Moxon's mechanick exercises, volume 1 (of 2)

In Short

This foundational 1683 manual is the earliest systematic breakdown of print technology in the English language. It moves step by step through the physical crafts required to build a printing house, from forge-welding the iron press frame to cutting punches, fitting molds, and casting individual pieces of type. Rather than treated as a trade secret, every technique is exposed through precise measurement, structural diagrams, and plain-spoken workshop instructions. The text survives as an extraordinary, highly detailed snapshot of early modern industrial design and hand-craftsmanship.

The Story

The narrative follows an unyielding technical arc: it transforms raw lumber, iron, steel, and molten metal into the physical tools that generate books. The work begins with a historical defense of printing's origins, weighing competing claims between German and Dutch inventors before settling into its true focus: the mechanical standardisation of the craft.

To achieve standardisation, the text turns first to the timber and ironwork of the printing press itself. It details every component of the wooden frame, including the cheeks, till, and winter, specifying exact mortise-and-tenon joints, auger-bored bolt holes, and wedging mechanisms that stabilize the machine against heavy leverage. It examines the mechanics of the carriage and press-stone, specifying the use of smooth marble or Purbeck stone bedded perfectly flat, and details the assembly of the tympans, friskets, press-spindles, and wooden rounce barrels that drive the paper across the inked type.

Attention then turns to ink production, outlining the precise boiling of linseed oil with onions, bread crusts, and litharge of silver, along with the safety measures needed to handle flammable varnishes over open fires. From the press structure, the focus shifts downward into the extreme precision of letter-cutting and type-founding. It examines the symmetry and mathematical proportions of famed Dutch typefaces, instructing the craftsman on using magnifying glasses and dividers to map out every stroke.

The reader is guided through the creation of steel punches using hand-vices, files, and custom iron gages. It details how counter-punches are struck into raw steel to form the open counter-spaces of letters, how the punch faces are smoothed and filed at specific hundred-degree angles to prevent slurring under the press, and how these finished punches are hardened to strike matrix impressions into copper strips.

Finally, the text details the assembly of the two-part hand mold, an intricate combination of iron plates, wooden backs, registers, and steel bows. It demonstrates the physical technique of casting: clutching the mold in one hand, dipping lead with a ladle, and applying the crucial upward "shake" at the precise instant of pouring to force liquid metal into the deepest cuts of the matrix. The text closes with the systematic dressing, bearding, and plowing of newly cast type before it is bundled for the compositor.

How It Unfolds

Building the frame The work opens by mapping out the press's heavy wooden skeleton, detailing the exact cuts, bevels, and mortises required to join dense timbers. It explains how to secure the cheeks with iron pins and tension wedges to withstand repetitive pressure.

Setting the stone The focus shifts to the bed of the press, where smooth marble or Purbeck stone must be set into the wooden coffin. It highlights the exact tolerances required to keep the bed flat and true so the inked form prints without slurring.

Boiling the varnish The text provides operational directions for boiling linseed oil into print varnish using crusts of bread and litharge of silver. It covers crucial fire-safety precautions, including using wet canvas covers to stifle sudden kettle blazes.

Filing the punch Entering the type-foundry, the guide outlines how to shape steel letter-punches using specialized notch-boards, files, and angle gages. It instructs the artisan on striking counter-punches into the metal to form inner letter spaces.

Casting the letter The process reaches its physical climax at the furnace, detailing how to align the copper matrix inside a two-part adjustable mold. The caster must swing liquid metal into the mold with a precise hand-shake to fill the letter matrix completely.

Dressing the type The text concludes with the post-casting cleanup, where boys and dressers clear excess metal breaks from the letter feet. The cast letters are set into wooden sticks, planed flat with a hand-plow, and wrapped into hundred-pound bundles.

The People

Joseph Moxon The author and master instrument maker who acts as the guide throughout the text. Driven by a desire to codify the mechanic arts, he seeks to elevate trade skills into systematic sciences through precise measurement and open publication.

Christophel Van Dijck The revered Dutch letter-cutter whose classic typefaces serve as the ideal standard of beauty and proportion. His structural symmetry, examined under magnifying lenses, proves to the author that letterform design relies on mathematical rule rather than blind guesswork.

The Letter-Cutter The disciplined craftsman responsible for filing raw steel into delicate punch faces. He must work with extreme patience, balancing narrow stroke widths, footing angles, and depth to prevent delicate steel edges from snapping under heavy hammer strikes.

The Type-Caster The steady-handed artisan working directly over the melting furnace. He must maintain perfect physical rhythm, combining a swift ladle pour with a sudden upward hand motion to drive molten metal into every crevice of the matrix.

The Letter-Dresser The workshop finisher who receives raw, freshly cast type. Working against strict production quotas, he relies on specialized plows, hooks, and dressing-blocks to scrape away burrs and square the feet of thousands of individual letters.

In Its Own Voice

"I examined the biggest of his Letters with Glasses, which so magnified the whole Letter, that I could easily distinguish, and with small Deviders measure off the size, scituation and form of every part."

The author describes using magnifying lenses to analyze the exact symmetry of Dutch typeforms.

"...while at the same moment of Time he Jilts the Mold in his left hand forwards to receive the Mettal with a strong Shake (as it is call’d) not only into the Bodies of the Mold, but while the Mettal is yet hot..."

This passage captures the precise physical coordination required to cast clean, crisp type pieces from molten lead.

"And though one Dressing-Knife may serve to both these uses: Yet when Work-men are in a Train of Work they begrutch the very turning the Body about, or stepping one step forward or backward..."

Here the author observes the pragmatic momentum of workshop laborers who refuse to waste even a single physical motion.

What It's Really About

Beneath its explicit instructional framing, the book is an argument for the demystification of human craft. Written during an era when printing and type-founding techniques were guarded as proprietary guild secrets, it insists that mechanical work can be analyzed, measured, and taught through clear mathematical principles. It explores how micro-scale accuracy—the fraction of a millimeter filed off a steel punch or the exact angle of a matrix shoulder—directly determines the clarity of human thought on the printed page. It champions standardized measurement over intuitive guesswork, attempting to convert raw, manual labor into an disciplined engineering science.

Why Read It Today

This volume appeals directly to woodworkers, historians, typographers, and anyone fascinated by the physical history of technology. Reading it feels like standing on the wood-shaving-covered floor of a seventeenth-century workshop alongside an exceptionally articulate master craftsman. The prose is grounded, concrete, and remarkably clear, though modern readers must adjust to archaic spellings, obsolete technical jargon (scabbord, riglets, twelves), and dense structural descriptions of long-vanished tools.

What remains with the reader is a deep appreciation for the immense physical labor behind early print culture. Every character on every page of early modern literature was individually filed in steel, struck into copper, cast in hot metal, and planed by hand. The book exposes the hidden, tactile infrastructure of the printing press, reminding us that long before information became digital, it was forged out of timber, lead, iron, and sweat.