure failed, from the necessity of frequent renewal, the company gradually substituted letters of lead. John Faust and Schoeffer entered with much interest upon the experiment of using lead, sanguine of its success. They still confined themselves to printing the elementary books. They found no difficulty in cutting the letters with precision, and they could put them together as well as those of wood; they had trouble, however, in printing with them. The metal was so soft that it required the nicest skill in turning the screw, as it would scarcely bear sufficient pressure to print.

See Gutenberg, Faust, and Schoeffer, and the different members of the firm, around the press in almost breathless suspense at the trial of the leaden type!

“This will never do,” exclaimed Faust in dismay, as the proof-sheet was drawn out, after Gutenberg had turned the screw. Some of the type were so much bent as to spoil the letters; others did not print at all. The experiment was a failure.

“Patience!” cried the inventor, “we shall yet succeed. Turn you to your type-setting, and let me manage the press;” and thus he spent the remainder of the day. Working it by himself, he found that if the screw was turned to a given point, it would, under his hand, print without injuring the type; but when another took his place, it was sure to be marred.

The artisans were much depressed when they separated for the night. Gutenberg invited Schoeffer home to supper, that he might talk over the matter.

“The lead type is plainly too soft,” remarked Gutenberg as they sat by the cheerful fire in his own room in the Zum Jungen. “What we want is softness and strength, a mixture of qualities. Another metal should be added.”

“Have you tried iron?” asked Peter.

“Aye, some time since,” was the answer; “but it pierced the paper so that it could not be used.”

Each then suggested and discussed different combinations of metals, and decided to try experiments until the right alloy was found. And thus the evening wore away.

One suggestive intellect stirs another. As the flint elicits the spark from the steel, so two minds may jointly originate a new thought. Under Gutenberg’s influence the workings of Peter Schoeffer’s active brain took shape, and all the inventive faculty within him was brought into exercise.

Now it so happened, as Nieritz relates, that Peter was accustomed to experiment in metals, and the very next day, after sweating over the fire in the back office, brought in an amalgam which he thought might answer the purpose. It was a mixture of regulus of antimony and lead. This proved to be of the requisite softness and strength.

The day of this discovery was an eventful one. It was Schoeffer’s first invention. Faust called Gutenberg aside when he saw how well the new material worked, to congratulate him.

“Good teachers produce apt scholars,” said he, patronizingly patting Gutenberg’s shoulder. “I must wish thee joy of thy apprentice. He takes to the art like a kitten to milk. We must make him one of the firm.”

“He is an ingenious workman,” returned Gutenberg, “and we need all the ability of this kind that we can command, for difficulties often occur. I also am in favor of making him a partner.”

“Moreover, it is so pleasant to have another with us whom we can trust,” added Faust, “and an old acquaintance of yours. I am suspicious of strangers. Our success depends mainly on keeping our secret.”

Happily Schoeffer did not hear all the praise lavished upon him, but he heard enough to incite him to diligence and perseverance. Gutenberg was justly proud of him, and grateful to the kind Providence that had sent him to the Zum Jungen.

XV.

Schoeffer admitted to the Firm.--A Grand Project.--How a Bible was
borrowed.--The Early Press.--Processes in Bookmaking.--Ingenuity
of Peter Schoeffer.--Industry of the Firm.--Ink.--Cast Type.--
Three Ingenious Men.--Letter-founding.--Faust compliments
Peter.--The First Printed Page of the Bible.--A Memorable Year.

We now view the first printing firm industriously cutting type from the metal introduced by Peter Schoeffer, who is one of the partners. Gutenberg, having fully tested it, found with joy that it was the long-sought composition. It was hard enough to bear the necessary pressure, and yet did not perforate the paper or vellum in printing.

“This is most opportune to our need,” said he to Peter; “we can now begin to set type for the Bible. The lead _stucke_ must be melted into the new mixture; you shall have charge of it, taking care to reserve some of the best letters for models. We must keep in mind that the care with which the letters are carved will determine the appearance of the book. By lavishing time, ingenuity, and money on the Bible, the monks have produced some elaborate specimens. I see no reason why we may not rival them if we try.”

“Of all books the Bible should be in the highest style of our art,” remarked Schoeffer.

“True, it should be,” replied Gutenberg; “and as you have cultivated yourself in penmanship, I wish you to instruct the firm in type-cutting. I have thought of a plan by which we can have uniform and elegant letters. It is that you write them on the ends of the metal strips, and let others carve the type from your pattern. This will insure us one style of handwriting throughout the Bible; ever keeping in mind that it is our aim to produce the most beautiful book the world has ever seen,--for it is fitting that this book, of all others, should be issued in the most excellent manner.”

“But,” observed Peter, “how can we excel the monks, when one man spends a life-time on writing out and embellishing a Bible, and we can only devote a few years to it? For instance, how can we ever bring our Bible to compare with the Silver Book in the care of Father Melchoir, the letters of which are mostly of silver, and the illustrations of gold? I had access to the Royal Library of France, in the Louvre. There I saw a copy of the Evangelists, written in liquid gold! I fear we shall fail in magnificence, and give as great a contrast compared with these monks, as our plain printing rooms form with that library, the floor of which is paved with marble, the walls decorated with glass and ivory, and the shelves and desks are of the costliest wood.”

