James Nasmyth: Engineer, An Autobiography
by James Nasmyth
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman

Edited by Samuel Smiles, LL.D.

popular edition, pub. John Murray 1897)

PREFACE

I have had much pleasure in editing the following Memoir of my friend
Mr. Nasmyth. Some twenty years since (in April 1863), when I applied
to him for information respecting his mechanical inventions, he
replied: "My life presents no striking or remarkable incidents,
and would, I fear, prove but a tame narrative. The sphere to which my
endeavours have been confined has been of a comparatively quiet order;
but, vanity apart, I hope I have been able to leave a few marks of my
existence behind me in the shape of useful contrivances, which are in
many ways helping on great works of industry."

Mr. Nasmyth, nevertheless, kindly furnished me with information
respecting himself, as well as his former master and instructor,
Henry Maudslay, of London, for the purpose of being inserted in
Industrial Biography, or Ironworkers and Toolmakers, which was
published at the end of 1863. He was of opinion that the outline of
his life there presented was sufficiently descriptive of his career as
a mechanic and inventor.

During the years that have elapsed since then, Mr. Nasmyth has been
prevailed upon by some of his friends more especially by Sir John
Anderson, late of Woolwich Arsenal--to note down the reminiscences of
his life, with an account of his inventions, and to publish them for
the benefit of others. He has accordingly spent some of his well
earned leisure during the last two years in writing out his
recollections. Having consulted me on the subject, I recommended that
they should be published in the form of an Autobiography, and he has
willingly given his consent.

Mr. Nasmyth has furnished me with abundant notes of his busy life,
and he has requested me, in preparing them for publication, to
"make use of the pruning-knife."  I hope, however, that in editing the
book I have not omitted anything that is likely to be interesting or
instructive. I must add that everything has been submitted to his
correction and received his final approval.

The narrative abundantly illustrates Mr. Nasmyth's own definition of
engineering; namely, common sense applied to the use of materials.
In his case, common sense has been more especially applied to
facilitating and perfecting work by means of Machine Tools.
Civilisation began with tools; and every step in advance has been
accomplished through their improvement. Handicraft labour, in bone,
stone, or wood, was the first stage in the development of man's power;
and tools or machines, in iron or steel, are the last and most
efficient method of economising it, and enabling him to intelligently
direct the active and inert forces of nature.

It will be observed that Mr. Nasmyth, on his first start in life,
owed much to the influence of his father, who was not only an admirable
artist--"the founder," as Sir David Wilkie termed him, "of the
landscape painting school of Scotland"--but an excellent mechanic.
His "bow-and-string" roofs and bridges show his original merits as a
designer; and are sufficient to establish his ability as a mechanical
engineer. Indeed, one of Mr. Nasmyth's principal objects in preparing
the notes of the following work, has been to introduce a Memorial to
the memory of his father, to whom he owed so much, and to whom he was
so greatly attached through life. Hence the numerous references to him,
and the illustrations from his works of art, of architecture,
as well as of mechanics, given in the early part of the book.

I might point out that Mr. Nasmyth's narrative has a strong bearing
upon popular education; not only as regards economical use of time,
careful observation, close attention to details, but as respects the
uses of Drawing. The observations which he makes as to the accurate
knowledge of this art are very important. In this matter he concurs
with Mr. Herbert Spencer in his work on Education. "It is very strange,"
Mr. Nasmyth said some years ago, "that amidst all our vaunted
improvements in education, the faculty of comparison by sight, or what
may be commonly called the correctness of eye, has been so little
attended to" He accordingly urges the teaching of rudimentary drawing in
all public schools. "Drawing is," he says, "the Education of the Eye.
It is more interesting than words. It is graphic language."

The illustrations given in the course of the following book will serve
to show his own mastery of drawing whether as respects Mechanical
details, the Moon's surface, or the fairyland of Landscape.
It is perhaps not saying too much to aver that had he not devoted his
business life to Mechanics, he would, like his father, his brother
Patrick, and his sisters, have taken a high position as an artist.
In the following Memoir we have only been able to introduce a few
specimens of his drawings; but "The Fairies," "The Antiquary,"
and others, will give the reader a good idea of Mr. Nasmyth's artistic
ability. Since his retirement from business life, at the age of
forty-eight, Mr. Nasmyth's principal pursuit has been Astronomy.
His Monograph on "The Moon," published in 1874, exhibits his ardent and
philosophic love for science in one of its sublimest aspects.
His splendid astronomical instruments, for the most part made entirely
by his own hands, have enabled him to detect the "willow leaf-shaped"
objects which form the structural element of the Sun's luminous
surface. The discovery was shortly after verified by Sir John Herschel
and other astronomers, and is now a received fact in astronomical
science.

A Chronological List of some of Mr. Nasmyth's contrivances and
inventions is given at the end of the volume, which shows, so far,
what he has been enabled to accomplish during his mechanical career.
These begin at a very early age, and were continued for about thirty
years of a busy and active life. Very few of them were patented;
many of them, though widely adopted, are unacknowledged as his
invention. They, nevertheless, did much to advance the mechanical arts,
and still continue to do excellent service in the engineering world.

The chapter relating to the origin of the Cuneiform Character,
and of the Pyramid or Sun-worship in its relation to Egyptian
Architecture, is placed at the end, so as not to interrupt the personal
narrative. That chapter, it is believed, will be found very
interesting, illustrated, as it is, by Mr. Nasmyth's drawings.

S.S.

LONDON, October 1885.

CONTENTS

Preface

List of Illustrations

CHAPTER 1  My Ancestry
Sentiment of Ancestry
Origin of the name of Naesmyth
Naesmyth of Posso
Naesmyth of Netherton
Battle of Bothwell Brig
Estate confiscated
Elspeth Naesmyth
Michael Naesmyth builder and architect
Fort at Inversnaid
Naesmyth family tomb
Former masters and men
Michael Naesmyth's son
New Edinburgh
Grandmother Naesmyth
Uncle Michael

CHAPTER 2  Alexander Nasmyth
Born 1758--Grassmarket
Edinburgh--Education
The Bibler's Seat
The brothers Erskine
Apprenticed to a coachbuilder
The Trustees' Academy
Huguenot artisans
Alexander Runciman
Copy of "The Laocoon"
Assistant to Allan Ramsay
Faculty of resourcefulness
Begins as portrait painter
Friendship with Miller of Dalswinton
Miller and the first steamboat
Visit to Italy
Marriage to Barbara Foulis
Burns the poet
Edinburgh clubs
Landscape beauty
Abandons portrait for landscape painting
David Roberts, R.A.
Dean Bridge
St. Bernard's Well
Nelson's Monument
Bow-and-string bridges
Sunday rivet

CHAPTER 3  An Artist's Family
Sir James Hall
Geology of Edinburgh
Friends of the family
Henry Raeburn
Evenings at home
Society of artists
"Caller Aon"
Management of the household
The family
Education of six sisters
The Nasmyth classes
Pencil drawing
Excursions round Edinburgh
Graphic memoranda
Patrick Nasmyth, sketch of his life
Removes to London
Visit to Hampshire
Original prices of his works
His friends
His death

CHAPTER 4  My Early Years
Born 1808
Mary Peterkin
The brilliant red poppies
Left-handed
Patrick's birthday
Vocal performance
A wonderful escape
Events of the war
The French prisoners
Entry of the 42d into Edinburgh
Bleaching "claes" on the Calton
The Greenside workshops
The chimes of St. Giles'
The Edinburgh Market
The caddies
The fishwives
The "floore"
Traditional fondness for cats
A Nasmyth prayer

CHAPTER 5  My School-days
My first schoolmaster
"Preter pluperfect tense"
The "penny pig"
Country picnics
Pupil at the High School
Dislike of Latin
Love of old buildings
Their masonry
Sir Walter Scott
"The Heart of Midlothian"
John Linnell
The collecting period
James Watt
My father's workshop
Make peeries, cannon, and "steels"
School friendships
Paterson's ironfoundry
His foremen
Johnie Syme
Tom Smith and chemical experiments
Kid gloves and technical knowledge

CHAPTER 6  Mechanical Beginnings
Study arithmetic and geometry
Practise art of drawing
Its important uses
Make tools and blowpipe
Walks round Edinburgh
Volcanic origin of the neighbourhood
George the Fourth's visit
The Radical Road
Destructive fires
Journey to Stirling
The Devon Ironworks
Robert Bald
Carron Ironworks
Coats of mail found at Bannockburn
Models of condensing steam-engine
Professor Leslie
Edinburgh School of Arts
Attend University classes
Brass-casting in the bedroom
George Douglass
Make a working steam-engine
Sympathy of activity
The Expansometer
Make a road steam-carriage
Desire to enter Maudslay's factory

CHAPTER 7  Henry Maudslay, London
Voyage to London with specimens of workmanship
First walk through London
Visit to Henry Maudslay
The interview
Exhibit my specimens
Taken on as assistant
The private workshop
Maudslay's constructive excellence
His maxims
Uniformity of screws
Meeting with Henry Brougham
David Wilkie
Visit to the Admiralty Museum
The Block machinery
The Royal Mint
Steam yacht trip to Richmond
Lodgings taken
"A clean crossing"

CHAPTER 8  Maudslay's Private Assistant
Enter Maudslay's service
Rudimentary screw generator
The guide screw
Interview with Faraday
Rate of wages
Economical living
My cooking stove
Make model of marine steam-engine
My collar-nut cutting machine
Maudslay's elements of high-class workmanship
Flat filing
Standard planes
Maudslay's "Lord Chancellor"
Maudslay's Visitors
General Bentham, Barton, Donkin and Chantrey
The Cundell brothers
Walks round London
Norman architecture

CHAPTER 9  Holiday in the Manufacturing Districts
Coaching trip to Liverpool
Coventry
English scenery
'The Rocket'
The two Stephensons
Opening of the railway
William Fawcett
Birkenhead
Walk back to London
Patricroft
Manchester
Edward Tootal
Sharp, Roberts and Co.
Manchester industry
Coalbrookdale
The Black Country
Dudley Castle
Wren's Nest Hill
Birmingham
Boulton and Watt
William Murdoch
John Drain
Kenilworth--Warwick--Oxford--Windsor--London

CHAPTER 10  Begin Business at Manchester
Stamping machine improved
Astronomical instruments
A reflecting telescope proposed
Death of Maudslay
Joshua Field
'Talking books'
Leave Maudslay and Field
Take temporary workshop in Edinburgh
Archie Torry
Construct a rotary steam-engine
Prepare a stock of machine tools
Visit to Liverpool
John Cragg
Visit to Manchester
John Kennedy
Grant Brothers
Take a workshop
Tools removed to Manchester
A prosperous business begun
Story of the brothers Grant
Trip to Elgin and Castle Grant
The brothers Cowper
The printing machine
Edward Cowper

CHAPTER 11  Bridgewater Foundry--Partnership
Demand for skilled labour
Machine tools in request
My flat overloaded
A crash among the decanters
The land at Patricroft
Lease from Squire Trafford
Bridgewater Foundary begun
Trip to Londonderry
The Giant's Causeway
Cottage at Barton
The Bridgewater canal
Lord Francis Egerton
Safety foundry ladle
Holbrook Gaskell taken as partner
His eventual retirement

CHAPTER 12  Free Trade in Ability--The Strike--Death of my Father
Hugo de Lupus
The Peter Stubb's files
Worsley labourers
Promotion from the ranks
Free trade in ability
Foreman lieutenants, Archie Torry
James Hutton
John Clarke
Thomas Crewdson
Trades' Union interference
A strike ordered
Workman advertised for
A reinforcement of Scotch mechanics
The strike scotched
Millwrights and engineers
Indenture-bound apprentices
Visits of my father
Enthusiastic reception
His last work
His death
Testimony of Sir David Wilkie

CHAPTER 13  My Marriage--The Steam Hammer
Preparations for a home
Influence of chance occurrences
Visit to Mr. Hartop's near Barnsley
Important interview
Eventual marriage
Great Western Railway locomotives
Mr. Humphries and 'Great Western' steamship
Forging of paddle-shaft
Want of range of existing hammers
The first steam hammer sketched
Its arrangement
The paddle shaft abandoned
My sketch copied and adopted
My visit to Creuzot
Find steam hammer in operation
A patent taken out
First steam hammer made in England
Its general adoption
Patent secured for United States

