Part 10

“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.