eenth-century press for copper intaglio printing; some 5,000 punches and 20,000 matrices, cut by the greatest sixteenth-century masters of the craft - a unique treasure in itself; about sixty moulds; roughly ten tons of cast type; a vast amount of composing sticks, galleys, reglets, and other small implements; approximately 14,000 wood-blocks and 3,000 copperplates used for illustrating the works produced by the house; and some 500 drawings from which illustrations were cut.
If workmen from the time of Plantin and the Moretuses could return they would be able to set about their tasks straight away with familiar tools and in familiar surroundings, the compositors at their cases, the printers at their presses, the type-founders at their furnace. Only the central heating and the electric lights would seem strange at first.
Plantin and the Moretuses preserved another category of material, less spectacular to the average visitor to the house, who sees only a few samples of it in the display cases, but one of the most important assets of the Plantin-Moretus Museum in terms of cultural history. In an air-conditioned strongroom in the basement are ranged long rows of ledgers, cash books, files, registers, and bound volumes of letters, covering the whole period from the foundation to the winding up of the firm.
Numbers of letters and documents relating to other old printers have been preserved, but the Plantinian collection is the only extensive set of records to have come down virtually complete. Because of their scope and the importance of the printing house to which they belong, they form an invaluable source of information about printing and publishing from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century, and more generally about economic, social, and cultural life in this period.
The person who turns the pages of these volumes - sometimes the sand still drops from them where once a master of the Gulden Passer or an assiduous book-keeper hastily scattered it, impatient for the ink to dry - is given a glimpse of the old printing world. In a manner not possible anywhere else, he will see how books were written, printed, and distributed in those days. He will be able to picture the rooms of the Plantin House peopled not by museum staff and circulating visitors, but by humanist scholars and workmen. He will sit at banquet tables, hear heated arguments or learned disputations over rummers of wine, witness the visits of great personages attended by