CHAPTER 14  Travels in France and Italy
The French Minister of Marine at Paris
Rouen--Bayeux--Cherbourg--Brest--Rochefort--Indret
M. Rosine
Architecture of Nismes
Marseilles--Toulon--Voyage to Naples--Genoa--Pisa
Bay of Naples
The National Museum
Visit to Vesuvius
The edge of the crater
Volcanic commotion
Overflows of burning lava
Wine-shop at Rosina
Return ride to Naples

CHAPTER 15  Steam Hammer Pile-driver
The Royal Dockyards
Steam hammer for Devonport
Scene at the first stroke
My Lords of the Admiralty
Steam hammer pile-driver required
The new docks at Devonport
The pile-driver delivered
Its description
Trail against the old method
Its general adoption
Happy thoughts
Testing of chain cables and anchors
Causes of failure
Punctilliousness of officials at royal dockyards
Egyptian workman employed
Affiffi Lalli
Letter from Faraday

CHAPTER 16  Nuremberg--St. Petersburg--Dannemora.
Visit to Nuremberg
Albert Durer
Adam Krafft
Visit to St. Petersburg
General Wilson
General Greg
Struve the astronomer
Palaces and shops
Ivy ornamentation
The Emperor Nicholas a royal salute
Francis Baird
Work of Russian serfs
The Izak Church
Voyage to Stokholm
Visit to Upsala
The iron mines of Dannemora
To Gottenburg by steamer
Motala
Trollhatten Falls
Sweedish people
Copenhagen
Tycho Brahe;
Zeland and Holstein
Holland, and return

CHAPTER 17  More about Bridgewater Foundry--Woolwich Arsenal
Increased demand for self-acting tools
Promotions of lads
The Trades' Union again
Strike against Platt Brothers
Edward Tootal's advice
Friendliness between engineering firms
Small high-pressure engines
Uses of waste steam
Improvements in calico-printing
Improvements at Woolwich Arsenal
Enlargement of workshops
Improved machine tools
The gun foundry and laboratories
Orders for Spain and Russia
Rope factory machinery
Russian Officers
Grand Duke Constantine
Lord Ellesmere's visitors
Admiral Kornileff

CHAPTER 18  Astronomical pursuits
Hobbies at home
Drawing
Washington Irving
Pursuit of astronomy
Wonders of the heavens
Construction of a new speculum
William Lassell
Warren de la Rue
Home-made reflecting telescope
A ghost at Patricroft
Twenty-inch diameter speculum
Drawings of the moon's surface
Structure of the moon
Lunar craters
Pico
Wrinkles of age
Extinct craters
Landscape scenery of the moon
Meeting of British Association at Edinburgh
The Bass Rock
Professor Owen
Robert Chambers
The grooved rocks
Hugh Miller and boulder clay
Lecture on the moon
Visit the Duke of Argyll
Basaltic formation at Mull
The Giant's Causeway
The great exhibition
Steam hammer engine
Prize medals
Interview with the Queen and Prince Consort
Lord Cockburn
Visit to Bonally
D. O. Hill

CHAPTER 19  More about Astronomy
Sir David Brewster
Edward Cowper's lecture
Cause of the sun's light
Lord Murray
Sir T. Mitchell
The Milky Way
Countless suns
Infusoria in Bridgewater Canal
Rotary movements of heavenly bodies
Geological Society meeting
Dr Vaugham
Improvement of Small Arms Factory, Enfield
Generosity of United States Government
The Enfield Rifle

CHAPTER 20  Retirement from Business
Letter from David Roberts, R. A.
Puddling iron by steam
The process tried
Sir Henry Bessemer's invention
Discussion at Cheltenham
Bessemer's account
Prepare to retire from business
The Countess of Ellesmere
The "Cottage in Kent"
The "antibilious stock"
Hammerfield, Penshurst
Planting and gardening
The Crystal Palace
Music
Tools and telescopes
The greenhouse

CHAPTER 21  Active leisure
Astronomy
Lecture on the Moon
Edinburgh
Old friends
Visit to the Continent--Paris, Chartres, Nismes, Chamounix
Art of photography
Sir John Herschel
Spots on the sun's surface
E.J. Stone
De la Rue
Visit from Sir John Herschel
Cracking glass globe
A million spots and letters
Geological diagram
Father Secchi at Rome
Lord Lyndhurst
Visit to Herschel
His last letter
Publication of The Moon
Philip H. Calderon
Cardinal Manning
Miss Herschel
William Lassell
Windmill grinding of speculum
The dial of life
End of recollections

List of Inventions and Contrivances

Articles on the Sun-Ray origin of the Pyramids and Cuneiform Character

[Image]  Edinburgh Castle, From the Vennel

AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

CHAPTER 1. My Ancestry

Our history begins before we are born. We represent the hereditary
influences of our race, and our ancestors virtually live in us.
The sentiment of ancestry seems to be inherent in human nature,
especially in the more civilised races. At all events, we cannot help
having a due regard for the history of our forefathers. Our curiosity
is stimulated by their immediate or indirect influence upon ourselves.
It may be a generous enthusiasm, or, as some might say, a harmless
vanity, to take pride in the honour of their name. The gifts of nature,
however, are more valuable than those of fortune; and no line of
ancestry, however honourable, can absolve us from the duty of diligent
application and perseverance, or from the practice of the virtues of
self-control and self-help.

Sir Bernard Burke, in his Peerage and Baronetage Ed 1879 Pp 885-6,
gives a faithful account of the ancestors from whom I am lineally
descended. "The family of Naesymth, he says, "is one of remote
antiquity in Tweeddale, and has possessed lands there since the 13th
century."  They fought in the wars of Bruce and Baliol, which ended in
the independence of Scotland.

The following is the family legend of the origin of the name of
Naesymth: --

In the troublous times which prevailed in Scotland before the union of
the Crowns, the feuds between the King and the Barons were almost
constant. In the reign of James III. the House of Douglas was the
most prominent and ambitious. The Earl not only resisted his liege
lord, but entered into a combination with the King of England, from
whom he received a pension. He was declared a rebel, and his estates
were confiscated. He determined to resist the royal power, and crossed
the Border with his followers. He was met by the Earl of Angus, the
Maxwells, the Johnstons, and the Scotts. In one of the engagements
which ensued the Douglases appeared to have gained the day, when an
ancestor of the Naesmyths, who fought under the royal standard, took
refuge in the smithy of a neighbouring village. The smith offered him
protection, disguised him as a hammerman, with a leather apron in
front, and asked him to lend a hand at his work.

While thus engaged a party of the Douglas partisans entered the smithy.
They looked with suspicion on the disguised hammerman, who, in his
agitation, struck a false blow with the sledge hammer, which broke the
shaft in two. Upon this, one of the pursuers rushed at him, calling
out, "Ye're nae smyth!"  The stalwart hammerman turned upon his
assailant, and, wrenching a dagger from him, speedily overpowered him.
The smith himself, armed with a big hammer, effectually aided in
overpowering and driving out the Douglas men. A party of the royal
forces made their appearance, when Naesmyth rallied them, led them
against the rebels, and converted what had been a temporary defeat into
a victory. A grant of lands was bestowed upon him for his service.
His armorial bearings consisted of a hand dexter with a dagger, between
two broken hammer-shafts, and there they remain to this day. The motto
was, Non arte sect marte, "Not by art but by war" In my time I have
reversed the motto (Non marte sed arte); and instead of the broken
hammer-shafts, I have adopted, not as my "arms" but as a device,
the most potent form of mechanical art--the Steam Hammer.

[Image] Origin of the Name. By James Nasmyth.

Sir Michael Naesmyth, Chamberlain of the Archbishop of St. Andrews,
obtained the lands of Posso and Glenarth in 1544, by right of his wife,
Elizabeth, daughter and heiress of John Baird of Posso. The Bairds
have ever been a loyal and gallant family. Sir Gilbert, father of John
Baird, fell at Flodden in 1513, in defence of his king.

The royal eyrie of Posso Crag is on the family estate;
and the Lure worn by Queen Mary, and presented by her son James VI. to
James Naesmyth, the Royal Falconer, is still preserved as a family
heirloom.

During the intestine troubles in Scotland, in the reign of Mary,
Sir Michael Naesmyth espoused the cause of the unfortunate Queen.
He fought under her banner at Langside in 1568. He was banished,
and his estates were seized by the Regent Moray. But after the
restoration of peace, the Naesmyths regained their property.
Sir Michael died at an advanced age.

He had many sons. The eldest, James, married Joana, daughter of
William Veitch or Le Veitch of Dawick. By this marriage the lands of
Dawick came into the family. He predeceased his father, and was
succeeded by his son James, the Royal Falconer above referred to.
Sir Michael's second son, John, was chief chirurgeon to James VI. of
Scotland, afterwards James I. of England, and to Henry, Prince of
Wales. He died in London in 1613, and in his testament he leaves
"his herb to his young master, the Prince's grace."  Charles I.,
in his instructions to the President of the Court of Session, enjoins
"that you take special notice of the children of John Naesmyth, so
often recommended by our late dear father and us."  Two of Sir Michael's
other sons were killed at Edinburgh in 1588, in a deadly feud between
the Scotts and the Naesmyths. In those days a sort of Corsican
vendetta was carried on between families from one generation to
another.

Sir Michael Naesmyth, son of the Royal Falconer, succeeded to the
property. His eldest son James was appointed to serve in Claverhouse's
troop of horse in 1684. Among the other notable members of the family
was James Naesmyth, a very clever lawyer. He was supposed to be so
deep that he was generally known as the "Deil o' Dawyk".  His eldest
son was long a member of Parliament for the county of Peebles; he was,
besides, a famous botanist, having studied under Linnaeus, Among the
inter-marriages of the family were those with the Bruces of Lethen, the
Stewarts of Traquhair, the Murrays of Stanhope, the Pringles of Clifton,
the Murrays of Philiphaugh, the Keiths (of the Earl Marischal's family),
the Andersons of St. Germains, the Marjoribanks of Lees, and others.

In the fourteenth century a branch of the Naesmyths of Posso settled at
Netherton, near Hamilton. They bought an estate and built a residence.
The lands adjoined part of the Duke of Hamilton's estate, and the house
was not far from the palace. There the Naesmyths remained until the
reign of Charles II. The King, or his advisers, determined to
introduce Episcopacy, or, as some thought, Roman Catholicism, into the
country, and to enforce it at the point of the sword.

The Naesmyths had always been loyal until now. But to be cleft by
sword and pricked by spear into a religion which they disbelieved, was
utterly hateful to the Netherton Naesmyths. Being Presbyterians, they
held to their own faith. They were prevented from using their
churches,*
[footnote...
In the reign of James II. of England and James VII. of Scotland a law
was enacted, "that whoever should preach in a conventicle under a roof,
or should attend, either as a preacher or as a hearer, a conventicle in
the open air, should be punished with death and confiscation of
property."
...]
and they accordingly met on the moors, or in unfrequented places for
worship. The dissenting Presbyterians assumed the name of Covenanters.
Hamilton was almost the centre of the movement. The Covenanters met,
and the King's forces were ordered to disperse them. Hence the
internecine war that followed. There were Naesmyths on both sides--
Naesmyths for the King, and Naesmyths for the Covenant.

In an early engagement at Drumclog, the Covenanters were victorious.
They beat back Claverhouse and his dragoons. A general rising took
place in the West Country. About 6000 men assembled at Hamilton,
mostly raw and undisciplined countrymen. The King's forces assembled
to meet them, -- 10,000 well-disciplined troops, with a complete train
of field artillery. What chance had the Covenanters against such a
force? Nevertheless, they met at Bothwell Bridge, a few miles west of
Hamilton. It is unnecessary to describe the action.*
[footnote...
See the account of a Covenanting Officer in the Appendix to the Scots
Worthies. See also Sir Waiter Scott's Old Mortality, where the battle
of Bothwell Brig is described.
...]

The Covenanters, notwithstanding their inferior force, resisted the
cannonade and musketry of the enemy with great courage. They defended
the bridge until their ammunition failed. When the English Guards and
the artillery crossed the bridge, the battle was lost. The Covenanters
gave way, and fled in all directions; Claverhouse, burning with revenge
for his defeat at Drumclog, made a terrible slaughter of the
unresisting fugitives. One of my ancestors brought from the
battlefield the remnant of the standard; a formidable musquet--
"Gun Bothwell" we afterwards called it; an Andrea Ferrara; and a
powder-horn. I still preserve these remnants of the civil war.

