would be enormous, and the multiplicity of moulds [p057] would lead
to fatal faults in inaccuracy of body. Exactness of body can be had
only by casting all the characters in one mould, but this mould must be
made to suit all the matrices. The matrices must be frequently changed,
but with such nicety that the types of every letter shall be uniform
in height, in line, and truly square. Any mechanic will see that the
construction of an adjustable mould is work of difficulty, and that the
fitting-up of a set of matrices for one mould is a very nice operation.
[Illustration: Figure 1. Type-Mould, without Matrix and with a Type in
the Mould.]
[Illustration: Figure 2. One Half of the Mould.]
[Illustration: Figure 3. The Other Half of the Mould.]
The Type-Mould of modern type-founders consists of two firmly screwed
combinations of a number of pieces of steel, making right and left
halves. In the first illustration of the mould, Figure 1, the halves
are properly connected. In this form it is not practicable to represent
the interior, but it may be understood that the interior faces fit each
other snugly in every part but the centre, in which provision is made
for a small opening which can be increased or diminished in a lateral
direction only. One end of this opening is closed by the matrix; the
other end is the jet, or the mouth-piece through which the melted metal
is injected. In this opening, which is indicated by the letter H in the
cut, the body of type is cast. The matrix which forms the face of the
type is snugly fitted between the jaws on [p058] either side of this
letter H. It does not appear in the cut; for the matrices, although
indispensable parts, are always looked upon by founders as attachments
to the mould.
Figures 2 and 3 represent the interior sides of the mould. For the
purpose of clearer illustration, the half of the mould, Figure 2, is
shown reversed, or upside down; but when this half is connected with
its mate, the two halves appear as they do in Figure 1. These two
halves differ from each other only in a few minor features. They are
so constructed that, when joined, the sides which determine the body
of the types are in exact parallel, and at a-fixed and unalterable
distance from each other. In Figure 2, the ridges which make the nicks
are noticeable; in Figure 3 the cast type is shown as it appears before
it is thrown from the mould, with jet attached.[12]
Although the two sides of the mould are fixed so as to be immovable in
the direction which determines the body of the type, they have great
freedom of motion and nicety of adjustment in the direction which
determines its width. They can be brought close together, so as to make
a hair space, or can be fixed wide apart, so as to cast a three-em
quadrat, but they always slide on broad and solid bearings, between
guides which keep them from getting out of square.
In the construction of the mould and adjustment of the matrices, every
care is taken to insure exactness of body. The illustration on page
52 may be again referred to as an example of the necessity for minute
accuracy. We there see that the feasibility of typography depends
upon the geometrical exactness of its tools, and that types are of no
practical use, if they cannot be readily combined and interchanged.
The casting or founding of types, in a mould constructed like that of
the engraving, is now accomplished by a complex machine, the invention
of Mr. David Bruce, Jr., of New-York city, and by him patented in the
year 1838. Before this date [p059] all types were cast by hand, from a
hand-mould, and by a process which received no noticeable improvement
for two centuries. The following illustration, taken from an engraving
published by an early English type-founder,[13] can be offered as a
substantially correct representation of the method of casting which was
practised by all type-founders in the first quarter of this century.
[Illustration: Type-Casting as Practised in 1683.
[From Moxon.]]
The type-caster took in his left hand the mould, which was imbedded in
a wood frame, and shielded about the jet, [p060] to protect him from
accidental splashes of melted metal. Then, with his right hand, he took
from the melting pot a spoonful of the hot metal, which he quickly
poured into the jet or mouth of the mould. At the same instant, with a
sudden jerk, he threw up his left hand, so as to aid the melted metal
in making a forcible splash against the matrix at the bottom of the
mould. This sudden jerk or throw was needed, in the casting of small
letters, to make a good face to the type. If it was not done, the metal
would cool too quickly, and would not penetrate the finer lines of the
matrix. Long practice enabled the type-caster to do this work with
apparent carelessness; but the trick of making this throw or cast with
the left hand, at the right time and in the right manner, was slowly
acquired—by some strong men, never acquired at all. In all cases,
hand-casting was hard work. To face types, writes August Bernard, the
type-caster must make the contortions of a maniac. It was slow work.
