Part 12

For nearly one hundred and fifty years the Estiennes of France were famous as printers. Robert Stephens, a member of this family, was the first inventor of the verses into which the New Testament is now divided, and introduced them in his edition of it published in 1551. Harry, the eldest son of Robert Stephens, was one of the most learned men of his time. “Thesaurus,” a dictionary of the Greek language, was the fruit of twelve years’ hard application of the elder Stephens, who also suffered persecution for being a Protestant, and fled from France to reside at Geneva. The early printers were well educated; but time and space fail us to note the many learned men who practiced the art in different countries, who, availing themselves of the new sources of information, added to the general stock of knowledge as they eagerly grasped the shining treasures laid open by the discovery of printing.

It is well known that the first printers were learned; and, being engaged in printing from ancient and classical manuscripts, were naturally the associates of the first literary characters of the age. Indeed, in the infancy of printing, and long afterwards, the occupation was very honorable, and was only engaged in by well-educated persons. It was the glory of the learned to be known as correctors of the press to literary printers; physicians, lawyers, bishops, and even popes themselves occupied this department; and a distinguished name, as corrector of the press, being given in a work, it was far more highly valued.

XX.

Peculiarities of the First Printed Books.--Early Printers.-- Piety and Chess.--Education in the Olden Time.--A Great Enterprise.--Unveiling Gutenberg’s Statue.

On inquiring more closely respecting the peculiarities of the first printed books and the modes of producing them, we find that they were generally large or small folios or quartos; lesser sizes than these not being in use. In some cases they had no title, number of pages, or paragraph divisions. The character employed was designed to imitate the hand-writing of the time, a rude old Gothic or German, from which the old English was formed, now known as German text. The words were printed so closely together as to make reading difficult even by those accustomed to it, while one unpracticed got on slowly and with many blunders.

The orthography used in the first books was of almost every variety, defying method. Abbreviations were fashionable, and at length became so numerous and so difficult to be understood that a book or key was published, explaining them. Instead of a comma an oblique stroke was employed. Capital letters were not used to begin a sentence, or for proper names. Blanks were left for the places of titles, initial letters, and other ornaments, in order to have them supplied by illuminators, whose curious art, however, soon gave place to the improvements of the printers. The ornaments made by the old artists to fill the blanks were formed with singular taste; birds, beasts, flowers, and foliage often curiously interwoven with the most desirable colors, and even with gold and silver. Saints were sometimes made to figure in the border of illuminated letters, whether the subject treated required it or not. The artist had no regard to the theme of the author in his adornments. These embellishments were sometimes costly and elaborate; but a cheaper kind could be had. Bibles and Breviaries were most elegantly ornamented.

The name of the printer and his place of residence were either omitted, or placed at the end of the book with some pious ejaculation or doxology. There was no date, or it appeared in some odd place, printed in words perhaps, or by numerical letters, and sometimes partly one and partly the other, thus: “One thousand CCCC. and LXXIII.,” but in all cases at the end of a book. The Roman and Italic letters not being invented, the pages were uniformly Gothic through the book. Only a few copies were issued at once; two hundred was a large impression.

The early printer was of necessity also a bookbinder, placing his leaves literally between _boards_, and making some works so heavy as to provoke the criticism, “No man can carry them about, much less get them into his head.” About 1469-70, alphabetical tables of the first words of each chapter were introduced as a guide to the binder.

After the great secret of printing was spread abroad, the early printers, in their own quaint style, took pains to inform the public that the book they issued was printed.

Caxton said of his first book, “It is not written with pen and ink as other books be, to the end that every man may have them at once; for all the books of this story, thus imprinted as ye here see, were begun in one day, and also finished in one day;” that is, the edition.

The Mentz printers, at the end of each of their first works, made it known that instead of being drawn or written with a pen, they were made by a new art and invention of printing or stamping them by characters or types of metal set in forms.

King Henry VI. was moved by the Archbishop of Canterbury to use all possible means for procuring a printing mould, as it was then called, to be brought into England. It is supposed that Caxton, after the custom in other monasteries, set up his press near one of the aisles of Westminster Abbey. The first book printed there was “The Game of Chess,” a work then much used by all classes of people, and “doubtless desired by the Abbot, and the rest of his friends and masters.” Caxton translated it from the Latin of a Dominican friar, who wrote it in the year 1200. It was in the main a good book, else Caxton, with his decided religious principle, would not have published it; he recommends it as “full of wholesome wisdom, and requisite unto every state and degree.” But to us it seems a curious mingling of amusement and advice. There were instructions for playing the game, side by side with counsels which, according to Caxton, would enable the people to understand wisdom and virtue.

