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greatly departed from the original design with which Mechanics’ Institutions were founded.

As the Edinburgh School of Arts was intended for the benefit of mechanics, the lectures and classes were held in the evening after the day’s work was over. The lectures on chemistry were given by Dr. Fyfe –an excellent man. His clearness of style, his successful experiments, and the careful and graphic method by which he carried his students from the first fundamental principles to the highest points of chemical science, attracted a crowded and attentive audience. Not less interesting were the lectures on Mechanical Philosophy, which in my time were delivered by Dr. Lees and Mr.Buchanan. The class of Geometry and Mathematics was equally well conducted, though the attendance was not so great.

The building which the directors had secured for the lecture-hall and class-rooms of the institution was situated at the lower end of Niddry Street, nearly under the great arch of the South Bridge. It had been built about a hundred years before, and was formerly used by an association of amateur musicians, who gave periodical concerts of vocal and instrumental music. The orchestra was now converted into a noble lecture table, with accommodation for any amount of apparatus that might be required for the purposes of illustration. The seats were arranged in the body of the hall in concentric segments, with the lecture table as their centre. In an alcove fight opposite the lecturer might often be seen the directors of the institution– Jeffrey, Horner, Murray, and others–who took every opportunity of dignifying by their presence this noble gathering of earnest and intelligent working men.

A library of scientific books was soon added to the institution, by purchases or by gifts. Such was the eagerness to have a chance of getting the book you wanted that I remember standing on many occasions for some time amidst a number of applicants awaiting the opening of the door on an evening library night. It was as crowded as if I had been standing at the gallery door of the theatre on a night when some distinguished star from London was about to make his appearance. There was the same eagerness to get a good place in the lecture-room, as near to the lecture table as possible, especially on the chemistry nights.

I continued my regular attendance at this admirable institution from 1821 to 1826. I am glad to find that it still continues in active operation. In November 1880 the number of students attending the Edinburgh School of Arts amounted to two thousand five hundred! I have been led to this prolix account of the beginning of the institution by the feeling that I owe a deep debt of gratitude to it, and because of the instructive and intellectually enjoyable evenings which I spent there, in fitting myself for entering upon the practical work of my life.

The successful establishment of the Edinburgh School of Arts had a considerable effect throughout the country. Similar institutions were established, lectures were delivered, and the necessary illustrations were acquired–above all, the working models of the steam-engine. There was quite a run upon me for supplying them. My third working model was made to the order of Robert Bald, for the purpose of being presented to the Alloa Mechanics’ Institute; the fourth was manufactured for Mr. G. Buchanan, who lectured on mechanical subjects throughout the country; and the fifth was supplied to a Mr. Offley, an English gentleman who took a fancy for the model when he came to purchase some of my father’s works.

The price I charged for my models was #10; and with the pecuniary results I made over one-third to my father, as a sort of help to remunerate him for my “keep,” and with the rest I purchased tickets of admission to certain classes in the University. I attended the Chemistry course under Dr. Hope; the Geometry and Mathematical course under Professor Wallace; and the Natural Philosophy course under my valued friend and patron Professor Leslie. What with my attendance upon the classes, and my workshop and drawing occupations, my time did not hang at all heavy on my hands.

I got up early in the mornings to work at my father’s lathe, and I sat up late at night to do the brass castings in my bedroom. Some of this, however, I did during the day-time, when not attending the University classes. The way in which I converted my bedroom into a brass foundry was as follows: I took up the carpet so that there might be nothing but the bare boards to be injured by the heat. My furnace in the grate was made of four plates of stout sheet-iron, lined with fire-brick, corner to corner. To get the requisite sharp draught I bricked up with single bricks the front of the fireplace, leaving a hole at the back of the furnace for the short pipe just to fit into. The fuel was generally gas coke and cinders saved from the kitchen. The heat I raised was superb–a white heat, sufficient to melt in a crucible six or eight pounds of brass.

Then I had a box of moulding sand, where the moulds were gently rammed in around the pattern previous to the casting. But how did I get my brass? All the old brassworks in my father’s workshop drawers and boxes were laid under contribution. This brass being for the most part soft and yellow, I made it extra hard by the addition of a due proportion of tin. It was then capable of retaining a fine edge. When I had exhausted the stock of old brass, I had to buy old copper, or new, in the form of ingot or tile copper, and when melted I added to it one-eighth of its weight of pure tin, which yielded the strongest alloy of the two metals. When cast into any required form this was a treat to work, so sound and close was the grain, and so durable in resisting wear and tear. This is the true bronze or gun metal.

When melted, the liquid brass was let into the openings, until the whole of the moulds were filled. After the metal cooled it was taken out; and when the room was sorted up no one could have known that my foundry operations had been carried on in my bedroom. My brass foundry was right over my father’s bedroom. He had forbidden me to work late at night, as I did occasionally on the sly. Sometimes when I ought to have been asleep I was detected by the sound of the ramming in of the sand of the moulding boxes. On such occasions my father let me know that I was disobeying his orders by rapping on the ceiling of his bedroom with a slight wooden rod of ten feet that he kept for measuring purposes. But I got over that difficulty by placing a bit of old carpet under my moulding boxes as a non-conductor of sound, so that no ramming could afterwards be heard. My dear mother also was afraid that I should damage my health by working so continuously. She would come into the workroom late in the evening, when I was working at the lathe or the vice, and say, “Ye’ll kill yerself, laddie, by working so hard and so late”. Yet she took a great pride in seeing me so busy and so happy.

Nearly the whole of my steam-engine models were made in my father’s workroom. His foot-lathe and stove, together with my brass casting arrangements in my bedroom, answered all my purposes in the way of model making. But I had at times to avail myself of the smithy and foundry that my kind and worthy friend, George Douglass, had established in the neighbourhood. He had begun business as “a jobbing smith,” but being a most intelligent and energetic workman, he shot ahead and laid the foundations of a large trade in steam-engines. When I had any part of a job in hand that was beyond the capabilities of my father’s lathe, or my bedroom casting apparatus, I immediately went to Douglass’s smithy, where every opportunity was afforded me for carrying on my larger class of work.

His place was only about five minutes’ walk from my father’s house. I had the use of his large turning-lathe, which was much more suitable for big or heavy work than the lathe at home. When any considerable bit of steel or iron forging had to be done, a forge fire and anvil were always placed at my service. In making my flywheels for the sectional models of steam-engines I had a rather neat and handy way of constructing them. The boss of the wheel of brass was nicely bored; the arm-holes were carefully drilled and taped, so as to allow the arms which I had turned to be screwed in and appear like neat columns of round wrought iron or steel screwed into the boss of the flywheel.

In return for the great kindness of George Douglass in allowing me to have the use of his foundry, I resolved to present him with a specimen of my handiwork. I desired to try my powers in making a more powerful steam-engine than I had as yet attempted to construct, in order to drive the large turning-lathe and the other tools and machinery of his small foundry. I accordingly set to work and constructed a direct-acting, high-pressure steam-engine, with a cylinder four inches in diameter. I use the term direct acting, because I dispensed with the beam and parallel motion, which was generally considered the correct mode of transferring the action of the piston to the crank.

The result of my labours was a very efficient steam-engine, which set all the lathes and mechanical tools in brisk activity of movement. It had such an enlivening effect upon the workmen that George Douglass afterwards told me that the busy hum of the wheels, and the active, smooth, rhythmic sound of the merry little engine had, through some sympathetic agency, so quickened the stroke of every hammer, chisel, and file in his workmen’s hands, that it nearly doubled the output of work for the same wages!

The sympathy of activity acting upon the workmen’s hands cannot be better illustrated than by a story told me by my father. A master tailor in a country town employed a number of workmen. They had been to see some tragic melodrama performed by some players in a booth at the fair. A very slow, doleful, but catching air was played, which so laid hold of the tailors’ fancy that for some time after they were found slowly whistling or humming the doleful ditty, the movement of their needles keeping time to it; the result was that the clothing that should have been sent home on Saturday was not finished until the Wednesday following. The music had done it! The master tailor, being something of a philosopher, sent his men to the play again; but he arranged that they should be treated with lively merry airs. The result was that the lively airs displaced the doleful ditty; and the tailors’ needles again reverted to even more than their accustomed quickness.

However true the story may be, it touches an important principle in regard to the stimulation of activity by the rapid movements or sounds of machinery, which influence every workman within their sight or hearing. We all know the influence of a quick merry air, played by fife and drum, upon the step and marching of a regiment of soldiers. It is the same with the quick movements of a steam-engine upon the activity of workmen.

I may add that my worthy friend, George Douglass, derived other advantages from the construction of my steam-engine. Being of an enterprising disposition he added another iron foundry to his smaller shops; he obtained many good engineering tools, and in course of time he began to make steam-engines for agricultural purposes. These were used in lieu of horse power for thrashing corn, and performing several operations that used to be done by hand labour in the farmyards. Orders came in rapidly, and before long the chimneys of Douglass’s steam-engines were as familiar in the country round Edinburgh as corn stacks. All the large farms, especially in Midlothian and East Lothian, were supplied with his steam-engines. The business of George Douglass became very large; and in course of time he was enabled to retire with a considerable fortune.

In addition to the steam-engine which I presented to Douglass, I received an order to make another from a manufacturer of braiding. His machines had before been driven by hand labour; but as his business extended, the manufacturer employed me to furnish him with all engine of two-horse power, which was duly constructed and set to work, and gave him the highest satisfaction.

[Image] James Nasmyth’s Expansometer, 1826.

I may here mention that one of my earliest attempts at original contrivance was an Expansometer–an instrument for measuring in bulk all metals and solid substances. The object to be experimented on was introduced into a tube of brass, with as much water round it as to fill the tube. The apparatus was then plunged into a vessel of boiling water, or heated to boiling point; when the total expansion of the bar was measured by a graduated scale, as seen in the annexed engraving. By this simple means the expansion of any material might be ascertained under various increments of heat, say from 60deg to 2l2deg. It was simply a thermometer, the mass marking its own expansion. Dr. Brewster was so much pleased with the apparatus that he described it and figured it in the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal, of which he was then editor.

[Image] The road steam-carriage. By James Nasmyth.

About the year 1827, when I was nineteen years old, the subject of steam carriages to run upon common roads occupied considerable attention. Several engineers and mechanical schemers had tried their hands, but as yet no substantial results had come of their attempts to solve the problem. Like others, I tried my hand. Having made a small working model of a steam-carriage, I exhibited it before the members of the Scottish Society of Arts. The performance of this active little machine was so gratifying to the Society that they requested me to construct one of such power as to enable four or six persons to be conveyed along the ordinary roads. The members of the Society, in their individual capacity, subscribed #60, which they placed in my hands as the means for carrying out their project.

I accordingly set to work at once. I had the heavy parts of the engine and carriage done at Anderson’s foundry at Leith. There was in Anderson’s employment a most able general mechanic named Robert Maclaughlan, who had served his time at Carmichaels’ of Dundee. Anderson possessed some excellent tools, which enabled me to proceed rapidly with the work. Besides, he was most friendly, and took much delight in being concerned in my enterprise. This “big job” was executed in about four months. The steam-carriage was completed and exhibited before the members of the Society of Arts. Many successful trials were made with it on the queensferry Road, near Edinburgh. The runs were generally of four or five miles, with a load of eight passengers sitting on benches about three feet from the ground.

