Gutenberg we may fairly presume, (relying upon documentary evidences for the presumption), aware of the nature and extent of the demand that existed for such productions, foresaw how a _new public want_ might be created by means of new inventions for further developing the new-born art. Separable types with the then known methods for making use of them, were but as acorns in comparison with stately full grown oaks,--but sickly stunted bushes, instead of luxuriant vines, from whose wide-spreading boughs the thickly clustered bunches of ripe, refreshing, life-giving fruit should be sought for far and near. How to excite and satisfy this want was the problem constantly revolving in his mind. It soon became evident, that a machine capable of rapidly striking off copies of works that were to be set up in types, was a necessity of the case; and to meet that necessity all his energies were bent. The time and money spent in working out his ideas,--in constructing the original LETTER-PRESS,--is shewn in the evidence which has been preserved, the bearing of which seems to have been hitherto strangely misapprehended. “The earliest printing press” says Mr. Charles Knight, “was nothing more than a common screw-press,--such as a cheese press, or a napkin press.” He gives no authority for the assertion, but he immediately adds, thereby largely qualifying it,--“with a contrivance for running the forme of types under the screw after the forme was inked.”[41] In this ‘contrivance,’ with some few others, which were its necessary adjuncts,--however simple the matter may seem now-a-days to eyes accustomed to look upon machinery and mechanical appliances of all kinds and varieties,--lay the chief difficulty. The screw, from its power and adjustability, would naturally suggest itself as the appliance best suited to effect the purpose aimed at. But how to contrive to make the screw an effective agent in producing impressions from types, was the question which Gutenberg had to consider. His separable letters were ready to his hand; but without the press, which he had yet to make, and to find out how to make, they were as useless to him as unstrung harp-strings are unmusical until they are keyed and stretched and tuned, and made to emit soul-thrilling harmonies at the master touch of the fingers of the finished harpist. Satisfied with the result of his experiments as to types, a new series of experiments had to be entered upon before he could hope to realize his expectations in regard to them. These he carried on in his residence at St. Arbogaste, in the suburbs of Strasburg.