Читать книгу The Invention of Lithography - Alois Senefelder - Страница 8

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As my father, Peter Senefelder of Königshofen in Franken, was court actor in Munich, I had ample opportunity in early youth to see and read many theatrical pieces. Thus I developed such a love for this branch of literature and for the theatre that I would have become an actor myself had I been permitted to obey my inclination. But my father, who was determined not to permit any of his children to choose the stage, compelled me to study law. I could satisfy my longings only occasionally by playing a few times in private theatricals and by venturing on a few dramatic writings in my hours of recreation. In my eighteenth year (1789) the question arose, at a gathering of youngsters, as to how we should entertain ourselves in the approaching Carnival time. We decided to give a little private play.

Many pieces were proposed, but none seemed suitable, because each one wished to play a good and suitable part, and, besides, we could not fill most of the parts, as we lacked women. We were almost giving up hope when Herr Kuerzinger, now court actor, proposed to me to write a play, as I had begun one shortly before that happened to suit each of my friends.

I finished the little piece, Die Mädchen Kenner, in a short time. It was ready for production, when through accident we were disappointed about securing the private theatre on which we had counted. We were emboldened to request leave to produce it in the Kurfürst's Court Theatre and succeeded, thanks to my father's aid. The over-kind praise which it won encouraged me to have the play printed. Although I was pretty generous with free copies among my friends, I received so much from Lentner, the book-dealer in Munich, that a net profit of fifty gulden remained to me.

I had not worked eight days on the little thing, and had made all this money, without counting the pleasure of the work. No wonder that now I feared no longer for my future! My love for the theatre became overpowering, and as my father died soon afterward (1791), and I found no further assistance toward completing my studies in Ingolstadt, I resolved to become a dramatic author and actor.

I found no place for me in the Court Theatre. Its leaders were opposed to my family, because my mother with her large family received a larger pension, through the favor of the Kurfürst, than she could have expected in ordinary course. In a few strolling theatres, such as Regensburg, Nürnberg, Erlangen, and Augsburg, where I endured privation and misfortune enough, my enthusiasm was well dampened in the course of two years. I decided, as I could see no other prospects for the moment despite my not inconsiderable attainments, to support myself in future as author.

I had written several dramatic pieces already that had won sufficient applause. Therefore I decided to have some of these printed in order to meet my immediate expenses. I gave one of them to the printing establishment of Herr Hübschmann, in Munich, and when the first folio was finished, I made the proposition to Herr Lentner to take some or all of the copies. He told me that I would have done better to let him have the manuscript; but since it had been begun, he told me to make sure that it be finished before the beginning of the Leipsic Easter Fair, in which case he promised to obtain for me one hundred gulden net, after deducting all costs. I begged Herr Hübschmann to finish the printing, but, as he assured me that it was impossible, I took the remaining folios to another printer. Despite this the play was not printed till two weeks after the fair, and I received from Herr Lentner barely enough to pay the printing cost.

My hope of profit was lost. I had, however, seen the entire procedure of printing, because I had spent many a day in the establishments. I found that it would not be hard for me to learn, and could not withstand the desire to own a small printing establishment myself. "Thus," thought I, "I can print my productions myself, and so alternate healthfully between mental and physical activities." I could earn a decent living, too, and thus become an independent man.

This idea controlled me so that I studied all sorts of ways to realize it. If I had possessed the necessary money, I would have bought types, a press and paper, and printing on stone probably would not have been invented so soon. The lack of funds, however, forced me to other expedients. At first I thought of etching letters in steel. These matrices I planned then to impress on pear wood, in which the letters would show in relief, somewhat like the cast type of the book printers, and they could have been printed like a wood-cut. A few experiments showed me the possibility of this, and I could easily have invented a machine with which the moulding could have been done more quickly than a printer could set his type. I reserve the right to use this possibly fruitful idea in future with improvements. At the time, however, I had to give up the whole thing through lack of implements and sufficient skill in engraving.

Then it struck me that if I had only enough types to set one column or folio, I could press this into a soft material, transfer the impression to a board covered with soft sealing-wax, and reproduce the relief plate thus obtained in stereotype form. The attempt succeeded perfectly. I made a sort of dough of clay, fine sand, flour, and coal-dust, which, being firmly kneaded, took the impression very well, and was so dry in a quarter of an hour that I could print warmed sealing-wax thoroughly well with a small press. I inked these letters of sealing-wax relief with printing-ink laid on with a leather roller stuffed with horse-hair and obtained a result as clean as any obtained from ordinary types. By mixing finely powdered gypsum with the sealing-wax I made the latter harder than the ordinary type composition. Thus there was nothing in the way of my making stereotype plates (which I did not know by this name at that time), except a few minor appliances and a small stock of types. But even this exceeded my financial power and I gave up the plan, especially as I had conceived a new one during my experiments.

