Emily C. Pearson

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.

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.