Emily C. Pearson

Effect of Gutenberg’s Books.—His Times and Ours.—His Books at the Cathedral.—Curiosity of the Monks.—Proposition of the Abbot.—The “Bible for the Poor.”—A Great Work well done.—A Good Sale.—The Canticles issued.—A Difficult Undertaking.—Discontent.—An Accident.—Discovery of Separate Types.—The First Font of Movable Type.—Difficulties mastered.—The Great Helper.

It is an interesting fact in the history of printing that its discoverer was led to issue works of an excellent and devotional character. As time passed, numbers were disposed of to the nobility, and occasionally one to some favored tradesman who had conquered his alphabet. Those who had purchased the “History of St. John,” wished a copy; and families enriched with a “Donatus,” cast about them to devise ways and means to buy the newer works of Gutenberg.

But what changes these books effected in the households blessed with their presence! “A man is known by the company he keeps;” and books are most influential associates. People who had not dreamed of being able to buy a book, by the skill of Gutenberg suddenly found themselves enriched with the treasure. How the reader of the family dwelt on the magic page! for seldom it was that more than one member could read. How the little circle gathered round the fireside of an evening, listening to catch each word of the wonderful volume, which was read and re-read, discussed, approved, and mostly committed to memory. This eagerness of the more enlightened classes to own and read a book, may seem strange to us who all our lives long have been surrounded with books of all sizes, from the abstruse tome we pore over to understand, to the charming literary favorite that we read once and again with delight.

But our wonder will cease when we remember what a different state of things then existed. Books were so scarce,—and this very scarcity increased their value,—then they were made with pen and ink alone, except by Gutenberg, who kept the secret of his block process. People took it for granted that the books he sold them were manuscripts, slowly written by hand; and marveled much at their exactness and similarity.

Still, with all the interest excited by his books, an edition of some fifty copies, sufficed to answer the demand. The mass of the people were too ignorant to aspire to the possession of a book. They could not read, and reasoned—if the subject came up—that books would be useless. To buy them, would be like purchasing a carriage when horses could not be had to draw it, or spectacles for a blind man, or shoes for one without feet.

As was his custom, whenever a new book was issued, the inventor visited the Cathedral with the “Ars Moriendi” to make sales. The visit was an event of moment to the firm, far more than a trade sale is to a publishing house of this day.

He first sought the Abbot in the library, whom he found sitting a little apart by a table, busily examining the work of the copyists.

“Good-morning, holy Father!” said Gutenberg.

“Good-morrow, my son: hast thou brought more of thy wonderful books?”

“That I have, Father,” replied Gutenberg; and as he began to remove the coverings, several monks gathered around him.

“What hast thou here?” asked Father Gottlieb, a gray-headed friar; “more of thy magical books?”

“I claim no powers of magic, Father; it is simply patience that has done it!” and opening an “Ars Memorandi,” he passed it to the critical monk. Then taking a copy of “Ars Moriendi” he courteously presented it to the Superior.

“Thank you, my son!” rejoined his Reverence graciously. “It is a pleasure to examine thy manuscript.” “Curious book!” exclaimed Father Melchoir, a middle-aged monk, who had himself just finished a copy of the same work, by the slow process of the pen, with incredible pains and much time. “How came you to make so many books all alike? How did you do it? You have a great company of scribes, eh?”

Gutenberg did not explain. Meanwhile the monks continued to gather; for having seen some of the former issues of the lapidary, they were the more eager to examine the new one.

“Very good! wonderful!” said one, as he turned over the pages of a book.

“It is not like the work of our hands,” added another.

“But you have not answered my questions!” persisted Father Melchoir, piqued that Gutenberg made such a show of industry and careful penmanship.

“I can even tell thee that I have accomplished it by patience,” was the inventor’s reply.

“Why, we claim not to be wanting in that virtue,” said Father Melchoir, “but none of us can compete with your speed in writing. Every few weeks you bring us in twelve or more books, all carefully written out in half the time it takes our readiest scribe to make one copy!”

“Moreover,” added another, as he compared two copies, “the letters are so exact and regular; why, these two copies have just as many letters and words on a page, made precisely alike!”

“But, the books are unadorned!” broke in Father Melchoir. “And very plain and poverty-stricken they look to me after gazing on our illuminated books, with their beautiful pictures, rich bindings, silk embroidered with gold and silver thread, and their backs of ivory exquisitely carved, or embellished with filigree-work and pearls and precious stones. One would suppose that a lapidary might at least use ornaments that are in his line!”