This was to learn to write out ordinary type letters exactly, but reversed. I planned that as soon as I attained the skill, I would write them with an elastic steel pen on a copper plate covered in ordinary manner with etching surface, etch, and let the copper-plate printers print them. In a few days I had such skill in reverse writing that I attacked the etching on copper bravely. Here, to be sure, I met greater difficulties. Writing on copper over the etching surface was far more difficult than writing on paper. Then the preparation of the plate, the etching, etc., demanded some practice; but all this I hoped to conquer in time. The one thing that troubled me was that I could not correct the errors made during writing. The accessories of copper-plate engravers, especially the so-called cover varnish, were quite unknown to me. I knew no remedy except to paint the faulty places over with molten wax, but the covering generally became so thick that I could not work through it properly and had to leave the corrections for the graving stilus, which, however, I could not handle at the time.

As, however, the proofs were thoroughly satisfactory to me, I labored desperately to overcome the difficulty. During my student years I had attained much chemical knowledge, and I knew that most of the resinous products which withstand acid, as well as the fats, wax, tallow, and so forth, can be dissolved and diluted partly in etheric oils and spirits of wine, and partly in alkalies. My problem was to obtain a thin mass which would permit itself to be spread very thinly in cold condition over the copper etching surface, dry quickly, become sufficiently firm after drying without getting tough, and, above all, be something that would not attack the etching surface. A few trials with spirits of wine and various resinous forms gave no satisfaction. The one experiment that I made with oil of turpentine and wax also failed, presumably because I diluted the mixture more than necessary, which caused it to flow too much and dissolve the etching surface, at which time several well-done parts of the engraving were ruined. Besides, this mixture dried only slowly to the degree necessary for working. Fortunately I made no further experiments with this material, because then I should not have invented stone-printing, as I know now how to make a cover varnish that is quite satisfactory.

I turned, instead, to an experiment with wax and soap, which succeeded beyond all expectations. A mixture of three parts of wax with one part of common tallow soap, melted over the fire, mixed with some fine lampblack, and then dissolved in rainwater, gave me a sort of black ink with which I could correct faulty spots most easily.

Now I needed only practice in order to carry out my project of etching my literary productions in copper. This presented a new difficulty. After I had written on my single little copper plate, etched it, and pulled proofs at the house of a friend who possessed a copper-plate press, I had to spend some hours again laboriously grinding and polishing the plate, a process which also wore away the copper fast.

This led me to practice on zinc, which was easier to scrape and polish. An old zinc plate of my mother's was requisitioned at once, but the results were very unsatisfactory, because the zinc probably was mixed with lead, and I had used only aqua fortis instead of more powerful acid.

I did not continue trials with zinc, because just then I obtained a handsome piece of Kellheimer stone for the purpose of rubbing down my colors on it; and it occurred to me that if I painted this stone plate with my wax ink, it would serve as well for practicing as copper or zinc, with very little labor in grinding and polishing. The experiments succeeded, and though I had not thought originally that the stone itself might be used for printing (the samples I had seen hitherto of this Kellheim limestone were too thin to withstand the pressure exerted in printing), I soon began to believe that it was possible. It was much easier to do good work on the stone than on the copper. I observed also that I needed weaker and much diluted aqua fortis.

A stone mason told me that he could provide me with this sort of limestone in plates from one inch to eight inches thick. Thus I needed not to fear cracking of the stone; and the only thing that I needed to invent, in order to use the stone just like copper, was either a way to give the stone a better polish, or else a tint which would be easier to rub away than the ordinary copper-plate printing-ink. The stone will not take the polish that is demanded with ordinary printer's ink—and perhaps this is the reason why the stone has not been used long before my time as substitute for copper, for I imagine that such attempts must have been made.

I tried all possible kinds of polishing and grinding without attaining my purpose completely. The result was best when I poured a mixture of one part of concentrated oil of vitriol and four or five parts of water over the stone after polishing it. This mixture, which is very sharp, has the property of boiling immediately when poured over the stone, but ceasing instantly, so that one is tempted to believe that the vitriol has sated itself and lost its power. This is not so, however; for the same fluid, placed on an untouched part of the stone, boils again at once. The reason is that a firm skin of gypsum forms at once on the stone, and this remains impervious to the fluid. If now the etching fluid is poured off and the stone is rubbed lightly with a rag, it attains a shining polish. Unfortunately this is so thin and weak that one can make barely fifty impressions without repeating the process, which involves some loss to the drawing. But if one desires to print in the present chemical style, that is, wet, and the stone is polished before the drawing, one can make several thousand imprints, which will be described in the proper place.

All experiments to find a color easy to wipe away showed me that on a stone prepared with oil of vitriol none was better than a light oil varnish with fine Frankfurter black and some tartar. This mixture could be washed off with a weak solution in spring water of potash and common salt. However, it happened often that slight carelessness in washing destroyed designed parts which took color again afterward only after much trouble. Recollection of this occurrence, which I could not understand clearly at the time, led me some years later to the invention of the chemical stone-printing of to-day.

