Chapter C: I. Cæcilii Hermiæ Signum (4)

Let us carefully notice this exquisite letter. On the left hand are elaborated fern leaves and other foliage; while the centre is dense with climbing luxuriance. On the right, in the broad curves of the initial, are delicate flowers suggestive of snow crystals, cerastium, and mignonnette,--dainty bits of infloresence just fitted to alight with feathery footfall on the back of the elephantine letter. On the other side is a bird taking its flight, and a dog pursuing. The letter itself originally was in pale blue, the ornaments in which it was placed being red; the figures and flowers were transparent and white, as well as the vellum on which the book was printed; showing that the art of engraving was no longer in its infancy, and also that the artist was well practiced in his profession.

Well done, Peter Schoeffer! we cannot sufficiently admire thy taste, patience, and perseverance. What an infinite deal of labor and pains it cost thee to design and engrave hundreds of these illuminated letters for the Bible! Besides, there was the general superintendence of type-cutting; for every letter was drafted by the same hand. We are puzzled to think where you acquired your skill. It is said that you were famously started under the fostering care of Father Melchoir, himself a good copyist, and then improved your style by two years’ application at the University of Paris. And all this that the Bible may be fittingly printed! Little did you think when a student at the Cathedral of Strasbourg, for what you were studying. Neither did it occur to you while your eye was schooled for the conception, and your hand for the execution of beauty, at Paris, for what you were preparing.

In due time Martin returned from his mission, bearing a Bible in manuscript, in a satchel on his back, and great were the rejoicings and congratulations of the firm and their families.

Gutenberg, Faust, and Schoeffer now became more and more absorbed in the various divisions of the art of printing, preparatory to setting the Bible in type in the best style.

The simple branch of inventing and making ink, for example, cost time and patience; many experiments being tried before the right combination was found. Common writing ink would not answer, being so liquid as to deface the paper with blots. Finally, a mixture of linseed oil and lamp-black or soot was tried, and found to possess the right consistence. They succeeded so well in compounding it that, as one has said, “their works show a depth and richness of color which excites the envy of the moderns; nor has it turned brown, or rendered the surrounding paper in the least degree dingy.” It was applied to the type by dabbers. These were balls of skin stuffed with wool, precisely like those used forty years ago. The types were disposed in cases much as they are now.

The firm was getting on finely, having prepared several hundred pounds’ weight of type for the Bible, when Schoeffer, getting weary of this monotonous cutting, “and being ardently desirous to improve the art,” bethought him of trying to invent a simpler and speedier method of preparing type.

It is interesting to follow this scribe, belonging to an ancient and honorable craft, as he helped pull it down to build up one infinitely better. It was like taking down a cottage from a goodly site, to make room for a Crystal Palace that would last through all time. Not that Schoeffer was alone in this enterprise; he simply aided others. He may have suggested the new device of casting type, and indeed some go as far as to give him the entire credit of the conception and execution of this process. He had taste, culture, and adaptation to circumstances; Gutenberg was ingenious, and Faust wealthy; and there was every motive to arouse Schoeffer’s mind to activity. Says a discriminating English writer, “It seems most probable that where three ingenious men are bound together by art and interest, no one of them can lay exclusive claim to any invention or undertaking executed in the work-shops and for mutual benefit. Allowing, therefore, to Schoeffer the honor of having hinted the plan, the other two may fairly put in a claim for their portion of the credit on the score of their assistance, especially since Gutenberg and Faust, being mechanics, would have engaged and directed the workmen.”

Evidently at the suggestion of Schoeffer, the firm began to take casts of type in moulds of plaster. This improvement on the old method was really a great step onward, although the process of casting was slow and tedious. A new mould was required for each letter; and let the workman be ever so vigilant, no care could enable him to impress fully and steadily into a soft substance so small a thing as a type is at the face, while yet so long in the shank; accordingly, when he succeeded well in his attempt, after the casting, there was a process of finishing, to give it the well-defined sharpness absolutely necessary in type. This improvement therefore was rather unsatisfactory, and led to much consultation of the printers how they could carry it still further. And here Peter Schoeffer’s practical talent appeared; for “it was he who first planned the cutting of punches, whereby not only might the most beautiful form of type the taste and skill of the artist could suggest, be fairly stamped upon the matrix, but a degree of finish quite unattainable in type cut in metal or wood could be given to the face; whilst to the shank, by the very same process by which the face was cast, the mould would give perfect sharpness and precision of angle.”

History relates that Peter Schoeffer privately cut matrices for the whole alphabet, and showed the letters cast from them to Gutenberg and Faust.

“Are these letters cast in moulds?” asked the latter, in great astonishment.

“They are,” replied Schoeffer.

“Mirabile! this surpasses all!” exclaimed he. “Why, you are showing yourself a great genius, I must acknowledge. How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight!” replied Peter.

“I seldom flatter, but you are a young man of promise; and I predict that you will make your mark in the world! I suppose you think that is slight praise, for a practiced scribe ought to be able to write his name in gold letters,--making his mark is said of those who can only make a mark for their name;” and Faust laughed at his own wit. “But you know what I mean. In my opinion, you will yet come to distinction!”

