The Gutenberg Ancestor's Ingenuity
Johannes' original surname had been Gensfleisch zu Laden. Later, when Johannes, the inventor of the printing press, adopted Gutenberg as his surname, it became the name we moderns know so well. Gutenberg. His invention of the printing press brought massive changes to European society. Before that, information and knowledge had been monopolized by a select few. This was possible because books capable of disseminating knowledge were outrageously expensive. To fill paper with information, countless scribes had to laboriously write each character by hand. In other words, it required vast amounts of labor, especially from educated intellectuals. Monasteries had served as repositories of knowledge in the past thanks to the tireless efforts of such monks. Gutenberg's printing press completely overturned this archaic system. Using his machine, a Bible of twenty pages—what took monks months to produce—could be made in just one minute. In short, the advent of the printing press allowed knowledge and information to spread rapidly across an incomparably wider range than before. That was why his invention could transform European society so profoundly.
Adolf, presumed to be an ancestor of that very man. For one thing, his birthplace matched Mainz, Johannes Gutenberg's hometown. Additional details overlapped, confirming my suspicions at once. Of course, that didn't mean the Adolf standing before me could invent a printing press. That's why I wanted to know if he had the ability to create what I was hoping for.
"You're a woodworker, right?"
"Yes, that's correct. The storage box you're holding was made by me."
Adolf's work showed surprisingly high quality. So, for the time being, I had Halvar pay him generously for the jade ring and the box—more than their worth.
Adolf, receiving far more money than expected, looked at me in astonishment.
"That's twice the original price."
"I know. I'm paying you in advance for a job I want you to do."
"For me, my lord?"
"Can you carve Greek letters onto a wooden block?"
"Yes, I can. But I only have one wooden block with me—the one I used for practice... Would it be all right if I do it here?"
I nodded at Adolf's question. He promptly pulled a wooden block from his bosom and began working. Soon, the Greek letter alpha was carved into the block. Then beta, gamma, delta, and epsilon. All the way from alpha to omega. He handed me the block inscribed with every Greek character.
His wood carving skill was certainly worth watching. At this level, it was safe to say he had the technique to produce blocks for a printing press.
As I examined it, something caught my eye. Not just the letters, but the spaces dividing them had been intentionally embossed.
"Impressive work. But why did you emboss these sections?"
"If it doesn't please you, I'll make another one."
"That's not it—explain the reason."
"As I mentioned earlier, this block was for practicing an idea I had."
"Are these lines traces of your practice?"
"Yes. Actually, I recently visited the merchants' guild and spotted something unique..."
Adolf had gone to the merchants' guild to seek exemption from tolls. There, he said, he first saw the charts I'd created. He noticed how they were divided into sections for names, visit dates, and purposes. Sensing it could make money, he acted immediately.
"They split it into multiple square cells to make these charts. Seeing them draw each one by hand, I thought it was inefficient."
"So these cells mean you've pre-carved the chart template?"
"Exactly. This way, you just apply ink on top and press paper onto it."
Woodblock printing. A technique developed before metal movable type—back when typecasting wasn't perfected. Its origins were uncertain, but circumstances pointed to China. Scholars concluded as much because China had the means to discover it at the time, being the birthplace of paper. In fact, jade seals combined intaglio and relief for easy stamping of imperial edicts bearing the emperor's commands. China had made these as early as the Han dynasty in the 5th century. As it spread across East Asia, it influenced our country and Japan too.
"How did you learn about these wooden blocks? Did you develop it yourself?"
I knew the history well, having come from the future. Still, I asked to test him—to see if I could trust him. If he lied out of petty vanity, no matter his talent, I couldn't appoint him. Someone might say it was a waste not to use his woodblock skill, but woodblock printing was already widespread—practically commonplace—in East Asia. In time, it would reach Europe one way or another. Worst case, I could make and spread it myself. So Adolf's technique wasn't uniquely precious or vital. There was no need to elevate a liar with middling skills.
With that in mind, I waited to see his choice. To my satisfaction, Adolf shook his head at once.
"I didn't invent it. I just internalized it from various experiences in trade."
Excellent response from Adolf. He didn't puff himself up over something trivial but answered humbly.
"The intaglio and relief are well-defined—perfect for printing."
At my praise, Adolf smiled happily.
"And that's not all."
Suddenly, he pulled out a piece of cloth. He applied ink to his sharply defined work. Pressing it onto the cloth produced a perfect print. Names were stamped between the chart cells.
"This way, you can copy as many as you want."
"Copy?"
"Drawing those charts by hand one by one is a loss. So if you make a pre-carved template like this, apply dye, and keep copying..."
Adolf's breakthrough method. As he said, having wooden stamps like this would be convenient in many ways. Simply making a basic chart template, inking it, and copying would make chart production effortless. That would free up labor from chart-making for actual administration.
This sparked a good idea in me.
"Sounds promising. But having people do everything by hand seems laborious."
Adolf pondered my words briefly, then lit up with an answer.
"A grape press... What if we attach the template to a grape press? When you need to ink it, pull down the handle with the block attached, and the force will..."
Like Italy, the Eastern Romans drank plenty of wine, so grape presses existed. You loaded grapes inside and lowered the heavy top to crush them. The press then channeled the pulp through tubes, separating seeds, skins, and flesh. Adolf proposed adapting this multifunctional device.
Insert the printing block into the top stone. Brushes sweep over it to apply ink evenly. Then, using force and gravity to press down firmly transfers the image perfectly onto paper or silk above.
This was essentially not just woodblock printing, but a woodblock printing press. Much like how his descendant Gutenberg didn't invent metal type but a metal-type printing press, Adolf had devised a woodblock printing press.
"What do you think?"
"One person inks and prints using a grape press. How many charts could administrators produce in a day?"
"A skilled worker could manage about 40 to 50 sheets."
"Fewer than I expected."
"Considering the block's lifespan and paper tearing, that's the realistic figure."
Adolf's explanation made sense. As he said, over 50 sheets would crack the block. Even waterproofed, constant dye exposure caused rot.
"What about using silk instead of paper?"
"Silk, my lord? Using such expensive silk for charts would be inefficient."
Silk cost more than paper, so his skepticism was natural. But that was shortsighted. Paper itself was precious and often exceeded mid-grade silk in price. Ruining expensive paper with poorly inked blocks was the real waste. Low-grade silk, however, would outperform paper. And we had mountains of cheap, dumped silk.
"Using cheaper silk than paper would let you copy without straining the block."
"You're right. But acquiring that cheap silk is nearly impossible."
"Why?"
"Lord Johan, coming from North Germany, might not know. From what I've heard, silk is a state-controlled monopoly here."
The government held the silk monopoly—one of the ventures from Zoe's and my currency reform. Thus, all Eastern Roman silk supply and sales were state-run.
"As I said, to experiment with cheap silk, you'd need the emperor's approval."
Adolf's final word. At that, I ripped off my disguise mustache and murmured softly.
"I'll handle that."