I have told all these things fully in order to prove to the reader that I did not invent stone-printing through lucky accident, but that I arrived at it by a way pointed out by industrious thought. It will be seen that I knew the ink, before I thought of its use on stone. The stone I used at first only to practice writing. The ease of writing on stone lured me then to try to make it available for direct printing. To do this, I had to discover a way to rub away the black as completely from all unetched parts of the stone as the copper-plate printer can do it from his surface, in comparison with which the stone was but slightly smooth.

At this time my further experiments with this etched form of stone-printing were entirely checked by a new, accidental discovery. Until now I had invented little that was new, but simply had applied the copper-plate etching method to stone. But this new discovery founded an entirely new form of printing, which basically became the foundation of all succeeding methods.

Had the stone merely proved available as substitute for copper, I would have returned to copper as soon as I could afford it, despite several advantages of stone, and for the following reasons: first, the necessary weight and thickness of the stones; second, because the printing process was slower than with copper; third, because probably I never would have become sufficiently skilled in the difficult manipulation of washing off; but chiefly, because the necessary spur, the originality of the discovery, would have been lacking, since I remembered that as a child of five or six I had seen a music-printery in Frankfurt or Mainz where the notes were etched in black slate-stone. I had played often with the broken stones, which lay in a heap near our house. Enough, I was not the first discoverer of stone-etching, nor of stone-printing; and only after I made this new discovery which I will describe now, which led me from the engraved to the relief process, with my new ink, might I call myself the inventor of an art.

At that time I could not guess that I was to invent a form of printing different even from this new and original form, a method which was to be based not on mechanical but purely chemical properties. Even this method, new in 1796, still was purely mechanical in its purpose, whereas the present printing method, which I began in 1799, may be called purely chemical.

I had just ground a stone plate smooth in order to treat it with etching fluid and to pursue on it my practice in reverse writing, when my mother asked me to write a laundry list for her. The laundress was waiting, but we could find no paper. My own supply had been used up by pulling proofs. Even the writing-ink was dried up. Without bothering to look for writing materials, I wrote the list hastily on the clean stone, with my prepared stone ink of wax, soap, and lampblack, intending to copy it as soon as paper was supplied.

As I was preparing afterward to wash the writing from the stone, I became curious to see what would happen with writing made thus of prepared ink, if the stone were now etched with aqua fortis. I thought that possibly the letters would be left in relief and admit of being inked and printed like book-types or wood-cuts. My experience in etching, which had showed me that the fluid acted in all directions, did not encourage me to hope that the writing would be left in much relief. But the work was coarse, and therefore not so likely to be under-cut as ordinary work, so I made the trial. I poured a mixture of one part aqua fortis and ten parts of water over the plate and let it stand two inches deep for about five minutes. Then I examined the result and found the writing about one tenth of a line or the thickness of a playing-card in relief.

A few finer strokes had been injured slightly, but the others had hardly lost breadth noticeably and not at all in depth, so that I had good reason to hope that a well-written plate, particularly in type letter, would be susceptible of much better relief.

Eagerly I began inking in. I used a fine leather ball, stuffed with horsehair, and inked it very gently with thick linseed oil varnish and lampblack. I patted the inscription many times with this ball. The letters all took the color well, but it also went into all spaces greater than half a line. That this was due to the over-great elasticity of the ball was clear to me. So I cleansed my plate with soap and water, made the leather tense, and used less color. Now I found color only in such spaces as were two or more lines apart.

I saw that I could attain my purpose better with a dauber of stiffer material. I tried at once with a piece of glass from a broken mirror, and as this succeeded fairly well, I tried elastic metal plates. Finally I made an entirely satisfactory appliance out of a thin board, very smoothly planed and covered with a fine cloth.

My further experiments with this relief plate succeeded far better than my previous ones with etched letters. The inking in was much easier, and hardly one quarter of the force was necessary for making impressions. Thus the stones were not so liable to crack, and, what was the most important for me, this method of printing was entirely new, and I might hope to obtain a franchise and even financial aid. This hope grew when I learned that Riegel of Munich, who had invented a new sort of Frankfurter black, had received ten thousand gulden to erect a factory, although no human being could use it as a sufficient substitute, as I proved by many trials. I saw the great field for my stone-printing art and did not doubt that I would obtain assistance, even should it be only a twentieth part of what Herr Riegel had received for his entirely worthless process.

The new art was invented, and soon was sufficiently practiced; but again came the need for a little capital, to buy a press, some stones, paper, tools, and so forth. If I did not wish to give up my hopes again, I must seek some way to obtain the necessary means. All my endeavors were fruitless. Only one way showed itself. An acquaintance, who served in the artillery, had offered to pay two hundred gulden for a substitute. In my helplessness I offered myself. I thought: "Once you are in the artillery and have mastered the exercises, you can get furlough and the permission to do your printing. You can pay others to do your sentry goes, and thus there will be only a few weeks a year in which the regiment will demand your presence. As soon as you have earned a few hundred gulden you can get a substitute yourself, or, at worst—how soon six years will pass! Perhaps you can make your fortune in the artillery, too! You will display zeal, and your knowledge is such that probably few in the corps will be superior to you. Mathematics, and especially mechanics and geography, were ever your favorite studies; you were one of the first of the Munich Lyceum in these branches; therefore it is certain that you will be noticed and promoted"—and other such chimerical hopes.

