An Important Step.--Engraving a Name.--Engraving Pictures.--
Superstitions.--Difficulties overcome.--An Improvement.--
Experiment and Progress.--A New Book.--Cheerful Thoughts.
One day, a few weeks after the events in our second chapter, Gutenberg
surprised his wife as she sat sewing by the window, saying,--
“Behold some of my handicraft!” showing her a number of cards.
“Ah, and so you did not give up the project? and you have succeeded so
well! One could not distinguish between these and the old ones, save
that these are newer and fresher.”
“Nevertheless, this is but a step; it availeth me little till I can
frame letters, and impress them on vellum in like manner. It remains
that I try thy name, my Anna. I cannot fail to engrave that name on
wood, which hath been so long traced on my heart!” And to his loving
glance there beamed a happy light in her eyes, and her cheeks were
aglow, as he betook him to writing her name on a small wooden tablet.
Cutting away the wood, except the writing lines, he left the letters
raised, or in relief, and thus formed a stamp of his wife’s name.
Moistening it with ink, he placed a piece of paper over it, and, gently
pressing it upon the letters, beheld, on lifting it, the word imprinted
upon the paper.
[Illustration: Anna]
We of this age of books and papers cannot enter into his emotions. But
Anna could, and so the good man did not miss our sympathy.
“Famously done!” she exclaimed; “it is the likeness of writing.”
Does this seem to us a curious commendation of printing, that it
resembled writing? But the manuscript letter was the only one known as
yet, and it was natural to judge the result of the new experiment by
its agreement with that letter.
“Aye, I think myself it is not a failure,” said Gutenberg; “and I fancy
it would not be difficult for me to produce a copy of that picture of
‘St. Christopher,’ I mean by suitable patience and perseverance.”
“But was not that done with a pen?”
“Nay: it appears so, but on examination I find that it was made with
an engraved block;” and taking the rude print from the wall, he showed
upon the back of it the marks of the stylus, or burnisher by which it
was rubbed upon the letters. “Rest assured from this that they were
never produced by a pen, as in common writing.”
“Well,” returned the good wife, “it would truly be a pious act to
multiply the picture of ‘St. Christopher,’ since a blessing will follow
him who looketh upon it. I would fain have one in our sleeping-room,
that my eyes may light upon it when I awake.”
Poor Anna! she had already forgotten Gutenberg’s sensible remark on a
former occasion. Educated to attach a superstitious value to sacred
pictures, she still relied on them. This perverted trust, however,
shows that she felt her need of the protection and favor of a higher
than human power.
Encouraged by the approbation of his wife, and nerved by that passion
which urges the inventor onward in the pathway of discovery, Gutenberg
undertook the task with alacrity. First he met the difficulty of
finding wood suitable for engraving. Some kinds were too soft and
porous, others liable to split. After many trials, he selected the
wood of the apple-tree. This has a fine grain, is dense and compact,
and sufficiently firm to bear the process of engraving. In modern
times box-wood is almost exclusively used in this art, as superior to
all other species in the qualities required. It is sawed in blocks
crosswise of the grain, and these polished and whitened, present a
surface almost as smooth as ivory, and capable of receiving the finest
touches of the pencil and the graving tool.
Another difficulty in his course was the want of tools; his unfailing
genius came to the rescue, and tool after tool was contrived, until
his tool-box showed an array of knives, saws, chisels, and gravers of
various patterns, each one in its turn having been duly admired by the
pair of bright eyes that followed his progress.
At first Gutenberg drew the portrait of the saint and the inscriptions
accompanying it on the same block; but in later experiments he hit upon
the idea of having them on separate pieces, the different blocks being
nicely fitted together in printing. This was an onward step, which he
viewed with satisfaction.
“These movable blocks will be of service,” said he to Anna; “for I can
complete the picture as well as the letters better in this way, and,
when desirable, can embellish the writing with ink of another color.”
At length, when the “St. Christopher” appeared, printed from the
improved block, Anna exclaimed that it was far better than the old one.
“Yes,” replied Gutenberg, “but I perceive that it is not perfect. No
picture can be properly executed without thicker ink. This flows too
readily, and with all my care I can scarcely avoid blotting.”
It required many experiments and much patience to surmount this
difficulty of the ink. He found finally that a preparation of oil would
best serve his purpose. The color might be varied according to the
ingredients used. In the earliest works which have come down to us, it
is of a darkish brown, and appears to have been made of umber. This
was chosen probably in imitation of the old drawings which served as
copies. A mixture of lamp-black with oil gives a black ink; and this is
substantially the composition of printer’s ink at the present day.
As Gutenberg experimented, Anna watched his progress with excited
interest. When he had succeeded in preparing an ink of suitable
quality, she saw that he needed some means of spreading it evenly upon
the block.
“Now indeed thou canst aid me,” said he; “stuff and sew this piece
of sheep-skin, while I prepare the paper for the impressions.” The
nimbly flying fingers soon completed the task; and when Gutenberg had
added a handle to the ball, the first printer’s dabber was ready.
“One more servant of my art,” Gutenberg pleasantly said as he dipped
it in the ink which he had ground upon a slab, and applied it to a
block. He then laid the paper upon it, and, with the polished handle of
one of his graving tools, carefully smoothed and pressed it upon the
raised portions of the block,--both picture and its letters. He then
cautiously removed it, and both viewed the result with joyful emotions.
“The new ink works marvelously!” said the inventor.
“And this print even surpasses your first attempt!”
“Yes, and I value it the more for the labor and contrivance it has cost
me.”
“Now I shall want a ‘St. Christopher’ in every room,” said Anna; “it
will be like having more good people in the house, and our lives will
be inspired by the memory of what they have done.”
“But what am I to do?” rejoined Gutenberg. “I cannot afford the time
and money to occupy myself in making pictures, unless it can also be
turned to some pecuniary advantage.”
“And is there no way of acquiring money from them?”
“Not at present. I have, however, made an improvement on the pictures;
they will grace our humble home, and it may be that I can make them
useful to others.”
“Yes, for whoever seeth them will want one.”
“And be willing to pay for it?”
“Aye, why not?”
“We shall see. Thou hast confidence in my experiments.”
“Ah, indeed have I; since I perceive that thou hast the power of
devising wonderful arts!”
Thus cheerily did the lapidary’s wife encourage him, admiring his work,
suggesting the bright side of affairs, then tripping out into the yard
to console the pigeons with seeds, to water her flowers, and train the
wild-growing climbers within bounds, her heart the meanwhile full of
her husband’s enterprise; and she murmured to herself,--
“John will succeed, and we shall be delivered from our trouble.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]