Part 28

Reimboldt, of Ehenheim, testified that he was at the house of Andrew before Christmas, and asked him _what he intended to do with the nice things with which he was busy_. Andrew told him that _they had already cost him more than 500 guilders_, but that he hoped, when the work was perfected, to make a great deal of money, with which he would pay witness, and would also receive a proper reward for his labor. Witness lent him 8 guilders, for he was then very needy. Witness’s wife had also lent money to Andrew. Andrew once came to her with a ring, which he valued at 30 guilders, and which he had pawned to the Jews at Ehenheim for 5 guilders. Witness further said that he knew very well that Dritzehen had prepared two large barrels of sweet wine, of which he gave one-half omen to Gutenberg, and one-half omen to Mydehart. He had also given Gutenberg some pears. On a certain occasion Andrew had requested witness to buy for him two half-barrels of wine, and Dritzehen and Heilmann, jointly, had given one of these half-barrels to Gutenberg.

That the work on which Dritzehen was engaged was of a novel nature may be inferred from the fact that his visitors could not give names to his tools or his workmanship. They speak of _it_, _that thing_, _the nice things_, _the form of four pieces_, etc. Madame Zabern is surprised at the cost of that thing; Reimboldt wonders what he intends to do with these nice things. It is obvious that this mysterious work is not that of polishing stones or gems, nor the making of mirrors, for it cannot be supposed that these witnesses, and one of them a woman, would be ignorant of the purpose of a mirror, or would grossly underrate the value of gems, or polished stones. But there is one witness who testifies that Dritzehen said his enterprise was that of making mirrors. [p387]

Hans Niger von Bischoviszheim testified that Andrew Dritzehen came to him and told him that he was in great need of money, for he was deep in an enterprise which taxed his resources to the utmost. Witness asked him what he was doing. Dritzehen then informed him that _he was making mirrors_. When witness threshed his grain, he took it to market at Molsheim and Ehenheim, and sold it, and gave Dritzehen the money. This witness also corroborated the testimony of Reimboldt as to the giving of wine to John Gutenberg. He took the wine in his own cart to Gutenberg, who was then at Saint Arbogastus.

It may be inferred from this testimony that Dritzehen was still deriving some profit from the old work of making mirrors.

Fritz von Seckingen testified that Gutenberg had borrowed money of him, and that Anthony Heilmann was on his bond. Andrew Dritzehen, who should have done so, evaded this obligation, and never signed the bond at all. Gutenberg paid up the entire sum at the time of the last fair during Mid-Lent.

Gutenberg’s partner gives some curious details about the partnership, and intimates that the _forms_ were of metal.

Anthony Heilmann testified that, when he learned that Gutenberg wished to take Andrew Dritzehen as a third [partner] in the company formed for the sale of mirrors at the fair of Aix-la-Chapelle, _he begged him with importunity to take also his brother Andrew_, if he wished to do a great favor to him, Anthony. But Gutenberg told him that he feared that the friends of Andrew would pretend that this business [or secret] was that of sorcery, an imputation he wished to avoid. Heilmann persisted in his request, and finally obtained a document, which he was obliged to show to the two future partners, and about which they found it necessary to have a consultation. Gutenberg took the document to them, and they decided that they would comply with its terms, and in this way the affair [of partnership] was settled. In the midst of these negotiations, Andrew Dritzehen begged this witness [Anthony Heilmann] to lend him some money, and he then said that he would willingly oblige him, if he would give good security. And he lent Dritzehen 90 pounds, which Dritzehen took to Gutenberg, at Saint Arbogastus. . . . . The witness asked him, “What do you wish to do with so much money? You do not need more than 80 guilders.” Dritzehen replied that he had need for more money; that it was but two or three days before the [vigil of] Annunciation (March 25), on which day he was bound to give 80 guilders to Gutenberg. [Here follows an elaborate explanation of the financial standing and the rights of each partner.] After that, Gutenberg said to this witness that it was necessary that he should draw his attention to an essential point [in the agreement], which was, that all the partners were on a footing of equality, and that there should be a mutual understanding that each should conceal nothing from the others; and that this arrangement would be for the common benefit. The witness was content with this proposition, and communicated it with praises to the other two. Some time after this, Gutenberg repeated his words, and the witness responded with the same protestations as before, and said that he intended to be worthy of the trust. After this, Gutenberg drew up an agreement as the expression of this proposition, and said to this witness: “Consult well among yourselves, and see that you are agreed on this matter.” They did so consult, and they discussed for a long time on this point, and even sought the advice of Gutenberg, who, on one occasion, said: “_There are here now_ [p388] _many things ready for use, and there are many more in progress; the goods you acquire are almost equal to your investment in money. In addition to all this, you get the knowledge of the secret art_.” So they soon came to an agreement, and it was decided that the heirs of the deceased partner should have for that partner’s investment, for the _forms_, and for all the materials, 100 guilders; but they should have it only after the five years. Gutenberg said that this provision would be of great advantage to them, for, if he chanced to die, he would abandon to them everything to which he was entitled, as his share of the property; and yet they would be obliged to give to his heirs only the 100 guilders, as they proposed to do with each other. It was also decided that in case of the death of any one of the partners, the others should not in any wise be obliged to teach, to show, or to reveal the secret to his heirs. It was a provision as favorable to one as to another. . . . This witness also testified that Gutenberg, a little while before Christmas, sent his servant to the two Andrews, to fetch _all the forms_. These forms _were melted_ before his eyes, which he regretted on account of _several forms_. When Andrew Dritzehen died, there were people who would have willingly examined the _press_. He told Gutenberg to send and prevent it from being examined. Gutenberg, in effect, did send his servant to put _it_ in disorder, and to tell the witness that, when he had the time, he wished to talk with him.

