RSArchive 9 July 2025

Stones, songs and secrets

Richard Hale

Internal Communications Manager

reading time: Four minutes

Arts and culture Design Manufacturing and materials

Summary

Richard Hale, Internal Communications Manager at the RSA, explores the Society’s pivotal involvement in the development of lithography, a surprising tale of invention and intrigue. From playwright Alois Senefelder’s early breakthroughs – encouraged by the enigmatic Madame Gleissner – to Artist Edward Lear’s luminous parrots and Henry Cole’s reform of the patent system, the RSA’s involvement demonstrates just one aspect of its enduring commitment to supporting creative expression and the dissemination of knowledge.

From a laundry list on limestone to Lear’s vibrant parrots, the RSA’s role in the birth of lithography is a tale of invention, intrigue and the elusive Madame Gleissner.

Over the centuries, the RSA has been involved in a myriad of innovative enterprises featuring a correspondingly flamboyant cast of characters. One in particular concerns the invention of the lithographic printing press, a series of beautiful ornithological illustrations by a beloved poet of nonsense verse and a celebrated novelist’s reformation of the patent process.

There are medals, there is intrigue, and there is the ideal proportion of lampblack to tallow required for perfect printer’s ink. And, ghosting through this narrative like a figure in a dream, there is the elusive Madame Gleissner, who “strained everything to be very elegant”.

In 1796 Munich, playwright Alois Senefelder was seeking an affordable way to print his latest work by engraving on local limestone when, for want of paper, he scribbled his mother’s laundry list on a slab in wax crayon. By treating this with acid, which the wax resisted, he created a relief impression that eliminated the need for physical inscription.

Realising his method’s potential to print music, Senefelder hurried to the house of his friend, composer Franz Gleissner. Franz was not at home, but Madame Gleissner was – and showed great enthusiasm: “The entire behaviour of the woman was so open and artless that I dismissed my first thought ‘I might be cheated out of my invention’.”

Two illustrated parrots perch on branches: the left is a blue-and-yellow macaw with green accents, and the right is a scarlet macaw with red, yellow, and blue feathers. Both are depicted in a vintage style on a beige background. — Right: Red and Yellow Macaw from Lear’s first book, Illustrations of the Family of Psittacidae, or Parrots, 1832 Left:lue and Yellow Macaw by Edward Lear

“The English patent system remained unreformed until the redoubtable Henry Cole mobilised the Society towards its improvement.”

An old-fashioned printing press with large rollers, a crank handle, and a flat platform holding two illustrated pages on an open surface, shown against a plain light background. — Senefelder’s stone printing press from the 19th century

The publication of Gleissner’s Twelve Songs proved an immediate success. With the Gleissners, Senefelder relocated to Offenbach to pursue their enterprise in collaboration with established publisher Johann Anton André. This incurred the disdain of Senefelder’s mother (author of the laundry list), as he refused her instruction to share any profits with his brothers. She set them up with a press of their own. This made Madame Gleissner “intensely angry”.

Patents were sought across Europe, with the complex English system obliging Senefelder to visit London himself where, in 1801, he lodged with André’s brother, Philip. But ‘lodging’ became virtual house arrest as, anxious that his secrets might be stolen, Senefelder was never allowed out. Eventually, his captor relented, the patent was secured, and the mysteries of lithography were revealed. Recognising its revolutionary potential for mass communication, the then Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce supported its development through two of the Society’s most dependable mechanisms: premiums and medals.

Madame Gleissner, meanwhile, was dispatched to Austria. Here she “entertained great hopes about living in splendid Vienna and having means enough to enjoy its brilliant life”. Alas, she “knew nothing of economy” and, when debt pressed, she “appeared at her host’s table with signs of tears that aroused his sympathy”. He, too, became an investor.

Following a visit by Anglo-German entrepreneur Rudolph Ackermann, in 1818, Senefelder published his Complete Course of Lithography, which Ackermann translated the following year. Madame Gleissner flits through its pages, which combine tales of extraordinary adventure with the chemical complexities of lithography. The Society awarded Senefelder its gold medal and, in gratitude, he presented it with one of his prized presses. Hullmandel explored further and, in 1824, produced his handbook The Art of Drawing on Stone, which inspired a self-taught teenage artist, Edward Lear.

At just 18, Lear conceived an audacious plan to sell by subscription a comprehensive series of prints dedicated to one family of birds: Illustrations of the Family of Psittacidae, or Parrots. Now known for his landscapes and the endearing sketches that accompany his verse, Lear was originally a meticulous painter of wildlife, who drew live creatures rather than the stuffed specimens favoured by his peers, lending his pictures a uniquely vibrant intimacy. By drawing directly onto stone in Hullmandel’s studio, he also made deft use of its natural grain to depict his subjects’ plumage with rare grace and elegance. His prints were then hand-coloured and perfected with discerning dabs of egg white.

While the collection was a commercial disaster whose completion Lear was unable to fund, the 42 prints he produced were recognised as an artistic and technical triumph. The Society rewarded Hullmandel with its silver medal, while Lear reciprocated with a bound volume of his plates, which remains in our collection today.

Senefelder’s experiments continued until his death in 1834. The English patent system remained unreformed until the redoubtable Henry Cole mobilised the Society towards its improvement. Itemising its 35 labyrinthine stages, he enlisted Charles Dickens to satirise its nonsense through his periodical, Household Words. In 1852, the Patent Law Amendment Act was passed. The cost of a patent dropped from £380 to £25.

Cole was overjoyed. Madame Gleissner was unavailable for comment.