Part 4

“Ah,” said he, “but it is not because I have returned with much money, although I may have done as well.” And undoing a wrapper he produced the “Historia Sancti Johannis Evangelistæ,” or “History of St. John the Evangelist,” which he had obtained in exchange for cuts. “What think you of this?” said he. “See, it is written on vellum with illuminated initials,[2] and has sixty-three pages. And observe, it is copied with a pen: some patient monk has toiled over this many a weary day in his cell. But I have a plan which I think will be an improvement, which is to engrave it as I did the picture.”

[2] _Vellum._ A finer kind of parchment or skin, rendered clear and white for writing. _Illuminated initials._ Capital letters, commencing a chapter or paragraph were said to be illuminated when made large and painted in colors; often being ornamented with delicate devices of flowers, birds or animals. The monks were skilled in this adornment of books.

“Engrave a book! It would be delightful to have one made by thine own skill!”

“Yes, and when once the blocks are engraved for the book,--a block for a page, sixty-three blocks, I can impress a score of books as well as one copy.”

“And thou canst sell books as well as the monks!” cried Anna joyfully. “Neither wilt thou be shut up in a cloister a year to copy one small book; but I wouldn’t wonder when the blocks are prepared, if thou couldst make a book in a day, even saving time and earning money!”

“A likely matter truly! but we must not build air-castles!” Sage advice for him to give who was himself a castle-builder, as are all enthusiastic people,--may they never be less; for what would be done in this work-a-day world without the healthful stimulus of the illusions of hope?

A small table in the sitting-room was at evening a work-bench. It was neatly covered in the daytime, and Anna’s work-box was on it. But the inventor found it necessary to seek entire seclusion for some of his processes, and secured, it is said, a fitting place in the ruins of the St. Arbogast Monastery, abandoned to the moles and the bats save the part which was inhabited by the poor people of the suburbs of Strasbourg; and there, in a forsaken cloister, he established his secret study and work-shop, whither he withdrew whenever his presence could be spared from the front shop. Not even to Anna did he divulge his hidden work. She was content, knowing that in good time she would know the result.

Evening came, and in the quiet home-room the inventor commenced engraving the first page of the “History of St. John,” carefully tracing the letters on the smooth surface of the block, and imitating the most approved copyist’s hand. As Anna watched him, she thought them perfect, and with good reason.

Toil on, busy worker! Glorious things will follow thy labor!

VI.

Unwelcome Visitors.--Unjust Demand.--A Compromise.--Secret Firm.--A Removal.--Teaching the Workmen.--Block Printing.--Success.

Day after day Gutenberg busied himself with his associates in various labors, except at intervals, when he engraved blocks, enlivened by the sprightly presence of Anna, or pursued his experiments in the recesses of the monastery.

“How famously you get on!” said Anna, one evening, as she counted his pile of finished blocks while he wrought at his engraving.

There was a knock; and, in an instant, to the consternation of both, Dritzhn and Hielman opened the door, and, without ceremony, entered. Gutenberg was surprised with block and graving tools in hand, and the “Historia” open before him.

“Ah! what have we here?” asked Dritzhn, stepping up to him; “something new in mystery?”

“Excuse me,” replied the inventor, coloring, “if I waive an explanation for the present.”

“But,” said Hielman, drawing nearer and speaking in excited tones,--for he was a close man in money matters,--“thou didst engage to teach us thy arts, if we would pay thee.”

“It is true,” answered Gutenberg, “that I did covenant to show thee my arts of the lapidary and mirror business, but that agreement did not cover other arts which are only partly known to myself.”

“Be persuaded to do the fair thing, good master,” said Dritzhn.

“In paying thee,” added Hielman, “we understood that thou wouldst teach us all thy arts. We want our money’s worth.”

“I have found it necessary,” observed Gutenberg, not appearing to notice the remark, “to be favored with quiet and seclusion in pursuing any new branch of business, and I cannot succeed in this unless it be kept a profound secret. Still money is needed to carry it on.”

