its own particular piece of metal, and the fact here to be noted is the
exact regularity of _all_ the letters: for although a capital “E” seems
to the eye much taller than a small letter “a,” it will be at once seen
by looking at the illustration, that in one direction, viz., from top
to bottom, these and all the other letters are identical as to size.
Each of the divisions here marked shows the size of the shank upon
which every separate letter is cast, measuring this way |, and that
measurement, which by printers is called the “body,” must be identical
for each and every letter, or else unevenness would be the result.
[Illustration]
In the following specimen, a single letter in each line is made
slightly larger in body than its fellows, the uneven effect being very
apparent.
[Illustration]
To obtain exact regularity was the great difficulty of the early
printers. Letters of wood soon became unmanageable from warping or
shrinkage, being affected even by change of weather. No doubt the
experiment was made of cutting a quantity of letters upon metal shanks,
suited to their width.
Concerning the Mayence Psalter of 1454, the first printed book with
a plain date, we find opinions, even of experts, very various and
contradictory. Some writers, devoid of practical knowledge, declare
all the letters to be separately cut in wood; others, whose opinions
deserve respect, imagine the types to have been (as already suggested)
cut separately, each on a cube of metal. Others, again, while admitting
that these early types were cast in metal, consider that the original
punches, or models, may have been cut in wood, and that matrices were
produced by dabbing these into metal while in a semi-congealed state.
No writers in the infancy of printing deign to notice typefounding,
although in 1508 we meet with the representation of a typefounder at
work, which, however, is far too rude to teach us anything. Whichever
way we turn, perplexity accompanies us, and the wisest course, perhaps,
is to acknowledge that in reality we know very little about the methods
of the _first_ typefounders.
By careful examination of the types themselves, however, a few
facts are ascertained, which, without revealing method, are full
of significance. For instance, Colard Mansion, of Bruges, began to
print with a fine, bold letter, called “bâtarde,” shaped like that
known in England as “German text.” But when his first fount was worn
he made another, every letter of which is slightly thinner in face
than that used in the first printing, owing evidently to the fact
that a single type of each sort had been chosen out, and, after being
trimmed carefully by a graving tool, had been used as a punch to form
a matrix of some sort for the second fount. The same thing exactly
appears in the second casting of Caxton’s No. 2 Type; and here, in
many instances, the matrix has actually reproduced some slight slips
made by the graver in trimming his pattern letters. These facts are
interesting, and as yet indications of no similar process have been
observed among the German printers. But we are as far off as ever from
the knowledge of how the types were cast. From what has been said it is
evident that the early printers had some method of casting types from a
mould which was adjustable as to width; so that while the same mould
would cast a letter as thick as an “M,” or as thin as an “i,” it would
make the “body” of each letter identical. This is the whole secret of
typefounding; that this result was obtained we know, but how, we know
not.
While in all probability we shall never know for certain the processes
used to produce the earliest types, we have nevertheless some few data
from which we may learn something. Mr. Madden in 1875 gave a fac-simile
of a curious accident which he had noticed in a book printed by Conrad
Hamborch, at Cologne, in 1476. A single letter had by some means been
left lying sideways on the face of a page of type, and when the sheet
of paper was pulled, an extensive “batter” took place by the truant
letter being squeezed into the face of the type, the whole shape
of the shank showing very accurately in the impression. Curiously
enough, an identical occurrence was noticed about the same time by
Mr. Bradshaw, in another early printed German book of about the same
date. Again, M. Claudin of Paris possesses a number of actual 15th
century types, which were found during a very dry summer in the bed of
the Saône, opposite to where an old Printing-office is known to have
existed.
We give fac-simile representations of these three instances, and from
them draw several conclusions.
[Illustration: IMPRESSION OF A type IN 1476. (From _Madden_.)]
[Illustration: IMPRESSION OF A TYPE, CIRC. 1470, DISCOVERED BY BRADSHAW.
(From _Reed’s “Old English Letter Foundries.”_)]
[Illustration: PROFILE TRACINGS FROM M. CLAUDIN’S TYPES. OCTOBER, 1883.