The experiments were continued for nearly three months, to the great satisfaction of the members. I may mention that in my steam-carriage I employed the waste steam to create a blast or draught by discharging it into the short chimney of the boiler at its lowest part, and found it most effective. I was not at that time aware that George Stephenson and others had adopted the same method; but it was afterwards gratifying to me to find that I had been correct as regards the important uses of the steam blast in the chimney. In fact, it is to this use of the waste steam that we owe the practical success of the locomotive-engine as a tractive power on railways, especially at high speeds.

The Society of Arts did not attach any commercial value to my steam road-carriage. It was merely as a matter of experiment that they had invited me to construct it. When it proved successful they made me a present of the entire apparatus. As I was anxious to get on with my studies, and to prepare for the work of practical engineering, I proceeded no further. I broke up the steam-carriage and sold the two small high-pressure engines, provided with a compact and strong boiler, for #67, a sum which more than defrayed all the expenses of the construction and working of the machine.

I still continued to make investigations as to the powers and capabilities of the steam-engine. There were numerous breweries, distilleries, and other establishments, near Edinburgh, where such engines were at work. As they were made by different engineers, I was desirous of seeing them and making sketches of them, especially when there was any special peculiarity in their construction. I found this a most favourite and instructive occupation. The engine tenters became very friendly with me, and they we re always glad to see me interested in them and their engines. They were especially delighted to see me make “drafts,” as they called my sketches, of the engines under their charge.

My father sometimes feared that my too close and zealous application to engineering work might have a bad effect upon my health. My bedroom work at brass casting, my foundry work at the making of steam-engines, and my studies at the University classes, were perhaps too much for a lad of my age, just when I was in the hobbledehoy state–between a boy and a man. Whether his apprehensions were warranted or not, it did so happen that I was attacked with typhus fever in 1828, a disease that was then prevalent in Edinburgh. I had a narrow escape from its fatal influence. But thanks to my good constitution, and to careful nursing, I succeeded in throwing off the fever, and after due time recovered my usual health and strength.

In the course of my inspection of the engines made by different makers, I was impressed with the superiority of those made by the Carmichaels of Dundee. They were excellent both in design and in execution. I afterwards found that the Carmichaels were among the first of the Scottish engine makers who gave due attention to the employment of improved mechanical tools, with the object of producing accurate work with greater ease, rapidity, and economy, than could possibly be effected by the hand labour of even the most skilful workmen. I was told that the cause of the excellence of the Carmichaels’ work was not only in the ability of the heads of the firm, but in their employment of the best engineers’ tools. Some of their leading men had worked at Maudslay’s machine shop in London, the fame of which had already reached Dundee; and Maudslay’s system of employing machine tools had been imported into the northern steam factory.

I had on many occasions, when visiting the works where steam-engines were employed, heard of the name and fame of Maudslay. I was told that his works were the very centre and climax of all that was excellent in mechanical workmanship. These reports built up in my mind, at this early period of my aspirations, an earnest and hopeful desire that I might some day get a sight of Maudslay’s celebrated works in London. In course of time it developed into a passion. I will now proceed to show how my inmost desires were satisfied.

CHAPTER 7. Henry Maudslay, London

The chief object of my ambition was now to be taken on at Henry Maudslay’s works in London. I had heard so much of his engineering work, of his assortment of machine-making tools, and of the admirable organisation of his manufactory, that I longed to obtain employment there. I was willing to labour, in however humble a capacity, in that far-famed workshop.

I was aware that my father had not the means of paying the large premium required for placing me as an apprentice at Maudslay’s works. I was also informed that Maudslay had ceased to take pupils. After experience, he found that the premium apprentices caused him much annoyance and irritation. They came in “gloves;” their attendance was irregular; they spread a bad example amongst the regular apprentices and workmen; and on the whole they were found to be very disturbing elements in the work of the factory.

It therefore occurred to me that, by showing some specimens of my work and drawings, I might be able to satisfy Mr. Maudslay that I was not an amateur, but a regular working engineer. With this object I set to work, and made with special care a most complete working model of a high-pressure engine. The cylinder was 2 inches diameter, and the stroke 6 inches. Every part of the engine, including the patterns, the castings, the forgings, were the results of my own individual handiwork. I turned out this sample of my ability as an engineer workman in such a style as even now I should be proud to own.

In like manner I executed several specimens of my ability as a mechanical draughtsman; for I knew that Maudslay would thoroughly understand my ability to work after a plan. Mechanical drawing is the alphabet of the engineer. Without this the workman is merely a “hand.” With it he indicates the possession of “a head” I also made some samples of my skill in hand-sketching of machines, and parts of machines, in perspective–that is, as such objects really appear when set before us in their natural aspect. I was the more desirous of exhibiting the ability which I possessed in mechanical draughtsmanship, as I knew it to be a somewhat rare and much-valued acquirement. It was a branch of delineative art that my father had carefully taught me. Throughout my professional life I have found this art to be of the utmost practical value.

Having thus provided myself with such visible and tangible evidences of my capabilities as a young engineer, I carefully packed up my working model and drawings, and prepared to start for London. On the 19th of May 1829, accompanied by my father, I set sail by the Leith smack Edinburgh Castle, Captain Orr, master. After a pleasant voyage of four days we reached the mouth of the Thames. We sailed up from the Nore on Saturday afternoon, lifted up, as it were, by the tide, for it was almost a dead calm the whole way.

The sight of the banks of the famous river, with the Kent orchards in full blossom, and the frequent passages of steamers with bands of music and their decks crowded with pleasure-seekers, together with the sight of numbers of noble merchant ships in the river, formed a most glorious and exciting scene. It was also enhanced by the thought that I was nearing the great metropolis, around which so many bright but anxious hopes were centred, as the scene of my first important step into the anxious business of life, The tide, which had carried us up the river as far as Woolwich suddenly turned; and we remained there during the night. Early next morning the tide rose, and we sailed away again. It was a bright mild morning. The sun came “dancing up the east” as we floated past wharfs and woodyards and old houses on the banks, past wherries and coal boats and merchant ships on the river, until we reached our destination at the Irongate Wharf, near the Tower of London. I heard St. Paul’s clock strike six just as we reached our mooring ground.

Captain Orr was kind enough to allow us to make the ship our hotel during the Sunday, as it was by no means convenient for us to remove our luggage on that day. My father took me ashore and we walked to Regent’s Park. One of my sisters, who was visiting a friend in London, was residing in that neighbourhood. My father so planned his route as to include many of the most remarkable streets and buildings and sights of London. He pointed out the principal objects, and gave me much information about their origin and history.

I was much struck with the beautiful freshness and luxuriant growth of the trees and shrubs in the squares; for spring was then in its first beauty. The loveliness of Regent’s Park surprised me. The extent of the space, the brilliancy of the fresh-leaved trees, and the handsome buildings by which the park was surrounded, made it seem to me more splendid than a picture from the Arabian Nights. Under the happy aspect of a brilliant May forenoon, this first long walk through London, with all its happy attendant circumstances, rendered it one of the most vividly remembered incidents in my life. After visiting my sister and giving her all the details of the last news from home, she joined us in our walk down to Westminster Abbey. The first view of the interior stands out in my memory as one of the most impressive sights I ever beheld. I had before read, over and over again, the beautiful description of the Abbey given by Washington Irving in the Sketch Book, one of the most masterly pieces of writing that I know of I now found one of my day-dreams realised.

We next proceeded over Westminster Bridge to call upon my brother Patrick. We found him surrounded by paintings from his beautiful sketches from Nature. Some of them were more or less advanced in the form of exquisite pictures, which now hang on many walls, and will long commemorate his artistic life. We closed this ever memorable day by dining at a tavern at the Surrey end of Waterloo Bridge. We sat at an upper window which commanded a long stretch of the river, and from which we could see the many remarkable buildings, from St. Paul’s to Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament, which lay on the other side of the Thames.

On the following day my father and I set out in search of lodgings, hotels being at that time beyond our economical method of living. We succeeded in securing a tidy lodging at No. 14 Agues Place, Waterloo Road. The locality had a special attraction for me, as it was not far from that focus of interest–Maudslay’s factory. Our luggage was removed from the ship to the lodgings, and my ponderous cases, containing the examples of my skill as an engineer workman, were deposited in a carpenter’s workshop close at hand.

I was now anxious for the interview with Maudslay. My father had been introduced to him by a mutual friend some two or three years before, and that was enough. On the morning of May the 26th we set out together, and reached his house in Westminster Road, Lambeth. It adjoined his factory. My father knocked at the door. My own heart beat fast. Would he be at home? Would he receive us? Yes! he was at home; and we were invited to enter.

Mr. Maudslay received us in the most kind and frank manner. After a little conversation my father explained the object of his visit. “My son,” he said, pointing to me, “is very anxious to have the opportunity of acquiring a thorough practical knowledge of mechanical engineering, by serving as an apprentice in some such establishment as yours” “Well,” replied Maudslay, “I must frankly confess to you that my experience of pupil apprentices has been so unsatisfactory that my partner and myself have determined to discontinue to receive them–no matter at what premium. This was a very painful blow to myself; for it seemed to put an end to my sanguine expectations.

Mr. Maudslay knew that my father was interested in all matters relating to mechanical engineering, and he courteously invited him to go round the works. Of course I accompanied them. The sight of the workshops astonished me. They excelled all that I had anticipated. The beautiful machine tools, the silent smooth whirl of the machinery, the active movements of the men, the excellent quality of the work in progress, and the admirable order and management that pervaded the whole establishment, rendered me more tremblingly anxious than ever to obtain some employment there, in however humble a capacity.

Mr. Maudslay observed the earnest interest which I and my father took in everything going on, and explained the movements of the machinery and the rationale of the proceedings in the most lively and kindly manner. It was while we were passing from one part of the factory to another that I observed the beautiful steam-engine which gave motion to the tools and machinery of the workshops. The man who attended it was engaged in cleaning out the ashes from under the boiler furnace, in order to wheel them away to their place outside. On the spur of the moment I said to Mr. Maudslay, “If you would only permit me to do such a job as that in your service, I should consider myself most fortunate!” I shall never forget the keen but kindly look that he gave me. “So ,” said he, “you are one of that sort, are you?” I was inwardly delighted at his words.

When our round of the works was concluded, I ventured to say to Mr. Maudslay that “I had brought up with me from Edinburgh some working models of steam-engines and mechanical drawings, and I should feel truly obliged if he would allow me to show them to him?” “By all means,” said he; “bring them to me tomorrow at twelve o’clock.” I need not say how much pleased I was at this permission to exhibit my handiwork, and how anxious I felt as to the result of Mr. Maudslay’s inspection of it.

I carefully unpacked my working model of the steam-engine at the carpenter’s shop, and had it conveyed, together with my drawings, on a hand-cart to Mr. Maudslay’s next morning at the appointed hour. I was allowed to place my work for his inspection in a room next his office and counting-house. I then called at his residence close by, where he kindly received me in his library. He asked me to wait until he and his partner, Joshua Field, had inspected my handiwork.

I waited anxiously. Twenty long minutes passed. At last he entered the room, and from a lively expression in his countenance I observed in a moment that the great object of my long cherished ambition had been attained! He expressed, in good round terms, his satisfaction at my practical ability as a workman engineer and mechanical draughtsman. Then, opening the door which led from his library into his beautiful private workshop, he said, “This is where I wish you to work, beside me, as my assistant workman. From what I have seen there is no need of an apprenticeship in your case.”