But how shall we describe the emotions of those first printers, those cool yet enthusiastic men, as they beheld the first printed page of the Bible! The press worked admirably; the type was uniform and elegant; and the expression given on the vellum, unequaled in beauty. At sight of it a glow of honest pride filled each heart; and how could the most undevout repress emotions of praise to God?

We have a glimpse of the little company in the frontispiece, taken from an old painting. This was in the spring of 1450, a year memorable as commencing the issue of the famous Mazarine Bible. But with all the toil and diligence bestowed upon it, it was not completed until five years after, in 1455.

XVI.

Faust’s Discontent.--Conspiracy against Gutenberg.--A Secret
kept.--The Lawsuit.--Gutenberg supplanted.--A New Firm.--
Gutenberg’s Sorrow.

It was now in the early part of October, 1455; and of late, Faust, to whom history gives the title of Doctor, had become dissatisfied with Gutenberg, on the ground that returns did not come in fast enough for the money invested. The Bible had been issued, it is true; but as it had been at great expense, and its sale was small, his enthusiasm in regard to it declined; and although once so warm a friend and patron of Gutenberg, he grew cold-hearted and scheming. He was, however, increasingly cordial to Peter Schoeffer, and one day invited him to supper. Flattered by the attention, Peter appeared promptly at the rooms of the Doctor, his toilet made with unusual care. It was in the early evening, and a fire was being kindled in the large room into which Peter was ushered. Madam Faust, an invalid, sat in her arm-chair wrapped in a shawl, to shield her from the chilliness, as a driving rain was pelting without. Christiane, the daughter, a young lady of twenty-five,--and Peter thought he never saw her look more beautiful,--cordially greeted him, and placed a seat for him.

“Good-evening, master!” said Faust urbanely, rising and shaking his hand. “Sit nearer the fire, master; the room will be warm soon.”

In the course of the conversation which followed, Faust said, “Gutenberg gaineth little in inventing. According to my thinking, he cannot be named the same day with yourself, Peter. You devised the ink, the forms for casting type, and the mixture of metals; and these are nearly all that has been invented. I regret to say it, but it would be a good thing for the firm if Gutenberg would even retire, so great is his extravagance. Why, he expended 4,000 florins before the Bible was half done! How he can ever pay me for the sums I let him have, I do not comprehend.”

“Economy is certainly useful,” observed Peter in a general way.

“A just and sensible remark,” replied Faust. “Your printer’s ink shows that you mean what you say; it is admirable, it is so cheap.”

“I am glad you think so, master,” replied Peter, glancing with a proud flush at Christiane.

“I often say to my wife and daughter,” continued Faust, “that if justice were done, you would be the acknowledged inventor, since you are continually making improvements, while he invents nothing, so to speak. Moreover, he is extravagant, and the business will be ridden to death with debt.”

Peter was more than gratified that his efforts were appreciated by the Doctor; but he revered Gutenberg, and was shocked at the proposal to eject him from the business, and he ventured to say,--

“I owe much to Master Gutenberg.”

“True,” replied Faust; “but if you were not dependent, you would acquire more in one week by your unfailing genius than he could impart in a year. The faculty to contrive and discover is in you; and if we were once rid of him, a great revenue would accrue. In due time you would be rich and renowned.”

The fire burned briskly, throwing out a genial warmth; the watch-dog basked on his mat, opening and shutting his eyes in calm content; Madam Faust’s delicate face became pink in the ruddy glow; Christiane’s cheeks were abloom; the kettle sang from its long hook on the crane; a servant glided softly around as she laid the table. Peter fell into a dreamy abstraction.

“If I could even do it honorably,” he murmured half unconsciously.

“Honorably! certainly thou canst,” emphatically returned Faust. “Dost thou think I would counsel thee to do that which would be otherwise? Business is business, and one must look out first for one’s self. Thou mayest have qualms of diffidence in severing the old tie, having served so faithfully under him; but we will be answerable for the change: we will see that he retires from the firm, and thou shalt not be blamed. Agreeing to this, I will insure thee the use of my money to the extent of my means.”

“Wife, I hope you have something palatable for Master Schoeffer,” said Faust, as all were seated by the table, and he helped his guest. Then, returning to the subject of their conversation,--

“Aye, leave me alone in disposing of this matter. I’ve a little case in law, which, for my brother’s sake, I shall set afoot. Gutenberg is culpably careless of money. It is shocking to see one thus making shipwreck of conscience. Of the 2,020 florins which I lent him, he has not returned one obolus. He has not even paid the interest.”

“He has not!” exclaimed Peter. “What can he be thinking of?”

“Of himself,” replied Faust. “As long as he has money, what cares he who goes without? I can only do business in a business way; and I shall immediately call him to account; and, Master Schoeffer, our firm shall be established on a firm basis.”

Poor Peter was too well pleased with Faust’s flatteries, and, yielding to the stronger will of his host, had listened to adroit insinuations against Gutenberg until his heart grew hard. The Doctor was quick at reading character, and knew how to turn Peter’s interest in Christiane to account, and, when his guest rose to leave, said,--

“But, Master Schoeffer, you are by far too industrious. You are worn with work, and need relaxation. You ought at least to devote these magnificent moonlight evenings to recreation. My boat is always at your service, and here’s Christiane--if you cannot find better company--give her an airing on our beautiful river.”

