"To the left of the engraving the artist has introduced, with a noble
disregard of perspective, what Bewick would have called a 'bit of
nature.' In the foreground a figure is seen driving an ass loaded with a
sack towards a water-mill; while by a steep path a figure, perhaps
intended for the miller, is seen carrying a full sack from the back-door
of the mill towards a cottage. To the right is seen a hermit--known by
the bell over the entrance to his dwelling--holding a large lantern to
direct St. Christopher as he crosses the stream. The couplet at the foot
of the cut,--
'Cristofori faciem die quacunque tueris,
Illa nempe die morte mala non morieris,'
may be translated as follows,--
Each day that thou the image of St. Christopher shall see,
That day no frightful form of death shall chance to fall on thee.
These lines allude to a superstition, once popular in all Catholic
countries, that on the day they saw a figure or image of St.
Christopher, they would be safe from a violent death, or from death
unabsolved and unconfessed."
Passing over some other woodcuts of great antiquity, in all of which the
figures are accompanied by engraved letters, we come to the block books
proper. Of these, the most famous are called, the _Apocalypsis, seu
Historia Sancti Johannis_ (the "Apocalypse, or History of St. John");
the _Historia Virginis ex Cantico Canticorum_ ("Story of the Virgin,
from the Song of Songs"); and the _Biblia Pauperum_ ("Bible of the
Poor"). The first is a history, pictorial and literal, of the life and
revelations of St. John the Evangelist, partly derived from the book of
Revelation, and partly from ecclesiastical tradition. The second is a
similar biography of the Virgin Mary, as it is supposed to be typified
in the Song of Solomon; and the third consists of subjects representing
many of the most important passages in the Old and New Testaments, with
texts to illustrate the subject, or clinch the lesson of duty it may
shadow forth.
With respect to the engraving, we are told that the cuts are executed in
the simplest manner, as there is not the least attempt at shading, by
means of cross lines or hatchings, to be detected in any one of the
designs. The most difficult part of the engraver's task, says Jackson,
supposing the drawing to have been made by another person, would be the
cutting of the letters, which, in several of the subjects, must have
occupied a considerable portion of time, and have demanded no small
degree of perseverance, care, and skill.
These block books were followed by others in which no illustrations
appeared, but in which the entire page was occupied with text. The
Grammatical Primer, called the "Donatus," from the name of its supposed
compiler, was thus printed, or engraved, enabling copies of it to be
multiplied at a much cheaper rate than they could be produced in
manuscript.
And thus we see that the art of printing--or, more correctly speaking,
engraving on wood--has advanced from the production of a single figure,
with merely a few words beneath it, to the impression of whole pages of
text. Next, for the engraved page were to be substituted movable letters
of metal, wedged together within an iron frame; and impressions, instead
of being obtained by the slow and tedious process of friction, were to
be secured by the swift and powerful action of the press.
* * * * *
About the year 1400, John Gaensfleisch, or Gutenberg, was born at Mentz.
He sprung from an honourable family, and it is said that he himself was
by birth a knight. He seems to have been a person of some property.
About 1434 we find him living in Strasburg, and, in partnership with a
certain Andrew Drytzcher, endeavouring to perfect the art of typography.
How he was induced to direct his attention towards this object, and
under what circumstances he began his experiments, it is impossible to
say; but there can be no doubt that he was the first person who
conceived the idea of _movable types_--an idea which is the very
foundation of the art of printing.
An old German chronicler furnishes the following account of the early
stages of the great printer's discovery:--
"At this time (about 1438), in the city of Mentz, on the Rhine, in
Germany, and not in Italy as some persons have erroneously written, that
wonderful and then unheard-of art of printing and characterizing books
was invented and devised by John Gutenberger, citizen of Mentz, who,
having expended most of his property in the invention of this art, on
account of the difficulties which he experienced on all sides, was about
to abandon it altogether; when, by the advice and through the means of
John Fust, likewise a citizen of Mentz, he succeeded in bringing it to
perfection. At first they formed or engraved the characters or letters
in written order on blocks of wood, and in this manner they printed the
vocabulary called a 'Catholicon.' But with these forms or blocks they
could print nothing else, because the characters could not be transposed
in these tablets, but were engraved thereon, as we have said. To this
invention succeeded a more subtle one, for they found out the means of
cutting the forms of all the letters of the alphabet, which they called
_matrices_, from which again they cast characters of copper or tin of
sufficient hardness to resist the necessary pressure, which they had
before engraved by hand."