On the third day I went with a transport of recruits to Ingolstadt, which then was the quarters of the Bavarian artillery. I entered that city with feelings different from those with which I had left it as Academician. But the thought of my invention elevated my spirit to a certain dignity and comforted me with the prophecy of a better future. I was presented to the chief of company and slept a night in the barracks, where unpleasant remarks and the conduct of a vulgar corporal cast heavy shadows over the coming soldiering. Next morning, when I was to be enrolled and named Prague as my birth-place, I was informed that a recent royal order shut out all foreigners from the Bavarian service. So I started on my return, poorer by a hope, but not in entire despair. As I looked down from the Danube bridge into the majestic stream, where as a student I was nearly drowned once, I could not quite prevent the thought that my rescue at that time had not been fortunate, since a too unkind fate seemed to deny me even the one means of support, open to the most helpless, that of the army.

Still, though cheated by hope a thousand times, I ever followed her lures again, and a new plan instantly formed itself to replace the one that had just gone to wreck. I decided to give up my literary work for the time being and work as a printer for wages.

Some very badly printed music that I bought in Ingolstadt awakened the idea that with my new printing process I could furnish much better work. I decided to go at once to Herr Falter, the music-dealer of Munich, to interest him in my invention and obtain a small advance of money. Had I done this, my art might have been more thoroughly perfected long ago; but, again, it might never have been developed as it has been, for it was amply sufficient already for music-printing. My shyness, however, prevented me from addressing Herr Falter. Twice I was at his door, and each time I retreated. The second time I met a good acquaintance, a musician named Schrott. In reply to my inquiry if he knew Herr Falter, he said "No," but he told me that the court musician, Gleissner, had paid recently to have several masses printed and intended to publish some more church music soon. Who was happier than I over this news!

Herr Gleissner was a good friend of old. While I was in the theatre I had engaged him to compose several songs, and had found him a humane and righteous man. Within half an hour I was in his house and explaining my invention to his wife, he being absent. I aroused her interest so much that she seemed thoroughly eager to have me hurry back with a little press model, in order to show them both the working of the process.

The entire behavior of the woman was so open and artless that I dismissed my first thought, "I might be cheated out of my invention," and hurried to Herr Gleissner in the afternoon with my simple apparatus.

My printing succeeded absolutely. Gleissner marveled at the swiftness and beauty of the impressions, and, knowing my penniless condition, he offered of his own free will to pay for a small printery.

My mother had given me a press already. It was the ordinary copper-plate press with two cylinders. True, it was very roughly made, being a house carpenter's work, but it had cost only six gulden. However, one could make very pretty impressions from stone with it. To spare Herr Gleissner's treasury, I contented myself with it for the time. I bought a small stock of stones, paper, and other necessary articles.

Herr Gleissner composed twelve songs with clavier accompaniment. I wrote them rapidly on stone and made one hundred and twenty impressions with the aid of a day laborer. Everything, composition, writing on stone and printing, was finished in fourteen days. From Herr Falter, who bought one hundred copies, Herr Gleissner received the sum of one hundred gulden. Stones, which could be used over and over again, paper, color, and wages had cost barely thirty gulden; thus we had a clear profit of seventy gulden, earned in fourteen days, and I gained so much happy hope that I thought myself richer than Crœsus.

We were gay and merry. Through his patron, Count von Törring, then President of the Royal Chamber, Herr Gleissner had presented an impression of our first work to the Kurfürst Karl Theodor, and had received one hundred gulden out of the Cabinet Treasury, with the promise of a franchise.

A succeeding little piece of work, "Duets for Two Flutes, by Gleissner," brought forty gulden more into our chest, and finally our finances, as well as a bright success for our institution, seemed assured by a contract closed with the Countess von Herting to print a cantata on the death of Mozart by Cannabich, the musical director, which promised us a profit of one hundred and fifty gulden for two or three weeks' work.

During this time I had presented specimens of work to the Royal Academy of Sciences, with a description of the advantages of the art, in which I named particularly the cheapness, and said that the impression had been made on a press costing not more than six gulden. To my amazement, instead of the expected honorable mention, I received a sum of twelve gulden from the vice-president of the Academy, Herr von Vachiery, with the information that the members had voted favorably for my invention, and that, as my expenses amounted to only six gulden, according to my own statement, I would, no doubt, be satisfied with a sum double this. I had expected an entirely different appreciation from the sentinels of the arts and sciences, whose office was to test the value of this new discovery and call the Government's attention to it if favorable. A mere monetary reward, therefore, especially so small a one, could not possibly give me much pleasure.