Schoeffer had often raised his eyes from his work to glance at the lovely vision of Christiane, as she flitted by on her morning rambles; but, proud and retiring, had felt the pecuniary distance there was between her father and himself; and though he sometimes fancied she was not indifferent to his admiration, they had not until that evening spoken together. It seemed like a dream; for now in her presence her father had lavished attentions upon him, and predicted for him fame and fortune.

The next morning, Gutenberg, in order to urge on the work, early toiled at the press-work of the Bible; for so slow and laborious was the process that comparatively few copies were completed.

“Good-morning, Peter,” said he, unsuspicious of evil, as Schoeffer entered, and a workman took his place at the press. “You have not told me by what proportion of metals you have secured the requisite strength and softness of type.”

“Excuse me, Master,” replied Peter with half averted face, “let me keep that little secret. I may have to try again.” Gutenberg was grieved by the answer as only a noble and sensitive mind can be by the slights of one who has been nourished like a child. He resumed his work, while the foreboding of the approaching storm fell on his spirit like a dark shadow.

Peter felt ill at ease; and a consciousness of the despicable part he was playing, at times brought the mantling blush of shame to his cheek; but he hardened himself against conviction, by magnifying his own improvements and dreaming of future greatness. Besides, he had really been prejudiced by Faust against Gutenberg, and his mind was much occupied with the image of the amiable and charming Christiane; and he feared to offend the father lest he might not win the daughter.

“When do you propose to pay me?” abruptly asked John Faust of Gutenberg some days later.

“Pay you!” ejaculated the other in great surprise, “I am not aware that I owe you anything!”

“Not aware of it!” angrily retorted the Doctor. “Not aware of the 2,020 florins and other large sums I lent you! I will give you thirty days in which to pay the debt; and if then you fail to do so, I shall take measures to collect it!”

“Hard conditions truly, even supposing I owed you! But the sums you mention were used for our common benefit, and we are in the midst of our first edition of the Bible. I have no way of raising money save from its sale, which it will take months to effect.”

“That is not to the point,” replied Faust. “I want the money, and the money I must have. My brother James advanced it.”

“But how am I to procure it? Would you ruin me?”

“Am I to devise means for you to pay your debts to me?” was the heartless rejoinder. “The money I must have; and if you are an honest man, you will pay it: understand me!” and Faust abruptly left. As he had entered, Peter was missing, and did not soon return. Gutenberg had only Martin and Hanau with him, and was too much overcome to speak. Was it for this that he had climbed almost to the pinnacle of his hopes? Martin was full of sympathy, and even Hanau’s vacillating heart was touched. Gutenberg saw that Faust and Schoeffer were leagued against him. The barbed iron had pierced his roul. Press-work and proof-reading were not to be thought of. He sought his room in the lethargy of despair. The prospect that the printing of the glorious Bible would be arrested, the fear that his beloved art would be torn from him, appalled him. Days passed, the darkness of affliction continued unbroken. Anna feared that he would sink under his load. True wife that she was, she intuitively understood, soothed, and offered him the comforts of faith and trust, and bore his burdens like a very heroine. She was his ministering angel, and at length he emerged from his gloom in a measure and returned to the printing rooms, still oppressed with the thought that he had been cruelly wounded in the house of his friends.

Punctual to the day the Doctor appeared, accompanied by his brother, James Faust; the former having of late partly resumed goldsmithing, although still a member of the firm.

“The month has expired, and I have come for the money!” said Faust.

“I have not been able to raise it,” replied Gutenberg.

“But it is high time that it was paid,” said John Faust. “It is nearly five years since it was borrowed. You promised that we should make our fortunes long before this.”

“I did not name the time of paying any sum,” returned the inventor, “nor did I borrow the money, but it was put into the firm for our mutual advantage. You were, moreover, to pay me eight hundred florins for my personal use, in consideration of my teaching you the secrets of my art. This was not paid me, but was put into the funds of the association for our joint benefit.”

“It was borrowed money, every florin!” cried Faust, “and you are holden for it. If no time was specified for payment, on demand is of course understood.”

“As to the other sums,” continued Gutenberg, “I can give you an exact account of them; but I am not liable for the interest, since you had an equivalent for my use of the money, and indeed appropriated it equally with myself.”

“There is a way of settling that point,” significantly remarked James Faust, as the two took leave; and shortly he instituted a process of law, and procured from the notary public the following document:--

“To the glory of God, Amen. Be it known to all those who see or read this instrument, that in the year of our Lord 1455, third indiction, Thursday, 6th day of November, the first year of the Pontificate of our very Holy Father the Pope Calixtus III., approved here at Mayence, in the great parlor of the Barefooted Friars, between 11 o’clock and midday, before me, the notary, and the undersigned witnesses, the honorable and discreet person James Faust, citizen of Mayence, who in the name of his brother, John Faust, also present, has said and declared clearly that on this said day at the present hour, and in the same parlor of the Barefooted Friars, John Gutenberg should see and hear taken by John Faust an oath conformably to a sentence pronounced between them. And this sentence read in the presence of the Honorable Henry Gunter, Curé of St. Christopher’s of Mayence, of Henry Keffler, and De Becktoff de Hanau, servant and valet of the said Gutenberg: John Faust, placing his hand upon the Holy Evangelists, has sworn between the hands of me, the notary public, comformable to the sentence pronounced, and has taken the following oath, word for word: ‘I, John Faust, have borrowed 1,550 florins, which I have transmitted to John Gutenberg, which have been employed for our common labor, and of which I have paid the rent and annual interest, of which I still owe a part. Reckoning therefore for each hundred florins borrowed, six florins per annum, I demand of him the repayment, and the interest, conformably to the sentence pronounced, which I will prove in equity to be legal, in consequence of my claim upon the said John Gutenberg.’ In presence of the Honorable H. Gunter, of Henry Keffler, and of Becktoff de Hanau aforesaid, John Faust has demanded of me an authentic instrument to serve him as much and as often as he hath need, and in the faith of which I have signed this instrument, and have set thereto my seal.”

