Emily C. Pearson

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.

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.