The Story of Faust’s Visit to Paris.--Was it Witchcraft?--Popular
Excitement.--Scene in a Court Room.--Issue of the Psalter.
One balmy morning in the spring of 1456, Faust, with a stock of
beautifully bound Bibles, started for Paris, some four hundred miles
distant. Sailing down the Rhine to Strasbourg, he then travelled by the
public road over mountains and across the country nearly west to the
French metropolis, then a long and toilsome journey.
On his arrival, he engaged a shop on the Rue St. George, where he could
safely store his treasures.
Hastening to call upon the King, he made known his errand and offered
him a copy of the Bible for seven hundred and fifty crowns!
As the King examined it, he was delighted with the regular and
beautiful writing.
“It is true,” said he, “that the scribes ask only five and six hundred
crowns for a copy of their Bible, but I have never seen anything equal
to this! I will gladly pay thee thy price, and consider it a rare
bargain.”
Faust next sought out the Archbishop.
“My lord,” he said, taking the large package from the porter who
accompanied him, and unrolling it from its folds of vellum, “I have
brought thee a Bible executed with great care and finish. Permit me to
call thy attention to it.”
“It is very finely executed,” observed the Archbishop as he turned its
leaves. “What is your price?”
“Only three hundred crowns!” answered Faust.
“I will willingly pay that,” replied the Archbishop. “It is seldom that
we can obtain a work made in this style, and so cheap. I am familiar
with the copyists of monasteries, but have never met the monk that
carried so even a hand!”
Making no explanations, Faust took the money, and returned to his
lodgings on St. George’s Street, where in a few days he privately sold
some half-dozen more copies. Citizens now began to gather to admire the
wonderful book.
At first he only exhibited one at a time, and the impression went
abroad that the books were very scarce; hence people were more
anxious to buy, and readily paid the fifty crowns which he asked lay
purchasers.
For a time each one who bought a Bible thought himself especially
favored, supposing that his was the only copy of the kind to be
found. As a writer has said, “The beauty of the work, the elegance
of the flower-pieces, and the variety of the finest colors which
were intermixed with gold and silver, led many persons to show their
purchases to their friends, each one thinking, as he produced his, that
the whole world could not contain such another.”
As for the Archbishop, he was so elated with his copy, that he could
not rest until he had carried it to the King, who, greatly surprised,
in return showed his own. On comparing them, they noticed that the
ornaments were not exactly the same. They were not gilded precisely
alike, and the initial letters were painted differently. But in other
respects, the part which they supposed written, the number of pages,
lines, and letters were the same; and they began to surmise that those
Bibles were made in some new way. No man could have copied them both,
and made them so entirely similar. Besides, to write out two such
Bibles would have exceeded the work of a man’s life; and the materials
on which he wrote would wax old with age meanwhile, but these were
new and fresh. The King and the Archbishop were sorely puzzled; and
rumor was not long in bringing to their ears that Faust had sold quite
a number, some at fifty crowns, some at twelve, and others still as
low as six pounds, while the supply continued equal to the demand. All
Paris was agitated.
“What can this mean?” said the King.
“What can this mean?” echoed the Archbishop.
“These books were made by no earthly power!” exclaimed an ecclesiastic.
“The Evil One had a hand in it!” cried the ever-at-hand courtiers.
And although the Bibles were beautiful, costly, and desirable, these
good people deemed it necessary to put an immediate stop to their
further sale. Much as they prized them, they could not encourage
collusion with the powers of darkness. In the midst of this excitement
two professors of the University of Paris, as Neiritz informs us, came
in and purchased a Bible. A servant bore it after them as they left the
shop.
“Antoine,” exclaimed one of them to the other, “it is a wonder to me
how the German Doctor can afford to sell this Bible for six pounds!
Who ever saw such beautiful writing? It is so uniform, I cannot cease
admiring the book. Andre, bring it hither!” and as the servant brought
it forward, and it was again opened, a circle gathered to examine it.
“How very beautiful!” exclaimed Professor Antoine, “it scarcely could
be done by mortal hands.”
“The thing is not possible!” said the brother professor.
“It is done by the famous black art!” affirmed a voice in the crowd.
“Yes, look at those black pot-hooks and hangers!” exclaimed another.
“Father Clement says it is the work of magic and witchcraft!” said a
third.
“The German Doctor has made a bargain with the Evil One, being taught
the black art as an offset for going to perdition.”
“Well, Antoine,” remarked the first professor, mirthfully, “if magic
and witchcraft can make Bibles in this style, keep them at it early
and late, and get out of them all the good you can. Besides, a house
divided against itself cannot stand.”
But people generally took the matter more to heart than did the genial
professor, and, as they chatted about it and thought it over, were more
and more satisfied that other than mortal hands had fabricated the
Bibles.