The testimony of the last witness is the shortest, and it is remarkable as the only testimony which defines the work.

Hans Dünne, the goldsmith, testified to this effect: within the past two or three years he had received from John Gutenberg about 100 guilders, which sum had been paid to him exclusively _for work connected with printing_.

The testimony of eighteen other witnesses was taken,[233] but, according to Schoepflin, Dünne’s is the last testimony on the official record. The judge gave the following decision:

We, master and counselor, after having heard the complaint and answer of the parties, the depositions and the testimony . . . and after having examined the contract and the agreement. . . Considering that there is a contract which fully establishes the manner in which these arrangements were projected and carried out: We do command that Hans Riffe, Andrew Heilmann and Hans Gutenberg shall make an oath before God that the matters that have transpired are warranted by the contract that has been cited; and that this contract had but one supplementary agreement, under seal, which would have been [p389] agreed to by Andrew Dritzehen if now living; and that Hans Gutenberg shall also take oath that the 85 guilders have not been paid to him by Andrew Dritzehen; and from this time this amount of 85 guilders shall be deducted from the sum of 100 guilders, about which there has been controversy; and he [Gutenberg] shall pay to George and Claus Dritzehen 15 guilders; and, in this manner, the 100 guilders will be paid in conformity to the contract that has been cited.

The oath, according to this form, has been taken before us by Hans Riffe, Andrew Heilmann and Hans Gutenberg, with this qualification on the part of Hans Riffe, that he was not present at the first meeting [of the partners]; but that, as soon as he did meet with them, he had approved of their action or agreement.

The taking of this oath, and the payment of the fifteen guilders by John Gutenberg, terminated the suit in his favor.

The record is enough to give us a clear idea of the character and position, if not of the process, of John Gutenberg. At this time, December, 1439, and for some time previous, Gutenberg was neither in poverty nor in obscurity. He had already acquired a local reputation for scientific knowledge. He did not seek for partners or pupils; they came to him. Among the number we find Hans Riffe, the mayor of Lichtenau, whose confidence in Gutenberg, after three years of partnership, is implied in his testimony. Anthony Heilmann, the lender of money, seems to have been equally satisfied with his brother partner. The action of the judge, in accepting Gutenberg’s oath as conclusive, proves that he was a man of established character. The deference paid to him by all the witnesses shows that he was not merely a mechanic or an inventor, but a man of activity and energy, a born leader, with a presence and a power of persuasion that enabled him to secure ready assistance in the execution of his plans. His reputation had been made by success. George Dritzehen said that his brother had received a good profit from his connection with Gutenberg. The eagerness and the faith of Andrew, the pertinacity with which his brothers pressed their claim to be admitted as partners, the solicitation of Heilmann on behalf of his brother, are indications that the men were sanguine as [p390] to the success of Gutenberg’s new invention. The expected profit was attractive, but it was not the only advantage.