This is a very brief and summary account of a great invention. By
comparison of other authorities we are enabled to bring together a far
greater number of details, though we must acknowledge that many of these
have little foundation but in tradition or romance.
Let us, therefore, take a peep at the first printer, working in
seclusion and solitude in the old historic city of Strasburg, and
endeavouring to elaborate in practice the grand idea which has been
conceived and matured by his energetic brain. Doubtlessly he knew not
the full importance of this idea, or of how great a social and religious
revolution it was to be the seed, and yet we cannot believe that he was
altogether unconscious of its value to future generations.
Shutting himself up in his own room, seeing no one, rarely crossing the
threshold, allowing himself hardly any repose, he set himself to work
out the plan he had formed. With a knife and some pieces of wood he
constructed a set of movable types, on one face of each of which a
letter of the alphabet was carved in relief, and which were strung
together, in the order of words and sentences, upon a piece of wire. By
means of these he succeeded in producing upon parchment a very
satisfactory impression.
To be out of the way of prying eyes, he took up his quarters in the
ruins of the old monastery of St. Arbogaste, outside the town, which had
long been abandoned by the monks to the rats and beggars of the
neighbourhood; and the better to mask his designs, as well as to procure
the funds necessary for his experiments, he set up as a sort of
artificer in jewellery and metal-work, setting and polishing precious
stones, and preparing Venetian glass for mirrors, which he afterwards
mounted in frames of metal and carved wood. These avowed labours he
openly practised, along with a couple of assistants, in a public part of
the monastery; but in the depths of the cloisters, in a dark secluded
spot, he fitted up a little cell as the _atelier_ of his secret
operations; and there, secured by bolts and bars, and a thick oaken
door, against the intrusion of any one who might penetrate so far into
the interior of the ruins, he applied himself to his great work. He
quickly perceived, as a man of his inventiveness was sure to perceive,
the superiority of letters of metal over those of wood. He invented
various coloured inks, at once oily and dry, for printing with; brushes
and rollers for transferring the ink to the face of the types; "forms,"
or cases, for keeping together the types arranged in pages; and a press
for bringing the inked types and the paper in contact.
[Illustration: GUTENBERG IN THE OLD MONASTERY. Page 22.]
Day and night, whenever he could spare an instant from his professed
occupations, he devoted himself to the development of his great design.
At night he could hardly sleep for thinking of it, and his hasty
snatches of slumber were disturbed by agitating dreams. Tradition has
preserved the story of one of these for us as he afterwards told it to
his friends. He dreamt that, as he sat feasting his eyes upon the
impression of his first page of type, he heard two voices whispering at
his ear--the one soft and musical, the other harsh, dull, and bitter in
its tones. The one bade him rejoice at the great work he had achieved;
unveiled the future, and showed the men of different generations, the
peoples of distant lands, holding high converse by means of his
invention; and cheered him with the hope of an immortal fame. "Ay," put
in the other voice, "immortal he might be, but at what a price! Man,
more often perverse and wicked than wise and good, would profane the new
faculty this art created, and the ages, instead of blessing, would have
cause to curse the man who gave it to the world. Therefore let him
regard his invention as a seductive but fatal dream, which, if
fulfilled, would place in the hands of man, sinful and erring as he was,
only another instrument of evil." Gutenberg, whom the first voice had
thrown into an ecstasy of delight, now shuddered at the thought of the
fearful power to corrupt and to debase his art would give to wicked men,
and awoke in an agony of doubt. He seized his mallet, and had almost
broken up his types and press, when he paused to reflect that, after
all, God's gifts, although sometimes perilous and capable of abuse, were
never evil in themselves, and that to give another means of utterance to
the piety and reason of mankind was to promote the spread of virtue and
intelligence, which were both divine. So he closed his ears to the
suggestions of the tempter, and persisted in his work.
