ENGRAVING.

The invention of wood engraving has been claimed for the Chinese, whose books have certainly been printed from engraved wood blocks for ages. It is not, however, until the beginning of the fifteenth century that we find any evidence of the existence of wood engraving as we now understand it.

It is probable that Italy was the first European country to make engravings, but only for printing playing-cards. Holland and Germany soon applied the art to better ends.

The earliest print of which any certain information can be obtained is in the collection of Earl Spencer. It was discovered in one of the most ancient convents of Germany,—the Chartreuse of Buxheim, near Memmingen in Bavaria,—pasted within the cover of a Latin MS.; it represents Saint Christopher carrying the infant Saviour across the sea, and is dated 1423. We give a reduced fac-simile of this curious engraving. The inscription at the bottom has been thus translated:—

Shortly afterward, a series of books printed entirely from wood engravings, called block-books, were issued. The most important of them were the Apocalypsis, seu Historia Sancti Johannis; the Historia Virginis ex Cantico Canticorum; and the Biblia Pauperum, the last containing representations of some of the principal passages of the Old and New Testaments, with explanatory texts. The illustrations seem to be drawn with a supreme contempt for perspective and proportion, but bear evidence of the draperies and hands and faces having been carefully studied. The above is a copy of one of the cuts in the Apocalypsis. It represents St. John preaching to three men and a woman, with the inscription: “Conversi ab idolis, per predicationem beati Johannis, Drusiana et ceteri,” (By the preaching of St. John, Drusiana and others are withdrawn from their idols.) The adjoining cut, from the Biblia Pauperum, is curious as showing the general manner of representing the creation of Eve during the fifteenth century. Both have the appearance of careful drawings “spoiled in the engraving.” Previous to the invention of movable types, whole books of text were also engraved on wood, and the impressions were evidently taken by rubbing on the back of the paper, instead of a steady pressure, as in the printing-press, the ink used being some kind of distemper colour.

The wood to be engraved on is carefully selected, and cut up into transverse slices seven-eighths of an inch thick. This is done by circular saws, which are necessarily very rigid, so as to insure good even cuts.

After being cut, the slices are placed in racks something like plate-racks, and thoroughly seasoned by slow degrees in gradually heated rooms. When sufficiently seasoned they are reduced to parallelograms of various sizes, the outer portion of the circular section near the bark being cut away, and all defective wood rejected; such, for instance, as knots, irregular grain, as that resulting from the position of branches, which are indicated by light-coloured markings in the wood, known in the trade as “comets,” from their resemblance in shape to those fiery bodies. They are softer than the surrounding wood, and consequently do not cut well with the graver; therefore much care and a practised eye are needed in selecting suitable wood. A section of boxwood almost always exhibits parts of widely different values; the more so as it deviates from the circle in form, for then the annual rings are compressed, and consequently closer on one side than on the other, the side with the wide open rings being usually far inferior in value to the denser and smaller side.

In former times, engravers’ blocks were cut parallel with the grain, the present system of cutting them across the grain being introduced about the middle of the last century. In the preparation of a block, say for a newspaper plate, the parallelograms before spoken of are assorted as to size and fitted together at the back by brass bolts and nuts. So accurately do the edges of the wood fit together, that after the artist has finished his drawing on the smooth face of this compound block, the screws and bolts are loosened, and the pieces separated and given to several men to engrave the design; all that is needed after they have finished their work being to fit the pieces together and screw them up again, when they form one engraved block ready for the printing-press.

Turkey boxwood, from a region of country in the vicinity of the Black Sea, is used for fine engravings. The best is of a delicate yellow colour free from spots or “eyes,” and cuts smoothly without crumbling or tearing.