“Only to think of it, so many copies just alike, and made so rapidly!
And the more you take away from the shop, the more there are for sale!
Parisians are as quick-fingered as any other nation, but not one of our
fleetest scribes can write in this way; neither can any man do it!”
So the mob searched Faust’s lodgings, or the shop on Rue St. George,
and seized a great number of Bibles. “Behold,” said they when they saw
the red ink with which they were embellished, “this is his blood!”
The city authorities were at once apprised that he was a magician!
And accordingly orders were given to apprehend Dr. Faust for being in
league with Satan, and for dealing in the black art.
“What have I done?” asked Dr. Faust, as the police officers appeared in
his shop to take him.
“Only a small thing truly!” ironically replied one of them; “this
indictment says that you turn off books by witchcraft.”
“Never!” exclaimed Faust; “I have made them in an honest way!”
But the officers shrugged their shoulders, and took him along.
Faust was in trouble. If he confessed the truth, others would seize his
art and profits; and if he did not, his life might be sacrificed. While
he was revolving the matter, he was thrust into prison.
For once he was at his wit’s end, and almost paralyzed by the turn
affairs had taken. What! he, the man of wealth and the patron of
printing, in prison, classed with felons! It seemed to him like a
horrible nightmare, only the chilliness of the cell and the damp straw
brought on his old rheumatism, reminding him too well that it was all
reality.
“I shall die here!” he groaned, as he sleeplessly tossed on the straw;
“I must reveal the secret, and save my life!” Never was a more restless
prisoner. Sleep! he would as soon think of it on a plank in the open
sea. In the morning the court set, and Faust was brought to the bar.
[Illustration: SPECIMEN OF PSALTER, PSALM I.]
Bibles were produced and compared, witnesses were not wanting, and the
case was strong against him, when he was called on for his defense.
Perfectly calm, and self-possessed he thus addressed the judge:--
“May it please your Honor: It is not the black art that I practice,
but the art of printing. This newly discovered art was first devised
by John Gutenberg of Mayence, and afterwards more fully improved by
his journeyman, Peter Schoeffer, and myself. I can in a short time so
describe the process to you that you may yourself set type and print.
We employ young men to help in the work, and there is no more black art
in it than there is in planting a garden. Think you the Evil One would
lend his aid to the work of multiplying copies of a book that describes
him and his wiles, warning men against him and predicting his doom!
Nay, your Honor, the thing is absurd. We Germans lead the way in this
matter of printing books,--begging your Honor’s pardon, while I say
it,--but it will not be long before printing machines will be common in
Paris.”
Such was Faust’s defence, which so wrought upon the lively crowd that
they were enthusiastic in their cries of “_Vive le Docteur! vive le
Docteur!_” The magistrates eagerly withdrew the charges against him;
and the sequel was that some of the nobility of Paris made him a
magnificent pecuniary reward.
When Faust returned from Paris, he prosecuted the business of printing
with renewed energy. He could well do this, as his enterprise had been
very remunerative. Besides issuing the “Litterariæ Indulgentiæ,” he
urged on the completion of the Psalter, an elaborate work which had
been in press two years and a half, before the lawsuit overtook the
firm. As it was not published until August, 1457, it was four years
in being brought to perfection. It bore the colophon of Faust and
Schoeffer, and was the first book that had the name of the place where
it was printed, the name of its printers, and the year when it was
printed.
That this elegant book was partly the work of Gutenberg, is evident
from the fact that it was four years in being published, and was issued
only eighteen months after the partnership was dissolved.
It was printed in large cut type, with illuminated initials; and as
it is impossible that Gutenberg’s works could have been undone, a new
fount prepared, and so splendid a book printed, in so short a time,
it is plain that this was the identical Psalter on which the labor of
two years and a half had been expended, before Faust sued Gutenberg.
It was the latter who proposed to bring it out, and who superintended
the construction of the type and ornaments. The superb initial letters,
of which the initial B in this volume is a specimen, were projected
and criticised by Gutenberg. It is true that Schoeffer’s practiced
hand executed them, but the original idea was suggested by the leading
spirit of the company.
Yet this Psalter appeared in 1457 with the colophon or monogram of
Faust and Schoeffer.
[Illustration]
This was a device indicating something respecting the authors or
proprietors of a volume, and, in this case, was composed of two _ecus_,
or shields, which were taken from the armorial bearings of their
families. As Gutenberg was of the nobility, some have affirmed that the
monogram alluded to was his device, and adopted by the three partners
before they separated; if otherwise, and it simply referred to Faust
and Schoeffer, these partners did an act of great injustice in omitting
his name from the colophon or conclusion of the Psalter.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]