Peculiarities of the First Printed Books.--Early Printers.--
Piety and Chess.--Education in the Olden Time.--A Great
Enterprise.--Unveiling Gutenberg’s Statue.
On inquiring more closely respecting the peculiarities of the first
printed books and the modes of producing them, we find that they were
generally large or small folios or quartos; lesser sizes than these
not being in use. In some cases they had no title, number of pages, or
paragraph divisions. The character employed was designed to imitate
the hand-writing of the time, a rude old Gothic or German, from which
the old English was formed, now known as German text. The words were
printed so closely together as to make reading difficult even by those
accustomed to it, while one unpracticed got on slowly and with many
blunders.
The orthography used in the first books was of almost every variety,
defying method. Abbreviations were fashionable, and at length became
so numerous and so difficult to be understood that a book or key
was published, explaining them. Instead of a comma an oblique stroke
was employed. Capital letters were not used to begin a sentence, or
for proper names. Blanks were left for the places of titles, initial
letters, and other ornaments, in order to have them supplied by
illuminators, whose curious art, however, soon gave place to the
improvements of the printers. The ornaments made by the old artists
to fill the blanks were formed with singular taste; birds, beasts,
flowers, and foliage often curiously interwoven with the most desirable
colors, and even with gold and silver. Saints were sometimes made
to figure in the border of illuminated letters, whether the subject
treated required it or not. The artist had no regard to the theme of
the author in his adornments. These embellishments were sometimes
costly and elaborate; but a cheaper kind could be had. Bibles and
Breviaries were most elegantly ornamented.
The name of the printer and his place of residence were either omitted,
or placed at the end of the book with some pious ejaculation or
doxology. There was no date, or it appeared in some odd place, printed
in words perhaps, or by numerical letters, and sometimes partly one
and partly the other, thus: “One thousand CCCC. and LXXIII.,” but in
all cases at the end of a book. The Roman and Italic letters not being
invented, the pages were uniformly Gothic through the book. Only a few
copies were issued at once; two hundred was a large impression.
The early printer was of necessity also a bookbinder, placing his
leaves literally between _boards_, and making some works so heavy as to
provoke the criticism, “No man can carry them about, much less get them
into his head.” About 1469-70, alphabetical tables of the first words
of each chapter were introduced as a guide to the binder.
After the great secret of printing was spread abroad, the early
printers, in their own quaint style, took pains to inform the public
that the book they issued was printed.
Caxton said of his first book, “It is not written with pen and ink as
other books be, to the end that every man may have them at once; for
all the books of this story, thus imprinted as ye here see, were begun
in one day, and also finished in one day;” that is, the edition.
The Mentz printers, at the end of each of their first works, made it
known that instead of being drawn or written with a pen, they were made
by a new art and invention of printing or stamping them by characters
or types of metal set in forms.
King Henry VI. was moved by the Archbishop of Canterbury to use all
possible means for procuring a printing mould, as it was then called,
to be brought into England. It is supposed that Caxton, after the
custom in other monasteries, set up his press near one of the aisles
of Westminster Abbey. The first book printed there was “The Game of
Chess,” a work then much used by all classes of people, and “doubtless
desired by the Abbot, and the rest of his friends and masters.”
Caxton translated it from the Latin of a Dominican friar, who wrote
it in the year 1200. It was in the main a good book, else Caxton,
with his decided religious principle, would not have published it; he
recommends it as “full of wholesome wisdom, and requisite unto every
state and degree.” But to us it seems a curious mingling of amusement
and advice. There were instructions for playing the game, side by side
with counsels which, according to Caxton, would enable the people to
understand wisdom and virtue.
The course of study then comprised in what was thought a good
education, was very limited. Teacher and pupil in most cases attempted
little, and accomplished little. The _trivium_ and the _quadrivium_
were the two branches of what was then understood as the liberal arts.
The former included grammar, rhetoric, and dialectics; the latter,
music, arithmetic, geometry, and astronomy. It was thought that he
who became master of these studies needed no longer a preceptor or
assistance in solving any questions within the compass of human reason.
But thorough students in these branches were seldom found, until the
dissemination of books by the art of printing gave a new impetus to the
intellect of that age.
Interesting it has been to trace step by step the passing on of this
art to perfection. Long were genius and industry engaged in its study,
and never was there so rich and glorious a harvest from human efforts.
The nurse and preserver of the arts and sciences, of religion and
civilization, was not the work of one brain solely, neither did the
gift bring peace at once, but rather strife and opposition. Ignorance
fled before it as darkness from light; the priests and copyists were
disturbed; and the way was made ready for the bringing in of the
Reformation, commencing in 1517 under Martin Luther. For doubtless the
invention of this art did more to unmask the superstitions of the Papal
church than all other causes combined.
Gutenberg’s conception and execution of printing the Bible was a
magnificent enterprise; through unparalleled difficulties, he produced
an eloquent and superb book, which is even now the admiration of the
learned. We scarcely know which most to admire, the great art, or the
noble purpose to which its incalculable power was lent. His praise
is in every land, but most of all do his countrymen love and revere
his memory. Statues of Gutenberg have been erected in several cities
of Germany, and festival occasions celebrating his achievements are
frequent. A picture of one of these days of grateful rejoicing is the
following account of a