The course of study then comprised in what was thought a good education, was very limited. Teacher and pupil in most cases attempted little, and accomplished little. The _trivium_ and the _quadrivium_ were the two branches of what was then understood as the liberal arts. The former included grammar, rhetoric, and dialectics; the latter, music, arithmetic, geometry, and astronomy. It was thought that he who became master of these studies needed no longer a preceptor or assistance in solving any questions within the compass of human reason.

But thorough students in these branches were seldom found, until the dissemination of books by the art of printing gave a new impetus to the intellect of that age.

Interesting it has been to trace step by step the passing on of this art to perfection. Long were genius and industry engaged in its study, and never was there so rich and glorious a harvest from human efforts. The nurse and preserver of the arts and sciences, of religion and civilization, was not the work of one brain solely, neither did the gift bring peace at once, but rather strife and opposition. Ignorance fled before it as darkness from light; the priests and copyists were disturbed; and the way was made ready for the bringing in of the Reformation, commencing in 1517 under Martin Luther. For doubtless the invention of this art did more to unmask the superstitions of the Papal church than all other causes combined.

Gutenberg’s conception and execution of printing the Bible was a magnificent enterprise; through unparalleled difficulties, he produced an eloquent and superb book, which is even now the admiration of the learned. We scarcely know which most to admire, the great art, or the noble purpose to which its incalculable power was lent. His praise is in every land, but most of all do his countrymen love and revere his memory. Statues of Gutenberg have been erected in several cities of Germany, and festival occasions celebrating his achievements are frequent. A picture of one of these days of grateful rejoicing is the following account of a

CELEBRATION AT MENTZ.

“The modes in which a large population displays its enthusiasm are pretty much the same throughout the world. If the sentiment which collects men together be very heart-stirring, it will be seen in the outward manifestations. Thus processions, orations, public dinners, and pageantries, which in themselves are vain and empty, are important when the persons whom they collect together are moved by one common feeling, which sways them for the time.

“We never saw such a popular fervor as prevailed at Mentz, at the festival of August 1857. The statue was to be uncovered on Monday the 14th; but on Sunday evening the name of Gutenberg was rife through the streets. In the morning, all Mentz was in motion by six o’clock; and at eight, a procession was formed to the Cathedral, which, if it was not much more imposing than some of the processions of trades in London and other cities, was conducted with a quiet precision which evinced that the people felt that they were engaged in a solemn act. The fine old Cathedral was crowded; the Bishop of Mentz performed High Mass; the first Bible printed by Gutenberg was displayed. What a field for reflection was here opened! The first Bible in connection with the imposing pageantries of Roman Catholicism,--the Bible in great part a sealed book to the body of the people; the service of God in a tongue unknown to the larger number of worshippers; but that first Bible the germ of millions of Bibles that have spread the light of Christ throughout the veritable globe!

“The mass ended, the procession again advanced to an adjacent square, where the statue was to be opened. Here was erected a vast amphitheatre, where, seated under their respective banners, were deputations from all the great cities of Europe. Amidst salvos of artillery the veil was removed from the statue, and a hymn sung by a thousand voices. Then came orations, then dinners, balls, orations, boat-races, processions by torch light. For three days the population of Mentz was kept in a state of high excitement, the echo of which went through Germany, and “Gutenberg! Gutenberg!” was toasted in many a bumper of Rhenish wine amidst this cordial and enthusiastic people.

“And, indeed, even in one who could not boast of belonging to the land in which printing was invented, the universal and mighty effects of this art, when rightly considered, would produce almost a corresponding enthusiasm. It is difficult to look upon the great changes that have been effected during the last four centuries, and which are still in progress everywhere around us, and not connect them with printing and its inventor. The castles on the Rhine, under whose ruins we travelled back from Mentz, perished before the powerful combinations of the people of the towns. The petty feudal despots fell when the burghers had acquired wealth and knowledge. But the progress of despotism on a larger scale could not have been arrested, had the art of Gutenberg not been discovered. The strongholds of military power still frown over the same majestic river. The Rhine has seen its petty fortresses crumble into decay. Ehrenbreitstein is stronger than ever. But even Ehrenbreitstein will fall before the powers of the mind. Seeing, then, what, under God, intellect has done and is doing, we may well venerate the memory of Gutenberg of Mentz.”