The tools or gravers necessary in wood-engraving are of three kinds,—viz., gravers proper (a); tint tools (b); and scoopers, or cutting-out tools, for clearing out the larger pieces (c). They are arranged in different sizes, to suit the various portions of the work.[9]

According to Vasari, the important discovery of chalcography or engraving on brass or copper was made by Tommaso Finiguerra, a Florentine goldsmith of the fifteenth century, who lived from 1400 to 1460. The manner in which he made this discovery is thus stated by the Rev. T. F. Dibdin:—

“Of engraving upon copper, the earliest known impression is that executed by one Tommaso Finiguerra, a goldsmith of Florence, with the date of 1460 upon it. One of the following circumstances is supposed to have given rise to the discovery. Finiguerra chanced to cast, or let fall, a piece of copper, engraved and filled with ink, into melted sulphur; and, observing that the exact impression of his work was left on the sulphur, he repeated the experiment on moistened paper, rolling it gently with a roller. This origin has been admitted by Lord Walpole and Mr. Landseer; but another has been also mentioned by Huber. ‘It is reported,’ says he, ‘that a washerwoman left some linen upon a plate or dish on which Finiguerra had just been engraving, and that an impression of the subject engraved, however imperfect, came off upon the linen, occasioned by its weight and moistness.’”

PHOTO-ENGRAVING.

Photo-engravings are produced by means of photography. It is a fact worthy of note that experiments in photographic engraving gave rise to photography itself. The aim of Nicéphore Niepce, when he began his researches in 1813, was not only to fix the image obtained by the camera obscura on a plate of metal, but to convert this plate into an engraving which could be used on a printing-press. His early death prevented his perfecting the process to which he had devoted much time and study.

Three distinct methods of photo-engraving are employed in the United States, viz.: swelled gelatine, photo-etching, and wash-out. The latter is known as photo-electrotyping.

The first steps to produce a plate by any of these processes are exactly alike, i. e. a perfectly sharp negative, either in line or stipple, must be produced. If the copy furnished is a wood-cut, steel or lithographic print, in which the lines are absolutely black on white paper or card, the negative is made direct and no drawing is necessary, unless a very great reduction is required, when it becomes necessary to make a drawing, the lines of which are made open enough to stand the necessary reduction. Where the copy furnished is a photograph, or wash drawing, it is first photographed one half larger, or, where fine work is desired, twice the size the plate required. In cases where exceptionally fine work is required it is even made three times the size. The photograph thus obtained is technically termed a silver print, and is an untoned print on plain paper. On this silver print the artist makes his drawing, using the best India ink, which must be so black that the finest hair-line, when examined through a magnifying glass, appears absolutely jet black. After the drawing is made, an alcoholic solution of bichloride of mercury is poured over it, and quickly washed under the tap, leaving the drawing on perfectly white paper. The artist then does whatever retouching may be necessary, and the drawing is ready to be photographed. The advantages of this method of drawing are apparent. The artist, being able to work directly on the enlarged photograph of the object, obtains absolutely correct outlines and detail. The drawing, when finished, is sent to the gallery, where it is photographed to the required size of the plate. The focus of the camera is carefully adjusted with the aid of a focusing glass, so that the negative resulting will be perfectly sharp. This must be carefully done, for unless the negative be sharp a perfect plate cannot be obtained by any process. The sensitized collodion plate is exposed in the camera from one to six minutes, after which it is taken again to the dark room, developed, and fixed. It is then intensified until the portions representing the whites of the picture are perfectly opaque. Up to this point all the processes are alike, and the differences from here will be noted.

If the plate is to be produced by the swelled gelatine process, the negative is varnished and sent to the gelatine room. Here the gelatine is dissolved and the sensitized solution of bichromate of potash is added, and it is flowed on plate glass, then placed in a drying box, where a current of air is continually passed over it. When the gelatine is dry it is placed in a printing frame, in close contact with the negative, and exposed to the light. On removing the negative the picture is plainly seen on the gelatine, the action of the light having changed the color of the exposed portions of the gelatine, besides rendering those parts insoluble, while the parts protected from the action of the light, by the opacity of the negative, remain soluble, and are swelled up by immersion in cold water. The gelatine is then an exact opposite of the plate, the whites being represented by the raised portions. From this mould, or relief, a cast is made in a preparation of wax or plaster, when it is ready for the stereotyper.