“I shall not attempt to rival the monks in adorning my Bibles with gold and silver,” said Gutenberg; “if the letters are faultless, and the printing clear, we shall outvie them, and I am persuaded that we can effect this. It would be idle for us to print with gold, even if we had the abundance to warrant it. The monks are wealthy, and only lavish it on a single copy, once in many years; while if we issue one Bible, we shall imprint more than a hundred!”

“Aye, indeed!” exclaimed Peter Schoeffer, “What a magnificent thought! Truly we live in a wonderful age, when six men can make a hundred Bibles in six years!”

(But what would you say, Peter, could you witness the lightning-feats of the steam-presses of this day, dashing off a thousand copies of the sacred volume in one day?)

“And moreover,” replied Gutenberg, “when we have disposed of one hundred copies, we can issue as many more in a shorter time.”

“That is most cheering,” returned Schoeffer, “and I will at once engage in my department of the work.”

The printing of the Bible was now the great enterprise of the firm, smaller works being issued by way of preparation. While Peter Schoeffer superintended type-cutting, and the office work went on as usual, there were long and earnest consultations as to the best course to pursue in obtaining a Bible for a copy. If Gutenberg or Faust bargained for one with the Abbot of a monastery, inquiries would be made which they wished not to answer.

“If I had the money to deposit for a Bible,” said Martin Duttlinger, “I could easily obtain one.”

“And the money we expect to furnish, of course,” said Faust. “No one can borrow so valuable a piece of property as a Bible, without the same as buying it.”

It was accordingly arranged that Martin Duttlinger, who was the most trusty of their workmen, should be charged with the mission of buying a Bible of Trithemius, Abbot of Spanheim, who was known to have books for sale; and Martin was accordingly fitted off. After his departure, affairs went on with the firm much as usual, save that they felt the impulse which the resolve of engaging in the noblest enterprise on earth could not fail to give; and who can doubt that the smile of God’s countenance rested on them, lightening their toil?

Gutenberg and Faust advised much together respecting the improved printing machine they were adjusting, and Schoeffer made rapid improvement in his particular branch of the art.

Gutenberg’s press was very simple in construction,--a board acted on by a screw, like a cheese-press. On this board the type was placed inclosed in a frame, then inked; the paper was then laid over them, and the screw turned by a lever with the hand. In constructing this press, he had two upright posts of great strength, seven feet and a half high, placed four feet apart, and fastened together at the top and bottom by two stout crosspieces. In this frame an iron screw was made to work, by means of two parallel additional crosspieces, about a foot and a half apart, connecting the perpendicular posts. From about the middle of each of these upright posts, three feet from the floor, a slide projected, called a rib; these posts were parallel to each other, and firmly fitted, to bear a great weight. But these two points of the press,--the _screw_ and the _slide_,--let us see of what use they were. A table was made to run in under the frame and out, the slide supporting it in place of legs. The screw worked in a box, called a hose, by means of a bar or lever inserted in it; the toe, or lower end of the screw, working in a sort of cup fixed upon a large block of dense wood, having the face planed smooth, and called the platen. By turning down the bar, the screw forced down the platen, which was fastened to it, just as far as it descended; when the screw was raised, the platen was also raised.

The frame or chase which contained the type being fixed upon the table, it was made to slide backwards and forwards as was needed. For example, when the type was ready to be pressed, having been previously inked, and the paper laid upon it, the workman slid it under the platen; and after the screw was turned down, and the platen had pressed it, or the printing was done, he slid it out.

The inking balls were constructed of a variety of things, and at length the printers used those which were made of sheep’s felt.

A sheet of paper being placed upon the type, the form was slid directly under the platen; and this being pressed down by a handle turning the screw, the paper was printed.

This press served very well then, and even almost to our own day; a similar one is sometimes to be seen now, where common rough printing is required.

The press-work, being very toilsome, was done by turns, one man plying it a certain number of hours, then another taking his place. The Alphabet, with the “Lord’s Prayer,” the “Address to the Virgin Mary,” a “Dictionary,” and a “Donatus,” were the first works printed with the improved press, and separate types.

Each of these first printers was eminently practical. Had they been otherwise, never could so great a work have been executed. It is now necessary to employ as many as twelve trades to publish a Bible. These are type-founders, printers’ joiners, iron-founders, paper-makers, wholesale stationers, letter-press printers, printing-ink makers, composition-roller makers, engravers on wood, lithographic printers, hot-pressers, and book-binders. But those three men, of whom Gutenberg was chief, wrought at most of these branches of business with their own hands, or by the workmen whom they taught, in the printing rooms of the Zum Jungen.

Schoeffer had great skill and facility in getting out the cut type, as well as in directing others to work after his models. When he had wrought at it some time and prepared a quantity of type, Gutenberg said to him,--

“Our initial letters must be illuminated, and as you have had much practice in this department of writing, being an illuminator of manuscript works, I doubt not you will execute them as they should be.”

“I will do my best,” replied Schoeffer, pleasantly. The result was that in a short time he had designed and cut a number of illuminated letters, to be used at the beginning of chapters. As a specimen of his handiwork, we give the initial B, taken from a work of the Mentz press, and described on the following page.