Promising as our beginning was (1793), there came a sad period soon enough for the art, for me, and also for Herr Gleissner. We had ordered a new press as soon as our income permitted. I expected to produce a masterpiece with the first impression. Instead of that, there appeared the very opposite, a dirty and smeared imprint. We suspected that we had made some mistake in method. The second attempt, however, was worse than the first, if possible. To be brief, of twenty trials, made with the greatest industry and toil, we obtained only two or three that were even average.

As long as I live I shall be unable to understand how we could have been so blind at that time. We sought the cause of failure in everything except the true thing—an alteration that made the new press different from the old one, which unfortunately had been already destroyed. Later, after I had invented the so-called lever or gallows press, the thing was clear to me at once. But by that time it had cost me and Herr Gleissner two years full of toil, worry, and sorrow. In the contract with the Countess von Herting the date of completion of the work had been stipulated, because she wished to surprise Herr Cannabich with it on his birthday. We had barely four weeks left and not a single sheet had been finished. With press alterations, trial impressions, and so forth, we had wasted money and time, and paper by the ream. Our loss amounted to more than one hundred and fifty gulden, and still there was no prospect of final success. Pressed for results by the Countess, our entire reputation and the honor of my invention were at stake. Added to this came many other annoyances, especially the complaints of Frau Gleissner, who charged that I had destroyed the original, perfectly satisfactory press against her will. These tested my courage sadly.

The cause of all this trouble was so petty that I really must have been half-stupefied by the fear of not keeping our pledges, otherwise I must have perceived it at once.

To make my first imperfect press I had bought a piece of wood from a wheelwright in order to have it turned into two cylinders. Hardly had the two been in the house a day before each one split so that a longitudinal crack of two inches width appeared. As the upper cylinder was thick enough to make an impression of a whole folio of sheet music without revolving so far as to let the crack reach the stone, I contented myself with it temporarily. Now, in order not to spoil the impressions, I had to begin each revolution of the cylinder at the crack, for otherwise the crack might have come at the middle or end of the impression and given no imprint of that part. Therefore, as the stone was pushed under the cylinder at the crack, it was already gripped before the impression began, and was drawn through at once. With the new press, however, the upper cylinder had to draw the stone between both cylinders in order to bring it under its pressure. But in doing this, the new press first pulled the linen stretched over the printing-frame till it would yield no more and forced the stone powerfully under the cylinder, during which of course the paper under the linen was pulled over the inked stone and smeared.

Several attempts to rectify this trouble were unsuccessful. Probably I would have discovered the remedy finally—either that the upper cylinder must not first be pressed on the stone, which must be under it before each impression began, or that I need only use tightly stretched leather instead of linen. But I decided, instead, in order to complete our work if possible, to have a press made in all haste by a carpenter, of a style like the book-printers' press, wherein the force is applied instantly from above.

As everything was very rough, the new press was ready in eight days. The first experiment, with a small stone, seemed to succeed. But the larger stones would not give thorough impressions, probably because of the uneven surface of the press, which was merely of wood. I increased the power enormously. A stone of three hundredweight was elevated with pulleys and released suddenly to fall ten feet. It forced a lever down on the press with a pressure of more than ten thousand pounds. The plates gave fair impressions by this means, but generally they were cracked after the first, second, or third impression.

To determine how much downward force was needed to print a sheet of music, I took a well-ground stone a square inch in area, laid moistened paper on an inked printing-stone, over this a sixfold layer of paper, then a double layer of fine cloth, finally the square inch of stone, and then weights ranging from one to three hundredweight.

This experience taught me that the square inch of surface demanded three hundredweights of force to make a good impression in a few seconds, and almost less than half that weight when I allowed it to act for a whole minute. According to this calculation the entire sheet, which contained about one hundred square inches, would have demanded thirty thousand pounds; and the stone could have withstood this without cracking, had I been able to apply the pressure evenly. But the imperfections of the press made it necessary to apply a pressure three times as great, and this the stones could not bear.

To correct the defects of this press was more than I cared about, after I was nearly killed by the three hundredweights, which fell accidentally, and, as I stood immediately under it, would have beaten out my brains had not a miracle caused the load to catch and hold. The thought that a similar accident might cause the death of one of my men made me hate the whole press, all the more so as I had conceived what seemed to me at the time an exceedingly happy idea for a very simple and not costly printing-machine.

Before I possessed a press of my own, I used to pull proofs of my work in the following manner, in order to avoid the constant trips to a printer. I laid the dampened paper on the inked stone. Over it I laid some heavy paper, and then a sheet of stiff, carefully smoothed dry paper. Then I took a piece of polished wood and rubbed this over the upper sheet of paper, holding the latter firmly to prevent slipping. I continued the rubbing, using more or less power according to whether I wanted the impressions deep or pale. Thus I obtained impressions very often that could not have been better.