He then proceeded to show me the collection of exquisite tools of all sorts with which his private workshop was stored. They mostly bore the impress of his own clearheadedness and common-sense. They were very simple, and quite free from mere traditional forms and arrangements. At the same time they were perfect for the special purposes for which they had been designed. The workshop was surrounded with cabinets and drawers, filled with evidences of the master’s skill and industry. Every tool had a purpose. It had been invented for some special reason. Sometimes it struck the keynote, as it were, to many of the important contrivances which enable man to obtain a complete mastery over materials.

There were also hung upon the walls, or placed upon shelves, many treasured relics of the first embodiments of his constructive genius. There were many models explaining, step by step, the gradual progress of his teeming inventions and contrivances. The workshop was thus quite a historical museum of mechanism. It exhibited his characteristic qualities in construction. I afterwards found out that many of the contrivances preserved in his private workshop were treasured as suggestive of some interesting early passage in his useful and active life. They were kept as relics of his progress towards mechanical perfection. When he brought them out from time to time, to serve for the execution of some job in hand, he was sure to dilate upon the occasion that led to their production, as well as upon the happy results which had followed their general employment in mechanical engineering.

It was one of his favourite maxims, “First, get a clear notion of what you desire to accomplish, and then in all probability you will succeed in doing it.” Another was “Keep a sharp look-out upon your materials; get rid of every pound of material you can do without; put to yourself the question, ‘What business has it to be there? avoid complexities, and make everything as simple as possible.” Mr. Maudslay was full of quaint maxims and remarks, the result of much shrewdness, keen observation, and great experience. They were well worthy of being stored up in the mind, like a set of proverbs, full of the life and experience of men. His thoughts became compressed into pithy expressions exhibiting his force of character and intellect. His quaint remarks on my first visit to his workshop, and on subsequent occasions, proved to me invaluable guides to “right thinking” in regard to all matters connected with mechanical structure.

Mr. Maudslay seemed at once to take me into his confidence. He treated me in the most kindly manner–not as a workman or an apprentice, but as a friend. I was an anxious listener to everything that he said; and it gave him pleasure to observe that I understood and valued his conversation. The greatest treat of all was in store for me. He showed me his exquisite collection of taps and dies and screw-tackle, which he had made with the utmost care for his own service. They rested in a succession of drawers near to the bench where he worked. There was a place for every one, and every one was in its place. There was a look of tidiness about the collection which was very characteristic of the man. Order was one of the rules which he rigidly observed, and he endeavoured to enforce it upon all who were in his employment.

He proceeded to dilate upon the importance of the uniformity of screws. Some may call it an improvement, but it might almost be called a revolution in mechanical engineering which Mr. Maudslay introduced. Before his time no system had been followed in proportioning the number of threads of screws to their diameter. Every bolt and nut was thus a speciality in itself, and neither possessed nor admitted of any community with its neighbours. To such an extent had this practice been carried that all bolts and their corresponding nuts had to be specially marked as belonging to each other. Any intermixture that occurred between them led to endless trouble and expense, as well as inefficiency and confusion,–especially when parts of complex machines had to be taken to pieces for repairs.

None but those who lived in the comparatively early days of machine manufacture can form an adequate idea of the annoyance, delay, and cost of this utter want of system, or can appreciate the vast services rendered to mechanical engineering by Mr. Maudslay, who was the first to introduce the practical measures necessary for its remedy. In his system of screw-cutting machinery, and in his taps and dies, and screw-tackle generally, he set the example, and in fact laid the foundation, of all that has since been done in this most essential branch of machine construction. Those who have had the good fortune to work under him, and have experienced the benefits of his practice, have eagerly and ably followed him; and thus his admirable system has become established throughout the entire mechanical world.

Mr. Maudslay kept me with him for about three hours, initiating me into his system. It was with the greatest delight that I listened to his wise instruction. The sight of his excellent tools, which he showed me one by one, filled me with an almost painful feeling of earnest hope that I might be able in any degree to practically express how thankful I was to be admitted to so invaluable a privilege as to be in close communication with this great master in all that was most perfect in practical mechanics.

When he concluded his exposition, he told me in the most kindly manner that it would be well for me to take advantage of my father’s presence in London to obtain some general knowledge of the metropolis, to see the most remarkable buildings, and to obtain an introduction to some of my father’s friends. He gave me a week for this purpose, and said he should be glad to see me at his workshop on the following Monday week.

It singularly happened that on the first day my father went out with me, he encountered an old friend. He had first known him at Mr. Miller’s of Dalswinton, when the first steamboat was tried, and afterwards at Edinburgh while he was walking the courts as an advocate, or writing articles for the Edinburgh Review. This was no other than Henry Brougham. He was descending the steps leading into St. James’s Park, from the place where the Duke of York’s monument now stands. Brougham immediately recognised my father. There was a hearty shaking of hands, and many inquiries on either side. “And what brings you to London now?” asked Brougham. My father told him that it was about his son here, who had obtained an important position at Maudslay’s the engineer.

“If I can do anything for you,” said Brougham, addressing me, “let me know. It will afford me much pleasure to give you introductions to men of science in London.” I ventured to say that “Of all the men of science in London that I most wished to see, was Mr. Faraday of the Royal Institution.” ” Well,” said Brougham, “I will send you a letter of introduction. We then parted.

My father availed himself of the opportunity of introducing me to several of his brother artists. We first went to the house of David Wilkie, in Church Street, Kensington. We found him at home, and he received us most kindly. We next visited Clarkson Stanfield, David Roberts, and some other artists. They were much attached to my father, and had, in the early part of their career, received much kindness from him while living in Edinburgh. They all expressed the desire that I should visit them frequently. I had thus the privilege of entree to a number of pleasant and happy homes, and my visits to them while in London was one of my principal sources of enjoyment.

On returning home to our lodgings that evening we found a note from Brougham, enclosing letters of introduction to Faraday and other scientific men; and stating that if at any time he could be of service to me he hoped that I would at once make use of him. My father was truly gratified with the substantial evidence of Brougham’s kindly remembrance of him; and I? how could I be grateful enough? not only for my father’s never-failing attention to my growth in knowledge and wisdom, but to his ever-willing readiness to help me onward in the path of scientific working and mechanical engineering. And now I was fortunate in another respect, in being admitted to the school, and I may say the friendship, of the admirable Henry Maudslay. Everything now depended upon myself, and whether I was worthy of all these advantages or not.

One of the days of this most interesting and memorable week was devoted to accompanying Mr. Maudslay in a visit to Somerset House. In the Admiralty Museum, then occupying a portion of the building, was a complete set of the working models of the celebrated block-making machinery. Most of these were the result of Maudslay’s own skilful handiwork. He also designed, for the most part, this wonderful and complete series of machines. Sir Samuel Bentham and Mr. Brunel had given the idea, and Maudslay realised it in all its mechanical details. These working models contained the prototypes of nearly all the modern engineer tools which have given us so complete mastery over materials, and done so much for the age we live in.

It added no little to the enjoyment of this visit to hear Mr. Maudslay narrate, in his quaint and graphic language, the difficulties he had to encounter in solving so many mechanical problems. It occupied him nearly six years to design and complete these working models. They were forty-four in number–all masterly pieces of workmanship. To describe them was to him like living over again the most interesting and eventful part of his life. And no doubt the experience which he had thus obtained formed the foundation of his engineering fortunes.

Mr. Maudslay next conducted us to the Royal Mint on Tower Hill. Here we saw many of his admirable machines at work. He had a happy knack, in his contrivances and inventions, of making “short cuts” to the object in view. He avoided complexities, did away with roundabout processes, however ingenious, and went direct to his point. “Simplicity” was his maxim in every mechanical contrivance. His mastermind enabled him to see through and attain the end he sought by the simplest possible means. The reputation which he had acquired by his minting machinery enabled him to supply it in its improved form to the principal Governments of the world.

Some of the other days of the week were occupied by my father in attending to his own professional affairs, more particularly in connection with the Earl of Cassilis–whose noble mansion in London, and whose castle at Colzean, on the coast of Ayrshire, contain some of my father’s finest works. The last day was most enjoyable. Mr. Maudslay invited my father, my brother Patrick, and myself, to accompany him in his beautiful small steam yacht, the Endeavour, from Westminster to Richmond Bridge, and afterwards to dine with him at the Star and Garter. I must first, however, say something of the origin of the Endeavour.

Mr. Maudslay’s son, Joseph, inherited much of his father’s constructive genius. He had made a beautiful arrangement of William Murdoch’s original invention of the vibrating cylinder steam-engine, and adapted it for the working of paddle-wheel steamers. He first tried the action of the arrangement in a large working model, and its use was found to be in every respect satisfactory. Mr. Maudslay resolved to give his son’s design a full-sized trial. He had a combined pair of vibrating engines constructed, of upwards of 20 horse-power, which were placed in a beautiful small steam vessel, appropriately named the Endeavour. The result was perfectly successful. The steamer became a universal favourite. It was used to convey passengers and pleasure parties from Blackfriars Bridge to Richmond. Eventually it became the pioneer of a vast progeny of vessels propelled by similar engines, which still crowd the Thames. All these are the legitimate descendants of the bright and active little Endeavour.

To return to my trip to Richmond. We got on board the boat on the forenoon of May the 29th. It was one of the most beautiful days of the year. The spring was at its loveliest. The bright fresh green of the trees was delightful. I shall never forget the pleasure with which I beheld, for the first time, the beautiful banks of the Thames. There was at that time a noble avenue of elm trees extending along the southern bank of the river, from Westminster Bridge to Lambeth Palace; while, on the northern side, many equally fine trees added picturesque grace to the then Houses of Parliament, while behind them were seen the great roof of Westminster Hall and the noble towers of Westminster Abbey. As we sped along we admired the ancient cedars, which gave dignity to the Bishop’s grounds, on the one side, and the elms, laburnums, and lilacs, then in full bloom, which partially shaded the quaint old mansions of Cheyne Row, on the other. Alas! the march of improvement and the inevitable extension of the metropolis is rapidly destroying these vestiges of the olden time.

The beautiful views that came into sight, as we glided up the river, kept my father and my brother in a state of constant excitement. There were so many truly picturesque and paintable objects. Patrick’s deft pencil was constantly at work, taking graphic notes of “glorious bits” Dilapidated farm-buildings, old windmills, pollarded willows, were rapidly noted, to be afterwards revisited and made immortal by his brush. There were also the fine mansions and cosy villas, partially shrouded by glorious trees, with their bright velvety lawns sloping down towards the river; not forgetting the delicate streams of thin blue smoke rising lazily through the trees in the tranquil summer air, and reminding one of the hospitable preparations then in progress.

We landed at Richmond Bridge, and walked up past the quaint old-fashioned mansions which gave so distinct a character to Richmond at that time. We then passed on to the celebrated Richmond Terrace, at the top of the hill, from which so glorious a view of the windings of the Thames is seen, with the luxuriant happy-looking landscape around. The enjoyment of this glorious day now reached its climax. We dined in the great dining-room, from the large windows of which we observed a view almost unmatched in the world, with the great tower of Windsor in the distance. I need not speak of the entertainment, which was everything that the kindest and most genial hospitality could offer. After a pleasant stroll in the Park, amidst the noble and venerable oak trees, which give such a dignity to the place, and after another visit to the Terrace, where we saw the sun set in a blaze of glory beyond the distant scenery, we strolled down the hill to the steamer, and descended the Thames in the cool of the summer evening.