This only made Dritzhn more eager to learn the nature of the enterprise; and he answered, “If that be all, we can keep thy secret, furnish funds, and perhaps help thee in the work.”

Gutenberg, with many misgivings, finally decided to trust them, first obtaining from each a formal pledge of secrecy. Then producing his cards and cuts, he explained, step by step, the process of making them. His callers expressed great interest and admiration.

“I can be of service in executing the figures,” said Dritzhn, “as I am a draughtsman.”

“You could assist me in that direction,” said the inventor; “but I am now mostly engaged in engraving tablets for books.”

“Making books by engraving!” exclaimed Dritzhn. “When will the marvels cease?”

“I have invented a way of imprinting books by a process unknown to any others. Only block picture-books with inscriptions have approached the idea.” Gutenberg then showed the “Historia” on which he was working.

“Master,” cried Dritzhn in amazement, “a man of such genius will surely realize a fortune! Why, it would take the wages of a common artisan two years to buy such a work; and you have a large part of it done in a few weeks.” But Hielman, afraid of new projects, was less sanguine.

“This will succeed,” urged Dritzhn aside to him, “and we shall want a share in it. Since also we know the secret, and have bound ourselves by an oath, we cannot honorably turn back. It only remains to aid Master Gutenberg to the extent of our power.” Then turning to Gutenberg, he said,--

“But will not this art do away with copying?”

“Not at once,” replied Gutenberg. “But if the copyists should get a hint of what this invention can do, they might seek to crush it. Moreover, the art is only begun; I learn something new day by day; and I have confided my secret to you, that as a firm we may bring it to perfection.”

The sequel of the interview was that a written contract was drawn up by Gutenberg, who was a ready writer, and signed by them all, binding the parties for the term of five years on two conditions:--

First, that they pay Gutenberg the sum of two hundred and fifty florins; one hundred immediately, and the remainder at a certain fixed period. Second, that if any one of the partners should die during the time of the copartnership, the survivors should pay to his heirs the sum of one hundred florins, in consideration of which the effects should become the property of the surviving partners.

Other items followed; and, above all, the profoundest secrecy was enjoined.

Business, however, went on as usual through the day; and a customer chancing in Gutenberg’s work-shop would not have dreamed of the existence of the secret firm to prosecute the new art. Dritzhn wrought as if in deep thought; but if at times he seemed to loiter, he made out his quota of work ere the day’s decline. Hielman polished as usual on mirrors; and Riffe, although burdened with the secret, kept at work with his old cheerful whistle.

When evening came, a second conference was held at the home-room of Gutenberg’s house, when Riffe also took the oath of secrecy, and signed the contract. But Gutenberg was oppressed with foreboding. Since his hidden occupation of the engraved blocks had been discovered by Dritzhn and Hielman, he saw that others also might find it out. On mentioning his anxiety to the firm, Dritzhn at once replied that the business ought to be removed to a more retired place, and made offer of his own upper room. After examination, Gutenberg decided to make the change, and a part of the engraving apparatus was forthwith carried to that place. In order, however, to cover appearances, and also meet expenses, it was judged best for Hielman and Riffe to continue the lapidary and mirror department, as usual, in the front shop, while Gutenberg and Dritzhn were to spend a portion of their time in engraving blocks in the upper room of the latter, although some of the work was still done, as before, at the inventor’s cottage. This arrangement seemed necessary to make the twofold occupations thrive. Hielman and Riffe still needed much instruction in gem and mirror polishing, and they had also the advantage of regular lessons in engraving, to which they were entitled by the articles of agreement.

Gutenberg’s “Historia” was necessarily somewhat hindered, as his attention was much occupied with teaching Dritzhn in engraving blocks. As, however, the latter had skill in drafting, he very readily caught the ideas indispensable to the art,--accuracy in drawing the figure, and a careful management of the graver’s tool in cutting away the block so as to leave the lines raised. Dritzhn made good progress in figure-cutting on card-engraving, which was the first lesson Gutenberg gave him; but in attempting to engrave letters, he was not so skillful.