My ancestor was condemned to death in his absence, and his property at
Netherton was confiscated. What became of him during the remainder of
Charles II.'s reign, and the reign of that still greater tormentor,
James II., I do not know. He was probably, like many others, wandering
about from place to place, hiding "in wildernesses or caves, destitute,
afflicted, and tormented."  The arrival of William III. restored
religious liberty to the country, and Scotland was again left in
comparative peace.

My ancestor took refuge in Edinburgh, but he never recovered his
property at Netherton. The Duke of Hamilton, one of the trimmers of
the time, had long coveted the possession of the lands, as Ahab had
coveted Naboth's vineyard. He took advantage of the conscription of
the men engaged in the Bothwell Brig conflict, and had the lands
forfeited in his favour. I remember my father telling me that, on one
occasion when he visited the Duke of Hamilton in reference to some
improvement of the grounds adjoining the palace, he pointed out to the
Duke the ruined remains of the old residence of the Naesmyths. As the
first French Revolution was then in full progress, when ideas of
society and property seemed to have lost their bearings, the Duke
good-humouredly observed, "Well, well, Naesmyth, there's no saying but
what, some of these days, your ancestors' lands may come into your
possession again!"

Before I quit the persecutions of "the good old times," I must refer to
the burning of witches. One of my ancient kinswomen, Elspeth Naesmyth,
who lived at Hamilton, was denounced as a witch. The chief evidence
brought against her was that she kept four black cats, and read her
Bible with two pairs of spectacles! a practice which shows that she
possessed the spirit of an experimental philosopher.

In doing this she adopted a mode of supplementing the power of
spectacles in restoring the receding power of the eyes. She was in all
respects scientifically correct. She increased the magnifying power of
the glasses; a practice which is preferable to using single glasses of
the same power, and which I myself often follow. Notwithstanding this
improved method of reading her Bible, and her four black cats, she was
condemned to be burned alive! She was about the last victim in
Scotland to the disgraceful superstition of witchcraft.

The Naesmyths of Netherton having lost their ancestral property, had to
begin the world again. They had to begin at the beginning.
But they had plenty of pluck and energy. I go back to my
great-great-grandfather, Michael Naesmyth, who was born in 1652.
He occupied a house in the Grassmarket, Edinburgh, which was afterwards
rebuilt, in 1696. His business was that of a builder and architect.
His chief employment was in designing and erecting new mansions,
principally for the landed gentry and nobility. Their old castellated
houses or towers were found too dark and dreary for modern uses.
The drawbridges were taken down, and the moats were filled up.
Sometimes they built the new mansions as an addition to the old.
But oftener they left the old castles to go to ruin; or, what was
worse, they made use of the stone and other materials of the old
romantic buildings for the construction of their new residences.

Michael Naesmyth acquired a high reputation for the substantiality of
his work. His masonry was excellent, as well as his woodwork.
The greater part of the latter was executed in his own workshops at the
back of his house in the Grassmarket. His large yard was situated
between the back of the house and the high wall that bounded the
Greyfriars Churchyard,to the east of the flight of steps which forms
the main approach to George Heriot's Hospital.

[Image] Michael Naesmyth's House, Grassmarket.The lower building at the
        right hand corner of the engraving, with the three projecting
        gable ends

The last work that Michael Naesmyth was engaged in cost him his life.
He had contracted with the Government to build a fort at Inversnaid,
at the northern end of Loch Lomond. It was intended to guard the
Lowlands, and keep Rob Roy and his caterans within the Highland Border.
A promise was given by the Government that during the progress of the
work a suitable force of soldiers should be quartered close at hand to
protect the builder and his workmen.

[Image] Inversnaid Fort. After a drawing by Alexander Nasmyth

Notwithstanding many whispered warnings as to the danger of undertaking
such a hazardous work, Michael Naesmyth and his men encamped upon the
spot, though without the protection of the Government force. Having
erected a temporary residence for their accommodation, he proceeded
with the building of the fort. The work was well advanced by the end
of 1703, although the Government had treated all Naesmyth's appeals for
protection with evasion or contempt.

Winter set in with its usual force in those northern regions.
One dark and snowy night, when Michael and his men had retired to rest,
a loud knocking was heard at the door. "Who's there?"  asked Michael.
A man outside replied, "A benighted traveller overt aken by the storm"
He proceeded to implore help, and begged for God's sake that he might
have shelter for the night. Naesmyth, in the full belief that the
traveller's tale was true, unbolted and unbarred the door, when in
rushed Rob Roy and his desperate gang. The men, with the dirks of the
Macgregors at their throats, begged hard for their lives. This was
granted on condition that they should instantly depart, and take an
oath that they should never venture within the Highland border again.

Michael Naesmyth and his men had no alternative but to submit, and they
at once left the bothy with such scanty clothing as the Macgregors
would allow them to carry away. They were marched under an armed
escort through the snowstorm to the Highland border, and were there
left with the murderous threat that, if they ever returned to the fort,
they would meet with certain death.

Another attempt was made to build the fort at Inversnaid. But Rob Roy
again surprised the small party of soldiers who were in charge.
They were disarmed and sent about their business. Finally, the fort
was rebuilt, and placed under the command of Captain (afterwards
General) Wolfe. When peace fell upon the Highlands and Rob Roy's
country became the scene of picnics, the fort was abandoned and allowed
to go to ruin.

Poor Michael never recovered from the cold which he caught during his
forced retreat from Inversnaid. The effects of this, together with the
loss and distress of mind which he experienced from the Government's
refusal to pay for his work--notwithstanding their promise to protect
him and his workmen from the Highland freebooters--so preyed upon his
mind that he was never again able to devote himself to business.
One evening, whilst sitting at his fireside with his grandchild on his
knee, a death-like faintness came over him; he set the child down
carefully by the side of his chair, and then fell forward dead on his
hearthstone.

Thus ended the life of Michael Naesmyth in 1705, at the age of
fifty-three. He was buried by the side of his ancestors in the old
family tomb in the Greyfriars Churchyard.

[Image] The Naesmyth Tomb in Greyfriars Churchyard

This old tomb, dated 1614, though much defaced, is one of the most
remarkable of the many which surround the walls of that ancient and
memorable burying-place.

Greyfriars Churchyard is one of the most interesting places in
Edinburgh. The National Covenant was signed there by the Protestant
nobles and gentry of Scotland in 1638. The prisoners taken at the
battle of Bothwell Brig were shut up there in 1679, and, after enduring
great privations, a portion of the survivors were sent off to
Barbadoes. When I first saw the tombstone, an ash tree was growing out
of the top of the main body of it, though that has since been removed.
In growing, the roots had pushed out the centre stone, which has not
been replaced. The tablet over it contains the arms of the family,
the broken hammer-shafts, and the motto "Non arte sed marte."  There are
the remains of a very impressive figure, apparently rising from her
cerements. The body and extremities remain, but the head has been
broken away. There is also a remarkable motto on the tablet above the
tombstone--"Ars mihi vim contra Fortunce; which I take to be,
"Art is my strength in contending against Fortune,"--a motto which is
appropriate to my ancestors as well as to myself.

The business was afterwards carried on by Michael's son, my
great-grandfather. He was twenty-seven years old at the time of his
father's death, and lived to the age of seventy-three. He was a man of
much ability and of large experience.

One of his great advantages in carrying on his business was the support
of a staff of able and trustworthy foremen and workmen. The times were
very different then from what they are now. Masters and men lived
together in mutual harmony. There was a kind of loyal family
attachment among them, which extended through many generations.
Workmen had neither the desire nor the means to shift about from place
to place. On the contrary, they settled down with their wives and
families in houses of their own, close to the workshops of their
employers. Work was found for them in the dull seasons when trade was
slack, and in summer they sometimes removed to jobs at a distance from
headquarters. Much of this feeling of attachment and loyalty between
workmen and their employers has now expired. Men rapidly remove from
place to place. Character is of little consequence. The mutual
feeling of goodwill and zealous attention to work seems to have passed
away.

My grandfather, Michael Naesmyth, succeeded to the business in 1751.
He more than maintained the reputation of his predecessors.
The collection of first-class works on architecture which he possessed,
such as the folio editions of Vitruvius and Palladio, which were at
that time both rare and dear, showed the regard he had for impressing
into his designs the best standards of taste. The buildings he
designed and erected for the Scotch nobility and gentry were well
arranged, carefully executed, and thoroughly substantial. He was also
a large builder in Edinburgh. Amongst the houses he erected in the
Old Town were the principal number of those in George Square. In one
of these, No. 25, Sir Walter Scott spent his boyhood and youth.
They still exist, and exhibit the care which he took in the elegance
and substantiality of his works.

I remember my father pointing out to me the extreme care and attention
with which he finished his buildings. He inserted small fragments of
basalt into the mortar of the external joints of the stones, at close
and regular distances, in order to protect the mortar from the adverse
action of the weather. And to this day they give proof of their
efficiency. The basalt protects the joints, and at the same time gives
a neat and pleasing effect to what would otherwise have been merely the
monotonous line of mason-work.

A great change was about to take place in the residences of the
principal people of Edinburgh. The cry was for more light and more
air. The extension of the city to the south and west was not
sufficient. There was a great plateau of ground on the north side of
the city, beyond the North Loch. But it was very difficult to reach;
being alike steep on both sides of the Loch. At length, in 1767,
an Act was obtained to extend the royalty of the city over the northern
fields, and powers were obtained to erect a bridge to connect them with
the Old Town.

The magistrates had the greatest difficulty in inducing the inhabitants
to build dwellings on the northern side of the city. A premium was
offered to the person who should build the first house; and #20 was
awarded to Mr. John Young on account of a mansion erected by him close
to George Street. Exemption from burghal taxes was also granted to a
gentleman who built the first house in Princes Street. My grandfather
built the first house in the south-west corner of St. Andrew Square,
for the occupation of David Hume the historian, as well as the two most
important houses in the centre of the north side of the same square.
One of these last was occupied by the venerable Dr. Hamilton, a very
conspicuous character in Edinburgh. He continued to wear the cocked
hat, the powdered pigtail, tights, and large shoe buckles, for about
sixty years after this costume had become obsolete. All these houses
are still in perfect condition, after resisting the ordinary tear and
wear of upwards of a hundred and ten northern winters. The opposition
to building houses across the North Loch soon ceased; and the New Town
arose, growing from day to day, until Edinburgh became one of the most
handsome and picturesque cities in Europe.

There is one other thing that I must again refer to the highly-finished
character of my grandfather's work. Nothing merely moderate would do.
The work must be of the very best. He took special pride in the sound
quality of the woodwork and its careful workmanship. He chose the best
Dantzic timber because of its being of purer grain and freer from knots
than other wood. In those days the lower part of the walls of the
apartments were wainscoted--that is, covered by timber framed in
large panels. They were from three to four feet wide, and from six to
eight feet high. To fit these in properly required the most careful
joiner-work.

It was always a holiday treat to my father, when a boy, to be permitted
to go down to Leith to see the ships discharge their cargoes of timber.
My grandfather had a Wood-yard at Leith, where the timber selected by
him was piled up to he seasoned and shrunk, before being worked into
its appropriate uses. He was particularly careful in his selection of
boards or stripes for floors, which must be perfectly level, so as to
avoid the destruction of the carpets placed over them. The hanging of
his doors was a matter that he took great pride in--so as to prevent
any uneasy action in opening or closing. His own chamber doors were so
well hung that they were capable of being opened and closed by the
slight puff of a hand-bellows.

The excellence of my grandfather's workmanship was a thing that my own
father always impressed upon me when a boy. It stimulated in me the
desire to aim at excellence in everything that I undertook; and in all
practical matters to arrive at the highest degree of good workmanship.
I believe that these early lessons had a great influence upon my future
career.

I have little to record of my grandmother. From all accounts she was
everything that a wife and mother should be. My father often referred
to her as an example of the affection and love of a wife to her
husband, and of a mother to her children. The only relic I possess of
her handiwork is a sampler, dated 1743, the needlework of which is so
delicate and neat, that to me it seems to excel everything of the kind
that I have seen.

I am fain to think that her delicate manipulation in some respects
descended to her grandchildren, as all of them have been more or less
distinguished for the delicate use of their fingers--which has so
much to do with the effective transmission of the artistic faculty into
visible forms. The power of transmitting to paper or canvas the
artistic conceptions of the brain through the fingers, and out at the
end of the needle, the pencil, the pen, the brush, or even the
modelling tool or chisel, is that which, in practical fact, constitutes
the true artist.