(From _Reed’s “Old English Letter Foundries.”_)]
1. We see that there was no standard height for the types. In the types
of M. Claudin hardly any two agree, nor do the types of the two German
books. It would be a necessity that the types of one fount should
all be of one height, and if no other founts were used for the work
there would be no difficulty. This indeed seems the reason why, in the
earliest books, we find little or no mixture of types.
[Illustration]
2. We see that none of the types have any _feet_, and that therefore
the “mould” as invented shortly after was then unknown. The great
improvement by which, in a sliding mould, every letter must be of the
same height has often been attributed to Schœffer--an improvement
of which he now appears to have been utterly ignorant. Unless every
separate letter is made exactly the same height, the result would be
that some would be battered because they stood too high, while others
would not print at all, because they stood too low. To obtain an even
measure for all, the mould was made to give the height in a very
ingenious manner. The diagram shows a type as it appears when thrown
from the mould. _a_ is the top containing the letter which prints in
relief; _b b_ are the “feet” of the type, and _c_ is the superfluous
metal. Now when the piece _c_ is broken off, it will leave _b b_
untouched; these are the feet upon which the perfect type will stand.
To look at a type it does not at first strike one as so very difficult
to make, and yet a good punch-cutter must be a born artist, and a good
mould-maker a model of skilfulness. Without attempting to describe
the modern improvements in casting type by machinery, whereby the
molten lead is pumped up into the moulds, and types ready for use come
streaming out by thousands, we will try to explain the method used in
1689 by Moxon, who was the first English writer to describe the process
with any exactitude. The same methods have been in all probability used
by Caxton’s successors in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth
centuries, and are still resorted to now when any letters have to be
cast by hand.
The four principal requisites in a type foundry are: 1. The Punch. 2.
The Matrix. 3. The Mould. 4. Good Type-metal.
[Illustration: A PUNCH]
1. The Punch. The punch-cutter, with the help of several tools,
engraves each letter upon the end of a short piece of steel. Upon the
beauty, congruity, and accuracy of this operation depends the success
of the type. The art of engraving, reverse-way, a series of punches,
all varying in shape, and yet all agreeing in the thickness and curves
of the various down and up strokes--called by the Dutch “fats” and
“leans”--is very difficult, and when successfully accomplished, the
engraver may truly lay claim to that greatly misused word “artist.” If
in the humour, he can cut two single or one double letter per diem.
[Illustration: A MATRIX.]
2. The Matrix. The steel punch being engraved and hardened, it is held
face downwards upon a small cube of copper, and then with a steady,
an even, and a strong blow from a mallet, the punch is driven some
distance into the softer metal, leaving a sunken impression. This,
after due trimming and adjusting--called “justifying,”--is a matrix
ready for use in the mould.
3. The Mould is a complicated instrument made in two distinct halves,
which fit accurately, or rather lock into each other, leaving an
opening between, into which the melted type-metal is poured. The matrix
which only gives the “face” to a type, is kept close to the bottom of
this cavity in the mould by a spring. The mould, which is imbedded in
wood to prevent the heat reaching the workman’s hand, is held in the
left hand. A small ladleful of melted metal is then poured in, the
workman at the same time giving his hand a jerk upwards, a movement
which drives the metal into the finest parts of the matrix. The workman
then slides the mould open, and the type falls out, only requiring the
superfluous metal to be broken off, and the burr on the edges rubbed
down, to become fit for use. About 5,000 types can be cast in this
manner per day by a skilful workman.
4. The Metal of which type is made consists of Lead, Tin, and Antimony,
in various proportions. The alloy, however, varies considerably in
different foundries. We will only mention in conclusion that the
Antimony is used not so much for the hardness it imparts to the alloy,
as for the anomaly, which belongs also to freezing water, that it
expands in the act of solidifying.
THE COMPOSITOR.