The law took its course. The inexorable judges made no allowance for the peculiar circumstances of the case, but gave judgment against Gutenberg, awarding that he should pay to Faust whatever he had borrowed, with interest. This decision was made November 1455. As Gutenberg had no means of paying the sums demanded, Faust took possession of his presses, type, printing materials, and the copies of the Bible, finished and unfinished.

Gutenberg had been sustained, during the sitting of the court in the parlor of the Barefoot Friars, by the suspense and excitement of the scene. He had hoped for justice, or at least for a more favorable decision; but instead of that, everything was taken from him. Reaching home, he knew not how, after long wandering in unfrequented places, he threw himself upon his couch, and made no reply to the affectionate inquiries of Anna. She knew that the cause had gone against him, and that he was in the extremity of trouble. As he gave way to his trial, although herself in deep grief, her heart somehow grew stronger. There had been a marked change in her since residing at the Zum Jungen. As she realized that good would result from her husband’s inventions, she strove to encourage him in his devotion to his art. In his despair, she was buoyed up by hope. For long hours he seemed scarcely to notice her gentle presence. She did not disturb him with words; but as the hours stole by, and his grief was heavy on him, she drew the curtains till the room was in the hush of twilight, hoping that balmy sleep would overtake him; then, sitting by his side, she prayed earnestly, silently, for him. When he awoke after a refreshing sleep, he was more like himself.

“Dost thou know, my Anna,” he calmly said, “that Faust has laid claim to everything, including my presses, _stucke_, and the printed pages of the Holy Bible now ready to be bound?”

“Can it be possible?” ejaculated Anna in dismay.

“And I am worse than penniless,” he added. “My noble art is at an end. That which I most feared has come upon me. Others have stolen my invention and I have nothing left.”

“But we are taught by our holy religion,” she quickly responded, brushing away her tears, “that it is good to trust in the Lord in times of trouble, and if we have faith in him, he will deliver us.”

Yet sorely was the inventor tried; and month after month, the weary time crept on, Gutenberg and Anna in poverty and affliction.

Meanwhile Faust, having taken possession of everything that could be called Gutenberg’s, organized a new company by associating Schoeffer and others with himself, and finished binding the remaining copies of the Bible as rapidly as possible. As Faust and Schoeffer examined it anew, they were filled with admiration.

“This book will bring handsome returns, Peter,” said the former, “if we manage wisely. My brother is of opinion that I can sell fifty copies in Paris alone!”

“A happy suggestion!” was the reply.

“And I must go at once,” said Faust; and, with characteristic energy, he commenced making preparations for the journey. As a sufficient number of Bibles were ready for the present demand, Schoeffer and the journeymen were to employ themselves in issuing “Litterariæ Indulgentiæ,” a one page work much prized by the monks.

Schoeffer had now been married to Faust’s daughter for some months, and was an honored member of the firm. But although his worldly prospects were fair, yet he was less happy than he had imagined, and the memory of his old master’s kindness often brought penitent tears to his eyes. He longed to see him, as formerly, the ruling spirit in the printing rooms, but had not moral courage and decision of purpose enough to say this in the presence of Faust. Besides, he still wished to appropriate riches and fame to himself. So he persisted in the wrong, salving his conscience with the promise that he would at some time do right by Gutenberg.

XVII.

The Story of Faust’s Visit to Paris.--Was it Witchcraft?--Popular
Excitement.--Scene in a Court Room.--Issue of the Psalter.

One balmy morning in the spring of 1456, Faust, with a stock of beautifully bound Bibles, started for Paris, some four hundred miles distant. Sailing down the Rhine to Strasbourg, he then travelled by the public road over mountains and across the country nearly west to the French metropolis, then a long and toilsome journey.

On his arrival, he engaged a shop on the Rue St. George, where he could safely store his treasures.

Hastening to call upon the King, he made known his errand and offered him a copy of the Bible for seven hundred and fifty crowns!

As the King examined it, he was delighted with the regular and beautiful writing.

“It is true,” said he, “that the scribes ask only five and six hundred crowns for a copy of their Bible, but I have never seen anything equal to this! I will gladly pay thee thy price, and consider it a rare bargain.”

Faust next sought out the Archbishop.

“My lord,” he said, taking the large package from the porter who accompanied him, and unrolling it from its folds of vellum, “I have brought thee a Bible executed with great care and finish. Permit me to call thy attention to it.”

“It is very finely executed,” observed the Archbishop as he turned its leaves. “What is your price?”