Fournier the younger, writing in 1764, says that the performance of
the type-caster of ordinary book types would vary from two thousand to
three thousand types per day. When this throw was made, the type-caster
removed the matrix with his right hand, and, giving the mould a toss,
threw out the type. The matrix was then replaced on the mould, and the
operations which have been described were repeated in the casting of
every subsequent type.
It must be confessed that this method of making types is not simple. It
is too circuitous in its processes, and too complex in its machinery,
to be regarded as the fruit of the first lucky thought of the inventor.
It is a scientific process, manifestly the result of thought and
protracted experiment. In its series of impressions, it is an emblem of
the art which it has created. The counter-punch impresses the punch,
the punch impresses the matrix, the melted metal impresses the matrix
and mould. One model letter on the punch is the instrument by which
millions of types are made; one letter on a type may serve in the
printing of millions of words. [p061]
The punch, matrix and mould are old inventions, but they are still in
use in all type-foundries. They have not been changed in any important
feature since they were explicitly described and illustrated for the
first time, by Joseph Moxon. As Moxon did not claim these implements
as his own invention—as we find in the writings of the authors who
preceded him notices of the art of cutting letters, and mention of
tools “which they called matrices,” and of “making types in brass”
[matrices or moulds], we have some reason for the belief that there has
never been any radical change in the processes of type-making.
Unfortunately, we have no minute description of the art of type-making
as it was practised before Moxon. Those who were competent to describe
the work, refrained from description, either because they thought that
the subject was trivial or technical, or because they intended to
conceal the process. The authors who did undertake to describe the art
were incompetent; they did not thoroughly understand the subject, and
have treated it slightingly and incorrectly. But we are not entirely in
the dark.
Our most authentic information is contained in a queer little book by
Jost Amman, which is known to modern book-collectors as _The Book of
Trades_,[14] and which was published at Frankfort-on-the-Main, in the
year 1564. The title of the book, with text in German, describes it as
_Hans Sachs’ Correct Description of all Arts, Ranks and Trades_, with
printed [p062] illustrations. The descriptions, so called, which were
written in verse, by Hans Sachs, the cobbler poet, are of no value
for this inquiry: they describe nothing. To men seeking trustworthy
information about art or manufactures, all the merit of the book is
in its numerous engravings on wood, which may be accepted as faithful
illustrations of the methods and usages observed during the sixteenth
century.
[Illustration: Type-Casting as Practised in 1564.
[From Jost Amman.]]
Among the illustrations is the _schriftgiesser_, or the type-founder,
with the accessories of his art about him. We see the furnace for
melting the metal, the bellows, the tongs and the basket of charcoal.
That the man is founding types is apparent, not only from the bowl of
cast types on the floor before the stool, but from his position with
spoon in hand. Here we begin to note differences. The type-caster of
1683 stands up to his work; the _schriftgiesser_ of Amman is sitting
down. The mould of 1683, like the hand moulds that were in use forty
years ago, is provided with a wire spring, to keep the matrix firmly
in position; the mould of Amman has no spring of iron wire and it is
nested in a pyramid-shaped box, which seems to be used as a protection
to the hand. How the mould was nested in the box, how the matrix was
attached to the mould, how the cast types were dislodged from the
mould, is not shown in the engraving. We have to regret [p063] that
the wood-cut is so small, and that Amman’s engraving is so coarse.
There are some indications that, in its more important features, the
mould of Amman was like that of Moxon. The little opening in the side
of the mould which rests on the shelf may have been an opening for the
insertion of matrices. That metal matrices were used is dimly shown by
the three little bars resting on the top of a small nest of drawers,
which has the appearance of a chest for punches and matrices. The
pyramidal box was not only the nest of the mould, but served also as a
support for the matrix. The sitting position of the caster permitted
him to give the box a throw or jerk; with his right hand at liberty, he
could pull out the mould and dislodge the type in the usual manner.