I wondered why this could not be done on a large scale, and proceeded to try at once. I stretched a piece of linen firmly over a wooden frame two feet long and wide. On this linen I pasted a sheet of strong paper, polished on the upper side with wax. Then with two bands the frame was fastened to an ordinary wooden table. Then the stone was fastened on the table under the frame. Inside of the printing-frame was a smaller frame with cords, to hold the paper, which had a layer of gray blotting-paper under it. With a piece of polished wood, or a piece of glass such as is used by polishers, I rubbed the upper waxed paper thoroughly, making sure that every spot was touched.

The first proof, and several succeeding ones, which I made myself, turned out so excellent that probably few better impressions ever have been made since. Two more presses were made at once, and six printers hired. The work might still be finished in the stipulated time. New hopes thrilled us. Hastily I inscribed the stones and the printing began. But—oh, human weakness! Does it seem credible that of my six helpers not one could master the extremely simple method of manipulation, the mere matter of rubbing evenly and thoroughly? Of six impressions hardly one ever reached perfection. There were blank spaces here and there. Yes, even when, accidentally, they produced three sections of a sheet correctly, the fourth invariably was a flat failure, and thus ruined the entire sheet. We would have been glad enough had we lost even one half the paper, if only we could have saved our credit by completing the work, regardless of our money loss. But of three reams of paper only thirty-three impressions were won in the end.

I will merely touch on the painful scenes that ensued. The stipulated time had almost expired and no prospect of results. The manuscript and the paper remaining in stock were taken away from us and given to Herr Falter, while we had to suffer severe censure from the Countess, and in her name from others. Herr Gleissner had to pay for new paper, which made a monthly deduction from his salary necessary. The grant of our privilege was endangered, for the Kurfürst had obtained a poor opinion of our process. Indeed, so long as the Kurfürst Karl Theodor lived, all our efforts to obtain a privilege were fruitless. We could not even succeed in having it proposed, although the referee, Herr von Stubenrauch, made us promises from month to month.

All the money we had earned was lost; debts burdened us; and a monthly deduction of pay, with the mocking laughter of those who had been made envious by our first successes, was the entire reward for our endeavors to make a new art. As it was only the lack of a good press that had caused our failure, I went to Herr Falter, with whom I had become acquainted through Herr Gleissner, and told him the reasons for not finishing the cantata in time. I told him that if he were willing to have a proper press built, I was willing to print his works for him, in his own residence, which was his stipulation, provided I could prepare the stones at home. We agreed, and I ordered a great cylinder press made at his expense. To avoid the old trouble I had both cylinders fitted with cogs, which gave satisfactory results if both printers who handled the press were careful to begin turning the cylinders at the same moment. The double friction of the two rollers made them both pull on the printing-frame and the stone, where, before, the lower cylinder had done just the opposite. The greater periphery of the upper cylinder, which was almost fifteen inches thick, helped also. And to this day I consider this form of press the best for all methods, especially if the stones are thick enough, if one has not to consider the very greatest speed; for in speed this press is decidedly inferior to the lever press and other styles. On the other hand, the pressure is much more gentle, more perpendicular, and less liable to pull the paper out of place than is possible with even the best so-called friction presses. Only there should be added to the cogs an appliance by which the upper cylinder has a screw adjusted over its centre, so that it can be forced down for each impression after the stone is under it. Figure 1, plate I, is the picture of such a cylinder press, made for stone-printing.

As soon as the press was ready and erected, I began to inscribe on stone the music of Die Zauberflöte, arranged for quartette by Herr Danzy, and with Herr Gleissner we began the printing.

But Herr Gleissner became dangerously ill. I trained two soldiers to do the printing, left the entire printing process to Herr Falter, and limited myself to the work of delivering the stones to him. The workers ruined so much paper that Herr Falter could not make it pay, and returned to etching on copper.

During this time Herr Schmidt, professor at the military academy, had begun to etch on stone. As I discovered long afterwards, he was a good acquaintance of Herr Gleissner, who visited him often. Within the last year there is a strenuous attempt to make this Herr Schmidt appear to be the inventor of printing from stone, though probably he never desired this. There have been publications about it already. I shall not notice what has been said, and will let the matter speak for itself. From the foregoing the reader will have seen the natural but laborious way in which fate led me to this invention. If Herr Schmidt made a similar discovery at that time, he was much more fortunate than I. According to his own letter, printed in the Anzeiger für Kunst und Gewerbfleiss, the course of his invention was as follows. He saw a gravestone in the Frauen-Kirche, in Munich, on which letters and pictures were in relief. "That must have been done with acid; it would be possible to print from it!" thought he, and the invention was completed.

If it is so easy to gain the honor of an invention, then, indeed, I was unlucky to have undergone so much toil. But according to my opinion, there was nothing new in the whole discovery. The thought that "this was etched" assumed the invention and the use of etching beforehand. That such coarse, thick, and highly relieved inscriptions as those on gravestones could be inked and used for printing would strike anybody who knew even a little of printing. If, however, Herr Schmidt added to his idea the second, that fine and, therefore, only slightly elevated inscriptions and illustrations could be inked and printed with the aid of appliances to be invented for the purpose—if he did this and executed it before me, or, at least, before he had knowledge of my work, then indeed the honor belongs to him of having invented mechanical printing from stone, either before me or simultaneously. But as a matter of fact, neither he nor I can claim to be the first who thought of using stones for printing. Only the "how?" is the new thing in the case.