This may appear a digression; though I cannot look at my grandmother's
sampler without thinking that she had much to do with originating the
Naesmyth love of the Fine Arts, and their hereditary adroitness in the
practice of landscape and portrait painting, and other branches of the
profession.

My grandfather died in 1803, at the age of eighty-four, and was buried
by his father's side in the Naesmyth ancestral tomb in Greyfriars
Churchyard. His wife, Mary Anderson, who died before him, was buried
in the same place.

Michael Naesmyth left two sons--Michael and Alexander. The eldest
was born in 1754. It was intended that he should have succeeded to the
business; and, indeed, as soon as he reached manhood he was his
father's right-hand man. He was a skilful workman, especially in the
finer parts of joiner-work. He was also an excellent accountant and
bookkeeper. But having acquired a taste for reading books about
voyages and travels, of which his father's library was well supplied,
his mind became disturbed, and he determined to see something of the
world. He was encouraged by one of his old companions, who had been to
sea, and realised some substantial results by his voyages to foreign
parts. Accordingly Michael, notwithstanding the earnest remonstrances
of his father, accompanied his friend on the next occasion when he went
to sea.

After several voyages to the West Indies and other parts of the world,
which both gratified and stimulated his natural taste for adventures,
and also proved financially successful, his trading ventures at last
met with a sad reverse, and he resolved to abandon commerce, and enter
the service of the Royal Navy. He was made purser, and in this
position he entered upon a new series of adventures. He was present at
many naval engagements. But he lost neither life nor limb. At last he
was pensioned, and became a resident at Greenwich Hospital.
He furnished his apartments with all manner of curiosities, such as his
roving naval life had enabled him to collect. His original skill as a
worker in wood came to life again. The taste of the workman and the
handiness of the seaman enabled him to furnish his rooms at the
Hospital in a most quaint and amusing manner.

My father had a most affectionate regard for Michael, and usually spent
some days with him when he had occasion to visit London. One bright
summer day they went to have a stroll together on Blackheath; and while
my uncle was enjoying a nap on a grassy knoll, my father made a sketch
of him, which I still preserve. Being of a most cheerful disposition,
and having a great knack of detailing the incidents of his adventurous
life, he became a great favourite with the resident officers of the
Hospital; and was always regarded by them as real good company.
He ended his days there in peace and comfort, in 1819, at the age of
sixty-four.

CHAPTER 2.  Alexander Nasmyth

My father, Alexander Nasmyth, was the second son of Michael Nasmyth.
He was born in his father's house in the Grassmarket on the 9th of
September 1758. The Grassmarket was then a lively place. On certain
days of the week it was busy with sheep and cattle fairs. It was the
centre of Edinburgh traffic. Most of the inns were situated there,
or in the street leading up to the Greyfriars Church gate.

The view from my grandfather's house was very grand. Standing up,
right opposite, was the steep Castle rock, with its crown buildings and
circular battery towering high overhead. They seemed almost to hang
over the verge of the rock. The houses on the opposite side of the
Grassmarket were crowded under the esplanade of the Castle Hill.

There was an inn opposite the house where my father was born, from
which the first coach started from Edinburgh to Newcastle. The public
notice stated that "The Coach would set out from the Grass Market ilka
Tuesday at Twa o'clock in the day, GOD WULLIN', but whether or no on
Wednesday."  The "whether or no" was meant, I presume, as a precaution to
passengers, in case all the places on the coach might be taken, or not,
on Wednesday,

[Image]  Plan of the Grassmarket

The Grassmarket was also the place for public executions. The gibbet
stone was at the east end of the Market. It consisted of a mass of
solid sandstone, with a quadrangular hole in the middle, which served
as a socket for the gallows. Most of the Covenanters who were executed
for conscience' sake in the reigns of Charles II. and James II.
breathed their last at this spot. The Porteous mob, in 1736, had its
culmination here. When Captain Porteous was dragged out of the
Tolbooth in the High Street and hurried down the West Bow, the gallows
was not in its place; but the leaders of the mob hanged him from a
dyer's pole, nearly opposite the gallows stone, on the south side of
the street, not far from my grandfather's door*
[footnote...
See Heart of Midlothian
...]

I have not much to say about my father's education. For the most part,
he was his own schoolmaster. I have heard him say that his mother
taught him his A B C; and that he afterwards learned to read at Mammy
Smith's. This old lady kept a school for boys and girls at the top of
a house in the Grassmarket. There my father was taught to rear his
Bible, and to repeat his Carritch.*
[footnote...
The Shorter Catechism.
...]

As it was only the bigger boys who could read the Bible, the strongest
of them consummated the feat by climbing up the Castle rock, and
reaching what they called "The Bibler's Seat."  It must have been a
break-neck adventure to get up to the place. The seat was almost
immediately under the window of the room in which James VI was born.
My father often pointed it out to me as one of the most dangerous bits
of climbing in which he had been engaged in his younger years.

[Image]  The Bibler's seat

The annexed illustration is from his own slight sepia drawing;
the Bibler's Seat is marked + Not so daring, but much more mischievous,
was a trick which he played with some of his companions on the tops of
the houses on the north side of the Grassmarket. The boys took a
barrel to the Castlehill, filled it with small stones, and then shot it
down towards the roofs of the houses in the Grassmarket. The barrel
leapt from rock to rock, burst, and scattered a shower of stones far
and wide. The fun was to see the "boddies" look out of their garret
windows with their lighted lamps or candles, peer into the dark,
and try to see what was the cause of the mischief.

Sir David Baird, the hero of Seringapatam, played a trick of the same
kind before he went to India.

Among my father's favourite companions were the two sons of Dr. John
Erskine, minister of Old Greyfriars, in conjunction with the equally
celebrated Dr. Robertson. Dr. Erskine*
[footnote...
Dr. Erskine is well described by Scott in Guy Mannering, on the
occasion when Pleydell and Mannering went to hear him preach a famous
sermon.
...]
was a man of great influence in his day, well known for his literary
and theological works, as well as for his piety and practical
benevolence. On one occasion, when my father was at play with his
sons, one of them threw a stone, which smashed a neighbour's window.
A servant of the house ran out, and seeing the culprit, called out,
"Very wee!, Maister Erskine, I'll tell yeer faither wha broke the
windae!"  On which the boy, to throw her off the scent, said to his
brother loudly, "Eh, keist! she thinks we're the boddy Erskine's sons."

The boddy Erskine! Who ever heard of such an irreverent nickname
applied to that good and great man? "The laddies couldna be his sons,"
thought the woman. She made no further inquiry, and the boys escaped
scot free. The culprit afterwards entered the service of the East
India Company. "The boy was father to the man."  He acquired great
reputation at the siege of Seringapatam, where he led the forlorn hope.
Erskine was promoted, until in course of time he returned to his native
city a full-blown general. To return to my father's education.
After he left "Mammy Smith's, he went for a short time to the original
High School. It was an old establishment, founded by James VI. before
he succeeded to the English throne, It was afterwards demolished to
make room for the University buildings; and the new High School was
erected a little below the old Royal Infirmary. After leaving the High
School, Alexander Nasmyth was taught by his father, first arithmetic
and mensuration, next geometry and mathematics, so far as the first
three books of Euclid were concerned. After that, his own innate
skill, ability, and industry enabled him to complete the rest of his
education.

At a very early period my father exhibited a decided natural taste for
art. He used his pencil freely in sketching from nature; and in course
of time he showed equal skill in the use of oil colour. At his own
earnest request he was bound apprentice to Mr. Crighton, then the
chief coachbuilder in Edinburgh. He was employed in that special
department where artistic taste was necessary--that is, in decorating
the panels of the highest class of carriages, and painting upon them
coats of arms, with their crests and supporters. He took great
pleasure in this kind of work. It introduced him to the practical
details of heraldry, and gave him command over his materials.

Still further to improve himself in the art of drawing, my father
devoted his evenings to attending the Edinburgh Drawing Academy.
This institution, termed "The Trustees' Academy of Fine Art," had been
formed and supported by the funds arising from the estates confiscated
after the rebellions of 1715 and 1745. Part of these funds was set
apart by Government for the encouragement of drawing, and also for the
establishment of the arts of linen weaving, carpet manufacture,
and other industrial occupations.

These arts were introduced into Scotland by the French Protestants,
who had been persecuted for conscience' sake out of their own country,
and settled in England, Ireland, and Scotland, where they prosecuted
their industrial callings. The Corporation was anxious to afford an
asylum for these skilled and able workmen. The emigrants settled down
with their families, and pursued their occupations of damask, linen,
and carpet weaving. They were also required to take Scotch apprentices,
and teach them the various branches of their trade. The Magistrates
caused cottages and workshops to be erected on a piece of unoccupied
land near Edinburgh, where the street appropriately called Picardy
Place now stands,--the greater number of the weavers having come from
Picardy in France.

In connection with the establishment of these industrial artisans,
it was necessary to teach the young Scotch apprentices drawing, for the
purpose of designing new patterns suitable for the market. Hence the
establishment by the Trustees of the Forfeited Estate Funds of
"The Academy of Fine Art."  From the designing of patterns, the
institution advanced to the improvement of the fine arts generally.
Young men who had given proofs of their natural taste for drawing were
invited to enter the school and participate in its benefits.

At the time that my father was apprenticed to the coach painter,
the Trustees' Academy was managed by Alexander Runciman. He had
originally been a house painter, from which business he proceeded to
landscape painting. "Other artists," said one who knew him, "talked
meat and drink; but Runciman talked landscape."  He went to Rome and
studied art there. He returned to Edinburgh, and devoted himself to
historical painting. He was also promoted to the office of master of
the Trustees' Academy. When my father called upon him with his
drawings from nature, Runciman found them so satisfactory that he was
at once admitted as a student. After his admission he began to study
with intense eagerness. The young men who had been occupied at their
business during the day could only attend in the evening. And thus the
evenings were fixed for studying drawing and design. The Trustees'
Academy made its mark upon the art of Scotland: it turned out many
artists of great note -- such as Raeburn, Wilkie, my father, and many
more.

At the time when my father entered as a student, the stock of casts
from the antique, and the number of drawings from the old masters,
were very small; so much so, indeed, that Runciman was under the
necessity of setting the students to copy them again and again.
This became rather irksome to the more ardent pupils. My father had
completed his sixth copy of a fine chalk drawing of "The Laocoon."
It was then set for him to copy again. He begged Mr. Runciman for
another subject. The quick-tempered man at once said,"l'll give you
another subject."  And turning the group of the Laocoon upside down, he
added, "Now, then, copy that!"  The patient youth set to work, and in a
few evenings completed a perfect copy. It was a most severe test; but
Runciman was so proud of the skill of his pupil that he had the drawing
mounted and framed, with a note of the circumstances under which it had
been produced. It continued to hang there for many years, and the
story of its achievement became traditional in the school.

During all this time my father remained in the employment of Crighton
the carriage builder. He improved in his painting day by day. But at
length an important change took place in his career. Allan Ramsay,
son of the author of The Gentle Shepherd, and then court painter to
George III., called upon his old friend Crighton one day, to look over
his works. There he found young Nasmyth painting a coat of arms on the
panel of a carriage. He was so much surprised with the lad's artistic
workmanship--for he was then only sixteen--that he formed a strong
desire to take him into his service. After much persuasion, backed by
the offer of a considerable sum of money, the coachbuilder was at
length induced to transfer my father's indentures to Allan Ramsay.

It was, of course, a great delight to my father to be removed to London
under such favourable auspices. Ramsay had a large connection as a
portrait painter. His object in employing my father was that he should
assist him in the execution of the subordinate parts, or dress
portions, of portraits of courtiers, or of diplomatic personages.
No more favourable opportunity for advancement could have presented
itself. But all this was entirely due to my father's perseverance and
advancing skill as an artist--the results of his steady application
and labour.

Ramsay possessed a very fine collection of drawings by the old masters,
all of which were free for my father to study. Ramsay was exceedingly
kind to his young pupil. He was present at all the discussions in the
studio, even when the sitters were present. Fellow-artists visited
Ramsay from time to time. Among them was his intimate friend Philip
Reinagle--an agreeable companion, and an excellent artist. Reinagle
was one day so much struck with my father's earnestness in filling up
some work, that he then and there got up a canvas and made a capital
sketch-portrait of him in oil. It only came into my father's
possession some years after Ramsay's death, and is now in my possession.