“I am not ambitious of adornment,” answered Gutenberg. “I would greatly prefer to circulate twelve books in a neat plain dress than one in rich pictures and binding. My twelve books are made to be read; while an embellished copy is only fit to be locked up with clasps, and kept in a chest or cage, to be taken out on great occasions.”

The Superior meanwhile had been absorbed in the copy Gutenberg had presented him, and appeared not to notice the conversation. He now motioned the monks to withdraw; then, turning to Gutenberg, said,—

“I have a word to thee, my son!”

“I am ready to hear, holy Father!”

“Are these books made with the pen of the copyist?” and his keen eye fell on the lapidary with a searching glance.

Gutenberg was embarrassed for an answer.

“It is as I supposed,” continued the Superior. “They are made by engraved blocks, like the ‘St. Christopher’ and the ‘Biblia Pauperum.’”

Gutenberg saw that his secret was out; but his consternation was allayed when the Father added, “It may be that we can furnish you with a work to engrave and imprint. How would you like to undertake with the ‘Biblia Pauperum?’ The copy which belongs to our library is rudely executed, and I doubt not you would greatly improve upon it. It is so rough and uncouth that I sometimes think the original manuscript copy made by Ausgarius in the ninth century must have been a better specimen of art. Think the matter over, my son, and let me know your decision at an early day.”

Gutenberg took leave, and on reaching home consulted the rest of the company about imprinting a new issue of the “Biblia Pauperum.” It chanced that not one of the firm had seen the book, with the exception of Andreas Dritzhn, who once examined the copy in the Cathedral. He was in favor of engaging in the work, if the monks would take copies enough to pay them well for their labor. This was a point which Gutenberg was deputed to ascertain, that there might be no risk in devoting the requisite time to perfect the engraving,—an undertaking of no small magnitude.

Accordingly, shortly after, Gutenberg made another visit to the Cathedral to confer with the Superior. He met with a cordial greeting, and almost abruptly the Father began:—

“And what is thy decision, son Gutenberg; wilt thou prepare for us new copies of the ‘Biblia Pauperum?’”

“I shall rejoice to engage in the enterprise,” was the reply, “if I can do so without too much risk, but it will be a slow and toilsome undertaking, involving much expense”—

“Which you will be paid for when it is finished.”

“But who will buy the book?”

“A goodly number of priests will need copies,” replied the Father. “The forty curious pictures of which the book is composed, were designed to illustrate a series of skeleton sermons. They are of great use in stirring the preacher’s imagination, and storing his memory with excellent texts. The book, therefore, is mainly suited to the different religious orders, and will have sale chiefly among them. Still, as it is taken from the Bible, and called the ‘Bible for the Poor,’ others will buy it besides the priests, and it may have a wide circulation. Numbers will be needed to give the monks each a chance to examine it as often as is desirable, although the different copies will be chained in cages, or on tablets, that no person may appropriate one solely to his own use.”

This was an era in the affairs of Gutenberg. His art was acknowledged and patronized by the Superior, and he himself really promoted above the monks, who were prominent not only among the book-makers or book-sellers, but the literati of their day. Still Gutenberg, as he called to mind the jealousy of Father Melchoir, feared fully to rely on patronage from the friars; and it was only the assurance of the worthy Superior that induced him to engage in the expensive enterprise of bringing out a new “Biblia Pauperum.”

“Tarry a little,” said the Abbot, as the lapidary was leaving; “I will lend thee our ‘Biblia,’ for a copy.” Then going to the side of the room where the light streamed in from a lofty painted window, he unlocked a cage, and taking the valued book from a gilded bracket, unfastened the chain which confined it to the wall, and, carefully wrapping it in paper, gave it to Gutenberg, who hastened away, intent on the new project before him.