“Only three hundred crowns!” answered Faust.

“I will willingly pay that,” replied the Archbishop. “It is seldom that we can obtain a work made in this style, and so cheap. I am familiar with the copyists of monasteries, but have never met the monk that carried so even a hand!”

Making no explanations, Faust took the money, and returned to his lodgings on St. George’s Street, where in a few days he privately sold some half-dozen more copies. Citizens now began to gather to admire the wonderful book.

At first he only exhibited one at a time, and the impression went abroad that the books were very scarce; hence people were more anxious to buy, and readily paid the fifty crowns which he asked lay purchasers.

For a time each one who bought a Bible thought himself especially favored, supposing that his was the only copy of the kind to be found. As a writer has said, “The beauty of the work, the elegance of the flower-pieces, and the variety of the finest colors which were intermixed with gold and silver, led many persons to show their purchases to their friends, each one thinking, as he produced his, that the whole world could not contain such another.”

As for the Archbishop, he was so elated with his copy, that he could not rest until he had carried it to the King, who, greatly surprised, in return showed his own. On comparing them, they noticed that the ornaments were not exactly the same. They were not gilded precisely alike, and the initial letters were painted differently. But in other respects, the part which they supposed written, the number of pages, lines, and letters were the same; and they began to surmise that those Bibles were made in some new way. No man could have copied them both, and made them so entirely similar. Besides, to write out two such Bibles would have exceeded the work of a man’s life; and the materials on which he wrote would wax old with age meanwhile, but these were new and fresh. The King and the Archbishop were sorely puzzled; and rumor was not long in bringing to their ears that Faust had sold quite a number, some at fifty crowns, some at twelve, and others still as low as six pounds, while the supply continued equal to the demand. All Paris was agitated.

“What can this mean?” said the King.

“What can this mean?” echoed the Archbishop.

“These books were made by no earthly power!” exclaimed an ecclesiastic.

“The Evil One had a hand in it!” cried the ever-at-hand courtiers.

And although the Bibles were beautiful, costly, and desirable, these good people deemed it necessary to put an immediate stop to their further sale. Much as they prized them, they could not encourage collusion with the powers of darkness. In the midst of this excitement two professors of the University of Paris, as Neiritz informs us, came in and purchased a Bible. A servant bore it after them as they left the shop.

“Antoine,” exclaimed one of them to the other, “it is a wonder to me how the German Doctor can afford to sell this Bible for six pounds! Who ever saw such beautiful writing? It is so uniform, I cannot cease admiring the book. Andre, bring it hither!” and as the servant brought it forward, and it was again opened, a circle gathered to examine it.

“How very beautiful!” exclaimed Professor Antoine, “it scarcely could be done by mortal hands.”

“The thing is not possible!” said the brother professor.

“It is done by the famous black art!” affirmed a voice in the crowd.

“Yes, look at those black pot-hooks and hangers!” exclaimed another.

“Father Clement says it is the work of magic and witchcraft!” said a third.

“The German Doctor has made a bargain with the Evil One, being taught the black art as an offset for going to perdition.”

“Well, Antoine,” remarked the first professor, mirthfully, “if magic and witchcraft can make Bibles in this style, keep them at it early and late, and get out of them all the good you can. Besides, a house divided against itself cannot stand.”

But people generally took the matter more to heart than did the genial professor, and, as they chatted about it and thought it over, were more and more satisfied that other than mortal hands had fabricated the Bibles.

“Only to think of it, so many copies just alike, and made so rapidly! And the more you take away from the shop, the more there are for sale! Parisians are as quick-fingered as any other nation, but not one of our fleetest scribes can write in this way; neither can any man do it!”

So the mob searched Faust’s lodgings, or the shop on Rue St. George, and seized a great number of Bibles. “Behold,” said they when they saw the red ink with which they were embellished, “this is his blood!”

The city authorities were at once apprised that he was a magician! And accordingly orders were given to apprehend Dr. Faust for being in league with Satan, and for dealing in the black art.

“What have I done?” asked Dr. Faust, as the police officers appeared in his shop to take him.

“Only a small thing truly!” ironically replied one of them; “this indictment says that you turn off books by witchcraft.”

“Never!” exclaimed Faust; “I have made them in an honest way!”

But the officers shrugged their shoulders, and took him along.

Faust was in trouble. If he confessed the truth, others would seize his art and profits; and if he did not, his life might be sacrificed. While he was revolving the matter, he was thrust into prison.

For once he was at his wit’s end, and almost paralyzed by the turn affairs had taken. What! he, the man of wealth and the patron of printing, in prison, classed with felons! It seemed to him like a horrible nightmare, only the chilliness of the cell and the damp straw brought on his old rheumatism, reminding him too well that it was all reality.

“I shall die here!” he groaned, as he sleeplessly tossed on the straw; “I must reveal the secret, and save my life!” Never was a more restless prisoner. Sleep! he would as soon think of it on a plank in the open sea. In the morning the court set, and Faust was brought to the bar.