Gutenberg had scarcely completed his printing machine, and got it into
working order, when the jealousy and distrust of his associates in the
nominal business he carried on, brought him into trouble with the
authorities of Strasburg. He could have saved himself by the disclosure
of all the secrets of his invention; but this he refused to do. His
goods were confiscated; and he returned penniless, with a heavy heart,
to his native town Mentz. There, in partnership with a wealthy goldsmith
named John Fust, and his son-in-law Schoeffer, he started a printing
office; from which he sent out many works, mostly of a religious
character. The enterprise throve; but misfortune was ever dogging
Gutenberg's steps, and he had but a brief taste of prosperity. The
priests looked with suspicion upon the new art, which enabled people to
read for themselves what before they had to take on trust from them. The
transcribers of books,--a large and influential guild,--were also
hostile to the invention, which threatened to deprive them of their
livelihood. These two bodies formed a league against the printers; and
upon the head of poor Gutenberg were emptied all the vials of their
wrath. Fust and Schoeffer, with crafty adroitness, managed to conciliate
their opponents, and to offer up their partner as a sacrifice for
themselves. By the zeal of his enemies, and the treachery of his
friends, Gutenberg was driven out of Mentz. After wandering about for
some time in poverty and neglect, Adolphus, the Elector of Nassau,
became his patron; and at his court Gutenberg set up a press, and
printed a number of works with his own hands. Though poor, his last
years were spent in peace; and when he died, he had only a few copies of
the productions of his press to leave to his sister.
Meanwhile, at Strasburg, some of his former associates pieced together
the revelations that had fallen from him, while at the old monastery, as
to his invention; and not only worked it with success, but claimed all
the credit of its origin. In the same way, Fust and Schoeffer, at Mentz,
grew rich through the invention of the man they had betrayed, and tried
to rob of his fame.
There is a curious, but not very well authenticated story about a visit
Fust made to Paris to push the sale of his Bibles. "The tradition of the
Devil and Dr. Faustus," writes D'Israeli in the "Curiosities of
Literature," "was said to have been derived from the odd circumstances
in which the Bibles of the first printer, Fust, appeared to the world.
When Fust had discovered this new art, and printed off a considerable
number of copies of the Bible to imitate those which were commonly sold
as MSS., he undertook the sale of them at Paris. It was his interest to
conceal this discovery and to pass off his printed copies for MSS. But,
enabled to sell his Bibles at sixty crowns, while the other scribes
demanded five hundred, this raised universal astonishment; and still
more when he produced copies as fast as they were wanted, and even
lowered his price. The uniformity of the copies increased the wonder.
Informations were given in to the magistrates against him as a magician;
and on searching his lodgings, a great number of copies were found. The
red ink, and Fust's red ink is peculiarly brilliant, which embellished
his copies, was said to be his blood; and it was solemnly adjudged that
he was in league with the Infernal. Fust at length was obliged, to save
himself from a bonfire, to reveal his art to the Parliament of Paris,
who discharged him from all prosecution in consideration of the
wonderful invention."
The edition of the Bible, which was one of the very first productions of
Gutenberg and Fust's press, is called the Mazarin, in consequence of the
first known copy having been discovered in the famous library formed by
Cardinal Mazarin. It seems to have been printed as early as August
1456, and is a truly admirable specimen of typography; the characters
being very clear and distinct, and the uniformity of the printing
perfectly remarkable. A copy in the Royal Library at Paris is bound
in two volumes, and every complete page consists of two columns,
each containing forty-two lines. The reader will recognize the
appropriateness of the fact that from the first printing press the first
important work produced should be a copy of God's Word. It sanctified
the new art which was to be so fruitful of good and evil results--the
good superabounding, and clearly visible--the evil little, and destined,
perhaps, to be directed eventually to good--for successive generations
of mankind. It was a fitting forerunner of the long generation of books
which have since issued so ceaselessly from the printing press; books,
of the majority of which we may say, with Milton, that "they contain a
potency of life in them to be as active as those souls were whose
progeny they are; to preserve, as in a vial, the purest efficacy and
extraction of the living intellects that feed them."
Gutenberg's career was dashed with many lights and shadows, but it
closed in peace. In 1465, the Archbishop-elector of Mentz appointed him
one of his courtiers, with the same allowance of clothing as the
remainder of the nobles attending his court, and all other privileges
and exemptions. It is probable that from this time he abandoned the
practice of his new invention. The date of his death is uncertain; but
there is documentary evidence extant which proves that it occurred
before February 24, 1468. He was interred in the church of the Recollets
at Mentz, and the following epitaph was composed by his kinsman Adam
Gelthaus:--
"D. O. M. S.
"Joanni Gesnyfleisch, artis impressoriae repertori, de omni
natione et lingua optime merito, in nominis sui memoriam
immortalem Adam Gelthaus posuit. Ossa ejus in ecclesia D.
Francisci Moguntina feliciter cubant."