I must not, however, omit to mention the lodgings taken for me by my father before he left London. It was necessary that they should be near Maudslay’s works for the convenience of going and coming. We therefore looked about in the neighbourhood of Waterloo Road. One of the houses we visited was situated immediately behind the Surrey theatre. It seemed a very nice tidy house, and my father seemed to have taken a liking for it. But when we were introduced into the room where I was to sleep, he observed an ultra-gay bonnet lying on the bed, with flashy bright ribbons hanging from it. This sight seemed to alter his ideas, and he did not take the lodgings; but took another where there was no such bonnet.

I have no doubt about what passed through his mind at the time. We were in the neighbourhood of the theatre. There was evidently some gay young woman about the house. He thought the position might be dangerous for his son. I afterwards asked him why we had not taken that nice lodging. “Well,” he said, “did not you see that ultra-gay bonnet lying on the bed? I think that looks rather suspicious!” Afterwards he added, “At all events, James, you will find that though there are many dirty roads in life, if you use your judgment you may always be able to find a clean crossing!” And so the good man left me. After an affectionate parting he returned to Edinburgh, and I remained in London to work out the plan of my life.

CHAPTER 8. Maudslay’s Private Assistant

On the morning of Monday, the 30th of May 1829, I commenced my regular attendance at Mr. Maudslay’s workshop. My first job was to assist him in making some modifications in the details of a machine which he had contrived some years before for generating original screws. I use the word “generating” as being most appropriate to express the objects and results of one of Mr. Maudslay’s most original inventions.

It consisted in the employment of a knife-edged hardened steel instrument, so arranged as to be set at any required angle, and its edge caused to penetrate the surface of a cylindrical bar of soft steel or brass. This bar being revolved under the incisive action of the angularly placed knife-edged instrument, it thus received a continuous spiral groove cut into its surface. It was then in the condition of a rudimentary screw; the pitch, or interval between the threads, being determined by the greater or less angle of obliquity at which the knife-edged instrument was set with respect to the axis of the cylindrical bars revolving under its incisive action.

The spiral groove, thus generated, was deepened to the required extent by a suitable and pointed hard steel tool firmly held in the jaws of an adjustable slide made for the purpose, as part and parcel of the bed of the machine. In the case of square-threaded screws being required, a square-pointed tool was employed in place of the V or angle-threaded tool. And in order to generate or produce right hand or left hand screws, all that was necessary was to set the knife-edged instrument to a right or left hand inclination in respect to the axis of the cylindrical bar at the outset of the operation.

This beautiful and truly original contrivance became, in the hands of its inventor, the parent of a vast progeny of perfect screws, whose descendants, whether legitimate or not, are to be found in every workshop throughout the world, wherever first-class machinery is constructed. The production of perfect screws was one of Maudslay’s highest ambitions and his principal technical achievement. It was a type of his invaluable faculty of solving the most difficult problems by the most direct and simple methods.

It was by the same method that he produced the Guide screw. His screw-cutting lathe was moved by combination wheels, and by its means he could, by the one Guide screw, obtain screws of every variety of pitch and diameter. As an illustration of its complete accuracy I may mention that by its means a screw of five feet in length and two inches in diameter was cut with fifty threads to the inch; the Nut to fit on to it being twelve inches long, and containing six hundred threads! This screw was principally used for dividing scales for astronomical and other metrical purposes of the highest class. By its means divisions were produced with such minuteness that they could only be made visual by a microscope.

This screw was sent for exhibition to the Society of Arts. It is still preserved with the utmost care at the Lambeth Works amongst the many admirable specimens of Henry Maudslay’s inventive genius and delicate handiwork. Every skilled mechanic must thoroughly enjoy the sight of it, especially when he knows that it was not produced by an exceptional tool, but by the machine that was daily employed in the ordinary work of the factory.

I must not, however, omit to say that I took an early opportunity of presenting Brougham’s letter of introduction to Faraday at the Royal Institution. I was received most cordially by that noble-minded man, whose face beamed with goodness and kindness. After some pleasant conversation he said he would call upon me at Maudslay’s, whom he knew very well. Not long after Faraday called, and found me working beside Maudslay in his beautiful little workshop. A vice had been fitted up for me at the bench where he himself daily worked. Faraday expressed himself as delighted to find me in so enviable a position. He congratulated me on my special good fortune in having the inestimable advantage of being associated as assistant workman with one of the greatest mechanical engineers of the day.

Mr. Maudslay offered to conduct Faraday through his workshops, and I was permitted to accompany them. I was much impressed with the intelligent conversation of Faraday, as well as with the quickness he exhibited in appreciating not only the general excellence of the design and execution of the works in progress, but his capacity for entering into the technical details of the composite tools and machinery which he saw during his progress through the place. This most pleasant and memorable meeting with the great philosopher initiated a friendship which I had the good fortune to continue until the close of his life.

It was, of course, an immense advantage for me to be so intimately associated with Mr. Maudslay in carrying on his experimental work. I was not, however, his apprentice, but his assistant workman. It was necessary, therefore, in his opinion, that I should receive some remuneration for my services. Accordingly, at the conclusion of my first week in his service, he desired me to go to his chief cashier and arrange with him for receiving whatever amount of weekly wages I might consider satisfactory. I went to the counting-house and had an interview with Mr. Young the cashier, a most worthy man* [footnote…
I may mention that he was brother to Dr. Thomas Young, the celebrated natural philosopher.
…]
Knowing as I did the great advantages of my situation, and having a very modest notion of my own worthiness to occupy it, I said, in answer to Mr. Young’s question as to the amount of wages I desired, that “if he did not think ten shillings a week too much I could do well enough with that.” “Very well” said he,”let it be so” And he handed me over half a sovereign!

I had determined, after I obtained a situation, not to cost my father another shilling. I knew how many calls he had upon him, at a time when he had his own numerous household to maintain. I therefore resolved, now that I had begun life on my own resources, to maintain myself, and to help him rather than be helped any longer. Thus the first half-sovereign I received from Mr. Young was a great event in my life. It was the first wages, as such, that I had ever received. I well remember the high satisfaction I felt as I carried it home to my lodgings; and all the more so as I was quite certain that I could, by strict economy and good management, contrive to make this weekly sum of ten shillings meet all my current expenses.

I had already saved the sum of #20, which I placed in the bank as a deposit account. It was the residue of the sale of some of my model steam-engines at Edinburgh. My readers will remember that I brought with me a model steam-engine to show to Mr. Maudslay as a specimen of my handiwork. It had gained for me the situation that I desired, and I was now willing to dispose of it. I found a purchaser in Mr. Watkins, optician at Charing Cross, who supplied such apparatus to lecturers at Mechanics’ Institutions. He gave me #35 for the model, and I added the sum to my deposit account. This little fund was quite sufficient to meet any expenses beyond those of a current weekly nature.

[Image] My cooking stove*
[footnote…
I have this handy apparatus by me still; and to prove its possession of its full original efficiency I recently set it in action after its rest of fifty years, and found that it yielded results quite equal to my grateful remembrance of its past services. …]

But I was resolved that my wages alone should maintain me in food and lodging. I therefore directed my attention to economical living. I found that a moderate dinner at an eating-house would cost move than I could afford to spend. In order to keep within my weekly income I bought the raw materials and cooked them in my own way and to my own taste. I set to and made a drawing of a very simple, compact, and handy cooking apparatus. I took the drawing to a tinsmith near at hand, and in two days I had it in full operation. The apparatus cost ten shillings, including the lamp. As it contributed in no small degree to enable me to carry out my resolution, and as it may serve as a lesson to others who have an earnest desire to live economically, I think it may be useful to give a drawing and a description of my cooking stove. The cooking or meat pan rested on the upper rim of the external cylindrical case, and was easily removable in order to be placed handy for service. The requisite heat was supplied by an oil lamp with three small single wicks, though I found that one wick was enough. I put the meat in the pot, with the other comestibles, at nine o’clock in the morning. It simmered away all day, until half-past six in the evening, when I came home with a healthy appetite to enjoy my dinner. I well remember the first day that I set the apparatus to work. I ran to my lodging, at about four P.M., to see how it was going on. When I lifted the cover it was simmering beautifully, and such a savoury gusto came forth that I was almost tempted to fall to and discuss the contents. But the time had not yet come, and I ran back to my work.

The meat I generally cooked in it was leg of beef, with sliced potato, bits of onion chopped down, and a modicum of white pepper and salt, With just enough of water to cover “the elements.” When stewed slowly the meat became very tender; and the whole yielded a capital dish, such as a very Soyer might envy. It was partaken of with a zest that, no doubt, was a very important element in its savouriness. The whole cost of this capital dinner was about 4 1/2d. I sometimes varied the meat with rice boiled with a few raisins and a pennyworth of milk. My breakfast and tea, with bread, cost me about fourpence each. My lodgings cost 3s. 6d. a week. A little multiplication will satisfy any one how it was that I contrived to live economically and comfortably on my ten shillings a week. In the following year my wages were raised to fifteen shillings a week, and then I began to take butter to my bread.

To return to my employment under Mr. Maudslay. One of the first jobs that I undertook was in assisting him to make a beautiful small model of a pair of 200 horsepower marine steam-engines. The engines were then in course of construction in the factory. They were considered a bold advance on the marine engines then in use, not only in regard to their great power, but in carrying out many specialities in their details and general structure. Mr. Maudslay had embodied so much of his thought in the design that he desired to have an exact model of them placed in his library, so as to keep a visible record of his ideas constantly before him. In fact, these engines might be regarded as the culmination of his constructive abilities.

In preparing the model it was necessary that everything should be made in exact conformity with the original. There were about three hundred minute bolts and nuts to be reduced to the proportional size. I esteemed it a great compliment to be entrusted with their execution. They were all to be made of cast-steel, and the nuts had to be cut to exact hexagonal form. Many of them had collars. To produce them by the use of the file in the ordinary mode would not only have been difficult and tedious, but in some cases practically impossible.

[Image] Collar-nut cutting machine.

To get rid of the difficulty I suggested to Mr. Maudslay a contrivance of my own by means of which the most rigid exactness in size as well as form could be given to these hexagonal nuts. He readily granted his permission. I constructed a special apparatus, consisting of a hard steel circular cutter to act as a circular file. When brought into operation in the production of these minute six-sided collared nuts, held firm in the spindle of a small dividing plate and attached to the slide-rest, each side was brought in succession under the action of the circular file or cutter with the most exact precision in regard to the division of the six sides. The result was absolutely perfect as respects the exactness of the six equal sides of the hexagonal nut, as well as their precise position in regard to the collar that was of one solid piece with it. There was no great amount of ingenuity required in contriving this special tool, or in adapting it to the slide-rest of the lathe, to whose spindle end the file or cutter /\ was fixed. But the result was so satisfactory, both as regards the accuracy and rapidity of execution in comparison with the usual process of hand filing, that Mr. Maudslay was greatly pleased with the arrangement as well as with my zeal in contriving and executing this clever little tool. An enlarged edition of this collar-nut cutting machine was soon after introduced into the factory.

[Image] Arrangement of the machine

It was one of the specialities that I adopted in my own workshop when I commenced business for myself, and it was eagerly adopted by mechanical engineers, whom we abundantly supplied with this special machine. It was an inestimable advantage to me to be so intimately associated with this Great Mechanic. He was so invariably kind, pleasant, and congenial. He communicated an infinite number of what he humorously called “Wrinkles” which afterwards proved of great use to me. My working hours usually terminated at six in the evening. But as many of the departments of the factory were often in full operation during busy times until eight o’clock, I went through them to observe the work while in progress. On these occasions I often met “the guvnor, as the workmen called Mr. Maudslay. He was going his round of inspection, and when there was any special work in hand he would call me up to him to and explain point in connection with it that was worthy of particular notice. I found this valuable privilege most instructive, as I obtained from the cheif mechanic himself a full insight into the methods, means, and processes by which the skilful workman advanced the various classes of work. I was also permitted to take notes and make rapid sketches of any object that specially interested me. The entire establishment thus became to me a school of practical engineering of the most instructive kind.