The work of a Compositor in the fifteenth century did not differ in any
essential particular from that performed at present. He received the
types from the founder, placed each sort in its own assigned place in
the “case,” ready for use, and within easy reach. The “case” was an
arrangement of small wooden boxes placed on the slant for convenience
of reaching, each box being appropriated to its own letter. Standing
in front of the case, the compositor held in his left hand a wooden
“composing stick,” in which a rectangular trench had been cut to
receive the letters. Reading and keeping in his mind a few words of his
manuscript, he picked up the types letter by letter and placed them
side by side until first words, and then sentences, were composed. When
the end of a line was reached, and there was no room for more words
and yet some space left, the compositor by placing a little extra space
between the words made the line fill out the stick. This was called
“justifying” the line. Each line was lifted out of the stick and placed
on a wooden board; thus line after line was added until there were
enough for a page.
[Illustration: THE “LAY” OF A PAIR OF TYPE CASES.]
When two or four pages were ready, they were placed upon a flat surface
within an iron frame called a “chase,” the proper distance between each
page being regulated by small blocks of wood suited to the size of
the paper on which they were to be printed. The pages being properly
arranged, were all bound together tightly by means of screws, or by
small wedges of wood called “quoins.” When all was secure, the whole,
now styled a “form,” was lifted up in one piece, and taken to the
press, where a first proof was pulled for the “Reader.” The necessary
corrections having been made by the Compositor, the “form” was ready
for the Pressman.
[Illustration: OLD IRON COMPOSING STICK.]
[Illustration: A FIFTEENTH CENTURY WOODEN COMPOSING STICK.]
[Illustration: A LINE OF COMPOSED TYPE.]
THE PRESSMAN.
[Illustration: OLD WOODEN PRESS. 1508.]
The first printers had but small presses made entirely of wood. Their
power was also slight, and they printed, as a rule, but one page at a
time. The screw was of wood, and worked by a “bar,” much the same as
a modern napkin press. The chief thing was to obtain an even surface
on the “bed” upon which the page of type rested; and, secondly, an
even surface for the “platen,” which was lowered as the “bar” turned
the “screw,” and thus pressed the paper upon the face of the type. The
evenness of impression, as well as of colour, in many old books, shows
that this object was accomplished with great success, and proves what
good mechanicians they were four hundred years ago. It is a task which
we could not now accomplish so successfully were our modern tools and
appliances withdrawn.
The ink was doubtless a sore trial to the early fathers of the press.
It was only by long experience upon block-books and wood engravings
that the working together of boiled oil and lampblack was found to give
that consistency which would be stiff enough not to spue over the sides
of the letters when pressed, and yet not so thin as to run away into
unevenness of surface or want of colour.
There were nearly always two workmen to one press. One “beat” the
“form,” that is, he dabbed two big, soft balls covered with ink over
all the type; the other placed the white paper on the “tympan,” and ran
the whole, by means of a winch, beneath the “platen,” and then made a
strong pull at the bar.
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF A 17TH CENTURY PRINTING OFFICE. (From
_Mallinkrot_.)]
Modern pressmen know nothing of the skill and experience requisite in
olden times to beat a “form” properly. First the balls, which were made
of prepared skins padded with wool, and fastened on to a “stock,” had
to undergo peculiar treatment requiring both experience and sagacity.
Extremes of heat and cold, of dampness and dryness, called out all
the resources of the pressman in order to keep the skins of his balls
in the proper state to receive and distribute the ink evenly. The
distribution was effected by taking a small portion of the ink upon one
ball; then began a series of twists and twirls, and punching of the
balls together, worthy of an acrobat, until the ink, by an elaborate
manipulation of one ball against the other, was evenly spread over
the surface of the “form.” Whilst the “man at the bar” was placing the
sheet of paper in such a position that it should be printed with the
proper amount of margin all round, his fellow or “partner” was dabbing
the ink over the face of the pages. In this he had to be very careful
not to miss any part; if missed, the impression appeared very pale,
and the blunder was called a “friar”; but if blotched with too much
ink, and the face of the type filled up, it was a “monk.” This race of
antiquated pressmen is now almost extinct. One of the last worked in
jacket and hose at an old wooden press at the “Caxton Celebration” in
London, in 1877, where he attracted great notice.
[Illustration: IMPROVED WOODEN PRESS. 1640.]