For the wash-out or photo-electrotype process, the negative, when dry, is not varnished, but is first coated with a rubber solution and then with plain collodion, after which it is immersed in a dish of acetic acid for about five minutes, when it is stripped from the glass and turned over. It is then what is termed a reversed negative. The method of preparing the gelatine is very much the same as for the swelled process, with the exception that it is cooked for about forty-eight hours, and with the addition of several preparations which are introduced at the time of sensitizing, to make it easily washed out. The negative is exposed in the same manner as described before, but the time of exposure is generally less. After being taken from the printing frame the gelatine is gently scrubbed with a line brush, and kept in tepid water until a very slight relief is obtained. It is then immersed in alcohol for a few seconds, and dried with a cloth, when it is covered with a preparation of lamp black and glycerine, which is allowed to remain about five minutes, when the surface of the plate is carefully rubbed with clean muslin, exposing the surface of the lines,—all this being done in a dark room before an orange light, which is non-actinic. The gelatine is now placed in a frame and exposed to the light from five to twenty minutes, the lampblack protecting the spaces between the lines from the action of the light, so that those portions remain soluble. The gelatine is again scrubbed until the proper relief is obtained, after which it is allowed to dry for about twelve hours, when it becomes hard and is ready to be electrotyped.

The negatives for photo-etching are stripped and reversed in the same manner as for the wash-out process. The metal generally employed for this process is zinc, though copper is sometimes used for very fine work. The zinc is very highly polished, and a thin sensitizing solution is flowed over it and dried, after which it is exposed under the negative to the action of the light. It is then rolled up with lithographic ink, placed in a dish of cold water, and gently rubbed with absorbent cotton, the ink readily leaving the unexposed parts, but remaining on the exposed lines or dots. It is then quickly dried and dusted over with dragon’s-blood powder, which adheres only to the remaining inked portions. The plate is then heated and cooled, and is ready for the etching bath, which consists of a small portion of nitric acid and water. After the first bite the plate is again powdered, heated and cooled, and more acid added to the bath. This is repeated several times, after which the plate is ready for the press. The sides of the lines are protected by the manner in which the powder is applied after the first bite. The relief obtained in this way is greater than can be obtained by any other process.

In reviewing the three processes above described, it is readily seen that the photo-etching process is the shorter method, no moulding or casting being necessary, and the sharpness of the finest lines is preserved in a manner impossible by the other methods. The plates are much deeper, and are equally suitable for the finest art work, down to the roughest newspaper work. This process, of which there are several modes of operating, has become very popular in the last few years, owing to the many improvements introduced by the process inventors, who have turned their attention to it. It has many advantages, among which is the fact that a plate can be put on the press within two hours from the time the copy is ready; and the wearing capacity of the plates is greater. By this process more than 300,000 impressions have been taken from plates of fine work, while swelled gelatine plates of the same character of work would not stand over 5000, and electrotypes 50,000 impressions. The main advantage of photo-etchings to the printer is, that the plates do not require constant washing up, as is the case with plates made by the other processes.

A photograph, brush drawing, or any copy that is not made up of line or stipple, can be produced without the necessity of a line drawing by the aid of the half-tone process. There are several of these processes in operation in this country; and, although originally introduced in Germany by Miesenbach, it has been so improved by American inventors that the European work is far below the standard of the United States. The principal methods of half-tone in this country are worked secretly by the inventors, each having modifications and improvements of his own. It is impossible to give a thorough description here, as none of the inventors are willing to risk patenting their processes, and a complete publication is not desirable. The copy is first photographed, giving a negative with all the details of the original. This negative is then exposed to the camera, and the result is a positive, or, as commonly called, a transparency. This positive is then placed in contact with a glass plate covered with ruled lines. This plate is termed a grating. Being placed in contact, they are then photographed together, giving a negative of the object made up of lines and dots, representing the lights and shades of the picture. Here the half-tone process ends, the resulting plate being produced by any of the photo-engraving methods; but the most satisfactory results are obtained by photo-etching. The main objection to the half-tone plates is their lack of relief. No great depth can be obtained without sacrificing the effect. In printing these plates the greatest care in making ready must be exercised, and a smooth surface paper must be used. It is also necessary that a fine grade of ink be used in small quantity, and that it should be properly distributed.