Mr. Maudslay took pleasure in showing me the right system and method of treating all manner of materials employed in mechanical structures. He showed how they might be made to obey your will, by changing them into the desired forms with the least expenditure of time and labour. This in fact is the true philosophy of construction. When clear ideas have been acquired upon the subject, after careful observation and practice, the comparative ease and certainty with which complete mastery over the most obdurate materials is obtained, opens up the most direct road to the attainment of commercial as well as of professional success.

To be permitted to stand by and observe the systematic way in which Mr. Maudslay would first mark or line out his work, and the masterly manner in which he would deal with his materials, and cause them to assume the desired forms, was a treat beyond all expression. Every stroke of the hammer, chisel, or file, told as an effective step towards the intended result. It was a never-to-be-forgotten practical lesson in workmanship, in the most exalted sense of the term. In conformity with his often repeated maxim, “that there is a right way and a wrong way of doing everything,” he took the shortest and most direct cuts to accomplish his objects. He illustrated this by telling me, in his own humorous style, ” When you want to go from London to Greenwich, don’t go round by Inverness.” Another of his droll sayings was that he “considered no man a thorough mechanic unless he could cut a plank with a gimlet, and bore a hole with a saw!”

The grand result of thoughtful practice is what we call experience: it is the power or faculty of seeing clearly before you begin, what to avoid and what to select–or rather what to do and what not to do. High-class workmanship, or technical knowledge, was in his hands quite a science. Every piece of work was made subject to the soundest philosophical principles, as applied to the use and treatment of materials. It was this that gave such a charm of enjoyment to his dealing with tools and materials. He loved this sort of work for its own sake, far more than for its pecuniary results. At the same time he was not without regard for the substantial evidence of his supremacy in all that regarded first-class tools, admirable management, and thorough organisation of his factory.

The innate love of truth and accuracy which distinguished Mr. Maudslay, led him to value highly that class of technical dexterity in engineering workmen which enabled them to produce those details of mechanical structures in which perfect flat or true plane surfaces were required. This was an essential condition for the effective and durable performance of their functions. Sometimes this was effected by the aid of the turning-lathe and slide-rest. But in most cases the object was attained by the dexterous use of the file, so that “flat filing” then was, as it still is, one of the highest qualities of the skilled workman. No one that I ever met with could go beyond Henry Maudslay himself in his dexterous use of the file. By a few masterly strokes he could produce plane surfaces so true that when their accuracy was tested by a standard plane surface of absolute truth, they were never found defective; neither convex, nor concave, nor “cross-winding,”–that is, twisted.

The importance of having such Standard Planes caused him to have many of them placed on the benches beside his workmen, by means of which they might at once conveniently test their work. Three of each were made at a time, so that by the mutual rubbing of each on each the projecting surfaces were effaced. When the surfaces approached very near to the true plane, the still projecting minute points were carefully reduced by hard steel scrapers, until at last the standard plane surface was secured. When placed over each other they would float upon the thin stratum of air between them until dislodged by time and pressure. When they adhered closely to each other, they could only be separated by sliding each off each. This art of producing absolutely plane surfaces is, I believe, a very old mechanical “dodge.” But, as employed by Maudslay’s men, it greatly contributed to the improvement of the work turned out. It was used for the surfaces of slide valves, or wherever absolute true plane surfaces were essential to the attainment of the best results, not only in the machinery turned out, but in educating the taste of his men towards first-class workmanship.

Maudslay’s love of accuracy also led him to distrust the verdicts given by the employment of the ordinary callipers and compasses in determining the absolute or relative dimensions of the refined mechanism which he delighted to construct with his own hands. So much depended upon the manner in which the ordinary measuring instruments were handled and applied that they sometimes failed to give the required verdict as to accuracy. In order, therefore, to get rid of all difficulties in this respect, he designed and constructed a very compact and handy instrument which he always had on his bench beside his vice. He could thus, in a most accurate and rapid manner, obtain the most reliable evidence as to the relative dimensions, in length, width, or diameter, of any work which he had in hand. In consequence of the absolute truth of the verdicts of the instrument, he considered it as a Court of Final Appeal, and humorously called it “The Lord Chancellor.”

[Image] Maudslay’s “Lord Chancellor”

This trustworthy “Companion of the Bench” consisted of a very substantial and inflexible bed or base of hard brass. At one end of it was a perfectly hardened steel surface plate, having an absolutely true flat or plane face, against which one end or side of the object to be measured was placed; whilst a similar absolutely true plane surface of hardened steel was advanced by means of a suitable fine thread screw, until the object to be measured was just delicately in contact with it. The object was, as it were, between the jaws of a vice, but without any squeeze–being just free, which could be easily ascertained by feeling. These two absolutely plane surfaces, between which the object lay, had their distances apart easily read off from the scale engraved on the bed of the instrument, in inches and tenth parts of an inch, while the disk-head or handle of the screw was divided on its edge rim into hundredth or thousandth parts, as these bore an exact metrical relation to the pitch of the screw that moved the parallel steel faces of the measuring vice (as I may term it) nearer or farther apart.

Not only absolute measure could be obtained by this means, but also the amount of minute differences could be ascertained with a degree of exactness that went quite beyond all the requirements of engineering mechanism; such, for instance, as the thousandth part of an inch! It might also have been divided so far as a millionth part of an inch, but these infinitesimal fractions have really nothing to do with the effective machinery*
[footnote…
I may mention another saying of Mr. Maudslay’s. Besides his observation that “in going from London to Greenwich we must not go round by Inverness,” he said, “We must not become too complicated with our machinery. Remember the get-at-ability of parts. If we go on as some mechanics are doing, we shall soon be boiling our eggs with a chronometer!”
…]
that comes forth from our workshops, and merely show the mastery we possess over materials and mechanical forms. The original of this measuring machine of Maudslay’s was exhibited at the Loan Collection at South Kensington in 1878. It is now treasured up, with other relics of his handiwork, in a cabinet at the Lambeth works. While writing upon this subject it may be worthy of remark, that the employment of a screw as the means of adjusting the points or reference marks of a measuring instrument, for the ascertainment of minute distances between objects, was first effected by William Gascoigne, about the year 1648. There can be no doubt that he was the inventor of the Micrometer–an instrument that, when applied (as he first did so) to the eye-piece of the Telescope, has been the means of advancing the science of astronomy to its present high position (See Grant’s History of Astronomy, p. 453)

I had abundant occupation for my leisure time after my regular attendance at the factory was over. I had not only the opportunity of studying mechanics, but of studying men. It is a great thing to know the character of those who are over you as well as those who are under you. It is also well to know the character of those who are associated with you in your daily work. I became intimate with the foremen and with many of the skilled workmen. From them I learnt a great deal. Let me first speak of the men of science who occasionally frequented Maudslay’s private workshop. They often came to consult him on subjects with which he was specially acquainted.

Among Mr. Maudslay’s most frequent visitors were General Sir Samuel Bentham, Mr. Barton, director of the Royal Mint, Mr. Bryan Donkin, Mr. Faraday, and Mr. Chantrey, the sculptor. As Mr. Maudslay wished me to be at hand to give him any necessary assistance, I had the opportunity of listening to the conversation between him and these distinguished visitors. Sir Samuel Bentham called very often. He had been associated with Maudslay during the contrivance and construction of the block machinery. He was brother of the celebrated Jeremy Bentham, and he applied the same clear common-sense to mechanical subjects which the other had done to legal, social, and political questions. It was in the highest degree interesting and instructive to hear these two great pioneers in the history and application of mechanics discussing the events connected with the block-making machinery. In fact, Maudslay’s connection with the subject had led to the development of most of our modern engineering tools. They may since have been somewhat altered in arrangement, but not in principle. Scarcely a week passed without a visit from the General. He sat in the beautiful workshop, where he always seemed so happy. It was a great treat to hear him and Maudslay “fight their battles o’er again,” in recounting the difficulties, both official and mechanical, over which they had so gloriously triumphed.

At the time when I listened to their conversation, the great work in hand was the organisation of a systematic series of experiments on the hulls of steamships, with the view of determining the laws of resistance on their being propelled through the sea by a power other than those of winds and sails. The subject was as complex as it was interesting and important. But it had to be put to the test of actual experiment. This was done in the first place by large models of hulls, so as to ascertain at what point the curves of least resistance could be applied. Their practical correctness was tested by careful experiment in passing them through water at various velocities, to record which conditions special instruments were contrived and executed. These, as well as the preparation of large models of hulls, embodying the various improved “lines,” occupied a considerable portion of the time that I had the good fortune to spend in Mr. Maudslay’s private workshop.

Mr. Barton of the Royal Mint was quite a “crony” of Maudslay’s. He called upon him often with respect to the improvements for stamping the current coin of the realm. Bryan Donkin was also associated with Maudslay and Barton on the subject of the national standard of the yard measure. But perhaps Mr. Chantrey was the most attractive visitor at the private workshop. He had many a long interview with Maudslay with respect to the planning and arranging of a small foundry at his studio, by means of which he might cast his bronze statues under his own superintendence. Mr. Maudslay entered con amore into the subject, and placed his skill and experience entirely at Chantrey’s service. He constructed the requisite furnaces, cranes, and other apparatus, at Chantrey’s studio; and it may be enough to state that, when brought into operation, they yielded the most satisfactory results.

Among my most intelligent private friends in London were George Cundell and his two brothers. They resided near my lodgings, and I often visited them on Saturday evenings. They were most kind, gentle, and genial. The eldest brother was in Sir William Forbes’s bank. George was agent for Mr. Patrick Maxwell Stuart in connection with his West India estates, and the third brother was his assistant. The elder brother was an admirable performer on the violoncello, and he treated us during these Saturday evenings with noble music from Beethoven and Mozart. My special friend George was known amongst us as “the worthy master.” He was thoroughly versed in general science, and was moreover a keen politician. He had the most happy faculty of treating complex subjects, both in science and politics, in a thoroughly common-sense manner. His two brothers had a fine feeling for art, and, indeed, possessed no small skill as practical artists. With companions such as these, gifted with a variety of tastes, I spent many of my Saturday evenings most pleasantly and profitably. They were generally concluded with a glass of beer of “the worthy master’s” own brewing.

When the season of the year and the state of the weather were suitable I often joined this happy fraternity in long and delightful Sunday walks to various interesting places round London. Our walks included Waltham Abbey, Waltham Cross, Eltham Palace, Hampton Court, Epping Forest, and many other interesting places of resort. When the weather was unfavourable my principal resort was Westminster Abbey, where, besides the beautifully-conducted service and the noble anthems, I could admire the glory of the architecture, and the venerable tombs, under which lay the best and bravest. I used generally to sit at a point from which I could see the grand tomb of Aylmer de Vallance with its magnificent surroundings of quaint and glorious architecture. It was solemn, and serious also, to think of the many generations who had filled the abbey, and of the numbers of the dead who lay beneath our feet.

I was so great an admirer of Norman and Gothic architecture that there was scarcely a specimen of it in London which I did not frequently visit. One of the most interesting examples I found in the Norman portion of St. Saviours Church, near London Bridge, through some of it has since been destroyed by the so-called “restoration” in 1831. The new work has been executed in the worst taste and feeling. I also greatly admired the Norman chapel of the Tower, and some Norman portions of the Church of St. Bartholomew the Less, near Smithfield.