As a matter of convenience many of the early printers made their pages
just of the size to agree with one page of the MS. The advantage
of this plan was that they had no occasion to compose straight on,
but might print page 8 with page 1, and page 7 with page 2, without
noticing the intermediate pages, thus getting the first sheet of a
quaternion out of the way.
_Signatures_, which are of great use to the binder, were letters and
figures at the foot of certain pages, which served as signs to show
the sequence of the various sheets. They are by no means peculiar to
printed books, nor were they, as some writers assume, invented by the
early printers. The manuscript-writers knew their use long before
Gutenberg, and where a MS. is still intact, nothing having been cut off
the bottom edges, the manuscript signatures may often be recognised at
the extreme edge of the sheet. Sometimes the signature was put in the
back, and so, when bound, became invisible.
_Catchwords_ were the first word from the top of a page repeated below
the bottom line of the previous page, thus assuring the correctness of
the collation.
After a time the pages, especially if small, were arranged so that
four or eight might be printed at a time. A sheet of quarto required
four pages on one side, and four pages on the other side of the sheet.
Octavo had eight pages on one side and eight pages on the other; and
these had so to be placed that when the sheet was folded the pages came
in proper order.
Some of the earliest books were issued without any Title-page, in this
respect agreeing with MS. books.
The omission of head lines to the pages was common among the first
Printers.
The numbering of pages was a development of numbering the leaves, which
last custom is also a peculiarity of early printed books; as is the
custom of manuscript initials at the beginning of Chapters.
Thus in a very imperfect manner the outlines of the laws upon which
the old printers worked have been given; but ten minutes in a
printing-office would explain more than ten chapters of ear-knowledge,
and there is no difficulty nowadays in obtaining permission to see any
of the great printing-offices.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
NUMBERS.
“_Who, departing, left behind them_
_Footprints on the sands of time._”
LONGFELLOW.
[Illustration]
NUMBERS.
It is always a pleasant task to any one who realizes the magnitude of
the debt under which the whole world lies to the printing-press to
enumerate the many great and noble men who have served God and their
country as printers. The biographical difficulty is in the selection,
for every country has its typographical roll of fame, upon which
are inscribed numbers of names of heroes of the Press, who, instead
of courting fortune, have spent laborious and self-denying lives
with the sole object of diffusing that knowledge by which ignorance
is dispelled, and man raised above the beast. Such names should be
household words. An account, necessarily brief, of a few of them is
here attempted.
[Illustration: PORTRAITS OF COSTER, GUTENBERG, FUST, ALDUS AND FROBEN.
(From _Maittaire_)]
HOLLAND.
I believe this to have been the premier country in typographical
development. Some one printed those old Dutch fragments which carry
with them their own certificates of birth; and even if it is difficult
to prove the printer to have been LAURENS JANSZOON COSTER, his works
remain, and “Costeriana” is a well understood and convenient term by
which to designate them.
GERMANY.
Of the celebrated trio, GUTENBERG, FUST and SCHŒFFER, who invented
what Fichet, Rector of the Sorbonne (who also was their contemporary),
calls “a _new_ sort of printing,” Schœffer alone was left after 1468.
Other Germans were however at work then or soon after. PFISTER and
SENSENSCHMIDT were printers at Bamberg; ZAINER was hard at work at
Augsburg; EGGESTEIN and MENTELIN at Strasbourg; and VENDELIN at Spire.
These are well known names; but still better known is that prolific
typographer, ULRIC ZELL, of Cologne, whose workshops seem to have been
a training college for young printers all over Europe, and whose works
are so numerous that no writer has yet mastered their bibliography. So
little cared he for worldly fame that he scarcely ever put his name
to a book printed by him, although the individuality of his types and
the “get up” of his works announce their parentage as plainly as if
certified in a Colophon “Per me Ulric Zell.” Before leaving Cologne,
we will only mention P. DE OLPE, THERHOERNEN and KOELHOFF, all famous
printers. After the first two generations, however, Germany pursued the
new art in a sober manner, no name appearing of surpassing merit until
the middle of the sixteenth century.