There are other features in Amman’s wood-cut requiring notice. Upon the
lower shelf are two crucibles, which were put in use, probably, when
making the alloy of type-metal. The use of the sieves is not apparent;
they may have been needed to sift the sand for the sand moulds, in
which bars of type-metal were made, and in which large initial types
were cast. The crucibles, the furnace, the mould, the position of the
type-caster, and the single types with jets attached, are enough to
prove that types were cast, one by one, by the process subsequently
described by Moxon. It is plain that the elementary principles of
type-founding were as clearly understood in 1564 as they are at this
day.
The most obscure feature in this wood-cut is the matrix. The three
little bits resting on the chest of drawers are too rudely cut to
enable us to decide positively that they are matrices. We infer that
they are from their surroundings and from the apparent necessity for
such implements; but it would be more satisfactory to know, and not
infer, that the early type-founders used matrices of hard metal.
There are no engravings of type-founding of earlier date than this cut
of Amman’s, but we have some evidences which point to a very early use
of moulds of hard metal. We find in many of the books of the sixteenth
and fifteenth centuries [p064] occasional allusions to type-making.
Considered separately, they are of little importance; considered
together, they are ample proof that types were made of fluid metal in
moulds and matrices of brass, not less than one hundred years before
Amman made his wood-cuts.
In 1507, Ivo Wittig put up a stone to the memory of John Gutenberg, on
which he had engraved that Gutenberg was the first to make printing
letters _in brass_. We do not find in any record of authority
that Gutenberg printed books by types cut out of brass. There are
difficulties connected with the cutting and use of brass types which
would make such an assertion incredible. If we accept the literal
translation of the Latin epitaph, and supplement it with a little
knowledge of type-founding, we shall then understand what Wittig
meant—that Gutenberg, by using melted metal, made types in brass moulds.
Trithemius, writing in 1514, observes that Gutenberg and Fust
“discovered a method of founding the forms of all the letters, which
they called matrices, from which they cast metal types.” The statement
of the bishop is somewhat confused, and his specification of Fust as an
inventor is, probably, incorrect, but every typographer who reads his
description cannot fail to see that he has endeavored to describe the
established method of making types—the method in use to this day.
Peter Schœffer, in a book printed by him in 1466, makes the book
metaphorically say, “I am cast at Mentz.” He says the types were cast,
although he elsewhere praises himself as a more skillful cutter of
letters than Fust or Gutenberg.
Bernard Cennini, writing at Florence in 1471, says that the letters of
his book were first cut and then cast.
Nicholas Jenson, who calls himself a cutter of books, says in one of
them, published in 1485, that the book, meaning the types of the book,
was cut and cast by a divine art.
Husner of Strasburg, in the imprint of a book made by him in 1473,
says (translating his language literally) that it was printed “with
sculptured letters from brass,” or, as it [p065] could be more clearly
construed, with letters in high relief, made from brass matrices. That
Husner did not mean to say that his printing types were cut out of
brass, is more clearly shown in the imprint of another book printed by
him in 1476, in which he says, literally, that it was printed, “without
doubt, with sculptured letters, scientifically begun in brass.”[15]
That the cutting, so frequently mentioned by the early printers, was
the cutting of punches, is apparent to every modern typographer who
knows that, in the manufacture of types, punch-cutting is not only
the first process in order of time, but first in order of artistic
importance. That the types said to be made of brass were made in brass
moulds and matrices could, in the absence of other proof, be inferred
from the appearance of the books of the fifteenth century. These types
often show varieties of the same letter and have other peculiarities
disagreeable to modern tastes, but there is strict uniformity in each
variety, and an accuracy of body which could have been secured by no
other method than [p066] that of casting them in moulds and matrices
of hard metal. There is other evidence which is even more direct. In
the Magliabechi library at Florence is preserved the original Cost Book
of the Directors of the Ripoli Press of that city, for the interval
between the years 1474 and 1483.[16] In this book may be found, among
other papers of value, a list of the prices which were then paid for
the supplies or materials used in the type-foundry connected with the
Ripoli Press. In this list we see the names of the metals that are used
in all modern type-foundries. There can be no question of the statement
that the types of this foundry were cast in metal moulds.
