Part 9

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.

XVI.

Faust’s Discontent.--Conspiracy against Gutenberg.--A Secret kept.--The Lawsuit.--Gutenberg supplanted.--A New Firm.-- Gutenberg’s Sorrow.

It was now in the early part of October, 1455; and of late, Faust, to whom history gives the title of Doctor, had become dissatisfied with Gutenberg, on the ground that returns did not come in fast enough for the money invested. The Bible had been issued, it is true; but as it had been at great expense, and its sale was small, his enthusiasm in regard to it declined; and although once so warm a friend and patron of Gutenberg, he grew cold-hearted and scheming. He was, however, increasingly cordial to Peter Schoeffer, and one day invited him to supper. Flattered by the attention, Peter appeared promptly at the rooms of the Doctor, his toilet made with unusual care. It was in the early evening, and a fire was being kindled in the large room into which Peter was ushered. Madam Faust, an invalid, sat in her arm-chair wrapped in a shawl, to shield her from the chilliness, as a driving rain was pelting without. Christiane, the daughter, a young lady of twenty-five,--and Peter thought he never saw her look more beautiful,--cordially greeted him, and placed a seat for him.

“Good-evening, master!” said Faust urbanely, rising and shaking his hand. “Sit nearer the fire, master; the room will be warm soon.”

In the course of the conversation which followed, Faust said, “Gutenberg gaineth little in inventing. According to my thinking, he cannot be named the same day with yourself, Peter. You devised the ink, the forms for casting type, and the mixture of metals; and these are nearly all that has been invented. I regret to say it, but it would be a good thing for the firm if Gutenberg would even retire, so great is his extravagance. Why, he expended 4,000 florins before the Bible was half done! How he can ever pay me for the sums I let him have, I do not comprehend.”

“Economy is certainly useful,” observed Peter in a general way.

“A just and sensible remark,” replied Faust. “Your printer’s ink shows that you mean what you say; it is admirable, it is so cheap.”

“I am glad you think so, master,” replied Peter, glancing with a proud flush at Christiane.

“I often say to my wife and daughter,” continued Faust, “that if justice were done, you would be the acknowledged inventor, since you are continually making improvements, while he invents nothing, so to speak. Moreover, he is extravagant, and the business will be ridden to death with debt.”

Peter was more than gratified that his efforts were appreciated by the Doctor; but he revered Gutenberg, and was shocked at the proposal to eject him from the business, and he ventured to say,--

“I owe much to Master Gutenberg.”

“True,” replied Faust; “but if you were not dependent, you would acquire more in one week by your unfailing genius than he could impart in a year. The faculty to contrive and discover is in you; and if we were once rid of him, a great revenue would accrue. In due time you would be rich and renowned.”

The fire burned briskly, throwing out a genial warmth; the watch-dog basked on his mat, opening and shutting his eyes in calm content; Madam Faust’s delicate face became pink in the ruddy glow; Christiane’s cheeks were abloom; the kettle sang from its long hook on the crane; a servant glided softly around as she laid the table. Peter fell into a dreamy abstraction.

“If I could even do it honorably,” he murmured half unconsciously.

“Honorably! certainly thou canst,” emphatically returned Faust. “Dost thou think I would counsel thee to do that which would be otherwise? Business is business, and one must look out first for one’s self. Thou mayest have qualms of diffidence in severing the old tie, having served so faithfully under him; but we will be answerable for the change: we will see that he retires from the firm, and thou shalt not be blamed. Agreeing to this, I will insure thee the use of my money to the extent of my means.”

“Wife, I hope you have something palatable for Master Schoeffer,” said Faust, as all were seated by the table, and he helped his guest. Then, returning to the subject of their conversation,--

“Aye, leave me alone in disposing of this matter. I’ve a little case in law, which, for my brother’s sake, I shall set afoot. Gutenberg is culpably careless of money. It is shocking to see one thus making shipwreck of conscience. Of the 2,020 florins which I lent him, he has not returned one obolus. He has not even paid the interest.”

“He has not!” exclaimed Peter. “What can he be thinking of?”

“Of himself,” replied Faust. “As long as he has money, what cares he who goes without? I can only do business in a business way; and I shall immediately call him to account; and, Master Schoeffer, our firm shall be established on a firm basis.”

Poor Peter was too well pleased with Faust’s flatteries, and, yielding to the stronger will of his host, had listened to adroit insinuations against Gutenberg until his heart grew hard. The Doctor was quick at reading character, and knew how to turn Peter’s interest in Christiane to account, and, when his guest rose to leave, said,--

“But, Master Schoeffer, you are by far too industrious. You are worn with work, and need relaxation. You ought at least to devote these magnificent moonlight evenings to recreation. My boat is always at your service, and here’s Christiane--if you cannot find better company--give her an airing on our beautiful river.”