A WALK OVER OUR FOUNDRY.

Mr. Typograph, how are you, sir? Glad to see you. How is business with you? Plenty to do, and customers paying up? You are so prompt in paying us, that we have no doubt you have a noble set of customers. You wish to add to your stock our new things? All right, sir. You have a fine office already, but you want to keep up with the times, and give your patrons the best the type-founder can invent? That’s the way, sir. The man on the lookout sees the sun the earliest. Mr. Faithful, show our new things to Mr. Typograph, and take his order.

You say, Mr. Typograph, that you have never gone over a type-foundry? We shall be happy to show you every thing. This way, sir. Here is the metal-house. These piles of dull lead, these casks of sparkling antimony, this copper, and this tin go to form the grand amalgam of which type is made. The worthy and kind-hearted man who is stirring at the kettle, unites, in bonds stronger than matrimony, immense masses of these metals every week. It may appear to you, Mr. Typograph, to be an exceedingly simple thing to throw into the kettle certain amounts of lead and antimony, and copper and tin, and produce type-metal. Not so, good friend. It is not an easy matter to compose a metal that shall be hard, yet not brittle; ductile, yet tough; flowing freely, yet hardening quickly. All these conditions must be met. Break a bar in two, and examine the grain of our metal: is it not beautiful?

Now, sir, let us up-stairs and see how these bars are fitted for printers’ use. This is a punch-cutter—a man of exquisite finger and unerring eye—sitting amid keen and delicate tools and accurate gauges. There are but few of this kind of men in the world. On the end of a piece of steel he is forming a letter. A touch here and a touch there, and frequent testing by gauges,—so he proceeds, till the letter is done; then another, and another, till the alphabet is complete; all the letters harmonizing entirely in height, breadth, appearance, length of stroke, &c. A smoke-proof of the dies is taken, and if approved the dies are one by one placed in a stamping-machine, so,—and an oblong piece of copper is set under it, so,—and then this lever is brought down, so,—and a perfect impression of the die is left, as you see, deep in the copper. This is the matrix. The matrices are passed over to other workmen in the adjoining room. Observe now the carefulness and skill exercised in fitting up these bits of copper, so that, when placed in the mould, the types cast in them shall range accurately and be of uniform height. The slightest variation would give the zigzag appearance which you may have noticed in badly-made type. This we endeavour sedulously to avoid, and with how much success you can judge from our Specimen Book. Look at this drawer full of matrices. You say they are triumphs of art? True saying, evincive of good judgment.

You wonder what these curious-looking instruments are which lie, in dusty repose, on the shelves around the room? Those, Mr. Typograph, are hand-moulds, and at one time they provoked intense covetousness on the part of rival founders. One of our earliest predecessors, Mr. Archibald Binny (our foundry dates from 1796), added such valuable improvements to the ordinary mould, that no other foundry in the world could rival the expedition and accuracy with which types were cast in the establishment of which he was a co-proprietor. Their day has passed, however. They have been superseded by the machines which you will see in operation in another apartment. But they were capital things in their time, sir, and we regard them with somewhat of an antiquary’s reverence.

