HOW LITHOGRAPHY WAS INVENTED.
THE romantic story of Aloys Senefelder, the inventor of the modern art of lithography, illustrates the truth that many, if not, indeed, most, of the discoveries in the arts which embellish our civilization, or in the sciences which conduce to the comfort of our existence, and the extension of its scope and usefulness, are the results of fortunate chance. About the year 1796 Senefelder was residing in Munich, in great poverty. He was an artist of considerable genius, though his talent led him rather to drawing and engraving than to color. Indeed, there must have been many times during this period of his career, when he was unable to purchase painting materials, which in those days were very dear. At all events, he certainly was too poor to pay for printing and reproducing the work of his pencil, and he endeavored to devise some means of doing this himself. He could not afford the expense of copper plates, and he set himself to discover some cheaper substitute. Unlike the English painter, William Blake, who believed that he was spiritually aided in his labors, Senefelder was a practical man, and sought to accomplish his end by purely practical methods. He brooded over the subject for many months, lounging slowly along the narrow streets of the quaint old town, or plodding for miles into the environs, always with drooping head and introverted gaze, forever pondering the one thought. One morning, as he was about setting out upon his daily stroll, he paused a moment on the threshold of his dwelling. It was early autumn, and there had been a storm overnight. The early sun glittered upon the yet undried puddles in the street, and the leaves shorn from the old lindens were scattered upon the sidewalks. One large leaf lay upon the stone step at the artist's feet. Mechanically he stooped and picked it up. Where it had reposed, he beheld its perfect outline, with every rib and vein, drawn upon the smooth surface of the stone in the rain-dissolved dust. For a moment he stood twirling the leaf in his fingers, studying the impression on the stone with eyes in which the light of a new hope glowed and deepened. Then he turned about and hurriedly reentered the house. He had conceived an idea. It was simply to use smooth slabs of the cheap stone, similar to the doorstep, in place of the costly metal plates. His idea went no farther at that time. Thus far accident had guided him. But observe how accident was to befriend him yet more effectually. Senefelder was not acquainted with the composition of the varnish used by engravers for etching, so he invented a species of crayon made of wax and tallow. One morning his mother entered the room where he was at work, and asked him to write out the family washing list. Senefelder tumbled over the litter on his table in search of paper and ink, but, finding none, he caught up a bit of his crayon and scrawled the list upon a smooth block of his stone. Some days later, having need of the block of stone, he was about to clean off the list of stockings, sheets, and shirts, when it occurred to him that the body of the stone might be eaten down by dilute nitric acid, leaving the greasy lines of his crayon writing in relief. The experiment was successful; but it was not till 1798 that, in his discovery of the natural repulsion between water and oily substances, the well-nigh perfect modern art of lithography was born. Senefelder's doorstep was of the argillaceous limestone variety, still regarded as the best for lithographic purposes. The most perfect specimens are quarried near Solenhofen, Bavaria, though a coarser species is obtained in several parts of Europe and America. The stones are sawn to a thickness of two and a quarter to two and a half inches, those of a pearl gray tint giving by far the best results. Not only are they harder and more enduring, but their hardness of grain records the artist's lines and touches with almost microscopic exactitude. The soft buff yellow stone, on the other hand, produces coarser work, more easily effaced. While the hard gray stone will print some nine or ten thousand impressions, the yellow block will begin to blur and blotch in less than half that number of impressions.—From How Chromo-Lithographs are Made, in Demorest's Family Magazine.