Schoeffer had often raised his eyes from his work to glance at the lovely vision of Christiane, as she flitted by on her morning rambles; but, proud and retiring, had felt the pecuniary distance there was between her father and himself; and though he sometimes fancied she was not indifferent to his admiration, they had not until that evening spoken together. It seemed like a dream; for now in her presence her father had lavished attentions upon him, and predicted for him fame and fortune.

The next morning, Gutenberg, in order to urge on the work, early toiled at the press-work of the Bible; for so slow and laborious was the process that comparatively few copies were completed.

“Good-morning, Peter,” said he, unsuspicious of evil, as Schoeffer entered, and a workman took his place at the press. “You have not told me by what proportion of metals you have secured the requisite strength and softness of type.”

“Excuse me, Master,” replied Peter with half averted face, “let me keep that little secret. I may have to try again.” Gutenberg was grieved by the answer as only a noble and sensitive mind can be by the slights of one who has been nourished like a child. He resumed his work, while the foreboding of the approaching storm fell on his spirit like a dark shadow.

Peter felt ill at ease; and a consciousness of the despicable part he was playing, at times brought the mantling blush of shame to his cheek; but he hardened himself against conviction, by magnifying his own improvements and dreaming of future greatness. Besides, he had really been prejudiced by Faust against Gutenberg, and his mind was much occupied with the image of the amiable and charming Christiane; and he feared to offend the father lest he might not win the daughter.

“When do you propose to pay me?” abruptly asked John Faust of Gutenberg some days later.

“Pay you!” ejaculated the other in great surprise, “I am not aware that I owe you anything!”

“Not aware of it!” angrily retorted the Doctor. “Not aware of the 2,020 florins and other large sums I lent you! I will give you thirty days in which to pay the debt; and if then you fail to do so, I shall take measures to collect it!”

“Hard conditions truly, even supposing I owed you! But the sums you mention were used for our common benefit, and we are in the midst of our first edition of the Bible. I have no way of raising money save from its sale, which it will take months to effect.”

“That is not to the point,” replied Faust. “I want the money, and the money I must have. My brother James advanced it.”

“But how am I to procure it? Would you ruin me?”

“Am I to devise means for you to pay your debts to me?” was the heartless rejoinder. “The money I must have; and if you are an honest man, you will pay it: understand me!” and Faust abruptly left. As he had entered, Peter was missing, and did not soon return. Gutenberg had only Martin and Hanau with him, and was too much overcome to speak. Was it for this that he had climbed almost to the pinnacle of his hopes? Martin was full of sympathy, and even Hanau’s vacillating heart was touched. Gutenberg saw that Faust and Schoeffer were leagued against him. The barbed iron had pierced his roul. Press-work and proof-reading were not to be thought of. He sought his room in the lethargy of despair. The prospect that the printing of the glorious Bible would be arrested, the fear that his beloved art would be torn from him, appalled him. Days passed, the darkness of affliction continued unbroken. Anna feared that he would sink under his load. True wife that she was, she intuitively understood, soothed, and offered him the comforts of faith and trust, and bore his burdens like a very heroine. She was his ministering angel, and at length he emerged from his gloom in a measure and returned to the printing rooms, still oppressed with the thought that he had been cruelly wounded in the house of his friends.

Punctual to the day the Doctor appeared, accompanied by his brother, James Faust; the former having of late partly resumed goldsmithing, although still a member of the firm.

“The month has expired, and I have come for the money!” said Faust.

“I have not been able to raise it,” replied Gutenberg.

“But it is high time that it was paid,” said John Faust. “It is nearly five years since it was borrowed. You promised that we should make our fortunes long before this.”

“I did not name the time of paying any sum,” returned the inventor, “nor did I borrow the money, but it was put into the firm for our mutual advantage. You were, moreover, to pay me eight hundred florins for my personal use, in consideration of my teaching you the secrets of my art. This was not paid me, but was put into the funds of the association for our joint benefit.”

“It was borrowed money, every florin!” cried Faust, “and you are holden for it. If no time was specified for payment, on demand is of course understood.”

“As to the other sums,” continued Gutenberg, “I can give you an exact account of them; but I am not liable for the interest, since you had an equivalent for my use of the money, and indeed appropriated it equally with myself.”

“There is a way of settling that point,” significantly remarked James Faust, as the two took leave; and shortly he instituted a process of law, and procured from the notary public the following document:--