XXI.

Modes of making Type.--Varieties of Type.--Cylindrical Ink-distributor.--A Modern Printing Establishment.--Composition Room.--Cases.--Proof-reading.

Let us now glance at the Art of Printing in modern times.

In the making of types, formerly each letter was cast, and then finished one at a time, by hand. Now there is a process of manufacturing the copper face by machinery, the operation being effected by the pressure of a sharp die upon copper. And it is said that a small steam-engine can produce one type a second, or thirty-six thousand in ten hours.

By the more ordinary process, types are made by casting type-metal in a mould, though some of the larger sizes are manufactured from maple, mahogany, or box-wood. The process of casting type, which is the business of the type-founders, requires great skill. In the first place, a punch is cut, of the letter to be formed, except that it is in reverse. The punch being of hardened steel, and having this letter on its point, is then struck into a small piece of copper, which is called the _matrix_, or form of the letter to be cast. The matrix is now fixed in a curiously contrived instrument, termed the mould, attached to a compact hand machine, having in the centre a small furnace of burning coal to keep the vessel of type-metal over it liquid. The workman turns a wheel, thus forcing melted metal into the mould, which quickly shapes and drops one after another the types, perfect, save polishing. In some foundries there are twenty of these machines. In this way not only every letter, but every figure, hyphen, comma, or other mark, must have its punch and matrix, as well as its separate casting. One machine will cast one hundred types a minute.

In the cut, _a_ is the body; _b_, the face, or part from which the impression is taken; _c_, the shoulder, or top of the body; _d_, the nick, designed to assist the compositor in distinguishing the bottom of the face from the top; and _e_, the groove made in the process of finishing.

As soon as a heap of types is cast, a boy takes them away, and breaks off the superfluous piece at the end of each, when another rubs its sides on a stone, to render it smooth. The face, or printing part of the type, is not touched after it leaves the matrix, that giving it all the distinctness and sharpness of which it is capable.

Type-metal is a compound of lead and antimony, in the proportion of three to one, with a small portion of tin, and sometimes a little copper.

In Gutenberg’s day types were necessarily an imitation of the handwriting of the monk-copyists, with little variety and beauty. Now the types which compose an ordinary book-fount consist of Roman CAPITALS, SMALL CAPITALS, and lower-case letters, and _Italic capitals_ and lower-case letters, with accompanying figures, points and reference-marks,--in all about two hundred characters. Including the various modern styles of fancy types, some three or four hundred varieties of face are made. Besides the ordinary Roman and _Italic_, the most important of the varieties are

The smallest body in common use is _diamond_; then follow, in order of size as below--

Until a comparatively recent period, no better method of inking the type had been devised than Gutenberg’s sheep-skin dabbers, or stamping balls. Earl Stanhope, who greatly improved the printing-press, sought by many experiments to supply the ink by means of a revolving cylinder or roller, instead of by the old process. The first impediment was the seam which it was necessary to make down the whole length of the roller; and it could be kept neither soft nor pliable. Providentially these difficulties were overcome by observing a process in the Staffordshire potteries, in which the workmen use what are there called dabbers. These dabbers, composed of glue and treacle, possessed every requisite to hold and distribute the ink, spreading it evenly over the form, besides being easily kept clean and pliable. This method was at once seized upon by ingenious printers, who used it in time in the cylinder form, as is common now in all printing-offices.

Formerly, the word _the_ was indicated by the letters _y_ and _e_, thus--_y^e_; _&_ was used for _and_; with other ungainly abbreviations. Connected letters were also employed; _c_ and _t_ were joined by a curve from the top of one to the other; and when two _s’s_ occurred a long _ſ_ was used.

Instead of ponderous folios and quartos, untitled, unpaged, and unparagraphed; without capitals, and with words so huddled together as to put the reader to his wit’s end to make out the meaning, now we have the beautiful pocket and library editions, convenient in size, clear and intelligible within,--“books that you may carry to the fire and hold readily in your hand,” as Dr. Johnson says.