No style of architecture that I have ever seen has so impressed me with its intrinsic gravity, and I may say solemnity, as that of the Norman. There is a serious earnestness in its grave simplicity that has a peculiar influence upon the mind; and I have little doubt that this was felt, and understood by those true architects who designed and built the noble cathedrals at Durham and elsewhere. But there, as elsewhere, some of our modern so-called “Architects” have made sad havoc with the earliest and most impressive portions of those grand and truly interesting remains, by their “Restorations”, as they term it–but which I call Defamations.

CHAPTER 9. Holiday in the Manufacturing Districts.

In the autumn of 1830 Mr. Maudslay went to Berlin for the purpose of superintending the erection of machinery at the Royal Mint there. He intended to be absent from London for about a month; and he kindly permitted me to take my holiday during that period.

I had been greatly interested by the descriptions in the newspapers of the locomotive competition at Rainhill, near Liverpool. I was, therefore, exceedingly anxious to see Stephenson’s “Rocket,” the engine that had won the prize. Taking with me letters of introduction from Mr. Maudslay to persons of influence at Liverpool, I left London for the north on the afternoon of Saturday the 9th of September 1830. I took my place on the outside of the Liverpool coach, which set out from “The Swan with Two Necks,” in Lad Lane, City, one of the most celebrated coach-offices in those days

The first part of the journey to Liverpool was very dismal. The night was wet. The rain came pouring down, and no sort of wrappings could keep it out. The outside passengers became thoroughly soaked. On we went, however, as fast as four horses could carry us. Next morning we reached Coventry, when the clouds cleared away, and the sun at last burst forth. I could now enjoy this charming part of old England. Although I had only a hasty glimpse in passing of the quaint streets and ancient buildings of the town I was perfectly delighted with the specimens of ancient domestic architecture which I saw. At that time Coventry was quite a museum of that interesting class of buildings. The greater part of them have since been swept away in the so-called improvement of modern builders, none of whose works can ever so attract an artistic eye.

During the rest of the day the journey was delightful. Though the inside passengers had had the best of it during the night, the outside passengers had the best of it now. To go scampering across the country on the top of the coach, passing old villages, gentlemen’s parks, under old trees, along hedges tinged with autumn tints, up hill and down dale, sometimes getting off the coach to lighten the load, and walking along through the fields by a short cut to meet it farther on; all this was most enjoyable. It gave me a new interest in the happier aspects of English scenery, and of rural and domestic life in the pretty old-fashioned farm buildings that we passed on our way. Indeed, there was everything to delight the eye of the lover of the picturesque during the course of that bright autumnal day.

The coach reached Liverpool on Sunday night. I took up my quarters at a commercial inn in Dale Street, where I found every comfort which I desired at moderate charges. Next morning, without loss of time, I made my way to the then terminus of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway; and there, for the first time, I saw the famous “Rocket” The interest with which I beheld this distinguished and celebrated engine was much enhanced by seeing it make several short trial trips under the personal management of George Stephenson, who acted as engineman, while his son Robert acted as stoker. During their trips of four or five miles along the line the “Rocket” attained the speed of thirty miles an hour–a speed then thought almost incredible! It was to me a most memorable and interesting sight, especially to see the father and son so appropriately engaged in working the engine that was to effect so great a change in the communications of the civilised world. I spent the entire day in watching the trial trips, in examining the railway works, and such portions of of their details as I could obtain access to. About mid-day the “Rocket” was at rest for about an hour near where I stood; and I eagerly availed myself of the opportunity of making a careful sketch of the engine, which I still preserve.

The line was opened on the 15th of September, when the famous “Rocket” led the way in conducting the first train of passengers from Liverpool to Manchester. There were present on that occasion thousands of spectators, many of whom had come from distant parts of the kingdom to witness this greatest of all events in the history of railway locomotion.

During my stay in Liverpool I visited the vast range of magnificent docks which extend along the north bank of the Mersey, all of which were crowded with noble merchant ships, some taking in cargoes of British manufactures, and others discharging immense stores of cotton, sugar, tobacco, and foreign produce. The sight was most interesting, and gave me an impressive idea of the mighty functions of a manufacturing nation–energy and intelligence, working through machinery, increasing the value of raw materials and enabling them to be transported for use to all parts of the civilised world.

Mr. Maudslay having given me a letter of introduction to his old friend William Fawcett, head of the firm of Fawcett, Preston, and Company, engineers, I went over their factory. They were engaged in producing sugar mills for the West Indies, and also in manufacturing the steam-engines for working them. The firm had acquired great reputation for their workmanship; and their shops were crowded with excellent specimens of their skill. Everything was in good order; their assortment of machine tools was admirable. Mr. Fawcett, who accompanied me, was full in his praises of my master, whom he regarded as the greatest pioneer in the substitution of the unerring accuracy of machine tools for the often untrustworthy results of mere manual labour.

I cannot resist referring to the personal appearance and manner of this excellent gentleman, William Fawcett. His peculiar courteous manner, both in speech and action, reminded me of the “grand old Style” Which I had observed in some of my father’s oldest noble employers, and the representations given of them by some of our best actors. There was also a dignified kindliness about his manner that was quite peculiar to himself; and when he conducted me through his busy workshops, the courtly yet kindly manner in which he addressed his various foremen and others, was especially cheering. When I first presented my letter of introduction from Henry Maudslay, he was sitting at a beautiful inlaid escritoire table with his letters arrayed before him in the most neat and perfect order. The writing table stood on a small Turkey carpet apart from the clerks’ desks in the room, but so near to them that he could readily communicate with them. His neat old-fashioned style of dress quite harmonised with his advanced age, and the kindly yet dignified grace of his manner left a lasting impression on me as a most interesting specimen of “the fine old English gentleman, quite of the olden time.”

I spent another day in crossing the Mersey to Birkenhead–then a very small collection of buildings–wandered about the neighbourhood. I had my sketch-book with me, and made a drawing of Liverpool from the other side of the river. Close to Birkenhead were some excellent bits of scenery, old and picturesque farmhouses, overshadowed with venerable oaks, with juttings-out of the New Red Sandstone rocks, covered with heather, furze, and broom, with pools of water edged with all manner of effective water plants. They formed capital subjects for the artistic pencil, especially when distant peeps of the Welsh hills came into the prospect. I made several sketches, and they kept company with my graphic memoranda of architectural and mechanical objects. I may here mention that on my return to London I showed them to my brother Patrick, and some of them so much met his fancy that he borrowed my sketch-book and painted some pictures from them, which at this day are hanging on the walls of some of his admirers.

With the desire of seeing as much as possible of all that was interesting in the mechanical, architectural and picturesque line, on my return journey to London, I determined to walk, halting here and there by the way. The season of the year and the state of the weather were favourable for my purpose. I accordingly commenced my pedestrian tour on Saturday morning, the 17th September. I set out for Manchester. It was a long but pleasant walk. I well remember, when nearing Manchester, that I sat down to rest for a time on Patricroft Bridge. I was attracted by the rural aspect of the country, and the antique cottages of the neighbourhood. The Bridgewater Canal lay before me, and as I was told that it was the first mile of the waterway that the great Duke had made, it became quite classic ground in my eyes. I little thought at the time that I was so close to a piece of ground that should afterwards become my own, and where I should for twenty years carry on the most active and interesting business of my life.

I reached Manchester at seven in the evening, and took up my quarters at the King’s Arms Inn, Deansgate. Next day was Sunday. I attended service in the Cathedral, then called the Old Church. I was much interested by the service, as well as by the architecture of the building. Some of the details were well worthy of attention, being very original, and yet the whole was not of the best period of Gothic architecture. Some of the old buildings about the Cathedral were very interesting. They were of a most quaint character, yet bold and effective. Much finely carved oak timber work was introduced into them; and on the whole they gave a very striking illustration of the style of domestic architecture which prevailed in England some three or four centuries ago.

On the following day I called upon Mr. Edward Tootal, of York Street. He was a well-known man in Manchester.

I had the happiness of meeting him in London a few months before. He then kindly invited me to call upon him should I ever visit Manchester, when he would endeavour to obtain for me sight of some of the most remarkable manufacturing establishments. Mr. Tootal was as good as his word. He received me most cordially, and at once proceeded to take me to the extensive machine factory of Messrs. Sharp, Roberts, and Co. I found to my delight that a considerable portion of the establishment was devoted to the production of machine tools, a department of mechanical business then rising into the highest importance. Mr. Roberts, an admirable mechanic as well as inventor, had derived many of his ideas on the subject while working with Mr. Maudslay in London, and he had carried them out with many additions and improvements of his own contrivance. Indeed, Roberts was one of the most capable men of his time, and is entitled to be regarded as one of the true pioneers of modern mechanical mechanism.

Through the kindness of Mr. Tootal I had also the opportunity of visiting and inspecting some of the most extensive cotton mills in Manchester. I was greatly pleased with the beautiful contrivances displayed in the machinery. They were perfect examples of the highest order of ingenuity, combined with that kind of common-sense which casts aside all mere traditional forms and arrangements of parts, such as do not essentially contribute to the efficiency of the machine in the performance of its special and required purpose. I found much to admire in the design as well as in the execution of the details of the machines.

The arrangement and management of the manufactories were admirable. The whole of the buildings, howsoever extensive and apparently complicated, worked like one grand and perfectly constructed machine.

I was also much impressed by the keen interest which the proprietors of these vast establishments took in the minute details of their machinery, as well as by their intelligent and practical acquaintance with the technical minutiae of their business. Although many of them were men of fortune, they continued to take as deep an interest in such matters as if they were beginning life and had their fortunes still to make. Their chief ambition was to be at the head of a thoroughly well-managed and prosperous establishment. No detail, be it ever so small, was beneath their care and attention. To a young man like myself, then about to enter upon a similar career of industry, these lessons were very important. They were encouraging examples of carefully thought out designs, carried into admirable results by close attention to details, ever watchful carefulness, and indomitable perseverance. I brooded over these circumstances, They filled my mind with hope. They encouraged me to go on in the path which I had selected; and I believed that at some time or other I might be enabled to imitate the examples of zeal and industry which I had witnessed during my stay in Manchester. It was then that I bethought me of settling down in this busy neighbourhood; and as I plodded my way back to London this thought continually occupied me. It took root in my mind and grew, and at length the idea became a reality.

I did not take the shortest route on my return journey to London. I desired to pass through the most interesting and picturesque places without unduly diverging from the right direction. I wished to see the venerable buildings and cathedrals of the olden time, as well as the engineering establishments of the new. Notwithstanding my love for mechanics I still retained a spice of the antiquarian feeling. It enabled me to look back to the remote past, into the material records of man’s efforts hundreds of years ago, and contrast them with the modern progress of arts and sciences. I was especially interested in the architecture of bygone ages; but here, alas! arts and sciences have done nothing. Modern Gothic architecture is merely an imitation of the old, and often a very bad imitation. Even ancient domestic architecture is much superior to the modern. We can now only imitate it; and often spoil when imitating.