At that time (1796) I had not invented stone-printing, but, firstly, an ink available for writing on stone and resistant to acid, which ink I invented out of my brains and not, like Herr Schmidt, out of an old Nürnberg book: secondly, I invented a practical tool for inking the slightly elevated letters: and thirdly, the so-called gallows or lever press, of which I shall speak later.

As I do not know what were the circumstances surrounding Herr Schmidt at the time, and I cannot, therefore, make any inquiries, I am willing to take his word if he will declare as an honest man that he printed from stone before July, 1796. That his method of printing was different from mine, and that he had absolutely not the slightest knowledge of chemical printing from stone, which I invented in 1798, I know from indubitable evidence.

He made many attempts with his pupils to produce drawings on stones, but presumably his impressions were not successful, for those stones that I saw afterward at Herr Schulrath Steiner's had been etched first and the spaces then engraved away very deeply with all sorts of steel instruments, after the manner of wood-cuts, so that they might properly be called stone-cuts in relief. He had these stones printed in the Schul-fond's book-printery, and I hear that the impressions were very good. I saw none myself.

However, Professor Schmidt's experiments were the means of making me acquainted with Herr Schulrath Steiner, who encouraged me so much that I conceived many ideas in order to fulfill his wishes, so that at last the art of printing from stone achieved its present honorable position.

Herr Schulrath Steiner, an intimate friend of Professor Schmidt, was director of the Schul-fond's printery. As such he was concerned with many prints. Herr Schmidt's idea of publishing stone-etched pictures of poisonous plants for school use was approved by him; and as the attempts did not satisfy him, he decided to turn to me. At that time the Schul-fond was to print some church songs. This gave him the opportunity of visiting me. He asked me if the musical notes could not be so etched or cut in relief in stone that they could be made up with ordinary book-types and thus printed in the ordinary book-presses. I promised to try it. However, the necessary deep engraving of the spaces was too laborious, so that it would have been easier to do it in wood. As an expedient we printed the text first with ordinary types in the book-press and then printed in the music with stones in the stone-press.

Meantime I tried to attain our purpose in other ways, connected with some of my early experiments. My best success was with the following method. On a stone polished with sand I painted a layer, equal to two or three card-thicknesses, of burned, finely powdered gypsum, butter, and alum, mixed with a proper amount of water. As soon as it was dry I inscribed the music with steel needles of various sizes on the surface of the stone, which was of a somewhat dark, almost gray color, so that I could see it more easily through the soft, white mass. Having finished the drawing I took warm sealing-wax smeared on wood, and applied it to the stone while it was warm with a hand-press. After cooling, the white mass was fast to the sealing-wax and quite loose from the stone, and it was scrubbed away clean with water and a brush, after which the drawing appeared on the wood in elevated wax extremely clear and clean, like a wood-cut. The spaces were so deep that the plate could be printed in regular book-printing manner.

Later I made trial of a composition of lead, zinc, and bismuth, and this succeeds thoroughly with proper care. So here we would have still another printing process, which has the advantage over all others that the inscription need not be made reversed, as the impression on the wax or lead reverses it automatically.

If the white mass is laid on more thickly, one can make the handsomest patterns for calico much more quickly than has been possible heretofore with wood-cuts. A little more care is necessary, because no stroke must be made entirely through the mass, when it is laid on thick. My experiments in that direction all exceeded expectations, and it is to be regretted that I had no opportunity thereafter to perfect this invention more, or use it practically. The experiments had no value even for Herr Schulrath Steiner, for whom I made them, as he never had use for the process afterward. Indeed, I would have forgotten the matter almost entirely, if it had not been brought back to mind by this work of writing my story. In the second part of this book, in describing stone-printing itself, I will show various methods of making patterns for work on cotton, such as I conceived later in Vienna where I busied myself very much with cotton-printing.

I happened to print for Herr Lentner a little song about the great fire of Neuötting in Bavaria and used a little vignette showing a burning house. This induced Herr Steiner to let me etch a few small pictures for a catechism. So far as execution of drawing goes, they were very ordinary; but he continued to encourage me to try if the new printing process would not be available for art work. With the exception of Herr Andre of Offenbach, he was the only one who reasoned thus: "These strokes and points, of such great fineness and again of such great strength, can evidently be made on the stone, therefore it is possible to make drawings similar to copper-plate etchings. That this cannot be done yet is due not to a fault in the art of stone-printing, but to the insufficient skill of the artists."

Even at that time he did not say: "The art is still in its infancy," as many a would-be wise man does to-day, thus exposing his lack of knowledge of the entire matter. Even at that time he was convinced, more so even than I, that the art of stone-printing had reached its climax when I gave him the first specimens of stone-printing improved by the chemical process. Artists might cultivate and perfect themselves, manipulation be simplified and processes be increased in number and variety, but the art itself could not be improved greatly.