Now we enter the casting-rooms. These tiny machines, small as they are, can throw out more type in one day than you would be likely to count in a month, even if you could call off one hundred a minute, and occupy ten hours a day. Snug little fellows, are they not? They were invented by a New-Yorker, Mr. David Bruce, Jr. A very ingenious man, you say? That is true. Look at one carefully. The metal is kept fluid by a little furnace underneath, and is projected into the mould by a pump, the spout of which, you see, is in front of the metal-pot. The mould is movable, and at every revolution of the crank it comes up to the spout, receives a charge of metal, and flies back with a fully-formed type in its bosom; the upper half of the mould lifts, and out jumps a type as lively as a tadpole. You don’t see how the letter is formed on the end of the type? True, we had forgotten: well, this spring in front holds in loving proximity to the mould a copper matrix, such as you saw just now in the fitting-room. The letter a, for instance, stamped in the matrix, sits directly opposite the aperture in the mould which meets the spout of the pump; and when a due proportion of a’s is cast, another matrix with b stamped in it takes its place; and so on throughout the alphabet. Slow work, you say, one at a time? Well, the world is peopled after that fashion; and it fills up fast enough. But just time this machine: it is making small, thin type. Count the type made in a minute. One hundred and seventy-five, you say. One hundred per minute will probably be the average of the ordinary sizes of printing type.

The types are not finished yet? Oh, no. These nimble-fingered boys are breaking off the jets, or waste ends of the type. Quick, a’n’t they? Now let us go up stairs into the dressing-room. An immense beehive? Yes, indeed, it looks like one. The lads clustered around the large circular stones, with leather-protected fingers, rub off the rough edges of the type. But men as well as type require their rough edges taken off before they are good for much in the world. These boys at the tables set up the type in long lines. You think that if you could pick up dollars as fast as they pick up type, you would retire an independent man in a year or two? We wish you could, Mr. Typograph; we wish you could.

The lines of type now pass into the hands of the dresser. Observe how deftly he slips them into a long stick, shakes them down on their face, screws them up, fastens them into a planing-board, and with one or two pushes with a planing tool accurately grooves the bottom of the type, removing entirely the burr left when the jet is broken off, and giving each type a pair of legs to stand upon, till it is worn out and returned to the melting kettle. What is the eye-glass used for? Why, sir, as soon as the types are grooved, the dresser narrowly inspects the face of the type, and if an imperfect letter is discovered by the aid of the magnifying glass, it is incontinently turned out. Ah, sir, if we were all inspected as severely as he criticises type, some of us, perhaps, would hardly pass muster. The immaculate types are next put up in pages of convenient size, and are ready for the purchaser.

Let us drop into the large machine-room. Does not every thing hum here! Is it not a beautiful sight to see the shafts and belts and pulleys whirling around as if they were all alive? Here we fit up our machines, make our moulds, repair damages to machinery, &c. The multifarious uses of these lathes you must be familiar with: this ponderous machine is an iron planer: how it makes the iron chips fly! What is that curiously-arranged lathe? That is for cutting Labour-Saving Rule,—the rule which you have found so convenient and economical in your job-room. We make it of many different styles of faces: some single, some dotted or hyphen-lines, and others parallel or double, of varying thicknesses. They are all cut to Pica ems in length, and are furnished with mitred corner-pieces of different angles, so contrived, in most of the sizes, as to allow the rule to be used single or double, and with the fine lines inside or outside.

Here are specimens of our new slotted brass corners, so handsome and useful to the skilled printer. See how accurately the slotted pieces fit in one another, so that you cannot detect the joint. Are they not effective? Our brass is carefully rolled by the best manufacturers in the country, and is sent to us in strips or in sheets. That wicked-looking shears yonder cuts up the thinner brass with as much unction as Commissioner Yeh’s executioner slices off heads: the thick brass goes under a circular steam-saw.

Now, sir, while we are up here, we will peep into the printers’ furnishing-room. Isn’t this a beautiful stereotype-block? Doesn’t it do your eyes good to look at such perfect workmanship? And these brass galleys, and mahogany galleys and composing sticks, are they not admirable? Our effort in this department, as in all others, is to do our work well. All our miscellaneous wood-work is done here,—stands, racks, drawers, stereotype and packing boxes, &c. Some curious work has been designed and executed for the Smithsonian Institution, as well as brass ciphering-frames for the blind.