Bibles were produced and compared, witnesses were not wanting, and the case was strong against him, when he was called on for his defense. Perfectly calm, and self-possessed he thus addressed the judge:--

“May it please your Honor: It is not the black art that I practice, but the art of printing. This newly discovered art was first devised by John Gutenberg of Mayence, and afterwards more fully improved by his journeyman, Peter Schoeffer, and myself. I can in a short time so describe the process to you that you may yourself set type and print. We employ young men to help in the work, and there is no more black art in it than there is in planting a garden. Think you the Evil One would lend his aid to the work of multiplying copies of a book that describes him and his wiles, warning men against him and predicting his doom! Nay, your Honor, the thing is absurd. We Germans lead the way in this matter of printing books,--begging your Honor’s pardon, while I say it,--but it will not be long before printing machines will be common in Paris.”

Such was Faust’s defence, which so wrought upon the lively crowd that they were enthusiastic in their cries of “_Vive le Docteur! vive le Docteur!_” The magistrates eagerly withdrew the charges against him; and the sequel was that some of the nobility of Paris made him a magnificent pecuniary reward.

When Faust returned from Paris, he prosecuted the business of printing with renewed energy. He could well do this, as his enterprise had been very remunerative. Besides issuing the “Litterariæ Indulgentiæ,” he urged on the completion of the Psalter, an elaborate work which had been in press two years and a half, before the lawsuit overtook the firm. As it was not published until August, 1457, it was four years in being brought to perfection. It bore the colophon of Faust and Schoeffer, and was the first book that had the name of the place where it was printed, the name of its printers, and the year when it was printed.

That this elegant book was partly the work of Gutenberg, is evident from the fact that it was four years in being published, and was issued only eighteen months after the partnership was dissolved.

It was printed in large cut type, with illuminated initials; and as it is impossible that Gutenberg’s works could have been undone, a new fount prepared, and so splendid a book printed, in so short a time, it is plain that this was the identical Psalter on which the labor of two years and a half had been expended, before Faust sued Gutenberg. It was the latter who proposed to bring it out, and who superintended the construction of the type and ornaments. The superb initial letters, of which the initial B in this volume is a specimen, were projected and criticised by Gutenberg. It is true that Schoeffer’s practiced hand executed them, but the original idea was suggested by the leading spirit of the company.

Yet this Psalter appeared in 1457 with the colophon or monogram of Faust and Schoeffer.

This was a device indicating something respecting the authors or proprietors of a volume, and, in this case, was composed of two _ecus_, or shields, which were taken from the armorial bearings of their families. As Gutenberg was of the nobility, some have affirmed that the monogram alluded to was his device, and adopted by the three partners before they separated; if otherwise, and it simply referred to Faust and Schoeffer, these partners did an act of great injustice in omitting his name from the colophon or conclusion of the Psalter.

XVIII.

New Friends.--The Nun.--Gutenberg at Work again.--Printing of the
“Balbus de Janua.”--Other Works.--A Curious Record.--Death of the
Great Inventor.--Fadeless Laurels.

Was the art for which Gutenberg had toiled all his life, forever to be torn from him, and his rivals alone garner the fruits? In his despondency Anna was hopeful. She would often say to him,--

“There will be a way of deliverance. Thou has wintered with misfortunes ere this, and camest forth unharmed; and now, even if everything is taken, God can change the hearts of those who have wronged thee, and incline others to enlist in thy behalf.”

“Those are noble sentiments,” Gutenberg would reply; “and if all things else are adverse, my Anna is true, and gives me good counsel.”

Genuine faith is never unrewarded; and as if to encourage Anna, about this time Friele Gutenberg, having returned from Venice, where he had spent some years, visited his brother at the Zum Jungen. Gutenberg told him the story of his art, and how, when he had nearly completed the Bible, he was overwhelmed by a lawsuit, being unjustly required to pay money to Faust before he could raise anything from the sales.

Friele was shocked at the recital; and at his request Gutenberg conducted him to the printing rooms, and showed him copies of the Bible.

“Why,” exclaimed Friele, “this is indeed wonderful! It is the most beautiful book I ever beheld. And is the issuing of it entirely taken out of thy hands, my brother?”

“It is even so,” was the reply. “I have been constrained to retire from the firm, and have no means to prosecute the art which has been the study of my life.”

“But yours is a success,” said Friele. “You ought to be encouraged. I will aid you to the extent of my ability, and influence my friends to do something for you. There is also something due you from our father’s estate, which will soon be settled; and this, with other sums, will establish you in business under favorable auspices.”

This was so unexpected that Gutenberg, overcome, could only press his brother’s hand in grateful silence.

Friele’s sympathies were indeed earnestly enlisted in his brother’s cause. The injustice and ingratitude of Faust and Schoeffer stirred his indignation, and he resolved that the true inventor should again engage in his chosen vocation. He soon sought out his sister Hebele, who, although a nun in the St. Claire Convent, was not wholly inaccessible to her brothers. She retained her old affection for her favorite John, and, on hearing Friele’s rehearsal of his successful invention and subsequent losses, voluntarily offered to loan him the sixty florins which was soon to be paid her from the estate of her father.

“My noble Hebele!” exclaimed Friele enthusiastically, “that is so like thyself! How it will encourage John! I will do as much on my part, and I doubt not we shall soon have the gratification of again seeing him prosperously printing.”