I left Manchester and turned my steps in the direction of Coalbrookdale. I passed through a highly picturesque country, in which I enjoyed the sight of many old timber houses, most attractive subjects for my pencil. My route lay through Whitchurch, Wem, and Wellington; then past the Wrekin to Coalbrookdale. Before arriving there I saw the first iron bridge constructed in England, an object of historical interest in that class of structures. It was because of the superb quality of the castings produced at Coalbrookdale that the ironmasters there were able to accomplish the building of a bridge of that material, which before had baffled all projectors both at home and abroad

I possessed a letter of introduction to the manager, and was received by him most cordially. He permitted me to examine the works. I was greatly interested at the sight of the processes of casting. Many beautiful objects were turned out for architectural, domestic, and other purposes. I saw nothing particularly novel, however, in the methods and processes of moulding and casting.

The excellence of the work depended for the most part upon the great care and skill exercised by the workmen of the foundry. They seemed to vie with each other in turning out the best castings, and their models or patterns were made with the utmost care. I was particularly impressed with the cheerful zeal and activity of the workmen and foremen of this justly celebrated establishment.

On leaving Coalbrookdale I trudged my way towards Wolverhampton. I rested at Shiffnal for the night. Next day I was in the middle of the Black Country. I had no letters of introduction to employers in Wolverhampton; so that, without stopping there, I proceeded at once to Dudley. The Black Country is anything but picturesque. The earth seems to have been turned inside out. Its entrails are strewn about; nearly the entire surface of the ground is covered with cinder-heaps and mounds of scoriae. The coal which has been drawn from below ground is blazing on the surface. The district is crowded with iron furnaces, puddling furnaces, and coal-pit engine furnaces. By day and by night the country is glowing with fire, and the smoke of the ironworks hovers over it. There is a rumbling and clanking of iron forges and rolling mills. Workmen covered with smut, and with fierce white eyes, are seen moving about amongst the glowing iron and the dull thud of forge-hammers. Amidst these flaming, smoky, clanging works, I beheld the remains of what had once been happy farmhouses, now ruined and deserted. The ground underneath them had sunk by the working out of the coal, and they were falling to pieces. They had in former times been surrounded by clumps of trees; but only the skeletons of them remained, dead, black, and leafless. The grass had been parched and killed by the vapours of sulphurous acid thrown out by the chimneys; and every herbaceous object was of a ghastly gray–the emblem of vegetable death in its saddest aspect. Vulcan had driven out Ceres. In some places I heard a sort of chirruping sound, as of some forlorn bird haunting the ruins of the old farmsteads. But no! the chirrup was a vile delusion. It proceeded from the shrill creaking of the coal-winding chains, which were placed in small tunnels beneath the hedgeless road.

I went into some of the forges to see the workmen at their labours. There was no need of introduction; the works were open to all, for they were unsurrounded by walls. I saw the white-hot iron run out from the furnace; I saw it spun, as it were, into bars and iron ribbands, with an ease and rapidity which seemed marvellous. There were also the ponderous hammers and clanking rolling-mills. I wandered from one to another without restraint. I lingered among the blast furnaces, seeing the flood of molten iron run out from time to time, and remained there until it was late. When it became dark the scene was still more impressive. The workmen within seemed to be running about amidst the flames as in a pandemonium; while around and outside the horizon was a glowing belt of fire, making even the stars look pale and feeble. At last I came away with reluctance, and made my way towards Dudley. I reached the town at a late hour. I was exhausted in mind and body, yet the day had been most interesting and exciting. A sound sleep refreshed me, and I was up in the morning early, to recommence my journey of inquiry,

I made my way to the impressive ruins of Dudley Castle, the remnant of a very ancient stronghold, originally built by Dud, the Saxon. The castle is situated on a finely wooded hill; it is so extensive that it more resembles the ruins of a town than of a single building. You enter through a treble gateway, and see the remnants of the moat, the court, and the keep. Here are the central hall, the guard, rooms, and the chapel. It must have been a magnificent structure. In the Midlands it was known as the “Castle of the Woods” Now it is abandoned by its owners, and surrounded by the Black Country. It is undermined by collieries, and even penetrated by a canal. The castle walls sometimes tremble when a blast occurs in the bowels of the mountain beneath. The town of Dudley lies quite close to the castle, and was doubtless protected by it in ancient times.

The architectural remains are of various degrees of antiquity, and are well worthy of study, as embodying the successive periods which they represent. Their melancholy grandeur is rendered all the more impressive by the coal and iron works with which they are surrounded– the olden type of buildings confronting the modern. The venerable trees struggle for existence under the destroying influence of sulphurous acid; while the grass is withered and the vegetation everywhere blighted. I sat down on an elevated part of the ruins, and looked down upon the extensive district, with its roaring and blazing furnaces, the smoke of which blackened the country as far as the eye could reach; and as I watched the decaying trees I thought of the price we had to pay for our vaunted supremacy in the manufacture of iron. We may fill our purses, but we pay a heavy price for it in the loss of picturesqueness and beauty. I left the castle with reluctance, and proceeded to inspect the limestone quarries in the neighbourhood. The limestone has long been worked out from underneath the castle; but not far from it is Wren’s Nest Hill, a mountain of limestone. The wrens have left, but the quarries are there. The walk to the hill is along green lanes and over quiet fields. I entered one of the quarries opened out in the sloping precipice, and penetrated as far as the glimmer of sunlight enabled me to see my way. But the sound of the dripping of water from the root of the cave warned me that I was approaching some deep pool, into which a false step might plunge me. I therefore kept within the light of day. An occasional ray of the sun lit up the enormous rock pillars which the quarrymen had left to support the roof. It was a most impressive sight.

Having emerged from the subterranean cave, I proceeded on my way to Birmingham. I reached the town in the evening, and found most comfortable quarters. On the following day I visited some of the factories where processes were carried on in connection with the Birmingham trade. I saw the mills where sheet brass and copper were rolled for the purpose of being plated with silver. There was nothing in these processes of novel interest, though I picked up many practical hints. I could not fail to be attracted by the dexterous and rapid manipulation of the work in hand, even by boys and girls whose quick sight and nimble fingers were educated to a high degree of perfection. I could have spent a month profitably among the vast variety of small traders in metal, of which Birmingham is the headquarters. Even in what is called “the toy trade,” I found a vast amount of skill displayed in the production of goldsmith work, in earrings, brooches, gold chains, rings, beads, and glass eyes for stuffed birds, dolls, and men.

I was especially attracted by Soho, once the famous manufacturing establishment of Boulton and Watt. Although this was not the birthplace*
[footnote…
The birthplace of the condensing engine of Watt was the workshop in the Glasgow University, where he first contrived and used a separate condenser–the true and vital element in Watt’s invention. The condenser afterwards attained its true effective manhood at Soho The Newcomen engine was in fact a condensing engine, but as the condensation was effected inside the steam cylinder it was a very costly source of power in respect to steam. Watt’s happy idea of condensing in a separate vessel removed the defect. This was first done in his experimental engine in the Glasgow University workshop, and before he had made the one at Kinniel for Dr. Roebuck. …]
of the condensing steam-engine it was the place where it attained its full manhood of efficiency, and became the source and origin of English manufacturing power. Watt’s engine has had a greater influence on the productive arts of mankind than any other that can be named. Boulton also was a thorough man of business, without whom, perhaps, Watt could never have made his way against the world, or perfected his magnificent invention. Not less interesting to my mind was the memory of that incomparable mechanic, William Murdoch, a man of indomitable energy, and Watt’s right-hand man in the highest practical sense. Murdoch was the inventor of the first model locomotive, and the inventor of gas for lighting purposes; and yet he always kept himself in the background, for he was excessively modest. He was happiest when he could best promote the welfare of the great house of Boulton and Watt. Indeed he was a man whose memory ought to be held in the highest regard by all true engineers and mechanics.

The sight which I obtained of the vast series of workshops of this celebrated establishment–filled with evidences of the mechanical genius of these master minds–made me feel that I was indeed on classic ground in regard to everything connected with steam-engine machinery. Some of the engines designed by Watt–the prototypes of the powerful condensing engines of the present day–were still performing their daily quota of work. There was “Old Bess,” a sort of experimental engine, upon which Watt had tried many adaptations and alterations, for the purpose of suiting it for pumping water from coal mines. There was also the engine with the sun-and-planet motion, an invention of William Murdoch’s. Both of these engines were still at work.

I went through the workshops, where I was specially interested by seeing the action of the machine tools. There I observed Murdoch’s admirable system of transmitting power from one central engine to other small vacuum engines attached to the individual machines they were set to work. The power was communicated by pipes led from the central air or exhaust pump to small vacuum or atmospheric engines devoted to the driving of each separate machine, thus doing away with all shafting and leather belts, the required speed being kept up or modified at pleasure without in any way interfering with the other machines. –This vacuum method of transmitting power dates from the time of Papin; but until it received the masterly touch of Murdoch it remained a dead contrivance for more than a century.

I concluded my visits to the workshops of Birmingham by calling upon a little known but very ingenious man, whose work I had seen before I left Edinburgh, in a beautifully constructed foot turning-lathe made by John Drain. I was so much impressed with the exquisite design, execution, and completeness of the lathe, that I made it one of my chief objects to find out John Drain’s workshop. It was with some difficulty that I found him. He was little known in Birmingham. His workshops were very small; they consisted of only one or two rooms. His exquisite lathes were not much in demand. They found their way chiefly to distant parts of the country, where they were highly esteemed.

I found that he had some exquisitely finished lathes completed and in hand for engraving the steel plates for printing bank notes. They were provided with the means of producing such intricate ornamental patterns as to defy the utmost skill of the forger. Perkins had done a good deal in the same way; but Drain’s exquisite mechanism enabled his engraving lathes to surpass anything that had before been attempted in the same line. I believe that Drain’s earnest attention to his work, in which he had little or no assistance, undermined his health, and arrested the career of one who, had he lived, would have attained the highest position in his profession. I shall never forget the rare treat which his fine mechanism afforded me. Its prominent quality was absolute truth and accuracy in every part.

Having now had enough of the Black Country and of Birmingham workshops, I proceeded towards London. There were no more manufacturing districts to be visited. Everything now was to be green lanes, majestic trees, old mansions, venerable castles, and picturesque scenery. There is no way of seeing a country properly except on foot. By railway you whiz past and see nothing. Even by coach the best parts of the scenery are unseen. “Shank’s naig” is the best of all methods, provided you have time. I had still some days to spare before the conclusion of my holiday. I therefore desired to see some of the beautiful scenery and objects of antiquarian interest before returning to work.

I made my way across country to Kenilworth. The weather was fine, and the walk was perfect. The wayside was bordered by grassy sward. Wide and irregular margins extended on each side of the road, and noble trees and untrinnned hedges, in their glowing autumnal tint, extended far and wide. Everything was in the most gloriously neglected and therefore highly picturesque condition. Here and there old farmhouses and labourers’ cottages peeped up from amidst the trees and hedges– worthy of the landscape painter’s highest skill.

I reached Kenilworth about half an hour before sunset. I made my way direct to the castle, glorious in its decay. The fine mellow glow of the setting sun lit up the grand and extensive ruins. The massive Norman keep stood up with melancholy dignity, and attracted my attention more than any other part of the ruined building. To me there is an impressiveness in the simple massive dignity of the Norman castles and cathedrals, which no other buildings possess. There is an expression of terrible earnestness about them. The last look I had of the Norman keep was grand. The elevated part was richly tinted with the last glow of the setting sun, while the outline of the buildings beneath was shaded by a dark purply gray. It was indeed a sight never to be forgotten. I waited until the sun had descended beneath the horizon, still leaving its glimmer of pink and crimson and gray, and then I betook me to the little inn in the village, where I obtained comfortable quarters for the night. I visited the ruins again in the morning. Although the glory of the previous evening had departed, I was much interested in observing the various styles of architecture adopted in different parts of the buildings–some old, some comparatively new. I found the older more grand and massive, and the newer, of the sixteenth century, wanting in dignity of design, and the workmanship very inferior. The reign of Shoddy had already begun before Cromwell laid the castle in ruins.