Dritzhn had become a skillful engraver, but it was necessary to secure the services of two other wood-engravers, residing in Strasbourg, to whom the subjects were carried,—cuts being taken from the “Biblia” and given to them, one by one, as they could execute them. In this way the pictures were finished in the course of a few months. Gutenberg, Riffe, and Hielman engraved the inscriptions explaining the cuts, of which those at the top and bottom of the page consisted of Scripture and Leonine verses, so called from Leo, the inventor, the end of each line rhyming with the middle, as for example:—

The engraving of this “Poor Man’s Bible” was a great work; and only the invincible energy, enthusiasm, and perseverance of those early artisans enabled them to accomplish it in so short a time. To form some idea of its magnitude, we must keep in mind that each page contained four busts, or figures of persons; the two upper ones represented the prophets, or others whose names were beneath them; the two lower figures are unknown, or can only be conjectured. In the middle of the pages, which are all marked by letters from the alphabet, were three historical pictures, one of which was from the New Testament.

A fac-simile of this curious and ancient work can be seen in the Public Library, Boston, and will richly repay the trouble of examination. This has, however, forty-eight engravings, which may indicate that the work, as first issued by Ausgarius in the ninth century, was comparatively meagre, and grew to its present proportions by successive issues and by the hand of different artists.

In due time the firm was busy in imprinting and binding the choice volume, delighted with the good prospect of remuneration for it; and as soon as one copy was completed, Gutenberg again betook him to the Cathedral to exhibit it to the Abbot, who was warm in his praise of the work.

“This is as I would have it,” said he, with a beaming face, “it is elegantly executed, and more in keeping with the themes which it illustrates. Our priests will now have no excuse for stupid sermons when they officiate in the chapel or cathedral. Thou hast done nobly, and thy labors will subserve the interests of the Church.”

He then bestowed on him a generous sum, as an earnest of the full amount, when the copies he had engaged, were delivered; and Gutenberg, with a happy heart, despite the glance he had of Father Melchoir’s frowning visage, returned to his cottage to rejoice with Anna.

“It is just as I anticipated,” she exclaimed. “I knew thou wouldst triumph. Only to think, a real ‘Biblia Pauperum’ made by my John Gutenberg! I am proud and happy; we shall yet see good days. Then it will so enliven us to have a copy in the house, for I have thy promise of one of each book thou mayst make.” “Aye, my Anna, that is as little as I can do; when I get rich, I hope to add to thy wardrobe, as well as to our library;” and he glanced painfully at her plain russet gown, for through all his experiments she had practiced a rigid economy in dress.

“When thou art rich,” replied Anna, “I will not refuse the gifts thy kind heart inclines thee to give; but for the present, I am content.”

The “Biblia” sold better than any previous work, and Gutenberg and partners were much gratified. They did not, however, realize as much money as if they had kept to the lapidary and mirror business. The demand for books was so small, a market had to be created; and this required time and the slow progress of events.

But so much pleased were they with their endeavors, that, sanguine of still better success, they soon issued one of the books of the Bible entire. This was the Canticles, or Solomon’s Song, and, like the “Biblia Pauperum,” printed only on one side of the page from engraved wooden blocks. A copy of this work is carefully treasured among antiquities in the British Museum.

Such was the estimation in which it was held as a work of art, and such its sale, that Gutenberg was led to attempt greater things; he even conceived the idea of printing the entire Bible. Anna was greatly in favor of the undertaking. “All thou wouldst have to do,” said she, vivaciously, “would be to make more blocks,—a block for a page; and it would be so much better than copying. For a monk, if he lives to a good old age, and is diligent with his pen, can only write out two Bibles; and printing from blocks is much greater speed than that.”

“True, Anna,” was the reply; “but hast thou an idea how long it would take to engrave the blocks for the entire Bible?”

“Nay; but thou art so expert that assuredly it would not take thee long,—a few months, I suppose, at farthest. I do hope that thou wilt commence on this work at once. It is so desirable to have the Bible issued by thy art.”

“But let us calculate a little, my dear Anna. There are seven hundred pages in the Bible. By close application, I cannot engrave carefully and suitably more than two pages a month; and I must be full three hundred and fifty months, or nearly thirty years, in engraving blocks enough for the Holy Book!”

“Why, that would be dreadful!” cried Anna in dismay. “Thou wouldst be an old man long before it was done; it would even take thy life-time!”

“Yes, Anna, and this process of engraving fine letters on blocks, when pursued closely, is dimming to the eyes; I should be blind before my work was half done.”

“But thou couldst divide thy labors with thy workmen, couldst thou not?”

“Aye, if I can persuade them to undertake so formidable an enterprise. But the men are getting weary of large works, and beg me to choose smaller ones; they assert that the new process is no better for a large book than copying. Perhaps, however, we can issue the Gospels gradually, by taking one book at a time.”