Friele was a man of standing and influence in the city, and lost no time in conferring with his friend, Conrad Humery, Syndic of Mentz. This good dignitary became so deeply interested in Friele’s accounts of his brother John’s struggles, triumphs, and wrongs, that he begged at once to be introduced to him. Friele accordingly accompanied him to the Zum Jungen, where they found John Gutenberg in a back room, busy polishing gems, and Anna diligent at her embroidery frame.

The Syndic was past middle age, affable and easy, the goodness of his heart beaming in his expressive eye and fine countenance. Gutenberg felt acquainted with him almost intuitively, and, in answer to his kind inquiries, briefly related the history of his long experiments and checkered experiences.

“That last lawsuit was most scandalous!” said the Syndic; “such a thing ought not to be tolerated in Mentz! Would that I had known of thy trial at the time; I doubt not the case might have been adjudged differently. I will, however, do what I can for thee.”

He was as good as his word. Fully appreciating Gutenberg’s estimable qualities, he even offered to lend him money, again to commence in business, and would, if desired, become a silent partner.

This was most welcome to Gutenberg, and he cordially accepted his generous proposals.

At Friele’s suggestion, he lost no time in removing into the mansion formerly occupied by his father, where his brother now lived. It was a fine old edifice, roomy, baronial, and substantial, dating back hundreds of years. It was in no sense inferior to the Zum Jungen; and the inventor had a comfortable suite of family apartments, as well as convenient printing rooms.

Previous to his removal, as he was making preparations to leave, Dr. Faust called on him, and, extending his hand, said,--

“I owe you many apologies, master, for my unjust treatment in the matter of the lawsuit. It costs me an effort to admit this; but I feel that I have injured you, and must seek to make amends. I have been to Paris, engaged in the sale of Bibles, and have seen your connection with the art of printing as never before. Success has softened and removed my prejudices; and I shall have no peace of mind until you pardon me, and take your place in the firm.”

Gutenberg was both surprised and indignant. He had been foully wronged by Faust and Schoeffer, and it seemed like adding insult to injury for them so late in the day to make amends by bald apologies. He had been too much hurt by their unkindness to think of resuming his former position as partner.

“Moreover,” urged Friele, to whom he confided the matter, “you cannot think of accepting merely nominal concessions. They do not frankly confess how cruelly they have wronged you. And were you to join the firm again without as public a confession as the insult they gave you, you would be wanting in self-respect. And what guarantee can you have that they will not treat you ill a second time? I counsel you to remove to the homestead, where you can have ample facilities for prosecuting your chosen employment.”

We can only conjecture the motives which influenced Faust in his apologies to Gutenberg. Perhaps, now that his pecuniary trial was over, he felt sincerely to regret the separation from the distinguished man who he must fain acknowledge was the originator of the art which had brought fame and money to himself and partner. Or it may be that he dreaded his influence as a rival.

Waiving Faust’s proposal, Gutenberg hastened to establish himself in the mansion of his ancestors.

In resuming printing, he found much delay from the necessity of making everything anew. He had irrecoverably lost the labor of years. He must construct more presses, another set of punches, and new type. The presses were manufactured in as good style as those he had relinquished; but sadly he missed the nice execution of Schoeffer in getting up the punches and type.

He was, it is true, aided by two of his old office workmen,--Martin and Hanau; but his _stucke_ was nevertheless inferior in finish to that which Schoeffer devised. He would not, however, relinquish his enterprise on that account, but proceeded to print the “Balbus de Janua.”

“Why not print more Bibles?” asked Martin Duttlinger in 1457, after they had issued the “Balbus de Janua.”

“My Bibles are being printed by others!” replied the inventor, sadly. “This care is taken from me; but I have the satisfaction of knowing that it will be done as I planned it. I selected the vellum. How many journeys I made to the manufacturer to insure a good article! How I criticised and experimented with it until I succeeded in getting a smooth, fine texture! The ink, too, what a labor it cost me! And the regularity of setting up the page,--it was long before we attained it. The cutting of the type occupied us a long time until we found the method of casting it; and now, with the help of punches, we can make the same elegant type. Why should I seek to issue another edition of the Bible, when my own is publishing? I cannot compete as a salesman with Faust; and the present Bible which is printing is as really my own as another could be.”

“But will you not at least publish a Psalter?”

“Not at present,” replied Gutenberg; “this which Faust and Schoeffer are issuing has been in press four years. When they thrust me from the firm, the type was in readiness, and a portion of it was set up. Two years and a half we had lavished skill and money upon it. This also I must consider mainly my own, as I planned to issue it, and superintended the work. Others reap my harvest; but they cannot destroy the peace and satisfaction I enjoy in the consciousness of having been the instrument of doing good.” Thus did the truly great man put by all selfish considerations.

However, he continued to print various other works, among which were the “Donatus,” the “Catholicon,” “Speculum Sacerdotum,” “Celebratio Missarum,” and others.

There is on record a curious deed, or grant of property, which gives quite an inkling of his affairs in 1459, when his brother Friele was associated with him as a successful publisher.