We have, in imagination, visited Gutenberg’s Printing Rooms, and can vividly recall his rude beginnings and slow and toilsome methods; his printing-press; the wonder of that age,--only turning off a few hundred impressions per diem. With this in mind, let us step into a representative printing establishment of our times,--the “Riverside,” at Cambridge, Mass.; for we wish to get a just idea of the Art of arts. We will first visit the Composition Room.

Ranged down the sides of the room we see scores of laborers industriously at work, each one before a stand or frame, in shape similar to the music-stand at an orchestra. Each frame is constructed so as to hold two pairs of cases, one containing the Roman, the other the Italic letters of the same “fount,” or kind. The upper case has ninety-eight little divisions for the different kinds of type; the lower case has fifty-four boxes, arranged as in the diagram on the opposite page. The “compositor” or “type-setter,” is said to “work at case;” for all the types are sorted in “cases,” or shallow, open and divided boxes; the lower case, or the one nearest him, having all the small letters, points, and spaces to place between the words, and the upper case containing all capitals, accented letters, figures, and characters used as references to notes. Each letter has a larger or smaller box appropriated to it, according as it is seldom or frequently required, while the letters most needed occupy the position most convenient for the compositor.

In the English language, the letter _e_ inhabits the largest box; _a_, _c_, _d_, _h_, _i_, _m_, _n_, _o_, _r_, _s_, _t_, _u_, live in the next-sized apartments; _b_, _f_, _g_, _l_, _p_, _v_, _w_, _y_, dwell in what may be called the bed-rooms; while _j_, _k_, _q_, _x_, _z_, _æ_, and _œ_, double letters, etc., are more humbly lodged in cupboards, garrets, and cellars, as we call the various compartments of the case. The reason of this arrangement is, that the letter _e_ being visited by the compositor sixty times as often as _z_,--his hand spending an hour in the former box for every minute in the latter,--it is advisable that the letters oftenest required should be in the nearest and largest boxes; everything being systematized so as to secure accuracy and despatch.

Behold the busy company. Eyes, fingers, and arms move almost in every direction with steadiness and speed. Some are “distributing;” that is, filling their cases with letters from the type pages of books or papers which have been printed off. This is done with great celerity; the compositor grasps and reads several sentences at once; and without again looking at the letters, his nimbly flying fingers deposit them, one by one, here, there, everywhere, in the square dens to which they belong. Four thousand “ems” per hour can thus be distributed by a good compositor, which is about five times as many as he can “compose,” or set in type; as it is much easier to spend money than to earn it.

Having filled the cases, the workman is ready to “compose.” Standing in front of the cases which contain the Roman letters, and having placed the “copy,” or manuscript from which he is to set, upon the least used part of the upper case, he takes in his left hand the “composing-stick,” made of brass or iron, with a movable side which can be adapted to any width of line by means of a screw. He then commences putting the letters of each word of the copy, with the necessary points and spaces, into the stick, the thumb of his left hand meanwhile securing each addition, from left to right along the line. To facilitate the process, a thin slip of brass, called the “composing-rule,” is placed in the composing-stick at the outset, and pulled out and put on the front of a line when completed. When the stick is full of lines, the compositor, with the fingers of both hands, lifts them out as if they were a mass of solid metal, and places them in the “galley,”--a flat board or piece of zinc or brass, having a ledge at the head, and on one or both sides. To do this last successfully requires practice and skill. And the young printer, although no adept in pastry-making, learns, to his disgust, that there is nothing easier than to make “pi,” as the heap of jumbled type, which has slipped through his untrained fingers, is termed.

The galley having been filled by the contents of successive sticks, and the requisite number of pages to form a sheet being completed, they are arranged upon a bench or “imposing stone,” and surrounded with pieces of wood, or “furniture,” so as to give a suitable margin for each page. The whole being then secured in the “chase,” or iron frame, by means of strips of wood and wedges. This is called “imposing.”

Next, a “proof” is taken by impressing paper upon the type, that the compositor may see and correct the mistakes he may have made in putting the copy into type.

Referring again to the engraving, “Composition room,” in the open space are the “imposing stones,” or “tables,” on which matter in type is placed in order to arrange it for printing; proofs are taken, errors corrected, and the “form” finally made ready for the press.