[Image]  Alexander Nasmyth. After Reinagle's Portrait

Among the many amusing recollections of my father's life in London,
there is one that I cannot resist narrating, because it shows his
faculty of resourcefulness--a faculty which served him very usefully
during his course through life. He had made an engagement with a
sweetheart to take her to Ranelagh, one of the most fashionable places
of public amusement in London. Everybody went in full dress, and the
bucks and swells wore long striped silk stockings. My father, on
searching, found that he had only one pair of silk stockings left.
He washed them himself in his lodging-room, and hung them up before the
fire to dry. When he went to look at them, they were so singed and
burnt that he could not put them on. They were totally useless.
In this sad dilemma his resourcefulness came to his aid. The happy
idea occurred to him of painting his legs so as to resemble stockings.
He went to his water-colour box, and dexterously painted them with
black and white stripes. When the paint dried, which it soon did,
he completed his toilet, met his sweetheart and went to Ranelagh.
No one observed the difference, except, indeed, that he was
complimented on the perfection of the fit, and was asked "where he
bought his stockings?"  Of course he evaded the question, and left the
gardens without any one discovering his artistic trick.

My father remained in Allan Ramsay's service until the end of 1778,
when he returned to Edinburgh to practise on his own behalf the
profession of portrait painter. He took with him the kindest
good-wishes of his master, whose friendship he retained to the end of
Ramsay's life. The artistic style of my father's portraits, and the
excellent likenesses of his sitters, soon obtained for him ample
employment. His portraits were for the most part full-lengths, but of
a small or cabinet size. They generally consisted of family groups,
with the figures about twelve to fourteen inches high. The groups were
generally treated and arranged as if the personages were engaged in
conversation with their children; and sometimes a favourite servant was
introduced, so as to remove any formal aspect in the composition of the
picture. In order to enliven the background, some favourite view from
the garden or grounds, or a landscape, was given; which was painted
with as much care as if it was the main feature of the picture.
Many of these paintings are still to be found in the houses of the
gentry in Scotland. Good examples of his art are to be seen at Minto
House, the seat of the Earl of Minto, and at Dalmeny Park, the seat of
the Earl of Rosebery.

Among my father's early employers was Patrick Miller, Esq., of
Dalswinton, in Dumfriesshire. He painted Mr. Miller's portrait as
well as those of several members of his family. This intercourse
eventually led to the establishment of a very warm personal friendship
between them. Miller had made a large fortune in Edinburgh as a
banker; and after he had partially retired from business, he devoted
much of his spare time to useful purposes. He was a man of great
energy of character, and was never idle. At first he applied himself
to the improvement of agriculture, which he did with great success on
his estate of Dalswinton. Being one of the largest shareholders in the
Carron Ironworks near Stirling, he also devoted much of his time to the
improvement of guns for the Royal Navy. He was the inventor of that
famous gun the Carronade. The handiness of these short and effective
guns, which were capable of being loaded and fired nearly twice as
quickly as the long small-bore guns, gave England the victory in many a
naval battle, where the firing was close and quick, yardarm to yardarm.

But Mr. Miller's greatest claim to fame arises from his endeavours to
introduce steam-power as an agent in the propulsion of ships at sea.
Mr. Clerk of Eldin had already invented the system of "breaking the
line" in naval engagements--a system that was first practised with
complete success by Lord Rodney in his engagement off Martinico in
1780. The subject interested Mr. Miller so much that he set himself
to work to contrive some mechanical method by means of which ships of
war might be set in motion, independently of wind, tide, or calms, so
that Clerk's system of breaking the line might be carried into effect
under all circumstances.

It was about this time that my father was often with Miller; and the
mechanical devices by means of which the method of breaking the line
could be best accomplished was the subject of many of their
conversations. Miller found that my father's taste for mechanical
contrivances, and his ready skill as a draughtsman, were likely to be
of much use to him, and he constantly visited the studio. My father
reduced Miller's ideas to a definite form, and prepared a series of
drawings, which were afterwards engraved and published. Miller's
favourite design was, to divide the vessel into twin or triple hulls,
with paddles between them, to be worked by the crew. The principal
experiment was made in the Firth of Forth on the 2d of June 1787.
The vessel was double-hulled, and was worked by a capstan of five bars.
The experiment was on the whole successful. But the chief difficulty
was in the propulsive power. After a spurt of an hour or so, the men
became tired with their laborious work. Mr. Taylor, student of
divinity, and tutor of Mr. Miller's sons, was on board, and seeing the
exhausted state of the men at the capstan, suggested the employment of
steam-power. Mr. Miller was pleased with the idea, and resolved to
make inquiry upon the subject.

At that time William Symington, a young engineer from Wanlockhead,
was exhibiting a road locomotive in Edinburgh. He was a friend of
Taylor's, and Mr. Miller went to see the Symington model. In the
course of his conversation with the inventor, he informed the latter of
his own project, and described the difficulty he had experienced in
getting his paddle-wheels turned round. On which Symington immediately
asked, "Why don't you use the steam-engine?" The model which Symington
exhibited, produced rotary motion by the employment of ratchet-wheels.
The rectilinear motion of the piston-rod was thus converted into rotary
motion. Mr. Miller was pleased with the action of the ratchet-wheel
contrivance, and gave Symington an order to make a pair of engines of
that construction. They were to be used on a small pleasure-boat on
Dalswinton Lake.

The boat was constructed on the double-hull or twin plan, so that the
paddle should be used in the space between the hulls.*
[footnote...
This steam twin boat was in fact the progenitor of the Castalia,
constructed about a hundred years later for the conveyance of
passengers between Calais and Dover.
...]

After much vexatious delay, arising from the entire novelty of the
experiment, the boat and engines were at length completed, and removed
to Dalswinton Lake. This, the first steamer that ever "trod the waters
like a thing of life," the herald of a new and mighty power, was tried
on the 14th of October 1788. The vessel steamed delightfully, at the
rate of from four to five miles an hour, though this was not her
extreme rate of speed. I give, on the next page, a copy of a sketch
made by my father of this the first actual steamboat, with her
remarkable crew.

[Image]  The first steamboat. By Alexander Nasmyth*
[footnote...
The original drawing of the steamer was done by my father, and lent by
me to Mr. Woodcroft, Who inserted it in his Origin and Progress of
Steam Navigation. He omitted my father's name, and inserted only that
of the lithographer, although it is a document of almost national
importance in the history of Steam Navigation.

P.S.-- since the above paragraph was written for the first edition,
I have been enabled to find the drawing, with another remarkable pencil
sketch of my father's, in the Gallery of the Museum of Naval
Architecture at South Kensington. It will henceforward belong to that
interesting collection.

The remarkable pencil sketch to which I have referred, is that of a
screw propeller, drawn by my father, dated 1819. It was the result of
many discussions as to the proper mode of propelling a vessel. First,
he had drawn Watt's idea of a "spiral oar"; then, underneath, he has
drawn his own idea, of a disk of six. blades, like a screw-jack,
immediately behind the rudder. There is a crank shown on the screw
shaft, by which the propeller was driven direct, showing that he was
the first to indicate that method of propulsion of steamboats.
...]

The persons on board consisted of Patrick Miller, William Symington,
Sir William Monteith, Robert Burns (the poet, then a tenant of
Mr. Miller's), William Taylor, and Alexander Nasmyth. There were also
three of Mr. Miller's servants, who acted as assistants. On the edge
of the lake was a young gentleman, then on a visit to Dalswinton.
He was no less a person than Henry Brougham, afterwards Lord Chancellor
of England. The assemblage of so many remarkable men was well worthy
of the occasion.

Taking into account the extraordinary results which have issued from
this first trial of an actual steamboat, it may well be considered that
this was one of the most important circumstances which ever occurred in
the history of navigation. It ought, at the same time, to be
remembered that all that was afterwards done by Symington, Fulton, and
Bell, followed long after the performance of this ever-memorable
achievement.

I may also mention, as worthy of special record, that the hull of this
first steamboat was of iron. It was constructed of tinned iron plate.
It was therefore the first iron steamboat, if not the first iron ship,
that had ever been made. I may also add that the engines, constructed
by Symington, which propelled this first iron steamboat are now
carefully preserved at the Patent Museum at South Kensington, where
they may be seen by everybody.*
[footnote...
The original engines of the boat, with the ratchet-wheel contrivance
of Symington, are there: the very engine that propelled the first
steamer on Dalswinton Lake. It may be added that Mr. Miller expended
about #30,000 on naval improvements, and, as is often the case, he was
wholly neglected by the Government.
...]

To return to my father's profession as a portrait painter. He had
given so much assistance to Mr. Miller, while acting as his chief
draughtsman in connection with the triple and twin ships, and also
while attending him at Leith and elsewhere, that it had considerably
interfered with his practice; though everything was done by him con
amore, in the best sense of the term. In return for this, however,
Mr. Miller made my father the generous offer of a loan to enable him to
visit Italy, and pursue his studies there. It was the most graceful
mode in which Mr. Miller could express his obligations. It was an
offer pure and simple, without security, and as such was thankfully
accepted by my father.

In those days an artist was scarcely considered to have completed his
education until he had studied the works of the great masters at
Florence and Rome. My father left England for Italy on the 30th of
December 1782. He reached Rome in safety, and earnestly devoted
himself to the study of art. He remained in Italy for the greater part
of two years. He visited Florence, Bologna, Padua, and other cities
where the finest artistic works were to be found. He made studies and
drawings of the best of them, besides making sketches from nature of
the most remarkable places he had visited. He returned to Edinburgh at
the end of 1784, and immediately resumed his profession of a portrait
painter. He was so successful that in a short time he was enabled to
repay his excellent friend Miller the #500 which he had so generously
lent him a few years before.

The satisfactory results of his zealous practice, and of his skill and
industry in his profession, together with the prospect of increasing
artistic work, enabled him to bring to a happy conclusion an engagement
he had entered into before leaving Edinburgh for Italy. I mean his
marriage to my mother--one of the greatest events of his life which
took place on the 3rd of January 1786. Barbara Foulis was a distant
relation of his own. She was the daughter of William Foulis, Esq., of
Woodhall and Colinton, near Edinburgh. Her brother, the late Sir James
Foulis, my uncle, succeeded to the ancient baronetcy of the family.
See Burkes's Peerage and Baronetage*
[footnote...
In Burke's Peerage and Baronetage an account is given of the Foulis
family. They are of Norman origin. A branch settled in Scotland in
the reign of Malcolm Canmore. By various intermarriages, the Foulises
are connected with the Hopetoun, Bute, and Rosebery families.
The present holder of the title represents the houses of Colinton,
Woodhall, and Ravelstone.
...]

My mother did not bring with her any fortune, so to speak, in the way
of gold or acres; but she brought something far better into my father's
home,--a sweetness of disposition, and a large measure of common
sense, which made her, in all respects, the devoted helpmate of her
husband. Her happy cheerful temperament, and her constant industry and
attention, shed an influence upon all around her. By her example she
inbred in her children the love of truth, excellence, and goodness.
That was indeed the best fortune she could bring into a good man's
home.

During the first year of my father's married life, when he lived in
St. James's Square, he painted the well-known portrait of Robert Burns
the poet. Burns had been introduced to him by Mr. Miller at
Dalswinton. An intimate friendship sprang up between the artist and
the poet. The love of nature and of natural objects was common to
both. They also warmly sympathised in their political views.
When Burns visited Edinburgh my father often met him. Burns had a
strange aversion to sit for his portrait, though often urgently
requested to do so. But when at my father's studio, Burns at last
consented, and his portrait was rapidly painted. It was done in the
course of a few hours, and my father made a present of it to
Mrs. Burns.

A mezzotint engraving of it was afterwards published by William Walker,
son-in-law of the famous Samuel Reynolds. When the first proof
impression was submitted to my father, he said to Mr. Walker:
"I cannot better express to you my opinion of your admirable engraving,
than by telling you that it conveys to me a more true and lively
remembrance of Burns than my own picture of him does; it so perfectly
renders the spirit of his expression, as well as the details of his
every feature."