This legal instrument is as follows:--

“We, Henne (John) Gutenberg and Friele Gutenberg, brothers, do affirm and publicly declare by these presents, and make known to all, that with the advice and consent of our dear cousins, John and Friele and Perdiman Gensfleisch, brothers, of Mentz, we have renounced and do renounce by these presents, for us and for our heirs, simply, totally, and at once, without fraud and deceit, all the property which has passed by means of our sister Hebele to the Convent of St. Claire of Mentz, in which she has become a nun; whether the said property has come to it on the part of our father, Henne Gensfliesch, who gave it himself, or in whatever manner the property may have come to it, whether in grain, ready money, furniture, jewels, or whatever it may be, that the respectable nuns, the abbess and sisters of the said convent, have received in common or individually, or other persons of the convent, from the said Hebele, be it little or much.... And as to the books which I, the said Henne (John), have given to the library of the convent, they are to remain there always and forever; and I, the said Henne, propose also to give in future to the library of the said convent, for the use of the present and future nuns, for their religious worship, either for reading or chanting, or in whatever manner they may wish to make use of them according to the rules of their order, _all_ [that is, copies of _all_] _the books which I, the said Henne, have printed up to this hour, or which I shall hereafter print, in such quantities as they may wish to make use of_; and for this the said abbess, the successors, and nuns of the said Convent of St. Claire have declared and promised to acquit me and my heirs of the claim which my sister Hebele had to sixty florins which I and my brother Friele had promised to pay and deliver to the said Hebele as her portion and share arising from the house which Henne (John) our father assigned to him for his share, in virtue of the writings which were drawn up thereupon, without fraud and deceit. And in order that this may be observed by us, and by our heirs, steadfastly and to its full extent, we have given the said nuns and their convent and order these present writings, sealed with our seals. Signed and delivered the year of the birth of J. C. 1459, on the day of St. Margaret.”[4]

[4] Lamartine refers to an act of donating, made by Gutenberg
to his sister Hebele, nun in the Convent of St. Claire at
Mentz, by which he put her in possession of the religious
books _which he had printed at Strasbourg_, and made her
the promise of sending her successively all those which
should issue from his press.

Although it is evident from this deed that Gutenberg was at this time successfully established in printing again by means of a further division of his father’s estate, and by the aid of his friends, yet it also appears that his works were not remunerative. Comparatively few books were called for,--not only the books, but the market for them, had to be made; and this, when we consider the competition of such a firm as Faust and Schoeffer, was no light affair. The worthy Syndic stood nobly by him, and his friends were kind and appreciative, or he had accomplished much less after the breaking up of his favorite projects at the Zum Jungen.

But a sad and deeply afflictive event overtook him, which again threw his affairs into confusion. This was the sudden death of his beloved Anna, who left his side with an angel’s smile and words of triumph for the endless life. The unexpected blow completely unnerved him for a long time; and even when the healing hand of time soothed the wound, he had no heart to go on with an art with which she was so intimately associated.

Friele sympathized most deeply in his sorrow, and at length advised a change of scene and occupation as antidotes to his grief. Accordingly he sold out his printing materials to the Syndic, Conrad Humery, after some eight years’ practicing of his art in the new firm.

But he was not allowed to be forsaken in his old age. From letters patent, dated January 17, 1465, we learn that he was invited to enter the service of the Elector Adolphus of Nassau, as one of his band of gentlemen pensioners, with a handsome salary. Thus did he honorably retire from the practice of his loved art, secure in the thought that although it had cost him much tribulation, yet it was firmly established in doing its beneficent mission to the world.

This was three years after the city of Mentz was sacked and plundered by Count Adolphus; and while others were broken up in their avocations and forced to flee, he was spared from such a fate, and was promoted to his own appropriate honorable place in his native city.

Thus peacefully and in useful duties did he go down the vale of life, until February 24, 1468, when he quitted this earthly scene, let us trust for the happier employments of the better world. His death seems like the calm, unclouded setting of the sun, after a tempestuous day.

Some one has said that genius, in its general sense, is universal; a possession belonging to all men, in some degree. Its greatest achievement is not in a great poem or painting, or any other work of art, but in a great life; and the strong heart and stout hands are its most miraculous organs. He who, by the majestic dignity of his daily walk, gives the beauty of truth to common life, is a great genius,--because he illustrates and sets forth, in its noblest form, virtue and true worth.

So Gutenberg, after he had done the will of God, and had been led on to perfect the most glorious invention under the sun, had need of patience. The Heavenly Father would not permit so chosen a son to become perverted by unmingled prosperity.

Hence he suffered him to be disappointed, and the patient hero was evidently blessed by his trials. He became, if never before, that which so few attain, “commander of himself;” and this, according to a wise author, is no small triumph. “He that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city.”

Several trying lawsuits diversified the eventful life of Gutenberg. They were grievous and harrowing to his sensitive feelings, but subserve a good purpose to posterity, giving many well-authenticated facts respecting him, which otherwise would have been lost. Little did he think, while passing through these fiery ordeals, that he was by them really inscribing the deeds of his life on the scroll of fame. We moderns, seizing upon each item in the law records as a choice morsel of literary history, are prone to forget that they were made at the sacrifice of the peace and comfort of the inventor.

Especially was the writ of the notary public, summoning Gutenberg to the parlor of the Barefoot Friars, a crushing event. It came when he was just on the point of realizing his fondest hopes,--when the Bible was printed, and almost ready to be issued from the press. By this process of law, he was under the necessity of mortgaging his printing materials to Faust; this shows that his large private fortune had been previously expended in experiments, and that thus he had fallen into the clutches of his more wealthy partner.