PRICES OF MATERIAL FOR THE TYPE-FOUNDRY.
_Materials._ _Tuscan_ _American_
_Currency_ _Currency_
_per pound._ _per pound._
Steel, lir. 2 8 0 $2.18
Metal, (Antimony?) 11 0 .50
Brass, 12 0 .54
Copper, 6 8 .30
Tin, 8 0 .36
Lead, 2 4 .10-1/2
Iron Wire, 8 0 .36
It would not be difficult to present additional evidence tending to
prove that the punch, the matrix and the mould of hard metal were used
by the earliest typographers, but this evidence will be given with more
propriety in another chapter. On this page, it is enough to record,
as the result of the future inquiry, that printing types have always
been made by one method. The significance of this fact should not be
overlooked. It has been shown that printing, as we now use it, could
not exist without types, and that there would be no types if we did not
know how to make them in adjustable type-moulds. In this type-mould
we find the key to the invention of typography. It is not the press,
nor the types, but the type-mould that must be accepted as the origin
and the symbol of the art. He was the inventor of [p067] typography,
and the founder of modern printing, who made the first adjustable
type-mould.
It is a curious circumstance, and not creditable to the sagacity of
the historians of typography, that the importance of this implement,
upon which the existence of typography depends, has never been fully
appreciated. That the type-mould was first made by the inventor of
typography need not be discussed. We have no knowledge that any method
of founding different sizes and forms from an adjustable mould was
attempted before the fifteenth century. There was no need for such a
mould in any other art. But we have indirect evidences in abundance
that the early printers considered their method of making types as a
meritorious and original invention. Peter Schœffer described it as a
new and unheard-of art; Bishop Trithemius said that it was found out
only through the good providence of God; Jenson said it was a divine
art; Husner said it was a scientific method; Wittig said that the
inventor has deserved well of the wide world. It would be useless to
attempt to add anything to these tributes—quite as useless to attempt
to break their force. Typography, made practicable and perfect by
means of the type-mould, was an original and a great invention. If the
inventor had produced nothing more than the type-mould, this would be
enough to entitle him to the highest honor.
It is tribute enough to acknowledge that the inventor of the type-mould
was the inventor of typography. It is not logical nor truthful to
attribute to him the introduction or the rediscovery of the simple
elements of relief printing. It is not derogatory to his honor to
confess that his labors were materially lightened by the services of
men who had gone before him and had prepared materials for his use.
The inventor of the type-mould did not invent paper, for that had been
known for two centuries before; he did not originate engraving on wood,
nor impressions from relief surfaces, for both processes were known
before paper was made; he was not the first to print upon paper, for
printed matter, in the [p068] forms of playing cards and prints of
pictures, was a merchantable commodity before he was born. He was not
the first to make printed books; it is not certain that he made the
first printing press; it is not probable that he was the first to think
of movable types. His merits rest on a securer basis. While others
dreamed and thought, and, no doubt, made experiments, he was the first
to do practical and useful work—the first to make types that could be
used—the first to demonstrate the utility of typography. The first
practical typographer, but not the first printer, he was really at the
end of a long line of unknown workmen whose knowledge and experience
in ruder forms of printing were important contributions toward the
invention of the perfect method.
The contributions made by the men who practised ruder forms of printing
demand a fuller description. The merit of printing with types cannot be
fully appreciated until it has been contrasted with the printing that
preceded types. It will be an instructive lesson to trace the origin of
a great art to its sources.
[p069]
IV
The Image Prints of the Fifteenth Century.