In the course of the day I proceeded to Warwick. I passed along the same delightful grass-bordered roads, shaded by noble trees. I reached the grand old town, with its antique buildings and its noble castle– so famous in English history. Leaving the place with reluctance, I left it late in the afternoon to trudge on to Oxford. But soon after I started the rain began to fall. It was the first interruption to my walking journey which I had encountered during my three weeks’ absence from London. As it appeared from the dark clouds overhead that a wet night had set in, I took shelter in a wayside inn at a place called Steeple Aston. My clothes were dripping wet; and after a glass of very hot rum and water I went to bed, and had a sound sleep. Next morning it was fair and bright. After a substantial homely breakfast I set out again. Nature was refreshed by the steady rain of the previous night, and the day was beautiful. I reached Deddington and stayed there for the night, and early next morning I set out for Oxford.

I was greatly excited by the first sight I had of the crowd of towers and spires of that learned and illustrious city. Nor were my expectations at all disappointed by a nearer approach to the colleges of Oxford. After a most interesting visit to the best of the buildings, I took in a, fair idea of the admirable details of this noble city, and left in the afternoon of next day. I visited, on my way to Thame, the old church of Iffley. I was attracted to it by the fine old Norman work it contains, which I found most quaint and picturesque.

I slept at Thame for the night, and next day walked to Windsor. I arrived there at sunset, and had a fine view of the exterior of the castle and the surrounding buildings. I was, however, much disappointed on examining the architectural details. In sight of the noble trees about the castle, and the magnificent prospect from the terrace, I saw much that tended to make up for the disgust I felt at the way in which all that was so appropriate and characteristic in so historic a place as Windsor Castle should have been tampered with and rubbed out by the wretched conceit of the worst architects of our worst architectural period.

I left Windsor next morning, and walked direct for London. My time was up, but not my money. I had taken eight sovereigns on setting out from London to Liverpool by coach, and I brought one sovereign back with me. Rather than break into it I walked all the way from Windsor to London without halting for refreshment my entire expenditure during my three weeks’ journey was thus seven pounds.

When I look back upon that tour, I feel that I was amply rewarded. It was throughout delightful and instructive. The remembrance of it is as clear in my mind now as if I had performed the journey last year instead of fifty years ago. There are thousands of details that pass before my mind’s eye that would take a volume to enunerate. I brought back a book full of sketches; for graphic memoranda are much better fitted than written words to bring up a host of pleasant recollections and associations. I came back refreshed for work, and possessed by an anxious desire to press forward in the career of industry which I had set before me to accomplish.

CHAPTER 10. Begin Business at Manchester

Mr. Maudslay arrived from Berlin two days after my return to London. He, too, had enjoyed his holiday. During his stay in Berlin he had made the friendship of the distinguished Humboldt. Shenkel, the architect, had been very kind to him, and presented him with a set of drawings and engravings of his great architectural works, which Mr. Maudslay exhibited to me with much delight. What he most admired in Shenkel was the great range of his talent in all matters of design, his minute attention to detail, and his fine artistic feeling.

Soon after Mr. Maudslay’s return, a very interesting job was brought to him, in which he took even more than his usual interest. It was a machine which his friend Mr. Barton, of the Royal Mint, had obtained from France. It was intended to cut or engrave the steel dies used for stamping coin. It was a remarkable and interesting specimen of inventive ingenuity. It copied any object in relief which had been cast in plaster of Paris or brass from the artist’s original wax model. The minutest detail was transferred to soft steel dies with absolute accuracy. This remarkable machine could copy and cut steel dies either in intaglio or in cameo of any size, and, in short, enabled the mechanic who managed it to transfer the most minute and characteristic touches of the original model to the steel dies for any variety of size of coin. Nevertheless, the execution of some of the details of the machine were so defective, that after giving the most tempting proof of its capabilities at the Royal Mint, Mr. Barton found it absolutely necessary to place it in Maudslay’s hands, in order to have its details thoroughly overhauled, and made as mechanically perfect as its design and intention merited.

This interesting machine was accordingly brought to the private workshop, and placed in the hands of the leading mechanic, whom I had the pleasure of being associated with, James Sherriff, one of our most skilled workmen. We were both put to our mettle. It was a job quite to my taste, and being associated with so skilled a workman as Sherriff, and in constant communication with Mr. Maudslay, I had every opportunity of bringing my best manipulative ability into action and use while perfecting this beautiful machine. It is sufficient to say that by our united efforts, by the technical details suggested by Mr. Maudslay and carried out by us, and by the practical trials made under the superintendence of Mr. Wyon of the Mint, the apparatus was at length made perfect and performed its duty to the satisfaction of every one concerned.

Mr. Maudslay had next a pair of 200 horse-power marine engines put in hand. His sons and partners were rather opposed to so expensive a piece of work being undertaken without an order. At that time such a power as 200 horse nominal was scarcely thought of; and the Admiralty Board were very cautious in ordering marine engines of any sort. Nevertheless, the engines were proceeded with and perfected. They formed a noble object in the great erecting shop. They embodied in every detail all Mr. Maudslay’s latest improvements. In fact the work was the sum total of the great master’s inventions and adaptations in marine engines. The Admiralty at last secured them for the purpose of being placed in a very fine vessel, the Dee, then in course of construction. Mr. Maudslay was so much pleased with the result that he had a very beautiful model made of the engines; and finding that I had some artistic skill as a draughtsman, he set me to work to make a complete perspective drawing of their great engines as they stood all perfect in the erecting-shop. This was a work entirely to my taste. In due time I completed a graphic portrait of these noble engines, treated, I hope, in an artistic spirit. Indeed, such a class of drawing was rarely to be had from any engineering draughtsman. Mere geometrical drawing could not give a proper idea, as a whole, of so grand a piece of mechanism. It required something of the artistic spirit to fairly represent it. At all events my performance won the entire approval of my master.

Mr. Maudslay was a man of a wide range of mechanical abilities. He was always ready to enter upon any new work requiring the exercise of special skill. It did not matter whether it was machine tools, engraving dies, block machinery, or astronomical instruments. While at Berlin he went to see the Royal Observatory. He was naturally much interested by the fine instruments there–the works of Repsoldt and Hertz, the pioneers of improved astronomical workmanship. The continental instrument makers were then far in advance of those of England. Mr. Maudslay was greatly impressed with the sight of the fine instruments in the Berlin Observatory. He was permitted to observe some of the most striking and remarkable of the heavenly bodies– Jupiter, Saturn, and the Moon. It was almost a new revelation to him; for the subject was entirely novel. To be able to make such instruments seemed to him to be a glorious achievement of refined mechanism and manipulative skill. He returned home full of the wonderful sights he had seen. It was a constant source of pleasure to him to dwell upon the splendour and magnificence of the heavenly bodies.

He became anxious to possess a powerful telescope of his own. His principal difficulty was in procuring a lens of considerable diameter, possessed of high perfection of defining power. I suggested to him the employment of a reflecting telescope, by means of which the difficulties connected with the employment of glass could be avoided. This suggestion was based upon some knowledge I had acquired respecting this department of refined mechanical art. I knew that the elder Herschel had by this means vastly advanced our knowledge of the heavenly bodies, indeed to an extent far beyond what had been achieved by the most perfect of glass lens instruments. Mr. Maudslay was interested in the idea I suggested; and he requested me to show him what I knew of the art of compounding the alloy called speculum metal. He wished to know how so brittle a material could be cast and ground and polished, and kept free from flaws or defects of every kind.

I accordingly cast for him a speculum of 8 inches diameter. I ground and polished it, and had it fitted up in a temporary manner to exhibit its optical capabilities, which were really of no mean order. But, as his ambition was to have a grand and powerful instrument of not less than 24 inches diameter, the preparation for such a speculum became a subject to him of the highest interest. He began to look out for a proper position for his projected observatory. He made inquiry about a residence at Norwood, where he thought his instrument might have fair play. It would there be free from the smoke and disturbing elements of such a place as Lambeth. His mind was full of this idea when he was called away by the claims of affection to visit a dear old friend at Boulogne. He remained there for more than a week, until assured of his friend’s convalescence. But on his return voyage across the Channel he caught a severe cold. On reaching London he took to his bed and never left it alive. After three or four weeks’ suffering he died on the 14th of February 1831.

It was a very sad thing for me to lose my dear old master. He was so good and so kind to me in all ways. He treated me like a friend and companion. He was always generous, manly, and upright in his dealings with everybody. How his workmen loved him; how his friends lamented him! He directed, before his death, that he should be buried in Woolwich Churchyard, where a cast iron tomb, made to his own design, was erected over his remains. He had ever a warm heart for Woolwich, where he had been born and brought up. He began his life as a mechanic there, and worked his way steadily upwards until he reached the highest point of his profession. He often returned to Woolwich after he had left it; sometimes to pay a share of his week’s wages to his mother, while she lived; sometimes to revisit the scenery of his youth. He liked the green common, with the soldiers about it; Shooter’s Hill, with its wide look-out over Kent and down the valley of the Thames; the river busy with shipping; the Dockyard wharf, with the royal craft loading and unloading their armaments. He liked the clangour of the arsenal smithy, where he had first learned his art; and all the busy industry of the place. It was natural, therefore, that being so proud of his early connection with Woolwich he should wish his remains to be laid there; and Woolwich, on its part, has equal reason to be proud of Henry Maudslay.

After the death of my master I passed over to the service of his worthy partner, Joshua Field. I had an equal pleasure in working under him. His kindness in some degree mitigated the sad loss I had sustained by the death of my lamented friend and employer. The first work I had to perform for Mr. Field was to assist him in making the working drawings of a 200 horse-power condensing steam-engine, ordered by the Lambeth Waterworks Company. The practical acquaintance which I had by this time acquired of the mechanism of steam-engines enabled me to serve Mr. Field in a satisfactory manner. I drew out in full practical detail the rough but excellent hand sketches with which he supplied me. They were handed out for execution in the various parts of the factory; and I communicated with the foremen as to the details and workmanship.

While I was occupied beside Mr. Field in making these working drawings, he gave me many most valuable hints as to the designing of machinery in general. In after years I had many opportunities of making good use of them. One point he often impressed upon me. It was, he said, most important to bear in mind the get-at-ability of parts–that is, when any part of a machine was out of repair, it was requisite to get at it easily without taking the machine to pieces. This may appear a very simple remark, but the neglect of such an arrangement occasions a vast amount of trouble, delay, and expense. None but those who have had to do with the repair of worn-out or damaged parts of machinery can adequately value the importance of this subject.

I found Mr. Field to be a most systematic man in all business affairs. I may specially name one of his arrangements which I was quick to take up and appreciate. I carried it out with great advantage in my after life. It was, to record subjects of conversation by means of “graphic” memoranda. Almost daily, persons of note came to consult with him about machinery. On these occasions the consultations took place either with reference to proposed new work, or as to the progress of orders then in hand. Occasionally some novel scheme of applying power was under discussion, or some new method of employing mechanism: On ordinary occasions rough and rapid sketches are made on any stray pieces of waste paper that were about, and after the conversation is over the papers are swept away into the waste basket and destroyed. And yet some of these rapid drawings involve matters of great interest and importance for after consultations.

To avoid such losses, Mr. Field had always placed upon his table a