One, the type case
A drawer of tiny letters.
Every letter is a block of lead alloy, cast a century ago and sorted by hand into a wooden case. Capitals, figures and a few points of punctuation. If a letter is not in the case, it cannot be in the print.
43 characters, one case
Two, setting the line
One letter at a time.
Each sort comes out of its box and drops into a brass composing stick, left to right, nick outwards. The knee slides up to fix the measure. A name takes a minute. A poster takes a morning.
Brass stick, 12 inch measure
Three, locking up
Squeezed until it holds.
The line goes into an iron chase with wooden furniture packed around it. Brass quoins are turned with a key until the whole forme lifts as one solid block. If a letter is going to fall out, it falls out here.
Four quoins, one key
Four, inking
Thin, even and glossy.
A knife of ink is spread on the turning disc. Three rollers pick it up, travel down the forme and leave a film on the face of every letter and nothing on the shoulders. Too much and the letters fill in. Too little and the print breaks.
One pass, three rollers
Five, the impression
Pressed, not printed.
The platen closes and the paper meets the type with a few tonnes behind it. The ink transfers and the letters bite into the cotton, so you can read the page with your fingertips. Then the sheet peels away.
Soft cotton, deep bite