In that century it was not an easy matter to learn an art or a trade of value: no one could enter the ranks of mechanics even as a pupil, without the payment of a premium in money; no one could practise any trade unless he had served a long period of apprenticeship. These exactions hopelessly shut out many who wished to learn; but men who had complied with all the conditions were often unwilling to teach, or to allow others to practise. Many trades were monopolies. In some cases they were protected by legislative enactments, like that accorded to the Venetian makers of playing cards. So far as it could be done, every detail of mechanics was kept secret, as may be inferred from the old phrase “art and mystery,” still retained in indentures of apprenticeship in all countries. One of the consequences of this exclusiveness was that many mechanical arts were invested with unusual dignity.[234] The sharply defined line which, in our day, separates art from trade and mechanics did not then exist.

The testimony shows that Gutenberg had a knowledge of three distinct arts. The one earliest practised, from which Dritzehen derived a good profit, was the polishing of stones or gems. The second, was that of making mirrors. Gutenberg was not the inventor of this art, but he was one of the [p391] first to practise it.[235] The early German mirrors were small, but they had broad frames, and were richly gilt and adorned with carved or moulded work in high relief. Ottley thinks that the press was used for pressing mouldings for the frames of mirrors, and that the lead was used for the metallic face.

The third art is imperfectly described. If Dünne’s testimony had been lost, it would not appear that this art was printing, for there is no mention of books, paper, ink, types, or wood-cuts. The lead, the press, and the goldsmith’s work on things relating to printing, could be regarded as materials required in the art of mirror-making. But “the thing,” and “the nice things,” which provoked exclamations of surprise at their great cost, could not have been looking-glasses.

Dünne said, very plainly, that this art was printing; but Dünne’s testimony could be set aside, and Gutenberg’s connection with typography at the period of this trial could be inferred from other evidence. The thoroughness of the workmanship in the books printed by Gutenberg after 1450 is a thoroughness which could have been acquired only by practice. Before he began this practice he must have devoted much time to experiment and to the making of the tools he needed. No inventor, no printer can believe that the skill [p392] he subsequently showed as a printer could have been attained by the labor of a few months or years. If it is also considered that Gutenberg was poor, and that he collected the money he needed with great delay and difficulty, the doubt may assume the form of denial. It is a marvel that he was so well prepared at the end of the ten years which Zell says were given up to investigation.

It would be gratifying to know the form in which the idea of typography first presented itself to Gutenberg; but there is in this case, no story like that of Franklin and the kite, or of Newton and the apple. Zell, in the _Cologne Chronicle_, says that the first prefiguration of Gutenberg’s method was found in the _Donatuses_ published in Holland before 1440. That the xylographic _Donatus_, the only block-book without cuts, was the forerunner of all typographic books, may not be denied. That some stray copy of a now lost edition of the book may have suggested to Gutenberg the superior utility of typography is possible, but the suggestion was that of the feasibility of a grander result by an entirely different process. For, although typography took its beginnings in an earlier practice of xylography, it was not the outgrowth[236] of that practice. It took up the art of printing at a point [p393] where xylography had failed, and developed it by new ideas and new methods. Typography was an invention pure and simple. In the theory and practice of block-printing, there was nothing that could have been improved until it reached the discovery of the only proper method of making types.

It may have been from his experience in the melting and pouring of lead, in the engraving of designs for the frames of his mirrors, in the use of a press for the moulding of the designs for these frames, that Gutenberg derived his first practical ideas of the true method of making types. Whatever the external impulse which led Gutenberg to printing, it was so strong that it compelled him to abandon the practice of all other arts. After this trial we hear no more of him as a maker of mirrors, or a polisher of gems.

The record of the trial before Cune Nope is not the only evidence we have that Gutenberg’s unknown art was that of typography. Wimpheling, one of the most learned men of his age, and nearly contemporary with Gutenberg, gives the following testimony concerning early printing in Strasburg:[237]

In the year of our Lord 1440, under the reign of Frederic III, Emperor of the Romans, John Gutenberg, of Strasburg, discovered a new method of writing, which is a great good, and almost a divine benefit to the world. He was the first in the city of Strasburg who invented that art of impressing which the Latin peoples call printing. He afterward went to Mentz, and happily perfected his invention.

In another book, in which Wimpheling pays compliment to the intelligence of the people of Strasburg, he writes:

Your city is acknowledged to excel most other cities by its origination of the art of printing, which was afterward perfected in Mentz.

