Angelo Rocca, in the Appendix to the Account of the Vatican Library printed at Rome in 1591, states, from personal knowledge, that “the types used by the inventors of printing were perforated, and connected together by a thread which was passed through them, of which he remembered to have seen specimens at Venice.”[53] These perforations were no doubt the origin of the ‘nicks’ in the shanks of the types, which now enable compositors to place them in their proper positions, without examining their faces. But the threading of the letters by means of such perforations must have proved a great obstacle to progress in printing, and the perforations must also have greatly weakened the letters themselves. This will be at once understood from the annexed figures, shewing the sides of the shanks of two types, one perforated and the other nicked as at present. Obviously it was a great improvement to nick the type instead of perforating it. The object in view, that of keeping the letters in line, would be better secured by laying a thin wire in and along the nicks, than by stringing them together with a thread. Time in composing and correcting would also be saved by the alteration. As soon however as Type-founding was established as a scientific art, and types were made to adjust together with mathematical accuracy, neither threads nor wires were longer wanted; but the nicks still served as a useful aid to the compositor, in the speedier execution of his work; while the type-founder, by multiplying their number and varying their positions, enabled him at once to distinguish the differently-faced founts of the same class of types.
However occupied in the five years after 1439, Gutenberg’s means became exhausted; and having been obliged, in order to extricate himself from his difficulties, to part with a portion of his paternal property to the Church of St. Thomas, he resolved to leave Strasburg and return to Mentz, his native city. This he did about the year 1444, taking up his residence in the ‘Zum Jungen,’ the house of his uncle on the Platz of the Franciscans. Here, still busily engaged in the work to which he had now exclusively devoted himself, he again ran out of funds, and had to borrow 150 florins from Reinhart Brömser and Johan Rodenstein, for which sum his kinsman, Arnulphus Gelthus, became security. His first business transaction with John Fust or Faust, the banker and money-lender, seems to have been in 1448, Faust’s name appearing as a witness to a deed of purchase made by Gutenberg in that year.[54] Two years later a contract was entered into between them, which from that date has made their names inseparable in the annals of the origin of Typography.
In the year 1450, Gutenberg, having already completed three, perhaps four, small founts of type, as well as presses that fully answered his expectations, designed a work, the magnitude of which necessitated a large preliminary outlay. To enable him to execute his design, he had recourse to Faust. Faust, having convinced himself of the worth of his inventions, and the value of the project in contemplation, agreed to “advance to John Gutenberg 800 florins in money, as a fixed sum, with which he was to perform the work in question,” on condition “that the utensils were to be considered as security to the said John Faust, and that he (Gutenberg) was to give six florins per cent. interest for these 800 florins.” With this money Gutenberg was bound “to prepare and make utensils” to be employed for their joint use. Faust also agreed to pay 300 florins annually “for expenses, as well as for the wages of servants, rent, firing, parchment, paper, ink, &c.” It was moreover stipulated, “that if in future they should disagree, Gutenberg was to give back to Faust his 800 florins, and that his utensils were then to be released.”[55]
Supplied with funds, Gutenberg set actively to work. Several assistants were at once engaged, and amongst the rest Peter Schœffer of Gernszheim. Their principal occupation would be in connection with the work for which Faust made the advance of 800 florins; but while that was progressing, several small matters were printed, for which there would be a steady though probably only a limited demand. The Abbot Trithemius states, in his Chronicon Hirsaugiense, that “a vocabulary called the Catholicon,”[56] was the first work printed, “with the characters of the letters carved in wooden tablets in a series, and composed in forms:—imprimis agitur characteribus litterarum in tabulis lignis per ordinem scriptis formisque compositis.” Other writers make mention of an Alphabet, engraved on a single page, and two editions of Donatuses, also cut in solid blocks. These were most likely brought by Gutenberg from Strasburg, and would be his earliest efforts. But besides these, there were Donatuses in cut metal types, and, as some consider, “An Appeal against the Turks,” and “Letters of Indulgence,” printed in the years 1454 and 1455.[57] All these were doubtless the ‘pot-boilers’ of the establishment for the time being.
At length the magnum opus,—the celebrated Biblia Latina Vulgata,—made its appearance. This work is commonly known as the “Mazarin Bible,” from a copy having been discovered in the Bibliotheque Mazarin at Paris, about the middle of the eighteenth century. It was recognised by the book-seller and bibliopole De Bure, who gave a minute description of it in the Bibliographie Instructive, (vol. i. pp. 32–40.) There can hardly exist a doubt that this is the work to which Ulric Zell refers in his account of the origin of Printing, where he says—“And in the year M.CCCC.L. which was a jubilee, they began to print; and the first book printed was the Bible in Latin.”[58] Being without a date, the exact year of its publication cannot be ascertained; but a copy exists in the Royal Library in Paris, printed on paper, and bound in two volumes, on each of which is an entry, stating the date when its binding and illuminating was completed: and as the second entry gives the information that this was finished at Mentz on the Feast of the Assumption, 1456,[59] the work itself could not have been issued from the press later than the year preceding, 1455, which secures to it an unimpeached priority in the records of bibliography.
Strange to say, the existence of this work was unknown until the discovery of the Mazarin copy; since then about twenty copies have been traced in various libraries, some on vellum, and some on paper: twelve of these are now in England, and in every place where they are deposited, they are justly considered the most precious of bibliographical treasures. The type is of a large handsome Gothic character, fine and square and sharp, imitative of the best manuscripts of the time, the first letters of each chapter being painted in by hand. The book consists of 637 leaves, with two columns each containing forty-two lines printed upon each page.[60] It is beautifully executed, and remarkable for the blackness and brilliancy of the ink made use of.
“It is a very striking circumstance,” says Mr. Hallam, “that the high minded inventors of this great art, tried at the very outset so bold a flight as the printing an entire Bible, and executed it with astonishing success. It was Minerva leaping on earth in her divine strength and radiant armour, ready at the moment of her nativity, to subdue and destroy her enemies. The Mazarin Bible is printed, some copies on vellum, some on paper of choice quality, with strong, black and tolerably handsome characters, but with some want of uniformity, which has led, perhaps unreasonably, to a doubt whether they were cast in a matrix.[61] We may see in imagination this venerable and splendid volume, leading up the crowded myriads of its followers, and imploring as it were a blessing on the new art, by dedicating its first fruits to heaven.”
Whatever may have been the precise date of the publication of this Bible, it is evident that some short time before, a disagreement took place between Faust and Gutenberg. The first advance of 800 florins made by the former, not having sufficed for bringing out the work, a second advance had been made to the same extent, and for five years no interest had been paid. Principal and interest, or the forfeiture of the security, were then demanded; and the demand enforced by an action at law. Why Faust waited so long, and then, when the work was all but ready for publication, made his demand, amounting in all to 2020 florins, it may not be difficult to determine as the narrative proceeds.