Rapid Printing: A History of Sorts
In the first quarter century of the cradle books, it was slow work getting one on and off the press. The compositors were middle-aged men, chosen for their knowledge of the text, and, like all scholars, slow of habit. In those days to set up a folio page of 504 words—it must be borne in mind that the type was very large—was a good day's work. It is known for a certainty that bookmaking in the Augustan age was or could be made very quick work. To every important household were attached hundreds of slaves, many of them versed in letters and serving as stewards, secretaries, teachers, &c. For one of the most learned to dictate the odes of Horace to half a hundred copyists at once would have resulted in putting an edition of 1,000 copies on the market in a few days. It is a historical fact that volumes bearing the verses of Rome's greatest poets became at times such a glut in the market as to serve the ignoble purpose of wrapping up the wares of the grocer and pastry cook. Martial assures his readers that one hour would suffice to copy a book of his epigrams—Hcec una peragit librarius hora— but as the book referred to contains 540 verses, the copyist would find it pretty hard work to reel off nine lines a minute. It has been estimated that Gutenberg was five years at work on his bible of forty-two lines. The bible of thirty-six lines was three years in a press. Aldus, whose motto was "Festina Lente” (Hurry Slowly), completed his celebrated edition of Aristotle (five volumes) in four years.
Most of the printers of the cradle books not only founded their own type, but they made their own ink and built their own presses. So, doubtless, it was not an uncommon thing for the compositors, upon finding that their type was running short, to leave their cases and set to work casting the needed letters. Anyone who has gazed upon the cuts of the old presses may well wonder how one man could be strong enough to turn the tremendous screw first down and then up, for there were no springs to raise the platen. It was a dead pull each way.
But of all disagreeable tasks which confronted the early printer, the worst was that of ink making. It vexed him body and soul. It was a thousand times worse than pitch, for the ink was not only more smeary and inflammable, but it was worse smelling. And yet to make a good ink called for most patient and skillful handling. To get the ink evenly on the face of the type was another most laborious task. It required wrists of steel to 44 rock the ink balls,” and a most practiced hand to distribute it evenly. Under the great pressure of these rude presses, the soft typefaces often yielded and thus occurred many vexatious delays. Then, again, as these early presses printed at most only one page, and often only half a page at each pull, it will be readily understood how slowly the work went on.
But the presses were cheap and so was labor, and hence the problem was solved by increasing the number of presses. Koburger, the celebrated Nuremberg printer, had twenty-four presses at work in that city. He had more than a hundred people in his employment.
It needs no great knowledge of the subject to understand that speed under all these unfavorable circumstances was out of the question, especially if good workmanship was sought for.
When the time came for illustrated books another source of delay made itself felt. Artists and engravers in those days were a hard folk to manage. They were paid very little for their services, but they made right merry with what they did receive and haunted the taprooms instead of attending to work—to the utter despair of the printers who sat waiting for a needed cut.
In the last quarter of the fifteenth-century things went better. Presses, type, and ink improved in quality. Printers now gave up the task of making their own ink, and their work¬rooms in this manner got rid of a great amount of filth. The ink maker, and later the type founder, became two important members of the bookmaking craft; but many, very many years were to elapse before the steam printing press was destined to take its place among the wonders of the world.
Most of the printers of the cradle books not only founded their own type, but they made their own ink and built their own presses. So, doubtless, it was not an uncommon thing for the compositors, upon finding that their type was running short, to leave their cases and set to work casting the needed letters. Anyone who has gazed upon the cuts of the old presses may well wonder how one man could be strong enough to turn the tremendous screw first down and then up, for there were no springs to raise the platen. It was a dead pull each way.
But of all disagreeable tasks which confronted the early printer, the worst was that of ink making. It vexed him body and soul. It was a thousand times worse than pitch, for the ink was not only more smeary and inflammable, but it was worse smelling. And yet to make a good ink called for most patient and skillful handling. To get the ink evenly on the face of the type was another most laborious task. It required wrists of steel to 44 rock the ink balls,” and a most practiced hand to distribute it evenly. Under the great pressure of these rude presses, the soft typefaces often yielded and thus occurred many vexatious delays. Then, again, as these early presses printed at most only one page, and often only half a page at each pull, it will be readily understood how slowly the work went on.
But the presses were cheap and so was labor, and hence the problem was solved by increasing the number of presses. Koburger, the celebrated Nuremberg printer, had twenty-four presses at work in that city. He had more than a hundred people in his employment.
It needs no great knowledge of the subject to understand that speed under all these unfavorable circumstances was out of the question, especially if good workmanship was sought for.
When the time came for illustrated books another source of delay made itself felt. Artists and engravers in those days were a hard folk to manage. They were paid very little for their services, but they made right merry with what they did receive and haunted the taprooms instead of attending to work—to the utter despair of the printers who sat waiting for a needed cut.
In the last quarter of the fifteenth-century things went better. Presses, type, and ink improved in quality. Printers now gave up the task of making their own ink, and their work¬rooms in this manner got rid of a great amount of filth. The ink maker, and later the type founder, became two important members of the bookmaking craft; but many, very many years were to elapse before the steam printing press was destined to take its place among the wonders of the world.
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