“That department of the art can only be acquired by patience and labor,” said Gutenberg to his pupil. “I therefore advise that you continue on the figures.”

Thus pleasantly they wrought together, Dritzhn on figures, and Gutenberg on letters, for he still pursued the “History of St. John.” Hielman and Riffe were quite awkward as pupils in the art. In the first place, neither had any idea of drawing, and Gutenberg was under the necessity of teaching them the elements of that science; then they could not read, and he must needs initiate them into the mysteries of the alphabet. Anna came to the rescue, or poor Gutenberg would have despaired of making them engravers. She taught one his letters, while her husband instructed the other in drawing straight and curved lines. Anna, after a time, hit upon a short route to accomplish both together, and required her pupil to draw a letter as soon as he had learned it. In this way, what with the efforts of Gutenberg, and the suggestions of Anna, they soon made perceptible progress, and in due time were familiar with the alphabet, and could draw it passably well. While occupying most of their time with the lapidary and mirror business, they still gave several hours each day and evening to the new art.

When Gutenberg advanced Riffe and Hielman to engraving the letters which he had drawn, they sadly blundered.

“What a world of patience you had, master, when you worked through all this alone!” said Hielman, showing his block, on which, after much painstaking, he had cut a Y in the shape of a well-sweep.

“It is a wonder to me, master, how thou didst discover this art, when it is such a labor for us to learn it!” exclaimed Riffe; and he held up a B which looked more like a camel.

“There’s nothing like trying,” said Gutenberg pleasantly, as he went through the process of drawing another letter for each. It was, however, a source of great annoyance to him to have so many blocks ruined by his workmen; and he bethought him of a way to prevent this waste, which was to give them small strips of wood of little value, on which to make their experiments in cutting letters, which may have led to the idea of movable type. Meanwhile, as he had time, he progressed with his book. By dint of patient plodding, Dritzhn finished the figures of the work, when Gutenberg had accomplished the more toilsome labor of graving letters, page by page.

The blocks of the “Historia” were completed, and great was the joy of all parties,--none being more enthusiastic than Anna, who thought doing the work so quickly, scarcely less than a miracle.

“Now is my time to help,” said she; “I can take the impressions!” Her husband smiled, and Dritzhn looked incredulous, which made her more eager to be of use in expediting the issue of the famous “History.” Gutenberg gladly accepted her proffer of aid, saying,--

“We welcome thy assistance, my dear, and we shall all be very busy. To-night we must fold and cut the paper into the right size for pages, and also grind the umber and make the ink, and to-morrow we will commence impressing the leaves.”

Thus they wrought as busy as bees, and it proved to be rare honey that they stored in those days of patient toil,--honey for the world, which will never be exhausted for all time, as our sequel will show.

Gutenberg and Dritzhn impressed the pages from the engraved blocks through the early part of the next day, while Riffe and Hielman, as usual, wrought in the front shop at the old trades. In the afternoon Dritzhn relieved the two workmen, while they with Anna assisted Gutenberg. After a little practice, she could take impressions as well as her husband; and when she wearied of this, she made a strong paste, and under his direction commenced pasting the blank sides of the leaves together, for they were printed only on one side. In a few days they had a number of “Histories” bound and ready for sale. There was great rejoicing among those early workers over the beautiful books which were the result of their toil!

Now came the question how to dispose of them. The firm finally concluded to exhibit them two or three at a time in the front shop, and try the effect on customers.

Gutenberg, remembering the experiment with pictures, said little. He was, however, hopeful that they could in some way make a market for the edition in the course of a few weeks. If so, he felt that it would be a triumph of block-printing over copying.