While Burns was in Edinburgh, my father had many interesting walks with
him in the neighbourhood of the city. The Calton Hill, Arthur's Seat,
Salisbury Crags. Habbie's How, and the nooks in the Pentlands, were
always full of interest; and Burns, with his brilliant and humorous
conversation, made the miles very short as they strode along. Lockhart
says, in his Life of Burns, that "the magnificent scenery of the
Scottish capital filled the poet with extraordinary delight. In the
spring mornings he walked very often to the top of Arthur's Seat, and,
lying prostrate on the turf, surveyed the rising of the sun out of the
sea in silent admiration; his chosen companion on such occasions being
that learned artist and ardent lover of nature, Alexander Nasmyth."

A visit which the two paid to Roslin Castle is worthy of commemoration.
On one occasion my father and a few choice spirits had been spending a
"nicht wi' Burns."  The place of resort was a tavern in the High Street,
Edinburgh. As Burns was a brilliant talker, full of spirit and humour,
time fled until the "wee sma' hours ayont the twal'" arrived.
The party broke up about three o'clock. At that time of the year
(the 13th of June) the night is very short, and morning comes early.
Burns, on reaching the street, looked up to the sky. It was perfectly
clear, and the rising sun was beginning to brighten the mural crown of
St. Giles's Cathedral.

Burns was so much struck with the beauty of the morning that he put his
hand on my father's arm and said, "It'll never do to go to bed in such
a lovely morning as this! Let's awa' to Roslin Castle."  No sooner said
than done. The poet and the painter set out. Nature lay bright and
lovely before them in that delicious summer morning. After an
eight-miles walk they reached the castle at Roslin. Burns went down
under the great Norman arch, where he stood rapt in speechless
admiration of the scene. The thought of the eternal renewal of youth
and freshness of nature, contrasted with the crumbling decay of man's
efforts to perpetuate his work, even when founded upon a rock, as
Roslin Castle is, seemed greatly to affect him.

My father was so much impressed with the scene that, while Burns was
standing under the arch, he took out his pencil and a scrap of paper
and made a hasty sketch of the subject. This sketch was highly
treasured by my father, in remembrance of what must have been one of
the most memorable days of his life.

Talking of clubs reminds me that there was a good deal of club life in
Edinburgh in those days. The most notable were those in which the
members were drawn together by occupations, habits, or tastes. They
met in the evenings, and conversed upon congenial subjects. The clubs
were generally held in one or other of the taverns situated in or near
the High Street. Every one will remember the Lawyers' Club, held in an
Edinburgh close, presided over by Pleydell, so well described by Scott
in Guy Mannering.

In my father's early days he was a member of a very jovial club, called
the Poker Club. It was so-called because the first chairman,
immediately on his election, in a spirit of drollery, laid hold of the
poker at the fireplace, and adopted it as his insignia of office. He
made a humorous address from the chair, or "the throne," as he called
it, with sceptre or poker in hand; and the club was thereupon styled by
acclamation "The Poker Club."  I have seen my father's diploma of
membership; it was tastefully drawn on parchment, with the poker duly
emblazoned on it as the regalia of the club.

In my own time, the club that he was most connected with was the
Dilettanti Club. Its meetings were held every fortnight, on Thursday
evenings, in a commodious tavern in the High Street. The members were
chiefly artists, or men known for their love of art. Among then were
Henry Raeburn, Hugh Williams (the Grecian), Andrew Geddes,
William Thomson, John Shetkay, William Nicholson, William Allan,
Alexander Nasmyth, the Rev. John Thomson of Duddingston,
George Thomson, Sir Walter Scott, John Lockhart, Dr. Brewster,
David Wilkie, Henry Cockburn, Francis Jeffrey, John A. Murray,
Professor Wilson, John Ballantyne, James Ballantyne, James Hogg (the
Ettrick Shepherd), and David Bridges, the secretary.*
[footnote...
Davie Bridges was a character. In my early days he was a cloth
merchant in the High Street. His shop was very near that gigantic
lounge, the old Parliament House, and was often resorted to by
non-business visitors. Bridges had a good taste for pictures. He had
a small but choice collection by the Old Masters, which he kept
arranged in the warehouse under his shop. He took great pride in
exhibiting them to his visitors, and expatiating upon their excellence.
I remember being present in his warehouse with my father when a very
beautiful small picture by Richard Wilson was under review. Davie
burst out emphatically with, "Eh, man, did ye ever see such glorious
buttery touches as on these clouds!"  His joking friends clubbed him
"Director-General of the Fine Arts for Scotland," a title which he
complacently accepted. Besides showing off his pictures, Davie was an
art critic, and wrote articles for the newspapers and magazines.
Unfortunately, however, his attention to pictures prevented him from
attending to his shop, and his customers (who were not artists) forsook
him, and bought their clothes elsewhere. He accordingly shut up his
shop, and devoted himself to art criticism, in which, for a time, he
possessed a monopoly.
...]

The drinks were restricted to Edinburgh ale and whisky toddy.

An admirable picture of the club in full meeting was painted by William
Allan, in which characteristic portraits of all the leading members
were introduced in full social converse. Among the more prominent
portraits is one of my father, who is represented as illustrating some
subject he is describing, by drawing it on the part of the table before
him, with his finger dipped in toddy. Other marked and well-known
characteristics of the members are skilfully introduced in the picture.
The artist afterwards sold it to Mr. Horrocks of Preston, in Lancashire.

Besides portrait painting, my father was much employed in assisting the
noblemen and landed gentry of Scotland in improving the landscape
appearance of their estates, especially when seen from their mansion
windows. His fine taste, and his love of natural scenery, gave him
great advantages in this respect. He selected the finest sites for the
new mansions, when they were erected in lieu of the old towers and
crenellated castles. Or, he designed alterations of the old buildings
so as to preserve their romantic features, and at the same time to fit
them for the requirements of modern domestic life.

In those early days of art-knowledge, there scarcely existed any
artistic feeling for the landscape beauty of nature. There was an
utter want of appreciation of the dignified beauty of the old castles
and mansions, the remnants of which were in too many instances carted
away as material for now buildings. There was also at that time an
utter ignorance of the beauty and majesty of old trees. A forest of
venerable oaks or beeches was a thing to be done away with. They were
merely cut down as useless timber; even when they so finely embellished
the landscape. My father exerted himself successfully to preserve
these grand old forest trees. His fine sketches served to open the
eyes of their possessors to the priceless treasures they were about to
destroy; and he thus preserved the existence of many a picturesque old
tree. He even took the pains in many cases to model the part of the
estate he was dealing with; and he also modelled the old trees he
wished to preserve. Thus, by a judicious clearing out of the
intercepting young timber, he opened out distant views of the
landscape, and at the same time preserved many a monarch of the
forest.*
[footnote...
It is even now to be deeply deplored that those who inherit or come
into possession of landed estates do not feel sufficiently impressed
with the possession of such grand memorials of the past. Alas! how
often have we to lament the want of taste that leads to the sacrifice
of these venerable treasures. Would that the young men at our
universities especially those likely to inherit estates--were
impressed with the importance of preserving them. They would thus
confer an inestimable benefit to thousands. About forty years ago Lord
Cockburn published a pamphlet on How to Destroy the Beauty of
Edinburgh! He enforced the charm of green foliage in combination with
street architecture. The burgesses were then cutting down trees.
His lordship went so far as to say "that he would as soon cut down a
burgess as a tree!"  Since then the growth of trees in Edinburgh,
especially in what was once the North Loch, has been greatly improved;
and might be still further improved if that famous tree, "The London
plane," were employed.
...]

[Image]  The Family Tree

My father modelled old castles, old trees, and such like objects as he
wished to introduce into his landscapes. The above illustration, may
perhaps give a slight idea of his artistic skill as a modeller.
I specially refer to this, which he called "The Family Tree," as he
required each member of his family to assist in its production.
We each made a twig or small branch, which he cleverly fixed into its
place as a part of the whole. The model tree in question was
constructed of wire slightly twisted together, so as to form the main
body of a branch. It was then subdivided into branchlets, and finally
into individual twigs. All these, combined together by his dexterous
hand, resulted in the model of an old leafless tree, so true and
correct, that any one would have thought that it had been modelled
direct from nature.

The Duke of Athol consulted my father as to the improvements which he
desired to make in his woodland scenery near Dunkeld. The Duke was
desirous that a rocky crag, called Craigybarns, should be planted with
trees, to relieve the grim barrenness of its appearance. But it was
impossible for any man to climb the crag in order to set seeds or
plants in the clefts of the rocks. A happy idea struck my father.
Having observed in front of the castle a pair of small cannon used for
firing salutes, it occurred to him to turn them to account. His object
was to deposit the seeds of the various trees amongst the soil in the
clefts of the crag. A tinsmith in the village was ordered to make a
number of canisters with covers. The canisters were filled with all
sorts of suitable tree seeds. A cannon was loaded, and the canisters
were fired up against the high face of the rock. They burst and
scattered the seed in all directions. Some years after, when my father
revisited the place, he was delighted to find that his scheme of
planting by artillery had proved completely successful; for the trees
were flourishing luxuriantly in all the recesses of the cliff. This was
another instance of my father's happy faculty of resourcefulness.

Certain circumstances about this time compelled my father almost
entirely to give up portrait painting and betake himself to another
branch of the fine arts. The earnest and lively interest which he took
in the state of public affairs, and the necessity which then existed
for reforming the glaring abuses of the State, led him to speak out his
mind freely on the subject. Edinburgh was then under the reign of the
Dundases; and scarcely anybody dared to mutter his objections to
anything perpetrated by the "powers that be."  The city was then a much
smaller place than it is now. There was more gossip, and perhaps more
espionage, among the better classes, who were few in number. At all
events, my father's frank opinions on political subjects began to be
known. He attended Fox dinners. He was intimate with men of known
reforming views. All this was made the subject of general talk.
Accordingly, my father received many hints from aristocratic and
wealthy personages, that "if this went on any longer they would
withdraw from him their employment."  My father did not alter his
course; it was right and honest. But he suffered nevertheless.
His income from portrait painting fell off rapidly.

At length he devoted himself to landscape painting. It was a freer and
more enjoyable life. Instead of painting the faces of those who were
perhaps without character or attractiveness, he painted the fresh and
ever-beautiful face of nature. The field of his employment in this
respect was almost inexhaustible. His artistic talent in this
delightful branch of art was in the highest sense congenial to his mind
and feelings; and in course of time the results of his new field of
occupation proved thoroughly satisfactory. In fact, men of the highest
rank with justice entitled him the "Father of landscape painting in
Scotland."

[Image]  No. 47 York Place, Edinburgh

At the same time, when changing his branch of art, he opened a class in
his own house forgiving practical instruction in the art of landscape
painting. He removed his house and studio from St. James's Square to
No. 47 York Place. There was at the upper part of this house a noble
and commodious room. There he held his class. The house was his own,
and was built after his own designs. A splendid prospect was seen from
the upper windows; and especially from the Belvidere, which he had
constructed on the summit of the roof. The view extended from Stirling
in the west to the Bass Rock in the east. In fine summer evenings the
sun was often seen setting behind Ben Lomond and the more conspicuous
of the Perthshire mountains.

My father did not confine himself to landscape painting, or to the
instruction of his classes. He was an all-round man. He had something
of the Universal about him. He was a painter, an architect, and a
mechanic. Above all, he possessed a powerful store of common sense.
Of course, I am naturally a partial judge of my father's character; but
this I may say, that during my experience of over seventy years I have
never known a more incessantly industrious man. His hand and mind were
always at work from morn till night. During the time that he was
losing his business in portrait painting, he set to work and painted
scenery for the theatres. The late David Roberts--himself a scene
painter of the highest character--said that his style was founded
upon that of Nasmyth.*
[footnote...
David Roberts, R,A., in his Autobiography, gives the following
recollections of Alexander Nasmyth: -- "In 1819 I commenced my career as
principal scene painter in the Theatre Royal, Glasgow. This theatre
was immense in its size and appointments--in magnitude exceeding
Drury Lane and Covent Garden. The stock scenery had been painted by
Alexander Nasmyth, and consisted of a series of pictures far surpassing
anything of the kind I had ever seen. These included chambers,
palaces, streets, landscapes, and forest scenery. One, I remember
particularly, was the outside of a Norman castle, and another of a
cottage charmingly painted, and of which I have a sketch. But the act
scene, which was a view on the Clyde looking towards the Highland
mountains with Dumbarton Castle in the middle distance, was such a
combination of magnificent scenery, so wonderfully painted, that it
excited universal admiration. These productions I studied incessantly;
and on them my style, if I have any, was originally founded."
...]