Ah, we forgot to show you our large-type room. On our way to the electrotype department, we will glance in it. The types you see here cool too slowly to be cast in a machine, so we continue to pour them. Look over the drawers, and see the multitude of patterns. Some men fancy one style, and some another. So we try to meet all tastes. Feel how solid the type is. You can’t squeeze the life out of that type on a power-press. No, indeed. It is made for wear.

Now, Mr. Typograph, we enter the grimed and murky electrotype-room. Electrotyping, you are aware, is simply stereotyping in copper. Its advantages over stereotyping are, sharpness of outline in plates from wood-cuts, and great durability. Plates for books of large circulation are always electrotyped, as well as cuts, engravings, binders’ stamps, &c. The thing to be electrotyped, after being carefully and almost imperceptibly glazed with plumbago, is laid upon a press, and a prepared mould is placed over it, and an exact impression taken. This is well dusted with plumbago, and then deposited in the electric bath. Nature immediately takes up her part of the work, and a brilliant coating of copper is deposited upon the mould. When sufficiently thick, it is taken out of the battery, and, as you may notice, presents on the wrong side the appearance of a printed sheet of copper. This sheet is then filled up on the back to the requisite degree of thickness, and fastened to a block, ready to be used with type on a common printing-press. Plumbago, you remark, does not improve the countenances of the operatives? True; but a little soap and water, vigorously applied, proves the title of these intelligent workmen to rank among white folk.

To you, Mr. Typograph, our composing-rooms present nothing new, except, perhaps, in its vast number of job founts, due to the fact that we now mainly confine our work in this department to all kinds of jobbing; and yet in ten years we have set up in these rooms and stereotyped more than eight hundred considerable works,—most of them consisting of a single volume, but some of from two to twelve volumes each,—besides a multitude of smaller books, tracts, &c. Among the rest we may mention two Quarto Bibles, (one of them, now published by J. B. Lippincott & Co., the grandest ever got up in America,) Lippincott’s two great Gazetteers, Dr. Kane’s Explorations, The North American Sylva, Thiers’ Napoleon, and Macaulay’s England: Allibone’s magnificent Dictionary of Authors and Books among the number.

After the pages have been set and carefully read, they are sent down to the casting-room. In the electrotype-room, every thing is as black as the brow of a coal-heaver: in the casting-room, all is as white as the neck of a belle. Take care, sir, or your coat will commit a larceny of our plaster. The form of type is laid on this stone, and nicely oiled: and then a mixture of plaster and water—doesn’t it look like a good wife’s buckwheat batter?—is poured over it, and gently rolled in. In a short time the plaster sets, and the mould is removed by screws as tenderly as a nurse handles a baby. It is then dried in this hot-tempered oven, and, after the moisture is all evaporated, it is laid in a pan and fastened tightly, as you see, and plunged into this terrible bath of a thousand pounds of molten type-metal. Phew! you exclaim, what warm work! Yes, sir; but from that fiery sea of lead soon emerges the pan, and its hissing heat is gradually overcome by the water in the trough into which the pan is lowered. Now, caster, break it out. There, Mr. Typograph, is the plate, fixed,—immovable,—stereotyped. The mould is ruined; but the plate is comparatively immortalized. It is rough yet, and, like an uncouth boy, needs polishing.

This next room is the finishing-room. Here the plates are carefully examined, picked, shaved, trimmed, and boxed, ready for the printer. Take a plate in your hand and examine it: it will bear inspection. You say it is far better than the untrimmed, uneven plates of English founders? We know that, sir; for we have often had to re-finish English plates imported by some publisher who imagined he could save a little by ordering a duplicate set of plates of a popular foreign book. A mistake, sir. Both in type-founding and in stereotyping the Americans have driven the foreigner from the field,—and in the only legitimate way, too: simply by surpassing him.

In this nook below, our engraving is done. The drawing is made on the block by the designer, as you see: then patiently and skilfully the engraver cuts and digs out, till the lines and shapes and lights and shades are all revealed in the beautiful picture. Our work in this department gives so much satisfaction that we are seldom without orders.