Were Engraved on Wood . . . Print of St. Christopher . . . Print of
Annunciation . . . Print of St. Bridget . . . Other German Engravings
on Wood . . . Flemish Indulgence Print . . . The Brussels Print
. . . The Berlin Print . . . All Image Prints from Germany or the
Netherlands . . . How were they Printed? . . . Not by the Frotton
. . . Methods of taking Proof now used by Engravers and Printers
. . . Images copied from Illustrated Manuscripts . . . Not made by
Monks . . . Images highly prized by the People . . . The Beginning of
Dissent in the Church . . . Preceded by Ruder Prints.
* * * * *
Book printing and picture printing have both the same inner cause
for their origin, namely, the impulse to make each mental gain a
common blessing. Not merely princes and rich nobles were to have
the privilege of adorning their private chapels and apartments with
beautiful religious pictures; the poorest man was also to have his
delight in that which the artist had devised and produced. It was not
sufficient for him when it stood in the church as an altar shrine,
visible to him and to the congregation from afar. He desired to have
it as his own, to carry it about with him, to bring it into his own
home. The grand importance of wood engraving and copper-plate is not
sufficiently estimated in historical investigations. They were not
alone of use in the advance of art; they form an epoch in the entire
life of mind and culture. The idea embodied and multiplied in pictures
became like that embodied in the printed word, the herald of every
intellectual movement, and conquered the world.
_Woltmann._
* * * * *
[Illustration: The Print of St. Christopher.
Size of original, 8-1/8 by 11-1/4 inches.]
One of the purposes to which early printing was applied was the
manufacture of engraved and colored pictures of sacred personages.
These pictures, or image prints, as they are called by bibliographers,
were made of many sizes; some of them are but little larger than the
palm of the hand, others are of the size of a half sheet of foolscap.
In a few prints there are peculiarities of texture which have provoked
the thought that they may have been printed from plates of [p070]
soft metal like lead or pewter; but this conjecture has never been
verified. We find in many of the prints the clearest indications that
they were taken from engravings on wood. With a few exceptions, these
prints were colored; some were painted, but more were colored by means
of stenciling, as is abundantly proved by the mechanical irregularities
which are always produced by the occasional slipping of the stencil.
The colors are gross, glaring, and so inartistically applied that the
true outlines of the figures are frequently obscured. The quality of
the engraving is unequal; some prints are neatly, and others are rudely
cut, but in nearly all of them the engraving is in simple outline. We
seldom see any shading tints, or any cross-hatchings, rarely ever any
attempt to produce a perspective by the use of fine or faint lines.
The absence of shading lines is not entirely due to the imperfect
skill of the engravers. The engravings seem to have been cut for no
other purpose than that of showing the colors of the stencil painter
to advantage, by giving a definite edge to masses of color. The taste
for prints in black and white had not then been developed. To the
print-buyer of the fifteenth century, the attraction of the image
print was not in its drawing, but in its vivid color, and its supposed
resemblance to the paintings that adorned [p071] the walls of churches
and monasteries. The image print of the fifteenth century was the
prototype of the modern chromo.
The St. Christopher, a bold and rude engraving on wood, which
represents the saint in the act of carrying the infant Saviour across
a river, is one of the most remarkable of the image prints. This print
was discovered in the cover of an old manuscript volume of 1417,
among the books of one of the most ancient convents of Germany, the
Chartreuse at Buxheim, near Memmingen, in Suabia.[17] The monks said
that the volume was given to the convent by Anna, canoness of Buchau,
who is known to have been living in 1427. The name of the engraver
is unknown. This convent is about fifty miles from Augsburg, a city
which seems to have been the abode of some of the early engravers on
wood. The date is obscurely given in Roman numerals at the foot of the
picture.
‹f›Christoferi faciem die quacunque tueris, Millesimo cccc.‹/f›
‹f›Illa nempe die morte mala non morieris. rrº tertio.‹/f›
In whatsoever day thou seest the likeness of St. Christopher,
In that same day thou wilt at least from death no
evil blow incur. 1423.