The _Chronicle of Cologne_[238] is as explicit as to date, but not as to place. It specifies 1440 as the date of the discovery of printing “in the manner that is now generally used.” [p394]

The evidence of the witnesses on the trial agrees with the testimony afforded by the chronicles: it is plain that Gutenberg had not perfected his invention in 1439. From his lonely room in the ruined monastery of Saint Arbogastus, to which he retreated for the sake of secrecy, Gutenberg gave work to Dünne, the goldsmith, to Saspach, the joiner, and to Dritzehen, his old workman. It would seem that they were not producing work for sale, but were making tools which required a great deal of labor. Dritzehen worked night and day, Madame Schultheiss helping him. At the death of Dritzehen, the work expended on the art had cost a great deal of money, but it was still incomplete. The testimony shows that it had been intended that the salable work to be produced by the partnership should be exposed for sale at the great fair of Aix-la-Chapelle in the summer of 1439. The postponement of this fair[239] to the year 1440 was a grave disappointment. If the object of the partnership was the making of popular books of devotion, we can understand the reasonableness of the hopes of great profit when the books should be laid before the pious pilgrims. The sudden death of Andrew Dritzehen was the occasion of more delay. Gutenberg, fearing that the public, or George Dritzehen, would get possession of the secret, melted the forms and suspended the work. Then followed a litigation which lasted nearly one year, during which period it seems no work was done.

There are many conflicting opinions about the character of the printing so obscurely mentioned in the testimony of the witnesses. Schoepflin says it was block-printing. In the four pieces lying in the press, he sees four pages of engraved [p395] blocks; in the two buttons, which Dr. Van der Linde says are improperly translated by him as two screws, he finds a screw chase that held the four pages together. This conjecture is in every way improbable. All the processes of block-printing should have been as well known at that time in Strasburg as they were in Venice, Augsburg and Nuremberg. Something more novel than this form of printing would have been required to secure the coöperation of shrewd men like Riffe and Heilmann. The enthusiasm of Dritzehen, and the eagerness of all parties to learn the new art, and to have a share in its profits, cannot be satisfactorily explained by the conjecture that this art was simple block-printing.[240] [p396] Gutenberg may have begun his experiments in typography by the use of engraved types or punches of wood;[241] but he must have soon discovered the defects and limitations of xylography and have reached the unalterable conclusion that useful types could be made of metal only.

There is no plausibility in the theory of Fischer, that the thing of four pieces was a form of four pages or columns of types of wood. Nor is there any evidence that Gutenberg had then done any practical work. The practice of printing in Dritzehen’s house cannot be inferred from the presence of a press, for there is no notice of paper, printed sheets or books. It does not seem that there was a mystery about the press. It was not the press, but what was in it, concerning which the people were curious. It was the imperfectly described implement of four pieces which gave the partners anxiety. [p397]

Nor was the tool of four pieces the only object of value. Gutenberg assured the partners that the things had cost him nearly as much as he asked of them for their shares in the enterprise, but more were to be made. In the event of the death of a partner, his heirs were to be paid their claim on the _forms_ and tools. When Dritzehen died, Gutenberg sent for _all the forms_, which were melted before his eyes,[242] which act he subsequently regretted on account of the _forms_. It was a rash act, but Gutenberg’s fears were aroused, and he preferred to destroy the tools rather than allow George Dritzehen to get a knowledge of his secret.

In the practice of printing, the word form means a collection of composed types, arranged in readable order, secured together as one piece, in an iron band or chase, and prepared to receive impression.[243] In all printing offices it has this meaning. That the forms so frequently mentioned in this record of the trial were of metal is clearly implied in the statement [p398] that Gutenberg melted them. These forms, or formens, were, without doubt, implements connected with typography; but whether they were types, or matrices, or moulds, or a collection of types, is not so clear. If they were types, it will seem strange that they were not accurately described as letters of metal by some of the witnesses who saw them. If we regard them as matrices, they may have been “the nice things” alluded to by Reimbolt, the use of which he did not understand.[244] It is possible that Dritzehen was making matrices and fitting them to the mould. If the _forms_ were matrices, they and the punches could have cost five hundred guilders.

If the “nice things” were matrices, there must have been a type-mould, and it was this mould which was the key to the invention. The mould was the only implement connected with typography which would at once lay open to an intelligent observer the secret of making types. Of all his tools, this was the one that had received the greatest amount of care and labor, and it should have been the one that Gutenberg would be anxious to conceal. It may be supposed that the thing of four pieces that was opened by two buttons was the mould.[245] Why it should have been kept in or under the press cannot be explained. But if Dritzehen was fitting up matrices, it was proper that he should have the mould at hand. The conjecture that the thing of four pieces was a type-mould, is not free from difficulties, but it seems the only one that makes intelligible the action of the witnesses. [p399]