To be sure, when I glance hurriedly over the manifold results of the last twenty years, all that I have done myself for perfection, the brilliant achievements of which this book will furnish proof, I am tempted to think for a moment that the Now and the Then cannot be compared. But considered correctly, I had invented and discovered the entire art at that time. Everything that I and others have done since then are only improvements. Everything rests still on the same principle: ink of wax, soap, etc., then gum, aqua fortis or another acid of which none has an advantage over the others, further oil varnish and lampblack—these are, ever and in the same manner, the chief elements of stone-printing as they were then. Not the slightest thing has been changed, improved, or invented in the fundamental principle. No illustration has been published by any lithographer containing cleaner, stronger, or blacker lines and points than my first proofs had in part.

Therefore, those people are wrong who seek to excuse the lack of assistance that I received in the beginning, by alleging that at the time no one knew if the process could be used to any great extent. They declare many productions of the present day to be far better, simply because the illustrator is more skillful, though in truth the printing is not so good as many of the first ones made by me. It has even happened that the assertion has found its way into print that I had invented only the rough part of the art, and never had been able to use it for more than music-printing, whereas this one or that one are the true artists, having succeeded in producing pictures.

These gentlemen, who are so quick with verdicts, should inform themselves a little. They would discover that aside from me (with the exception of Professor Mitterer's invention of the cylinder press), nobody has made a noteworthy improvement in the branches of lithography without having received it primarily or indirectly through me. Further they would have learned that these illustrators either made their first attempts under my personal direction, or else owe their skill to persons whom I taught; and lastly, that none of my critics can boast of having penetrated into the very inmost spirit of the art like only Herr Rapp of Munich, the venerable author of the work published by Cotta, The Secret of Lithography. If they learned all this, they might feel a little ashamed. But then, they would have much to do.

Had my skill in writing and drawing on stone been greater at that time, Herr Steiner would have given me opportunity enough and manifold. He permitted me to do a small book, Rules for Girls, in German script, which, on the whole, turned out of only average quality, as I had not practiced this style sufficiently.

Then he wanted me to draw Biblical pictures on stone or to let others draw them. At that time he was having Herr Schön in Augsburg etch the Seven Holy Sacraments after Poussin. As the etching was expensive, the impressions could not be sold for less than four kreuzer each. Herr Steiner wished to circulate these pictures so generally that they could serve as gifts from the country preachers to their little Christian pupils. He wished, also, to ornament various school-books with pictures of this kind, and thus, gradually, to replace the miserably drawn species of saints that generally fill the prayer-books of the pious households.

Only the utmost cheapness could make this possible, and this naturally suggested the stone process to him. Even if the pictures were not so fine as those etched on copper, they would serve amply if they were correctly drawn, noble in design, and handsomely printed. It was necessary either to draw myself and practice faithfully, or to train a skilled artist to draw with fatty ink on stone. We preferred the latter method and trained several young men, who produced various works, sometimes good, sometimes inferior.

Through all this I ran more and more danger of losing my secret. Indeed, it was lost already except perhaps so far as concerned the exact composition of the ink. But I hoped still to obtain the privilege for Bavaria, toward which end the Schulrath promised me his best aid, and so I let the matter proceed, and trained the men. But among all these young men there was not one who did not desire a substantial reward for his very first attempts, and when they found that they were expected first to learn, they stayed away, one by one. Herr Steiner was hurt. I, however, was indifferent, for I was just beginning to plan to use a new and important discovery in such a manner that my stone-printing would be greatly improved and we could hope to carry out our idea of illustrations without the aid of artists.

I had been assigned to write a prayer-book on stone for the Schul-fond. It was mostly in a style of writing in which I was least expert. When I wrote music notes, our method, proved best by experience, had been to write the entire sheet in reverse on the stone with lead pencil to serve as pattern. This was mostly Herr Gleissner's work, and being a musician he had achieved great perfection. For me this preparatory work was far less agreeable than the final execution with the stone-ink. Therefore, as ever in my life, when a difficulty or a burden was before me, I studied for some way to make it easier for me. Previously I had found that if one wrote on paper with good English lead pencils, then moistened the paper, laid it on a polished stone and passed it through a powerful press, a good impression was the result. I had used the method on various occasions. I wished that I possessed an ink that could be used the same way. Trials showed that fine red chalk needed merely to be rubbed down gently in a solution of gum, and that even the ordinary writing-ink of nut gall and vitriol of iron would serve when mixed with a little sugar. But this did not satisfy my ambition, which always demanded the best and most perfect. The gum in one and the vitriol in the other did not agree well with the stone-ink. In addition, the impression often squashed. Therefore I tried a mixture in water of linseed oil, soap, and lampblack which met my demands better. I had a music-writer write notes correctly on note-paper with this ink, printed it on the stone, and thus had an accurate pattern, which was at the same time reversed, as was necessary.