Stanfield was another of his friends. On one occasion Stanfield showed
him his sketch-book, observing that he wished to form a style of his
own. "Young man," said Nasmyth, "there's but one style an artist
should endeavour to attain, and that is the style of nature; the nearer
you can get to that the better."

My father was greatly interested in the architectural beauty of his
native city, and he was professionally consulted by the authorities
about the laying out of the streets of the New Town. The subject
occupied much of his time and thought, especially when resting from the
mental fatigue arising from a long sitting at the easel. It was his
regular practice to stroll about where the building work was in
progress, or where new roads were being laid out, and carefully watch
the proceedings. This was probably due to the taste which he had
inherited from his forebears--more especially from his father, who
had begun the buildings of the New Town. My father took pleasure in
modelling any improvement that occurred to him; and in discussing the
subject with the architects and builders who were professionally
engaged in the works. His admirable knack of modelling the contour of
the natural surface of the ground, and applying it to the proposed new
roads or new buildings, was striking and characteristic. His efforts
in this direction were so thoroughly disinterested that those in office
were all the more anxious to carry out his views. He sought for no
reward; but his excellent advice was not unrecognised. In testimony of
the regard which the Magistrates of Edinburgh had for his counsel and
services, they presented him in 1815 with a sum of #200, together with
a most complimentary letter acknowledging the value of his
disinterested advice. It was addressed to him under cover, directed to
"Alexander Nasmyth, Architect."

He was, indeed, not unworthy of the name. He was the architect of the
Dean Bridge, which spans the deep valley of the Water of Leith,
north-west of the New Town. Sir John Nesbit, the owner of the property
north of the stream, employed my father to make a design for the
extension of the city to his estate. The result was the construction
of the Dean Bridge, and the roads approaching it from both sides.
The Dean Estate was thus rendered as easy and convenient to reach as
any of the level streets of Edinburgh. The construction of the bridge
was superintended by the late James Jardine, C.E. Mr Telford was
afterwards called upon to widen the bridge. He threw out parapets on
each side, but they did not improve the original design.

[Image]  St Bernard's Well

From the Dean Bridge another of my father's architectural buildings may
be seen, at St. Bernard's Well. It was constructed at the instance of
his friend Lord Gardenstone. The design consists of a graceful
circular temple, built over a spring of mineral water, which issues
from the rock below. It was dedicated to Hygeia, the Goddess of
Health. The whole of the details are beautifully finished, and the
basement of the design will be admired by every true artist. It is
regarded as a great ornament, and is thoroughly in keeping with the
beauty of the surrounding scenery.

Shortly after the death of Lord Nelson it was proposed to erect a
monument to his memory on the Calton Hill. My father supplied a
design, which was laid before the Monument Committee. It was so much
approved that the required sum was rapidly subscribed. But as the
estimated cost of this erection was found slightly to exceed the amount
subscribed, a nominally cheaper design was privately adopted. It was
literally a job. The vulgar, churn-like monument was thus thrust on
the public and actually erected; and there it stands to this day, a
piteous sight to beholders. It was eventually found greatly to exceed
in cost the amount of the estimate for my father's design. I give a
sketch of my father's memorial; and I am led to do this because it is
erroneously alleged that he was the architect of the present inverted
spy glass, called "Nelson's Monument"

[Image]  Nelson's Monument as it should have been.

Then, with respect to my father's powers as a mechanic. This was an
inherited faculty, and I leave my readers to infer from the following
pages whether I have not had my fair share of this inheritance. Besides
his painting room, my father had a workroom fitted up with all sorts of
mechanical tools. It was one of his greatest pleasures to occupy
himself there as a relief from sitting at the easel, or while within
doors from the inclemency of the weather. The walls and shelves of his
workroom were crowded with a multitude of artistic and ingenious
mechanical objects, nearly all of which were the production of his own
hands. Many of them were associated with the most eventful incidents
in his life. He only admitted his most intimate friends, or such as
could understand and appreciate the variety of objects connected with
art and mechanism, to his workroom. His natural taste for neatness and
arrangement gave it a very orderly aspect, however crowded its walls
and shelves might be. Everything was in its place, and there was a
place for everything. It was in this workroom that I first began to
handle mechanical tools. It was my primary technical school--the
very foreground of my life.

[Image]  Bow-and-string Roofs and Bridges

I may mention one or two of my father's mechanical efforts, or rather
his inventions in applied science. One of the most important was the
"bow-and-string bridge," as he first called it, to which he early
directed his attention. He invented this important method of
construction about the year 1794. The first bow-and-string bridge was
erected in the island of St. Helena over a deep ravine.

Many considered, from its apparent slightness, that it was not fitted
to sustain any considerable load. A remarkable and convincing proof
was, however, given of its stability by the passage over it of a herd
of wild oxen, that rushed across without the slightest damage to its
structure. After so severe a test it was for many succeeding years
employed as a most valuable addition to the accessibility of an
important portion of the island. The bow-and-string bridge has since
been largely employed in spanning wide spaces over which suburban and
other railways pass, and in roofing over such stations as those at
Birmingham, Charing Cross, and other Great Metropolitan centres, as
well as in bow-and-string bridges over rivers. I give the fac-simile
of his original drawings*
[footnote...
The original drawings of these bow-and-string bridges, of various
spans, are now deposited at the Gallery of the Museum of Naval
Architecture at South Kensington, and are signed "Alexander Nasmyth
1796."
...]
for the purpose of showing our great railway engineers the originator
of the graceful and economical method of spanning wide spaces, now
practised in every part of the civilised world.

Another of his inventions was the method of riveting by compression
instead of by blows of the hammer. It originated in a slight
circumstance. One wet, wintry Sunday morning he went into his
workroom. There were some slight mechanical repairs to be performed
upon a beautiful little stove of his own construction. To repair it,
iron rivets were necessary to make it serviceable. But as the
hammering of the hot rivets would annoy his neighbours by the unwelcome
sound of the hammer, he solved the difficulty by using the jaws of his
bench vice to squeeze in the hot rivets when put into their places.
The stove was thus quickly repaired in the most perfect silence.

This was, perhaps, the first occasion on which a squeeze or compressive
action was substituted for the percussive action of the hammer,
in closing red-hot rivets, for combining together pieces of stout sheet
or plate iron. This system of riveting was long afterwards patented by
Smith of Deanston in combination with William Fairbairn of Manchester;
and it was employed in riveting the plates used in the construction of
the bridges over the River Conway and the Menai Straits.

It is also universally used in boiler and girder making, and in all
other wrought-iron structures in which thorough sound riveting is
absolutely essential; and by the employment of hydraulic power in a
portable form a considerable portion of iron shipbuilding is effected
by the silent squeeze  system in place of hammers, much to the
advantage of the soundness of the work. My father frequently,
in aftertimes, practised this mode of riveting by compression in place
of using the blow of a hammer; and in remembrance of the special
circumstances under which he contrived this silent and most effective
method of riveting, he named it "The Sunday Rivet."

CHAPTER 3.  An Artist's Family.

Although Alexander Nasmyth had to a considerable extent lost his
aristocratic connection as a portrait painter, yet many kind and
generous friends gathered round him. During his sojourn in Italy,
in 1783, he had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of Sir James
Hall of Dunglass, Haddingtonshire. The acquaintance afterwards ripened
into a deeply-rooted friendship.

During the winter season Sir James resided with his family in his town
house in George Street. He was passionately attached to the pursuit of
art and science. He practised the art of painting in my father's room,
and was greatly helped by him in the requisite manipulative skill.
Sir James was at that time engaged in writing his well-known essay
"On the Origin of Gothic Architecture," and in this my father was of
important use to him. He executed the greater number of the
illustrations for this beautiful work. The book when published had a
considerable influence in restoring the taste of architects to a style
which they had heretofore either neglected or degraded.

Besides his enthusiasm in art and architecture, Sir James devoted a
great deal of time to the study of geology. The science was then in
its infancy. Being an acute observer, Hall's attention was first
attracted to the subject by the singular geological features of the
sea-coast near his mansion at Dunglass. The neighbourhood of Edinburgh
also excited his interest. The upheaval of the rocks by volcanic heat
--as seen in the Castle Hill, the Calton Hill, and Arthur's Seat--
formed in a great measure the foundation of the picturesque beauty of
the city. Those were the days of the Wernerian and Huttonian
controversy as to the origin of the changes on the surface of the
earth. Sir James Ball was President of the Edinburgh Royal Society,
and necessarily took an anxious interest in the discussions.
He observed and experimented, and established the true volcanic nature
of the composition and formation of the rocks and mountains which
surround Edinburgh.

I have been led to speak of this subject, because when a boy I was
often present at the discussions of these great principles.
My father, Sir James Hall, Professors Playfair and Leslie, took their
accustomed walks round Edinburgh, and I clung eagerly to their words.
Though unable to understand everything that was said, these walks had a
great influence upon my education. Indeed, what education can compare
with that of listening attentively to the conversation and interchange
of thought of men of the highest intelligence? It is on such occasions
that ideas, not mere words, take hold of the memory, and abide there
until the close of life.

Besides mixing in the society of scientific men, my father enjoyed a
friendly intercourse with the artists of his day. He was often able to
give substantial help and assistance to young students; and he was most
liberal in giving them valuable practical instruction, and in assisting
them over the manipulative difficulties which lay in their way. He was
especially assiduous when he saw them inspired by the true spirit of
art, and full of application and industry,--without which nothing can
be accomplished. Amongst these young men were David Wilkie, Francis
Grant, David Roberts, Clarkson Stanfield, William Allan, Andrew Geddes,
"Grecian" Williams, Lizars the engraver, and the Rev. John Thomson of
Duddingston.

Henry Raeburn was one of his most intimate friends and companions.
He considered Raeburn's broad and masterly style of portrait painting
as an era in Scottish art. Raeburn, with innate tact, discerned the
character of his sitters, and he imparted so much of their
individuality into his portraits as to make them admirable likenesses
in the highest sense. In connection with Raeburn, I may mention that
when he was knighted by George IV. in 1822, my father, who was then at
the head of his profession in Scotland, was appointed chairman at the
dinner held to do honour to the great Scottish portrait painter.

Raeburn often joined my father in his afternoon walks round Edinburgh
--a relaxation so very desirable after hours of close attention to
artistic work. They took delight in the wonderful variety of
picturesque scenery by which the city is surrounded. The walks about
Arthur's Seat were the most enjoyable of all. When a boy I had often
the pleasure of accompanying them, and of listening to their
conversation. I thus picked up many an idea that served me well in
after life. Indeed, I may say, after a long experience, that there is
no class of men whose company I more delight in than that of artists.
Their innate and highly-cultivated power of observation, not only as
regards the ever-varying aspects of nature, but also as regards the
quaint, droll, and humorous varieties of character, concur in rendering
their conversation most delightful. I look back on these walks as
among the brightest points in my existence. I have been led to digress
on this subject. Although more correctly belonging to my father's
life, yet it is so amalgamated with my own that it almost forms part of
it, and it is difficult for me to separate the one from the other.

And then there were the pleasant evenings at home. When the day's work
was over, friends looked in to have a fireside crack--sometimes
scientific men, sometimes artists, often both. They were all made
welcome. There was no formality about their visits. Had they been
formal, there would have been comparatively little pleasure.
The visitor came in with his "Good e'en", and seated himself.
The family went on with their work as before. The girls were usually
busy with their needles, and others with pen and pencil. My father
would go on with the artistic work he had in hand, for his industry was
incessant. He would model a castle or a tree, or proceed with some
proposed improvement of the streets or approaches of the rapidly
expanding city. Among the most agreeable visitors were Professor
Leslie, James Jardine, C.E., and Dr. Brewster. Their conversation was
specially interesting. They brought up the last new thing in science,
in discovery, in history, or in campaigning, for the war was then
raging throughout Europe.

The artists were a most welcome addition to the family group.
Many a time did they set the table in a roar with their quaint and
droll delineations of character. These unostentatious gatherings of
friends about our fireside were a delightful social institution.
The remembrance of them lights up my recollection of the happiest
period of a generally happy life. Could I have been able to set forth
the brightness and cheerfulness of these happy evenings at my father's
house, I am fain to think that my description might have been well
worth reading. But all the record of them that remains is a most
cherished recollection of their genial tone and harmony, which makes me
think that, although in these days of rapid transit over earth and
ocean, and surrounded as we are with the results of applied scientific
knowledge, we are not a bit more happy than when all the vaunted
triumphs of science and so-called education were in embryo.