“Perhaps thou canst,” echoed Anna sadly.

Although Gutenberg was depressed when he thought of the immense labor involved in imprinting so large a work as the Bible, yet he was not wholly disheartened. This was the secret of his success; he would not give up; was not frightened by difficulties; what the faint-hearted would deem impossible, he feared not to attempt. The art of printing would have remained undiscovered until this day without this courageous perseverance.

Gutenberg said nothing to his associates about attempting the execution of the whole Bible; indeed, he dared not entertain the idea himself; but he proposed that they publish the Gospels. They thought this too large a work. He replied that they could imprint the Gospel of St. Matthew, and do as seemed best about the remainder; this was complete in itself, and would find a ready sale. Accordingly they were soon hard at the task of engraving blocks for the Gospel of Matthew. Dritzhn demurred, as he mechanically toiled away, saying, “Unless prospects brighten, we shall never get back our money.”

Fault-finding is contagious; and Hielman and Riffe soon manifested a similar spirit. Those were gloomy days. Gutenberg meanwhile said little, but wrought at his block with renewed vigor. It was nearly completed; a few turns and gashes of the keen-pointed instrument, and it would be done; when by a slip of the hand the wood was split asunder!

Dritzhn looked up aghast, as much as to say, “How can we afford this great waste of time and labor?” Gutenberg’s quick eye interpreted the glance, and his ingenuity was put to the test of repairing the loss. He commenced fitting the block together in order to save some of the work at least. While thus engaged, the thought occurred to him, What if the carved block were broken up into separate letters, so that they might be put together in any words desired?

He seized his knife and split the wood into the letters carved on its surface. Thus he had wooden type, which he arranged in various words. The light of a great invention had dawned. Absorbed in thoughts of its advantages, he heeds not the curious eyes of his comrades, as they intently regard him, wondering at his apparently aimless performance.

He was a philosopher, and in his search after the natural and practical came to reason thus:—

“I want a system of impressing characters suited to the language. In Latin there are twenty-four letters, and the same letters are used over and over to spell many thousands of words. In a page of words I employ portions of the alphabet a number of times; and after I have done printing with the block, the carved letters are lost. If I could contrive a way of separating them, I could rearrange them without cutting new ones, and apply them to another page of different matter.

“I must, then, have my letters for printing, separate, like the letters of the alphabet, so that I can handle them as readily as I use letters to form words. I must carve the letters in wood with little handles to them, that I may take them up, and place them together as if I were spelling!”

Thus did the patient hero seize upon the idea of movable type,—the key-stone of the art of printing. He soon tried another experiment; splitting a block into strips, and working it down to the right size, he carved a letter on the end of it. This cost him care and labor, for it was more difficult than engraving on the solid block. Many bits of wood were carved before he succeeded in getting a letter to suit him. But after many trials he made one, then another, and another, taking pains to form the sticks of the right thickness, so that when they were placed together, the letters would not be too far apart.

When he had the alphabet carved, each letter on the end of a little wooden peg, he had twenty-four type letters,—quite a little pile,—which he regarded with pride and satisfaction, and called them stucke, or type. Like a child in his first efforts in reading, so he carefully spelt his way onward.

Bonus homo, “a good man,” were the words he first tried with his type. Taking the bits of wood with the letters bonus, he placed them one after the other as he spelt the word, and fastened them together with a string. But when he came to the next word, as he had only one o, he stopped and made two more before the word could be set up. As he tried other words, he found that he needed more letters; so, taking time, he cut out a large number of types for each letter in the alphabet. These he placed separately in little boxes to prevent them from being mixed. There was the box of A’s, the box of B’s, the box of C’s, and so on for all the letters. This was a font of movable type, the first ever made, and the great step of progress in his invention. If you will try the experiment of cutting type out of wood, you will more readily perceive the difficulties attending it. It was the work of months to accomplish this, which we have noted in two or three pages.

As Gutenberg went on setting up bonus in type, he found an obstacle in keeping the letters together, so that he could rub ink on them and print. Evening came, and he took them home to remedy the difficulty, and notched the edges of the two outside letters, the b, and the s, that he might tie them firmly with the linen thread he had provided. This fastening them together, that they might bear the impression of the solid block, was also a study; but he was not to be turned aside by obstacles. He had energy, courage, perseverance, and ingenuity; for Providence was inspiring him for his work.