Now, Mr. Typograph, we shall admit you into our editorial parlour. Walk in, sir. It is not carpeted, and its principal furnishings comprise a desk or two, a few presses, stands and cases, with multitudinous type-surroundings. Here, sir, we edit and print our Specimen Books and our Typographic Advertiser. Don’t you see poetical flies buzzing around, and atoms of wit-dust floating in the air, and odours of sentiment stealing out at the key-holes, and grains of common sense sprinkled all over the floor. Will you have a few specimens as curiosities? You say you have already a good assortment in our Advertiser and our Book? Very well, sir: we hope you will treasure them up. You say truly when you remark, that the printing done in this room is seldom, if ever, surpassed in America. We know that; and we intend to stand on the topmost round of the typographical ladder, and to show our fellow-artists what can be done with type such as we manufacture.

We are afraid, Mr. Typograph, that your long excursion over the house has wearied you. Let us go down-stairs again. These, sir, are our warerooms. On these numerous shelves are ranged founts of all the various sorts of types made by us, carefully put up, labelled and classified, and all accessible at a minute’s notice. Our customers throughout the country keep actively employed all these porters, packers, clerks, salesmen, and bookkeepers. Many of our customers have never visited us; but we put up their orders with as conscientious fidelity and care as if they were standing before us and watching our every movement. We are happy to see them, and hope none will visit our city without calling in and taking us by the hand. We like to see them face to face, so that we can hang up their portraits in our mental gallery; and, when we afterward receive a letter from them, we can imagine that we are hearing them talk to us rather than reading their writing.

The side-door on which your eye has just rested leads to one of our fire-proofs. Enter it. Here, sir, are safely stored many thousand matrices, as well as moulds, when not in use. As it would require the labour of many weary years to replace them if destroyed, we endeavour to keep them secure from the danger of ruin by fire. The upbuilding of a complete type-foundry is a work of generations.

You will hardly care to look into the basement,—the storehouse of ink and other typographical appliances? Your time is exhausted? Then, sir, we bid you good-day. A safe return to your pleasant family, Mr. Typograph.

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IMPLEMENTS OR TOOLS OF THE ART.

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TYPES.

The types or letters generally used for printing in Europe and America are termed Roman, Italic, and Old English, or Black Letter.

ROMAN LETTER.

Roman letters were employed in MSS. from the fifth to about the close of the twelfth century, when what are called Gothic letters (afterward Old English) came gradually into use; these continued for several centuries, when, in most countries, they were superseded by the Roman characters. All printing was in black letter down to 1465, when Sweinheim & Pannartz, in Subiaco near Rome, produced a volume entitled Lactantius, in a character approaching to the actual forms of our modern types. In 1467, they made an improved set of characters, and printed about forty volumes within the five years following. About 1469 John of Spires, in Venice, made a great advance in improving the form of the Roman character, and printed the Natural History of Pliny: the execution of this work is very remarkable. But Nicholas Jenson may fairly be considered the father of the style of Roman letter now in vogue. He printed in Venice four works in the year 1470, the first of which was Eusebii Præparatio Novorum, &c., in types which were cut by him, more perfect in form than those of any earlier printer. The printers named above were all of them Germans.

The Roman letters consist of circles, arcs of circles, and straight lines; and, therefore, on the score of simplicity, precision, and elegance, they certainly deserve to be adopted as the standard for all nations.

A printer, in choosing type, should not only attend to the cut of the letter, but should also observe that its shank is perfectly true, and that it lines or ranges with accuracy, and is of equal height. The quality of the metal of which it is composed and the finish of the letter demand particular attention, as the competition among some of the smaller foundries (which have sprung into existence through the facilities afforded of multiplying matrices by the electrotype process) has led them to use an inferior metal, and produce types without due regard to nicety of finish and exactness of body and standing.

It is important that types should have a deep face, with strong, bevelled bases or foundations under the ceriphs or hairlines, and that the letters should have a deep nick, which should be different from other founts of like body in the same house.

ITALIC LETTER.

