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;