But he was doubtful of the project of exhibiting them in the way proposed, as the more books sold, the less jewelry and mirrors. At length Peter Schoeffer, a young man studying in Father Melchoir’s school in an ante-room of the Cathedral, was engaged to offer them for sale to the few learned people in the place; for few, comparatively, knew how to read.

As the books were valuable, and only small sales could be expected, he was permitted to take only one at a time. The first week he sold two copies; and as one also was sold from the shop, the firm took courage--it was a success! At this rate the edition would speedily be disposed of.

VII.

Small Receipts.--Printing the “Donatus.”--“Ars Memorandi.”--“Ars Moriendi.”--An Interesting Fact.--Extract from “Ars Moriendi.”

As time passed, the firm occasionally sold a copy of the “History,” but receipts were smaller than had been anticipated. Few of the common people could read,--its circulation was therefore mostly confined to the priests and nobility. The former rarely needed to purchase it, as each one could, if he desired, secure one of the kind by copying; and trouble, expense, and time were involved in gaining access to the higher classes.

Gutenberg consoled himself by reasoning that his books would be called for gradually, and that he must as soon as possible issue another work suitable for a more accessible class. These were the youth in the Cathedral, studying for the priesthood, who were under the necessity of copying their “Donatuses,” or manuals of grammar. Why should he not prepare an edition for their use? He would be sure of some customers, and there would be no risk in trying his hand at a “Donatus.” The firm at once went to work upon the manual, which was one of the first school-books adapted to beginners. The children and youth of four hundred years ago had few aids in study, and few were educated. The voice of the living teacher, usually a priest, served to make passable the otherwise inaccessible paths of learning.

As the busy company wrought on the “Donatus,” the curiosity of certain neighbors was excited respecting the nature of their evening employment, and it was deemed advisable more fully to remove the hidden art to Dritzhn’s shop, from which printing-office the new manuals of grammar in due time were issued. They sold more readily than the “History,” and the edition of fifty copies was soon exhausted. Many of the scholars in the Cathedral school bought them; and for a time Gutenberg and his firm were busy in issuing and Peter Schoeffer in circulating the work. The lapidary and mirror arts were still pursued by turns, although very naturally the firm felt more interest in the fascinating occupation of imprinting. After a few weeks the demand for the “Donatus” almost ceased, the pupils in Strasbourg and vicinity having been supplied, and the means of communication with other places being infrequent. There were no newspapers, and none of the methods of advertising now in vogue with publishers. Still the company was not discouraged; the sale of one book was a greater event then than is now the sale of many thousands.

The call for the “Donatus” declining, the inventor turned his attention to a work of quite a different description, which was a great favorite with the more devout monks. This was the “Ars Memorandi,” or “Art of Remembering.” We have no means of ascertaining the size of this book; but it could not have been large, as almost in immediate connection with it were engraved the blocks of a religious and devotional work called “Ars Moriendi,” or the “Art of knowing how to Die.” The numerous engravings illustrating these books, Gutenberg seems to have omitted.

These were comparatively new works, the first book having only been written in 1420, followed by other copies in 1430. Gutenberg’s block edition was a great improvement on these, and soon became popular, being suited to the religious wants of the people.

It is an interesting fact that the second book, “Ars Moriendi,” continued to engage attention for many years. It is also probable that it was the identical work on which Caxton, the first English printer, was engaged the last day of his life, the 15th of June, 1490, when he was about eighty years of age. The work at that time bore the title “The Art and Craft to know well to Die.”

If so, we have the inventor of printing himself, when comparatively a young man, issuing this important work, and the first English printer crowning his life-labors in bringing it before the world. The thoughtful and religious tone of this book may be gathered from the following passage from the preface:--

“When it is so that what a man maketh or doeth, it is made to come to some end, and if the thing be good or well made, it must needs come to good end; then by better and greater reason every man ought to intend in such wise to live in this world, in keeping the commandments of God, that he may come to a good end. Then out of this world, full of wretchedness and tribulations, he may go to heaven unto God and his saints, unto joy ever durable.”

VIII.

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!”