“Optime meritus” was the description attached by Rothscholtz
to the portrait of SIGISMUND FEYERABEND (1527-1587), of
Frankfort-on-the-Maine. A learned and able man, with great artistic
taste, he employed the best engravers of the day to illustrate his
books, which became famous throughout all Europe, and are now held in
great esteem by bibliographers.
JOHN PETREIUS, of Nuremberg (1497-1550), is a name which should not
pass unrecorded. He was an excellent typographer, and especially noted
for the correctness with which he printed in Greek and Latin. He was a
practical printer in a very real sense, for he made his own presses,
cast his own types, and manufactured the ink with which he printed.
His extensive correspondence shows that the most celebrated scholars
of the age were in constant communication with him, on terms of close
friendship. When he died they wrote, as was then customary among
Scholars, many classical epitaphs to his memory.
ANTON KOBURGER, too, was very famous, and perhaps the most prolific of
all Germany’s fertile printers. He worked at Nuremberg, where he kept
twenty-four presses employed. All his books are of great excellence,
and he is specially noted for his Bibles, of which he issued twelve
editions.
In the same city ALBERT DÜRER erected a press, at which he printed the
text to his own wonderful engravings. After his death his widow carried
on the business for some years.
In modern times Germany has given us EMMANUEL BREITKOPF, who, about
1750, improved greatly the hand-press, and invented a new set of music
types; while H. BROCKHAUS, at Leipzig, has a European renown as printer
and typefounder.
ITALY.
In this country the printing-press originated, as we have seen, with
SWEYNHEYM and PANNARTZ, first at Subiaco and then at Rome, who from
1465 to 1474 issued many editions of the Classics. In addition to
the famous names already recorded when noticing the introduction of
the art into Italy, ULRIC HAHN, PHILIP DE LIGNAMINE, SILBER, PLANCK
and RIESSINGER, noted typographers of the fifteenth century, deserve
mention. But the lustre of all fades before the fame of the celebrated
ALDUS PIUS MANUTIUS ROMANUS. This great printer was born at Bassanio,
in the Roman States, in 1449. He studied for many years in Rome, and
from that fact assumed the name of Romanus. In 1482 he lived in the
same house as Picus Mirandulus, and afterwards abode with Prince
Alberto Pio, who allowed him to adopt the name “Pius.” Being strongly
impressed with the potentialities latent in the printing-press,
he determined, about 1489, to devote his whole attention to the
publication of classical literature. After organising in Venice the
most complete printing-office hitherto seen, he began his typographical
career by the issue of the Greek Grammar of Lascaris. This was in
1494. In the prologue to that book Aldus declares the determination
of himself and his co-workers in the following noble words:--“We have
determined henceforth to devote all our lives to this good work. I
call God to witness that my sincere desire is to do good to mankind,
as indeed I hope has already been shown by my past life. I will indeed
labour continuously to make constant progress; for although we might
have chosen a tranquil country life, we have preferred a life busy and
full of hard work. A good and learned man will not give himself up to
base pleasures, but to work and to do something worthy. Cato has said
truly, ‘Man’s life may be compared to a sword; use it and it keeps
bright; neglect it and rust will soon be its destruction.’ Therefore
if work seem sometimes irksome to a man, let him be sure of this--that
sloth would be much more detrimental to him than the hardest kind of
labour.”
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF ALDUS.]
These were words from the heart of Aldus, and in this conviction he
worked until his death. In 1501 he established an academy of learned
men and scholars. Constantinople had just fallen into the hands of the
Turks, and among the Christian refugees were many scholars of fame and
repute. To these Aldus offered a safe and quiet asylum, asking from
them in return that a portion of their time should be devoted to the
collation of manuscript copies of the classics, which in the course of
time had become very erroneous through the carelessness of successive
copyists. He also employed them in reading his printed proofs and
revising them for the press. In this way many good scholars lived on
terms of great friendship with Aldus, and were entirely supported by
him. Surely modern lovers of literature owe an incalculable debt of
gratitude to Aldus for preserving by these means an accurate text of
the great classical writers of antiquity.