Aldo Manuccio, born at Bassano, succeeded Jenson at Venice and turned to good account the latter’s admirable founts of type. He also made many advances in the art of printing, the most notable of which is the invention of the style of type now known as Italic. It was first used in an octavo edition of Virgil issued by him in 1501, and Pope Leo X. gave him a letter of privilege, entitling him to the sole use of the type he had invented. It was said to be founded on the handwriting of Petrarch, which it closely resembles.

Italic was largely employed to distinguish such parts of a book as might be considered appendages, as Prefaces, Introductions, Annotations, &c., all of which were formerly printed in this character; so that perhaps two-fifths of a fount was composed of Italic letter.

At present it is used more sparingly, being superseded by the more elegant mode of enclosing extracts within inverted commas, and by setting poetry and annotations in a smaller-sized type. It is very appropriately used to distinguish the head or subject-matter of a chapter, and is serviceable in grammars and other school-books as well as scientific works. The frequent use of Italic words among Roman in ordinary matter impairs the beauty of the page, and ought to be avoided; yet authors sometimes stubbornly insist on the gratification of their whimsies, even at the sacrifice of every principle of correct taste.

BLACK LETTER.

In Germany, the letters in common use are founded on the Gothic character; but even there scientific works are printed in the German language with Roman letters.

The Dutch adhere to the black letter in books of devotion and religious treatises; while they make use of the Roman in their curious and learned works.

SAXON CHARACTERS.

The Saxon characters originated probably from the Gothic, but were altered or modified after the Latin ones which the Saxons found in use in England in the fifth century. The first Saxon types were cut by John Daye, under the patronage of Archbishop Parker, about the year 1567. We give the Lord’s Prayer in modern Anglo-Saxon types:

NAMES AND SIZES OF TYPE.

The principal bodies to which printing letters are cast in England and America are the following:—

1.	Diamond.
2.	Pearl.
3.	Agate.
4.	Nonpareil.
5.	Minion.
6.	Brevier.
7.	Bourgeois.
8.	Long Primer.
9.	Small Pica.
10.	Pica.
11.	English.
12.	Columbian.
13.	Great Primer.
14.	Paragon.
15.	Double Small Pica.
16.	Double Pica.
17.	Double English.
18.	Double Great Primer.
19.	Double Paragon.
20.	Canon.

Besides the foregoing, a smaller size than Diamond, called Brilliant, is now cast in the foundry of MacKellar, Smiths & Jordan of Philadelphia, the body of which is just one-half of Minion. Even this is surpassed in smallness by a music type cast in the same foundry, named Excelsior, which is precisely one-half the size of Nonpareil. Another size omitted in the list is Minionette, (equivalent to six of the Didot points,) which is next above Nonpareil.

Canon is conceded to have been first produced by a French artisan, and was probably used in some work relating to the canons of the church; to which the German title, Missal, alludes.

Two-line Great Primer, Two-line English, and Two-line Pica, owe their names to the respective bodies of which the depth of two em quadrates answers to one of the double sizes.

Paragon was probably first cut in France. It is known as Text by the Germans.

Pica is universally considered as the standard type, and by it furniture, quotations and labour-saving rules are graduated. A line 83 Pica ems long is equivalent to 35 centimeters. The twelfth part of Pica is the unit, called a Point, by which type-bodies are measured. MacKellar, Smiths & Jordan cast their new borders, ornaments, and job type on Pica, and its subdivisions of Nonpareil, (½ Pica,) and Excelsior, (¼ Pica,) and their multiples.

GRADATION OF TYPES.

The following specimen shows the proportion which one size of type bears to another in width; but it is necessary to observe that it must be taken with certain limitations, because each founder has letter of every size that will either drive out or get in with others of the same body, some faces being more extended and others being more condensed than the standard width of type. The scale contains thirteen sizes in order of gradation, viz., Great Primer, English, Pica, Small Pica, Long Primer, Bourgeois, Brevier, Minion, Nonpareil, Agate, Pearl, Diamond, and Brilliant.