The supper usually followed, for my father would not allow his visitors
to go away supperless. The meal did not amount to much. Rizard or
Finnan harddies, or a dish of oysters, with a glass of Edinburgh ale,
and a rummer of toddy, concluded these friendly evenings. The cry of
"Caller Aou" was constantly heard in the streets below of an evening.
When the letter r was in the name of the month, the supply of oysters
was abundant. The freshest oysters, of the most glorious quality, were
to be had at 2s. 6d. the hundred! And what could be more refreshing
food for my father's guests? These unostentatious and inexpensive
gatherings of friends were a most delightful social institution among
the best middle-class people of Edinburgh some sixty or seventy years
ago. What they are now I cannot tell. But I fear they have
disappeared in the more showy and costly tastes that have sprung up in
the progress of what is called "modern society."

No part of my father's character was more admirable than his utter
unselfishness. He denied himself many things, that he might give the
greater pleasure to his wife and children. He would scarcely take part
in any enjoyment, unless they could have their fair share of it. In all
this he was faithfully followed by my mother. The admirable example of
well-sustained industry that was always before her, sustained her in
her efforts for the good of her family. She was intelligently
interested in all that related to her husband's business and interests,
as well as in his recreative enjoyments. The household affairs were
under her skilful guidance. She conducted them with economy, and yet
with generous liberality, free from the least taint of ostentation or
extravagance. The home fireside was a scene of cheerfulness.
And most of our family have been blest with this sunny gift. Indeed,
a merrier family circle I have never seen. There were twelve persons
round the table to be provided for, besides two servants.
This required, on my mother's part, a great deal of management,
as every housekeeper will know. Yet everything was provided and paid
for within the year's income.

The family result of my father and mother's happy marriage was four
sons and seven daughters. Patrick, the eldest, was born in 1787.
He was called after my father's dear and constant friend, Patrick
Miller of Dalswinton. I will speak by and by of his artistic
reputation. Then followed a long succession of daughters--
Jane, the eldest', was born in 1788; Barbara 1790; Margaret in 1791;
Elizabeth in 1793; Anne in 1798; Charlotte in 1804.
Then came a succession of three sons--Alexander, George,and James.
There followed another daughter, Mary; but as she only lived for about
eighteen months, I remained the youngest of the family.

My sisters all possessed, in a greater or less degree, an innate love
of art, and by their diligent application they acquired the practice of
painting landscape in oils. My father's admirable system and method of
teaching rendered them expert in making accurate sketches from nature,
which, as will afterwards be seen, they turned to good account.
My eldest sister, Jane, was in all respects a most estimable character,
and a great help to my mother in the upbringing of the children.
Jane was full of sound common sense; her judgment seemed to be beyond
her years. Because of this the younger members of the family jokingly
nicknamed her "Old Solid"!--Even my father consulted her in every
case of importance in reference to domestic and financial affairs.
I had the great good fortune, when a child, to be placed under her
special protection, and I have reason to be thankful for the
affectionate care which she took of me during the first six years of
my life.

Besides their early education in art, my mother was equally earnest in
her desire to give her daughters a thorough practical knowledge in
every department and detail of household management. When they had
attained a suitable age they were in succession put in charge of all
the household duties for two weeks at a time. The keys were given over
to them, together with the household books, and at the end of their
time their books were balanced to a farthing. They were then passed on
to the next in succession. One of the most important branches of
female education--the management of the domestic affairs of a family,
the superintendence of the cooking so as to avoid waste of food, the
regularity of the meals, and the general cleaning up of the rooms--
was thus thoroughly attained in its best and most practical forms.
And under the admirable superintendence of my mother everything in our
family went on like clockwork.

My father's object was to render each and all of his children--
whether boys or girls--independent on their arrival at mature years.
Accordingly, he sedulously kept up the attention of his daughters to
fine art. By this means he enabled them to assist in the maintenance
of the family while at home, and afterwards to maintain themselves by
the exercise of their own abilities and industry after they had left.
To accomplish this object, as already described, he set on foot drawing
classes, which were managed by his six daughters, superintended by
himself.

Edinburgh was at that time the resort of many county families.
The war which raged abroad prevented their going to the Continent.
They therefore remained at home, and the Scotch families for the most
part took up their residence in Edinburgh. There were many young
ladies desiring to complete their accomplishments, and hence the
establishment of my sisters' art class. It was held in the large
painting-room in the upper part of the house. It soon became one of
the most successful institutions in Edinburgh. When not engaged in
drawing and oil painting, the young ladies were occupied in sketching
from nature, under the superintendence of my sisters, in the outskirts
of Edinburgh. This was one of the most delightful exercises in which
they could be engaged; and it also formed the foundation for many
friendships which only terminated with life.

My father increased the interest of the classes by giving little art
lectures. They were familiar but practical. He never gave lectures as
such, but rather demonstrations. It was only when a pupil encountered
some technical difficulty, or was adopting some wrong method of
proceeding, that he undertook to guide them by his words and practical
illustrations. His object was to embue the minds of the pupils with
high principles of art. He would take up their brushes and show by his
dexterous and effective touches how to bring out, with marvellous ease,
the right effects of the landscape. The other pupils would come and
stand behind him, to see and hear his clear instructions carried into
actual practice on the work before him. He often illustrated his
little special lessons by his stores of instructive and interesting
anecdotes, which no doubt helped to rivet his practice all the deeper
into their minds. Thus the Nasmyth classes soon became the fashion.
In many cases both mothers and daughters might be seen at work together
in that delightful painting-room. I have occasionally met with some of
them in after years, who referred to those pleasant hours as among the
most delightful they had ever spent.

These classes were continued for many years. In the meantime my
sisters' diligence and constant practice enabled them in course of time
to exhibit their works in the fine art exhibitions of Edinburgh.
Each had her own individuality of style and manner, by which their
several works were easily distinguished from each other. Indeed,
whoever works after Nature will have a style of their own. They all
continued the practice of oil painting until an advanced age.
The average duration of their lives was about seventy-eight.

There was one point which my father diligently impressed upon his
pupils, and that was the felicity and the happiness attendant upon
pencil drawing. He was a master of the pencil, and in his off-hand
sketches communicated his ideas to others in a way that mere words
could never have done. It was his Graphic Language. A few strokes of
the pencil can convey ideas which quires of writing would fail to
impart. This is one of the most valuable gifts which a man who has to
do with practical subjects can possess. "The language of the pencil"
is a truly universal one, especially in communicating ideas which have
reference to material forms. And yet it is in a great measure
neglected in our modern system of education.

The language of the tongue is often used to disguise our thoughts,
whereas the language of the pencil is clear and explicit. Who that
possesses this language can fail to look back with pleasure on the
course of a journey illustrated by pencil drawings? They bring back to
you the landscapes you have seen, the old streets, the pointed gables,
the entrances to the old churches, even the bits of tracery, with a
vividness of association such as mere words could never convey.
Thus, looking at an old sketch-book brings back to you the recollection
of a tour, however varied, and you virtually make the journey over
again with its picturesque and beautiful associations. On many a fine
summer's day did my sisters make a picnic excursion into the
neighbourhood of Edinburgh. They were accompanied by their pupils,
sketch-book and pencil in hand. As I have already said, there is no
such scenery near any city that I know of. Arthur's Seat and Salisbury
Crags, Duddingston Loch, the Braid Hills, Craigmillar Castle,
Hawthornden, Roslin, Habbie's How, and the many valleys and rifts in
the Pentlands, with Edinburgh and its Castle in the distance; or the
scenery by the sea-shore, all round the coast from Newhaven to Gullane
and North Berwick Law.

The excursionists came home laden with sketches. I have still by me a
multitude of these graphic records made by my sisters. Each sketch,
however slight, strikes the keynote, as it were, to many happy
recollections of the circumstances, and the persons who were present at
the time it was made. I know not of any such effective stimulant to
the recollection of past events as these graphic memoranda.
Written words may be forgotten, but these slight pencil recollections
imprint themselves on the mind with a force that can never be effaced.
Everything that occurred at the time rises up as fresh in the memory as
if hours and not years had passed since then. They bring to the mind's
eye many dear ones who have passed away, and remind us that we too must
follow them.

It is much to be regretted that this valuable art of graphic memoranda
is not more generally practised. It is not merely a most valuable help
to the memory, but it educates the eye and the hand, and enables us to
cultivate the faculty of definite observation. This is one of the most
valuable accomplishments that I know of, being the means of storing up
ideas, and not mere words, in the mental recollection of both men and
women.

Before I proceed to record the recollections of my own life, I wish to
say something about my eldest brother Patrick, the well-known landscape
painter. He was twenty-one years older than myself! My father was his
best and almost his only instructor. At a very early age he manifested
a decided taste for drawing and painting. His bent was landscape.
This gave my father great pleasure, as it was his own favourite branch
of art. The boy acquired great skill in sketching trees, clouds,
plants, and foregrounds. He studied with wonderful assiduity and
success. I possess many of his graphic memoranda, which show the care
and industry with which he educated his eye and hand in rendering with
truth and fidelity the intimate details of his art. The wild plants
which he introduced into the foregrounds of his pictures were his
favourite objects of study. But of all portions of landscape nature,
the Sky was the one that most delighted him. He studied the form and
character of clouds--resting cloud, the driving cloud, and the rain
cloud--and the sky portions of his paintings were thus rendered so
beautifully attractive.

He was so earnest in his devotion to the study of landscape that in
some respects he neglected the ordinary routine of school education.
He successfully accomplished the three R.'s, but after that his school
was the fields, in the face of Nature. He was by no means a Romantic
painter. His taste was essentially for Home subjects. In his
landscapes he introduced picturesque farm-houses and cottages,
with their rural surroundings; and his advancement and success were
commensurate with his devotion to this fine branch of art. The perfect
truth with which he represented English scenery, associated as it is
with so many home-loving feelings, forms the special attractiveness of
his works. This has caused them to be eagerly sought after,
and purchased at high prices.

Patrick had a keen sense of humour, though in other respects he was
simple and unpretending. He was a great reader of old-fashioned
novels, which indeed in those days were the only works of the kind to
be met with. The Arabian Nights, Robinson crusoe, The Mysteries of
Udolpho, and such like, were his favourites, and gave a healthy filip
to his imagination. He had also a keen relish for music, and used to
whistle melodies and overtures as he went along with his work.
He acquired a fair skill in violin playing. While tired with sitting
or standing he would take up his violin, play a few passages, and then
go to work again.

Patrick removed to London in 1808, and exhibited at the Royal Academy
in the following year. He made excursions to various parts of England,
where he found subjects congenial to his ideas of rural beauty.
The immediate neighbourhood of London, however, a bounded with the most
charming and appropriate subjects for his pencil. These consisted of
rural "bits" of the most picturesque but homely description--decayed
pollard trees and old moss-grown orchards, combined with cottages and
farm-houses in the most paintable state of decay, with tangled hedges
and neglected fences, overrun with vegetation clinging to them with all
"the careless grace of Nature."  However neglected these might be by the
farmer, they were always tit-bits for Patrick. When sketching such
subjects he was in his glory, and he returned to his easel loaded with
sketch-book treasures, which when painted form the gems of many a
collection.

In some of these charming subjects glimpses of the distant capital may
be observed, with the dome of St. Paul's in the distance; but they are
introduced with such skill and correctness as in no way to interfere
with the rural character of his subject. When he went farther afield
--to Windsor Forest, Hampshire, the New Forest, or the Isle of Wight
--he was equally diligent with his pencil, and came home laden with
sketches of the old monarchs of the forest. When in a state of partial
decay his skilful touch brought them to life again, laden with branches
and lichen, with leaves and twigs and bark, and with every feature that
gives such a charm to these important elements in true English
landscape scenery. On my brother's first visit to London, accompanied
by my father, he visited many collections where the old Dutch masters
were to be seen, and he doubtless derived much advantage from his
careful studies, more particularly from the works of Hobbema, Ruysdael,
and Wynants. These came home to him as representations of Nature as
she is. They were more free from the traditional modes of representing
her. The works of Claude Lorraine and Richard Wilson were also the
objects of his admiration, though the influence of the time for
classicality of treatment to a certain extent vitiated these noble
works. When a glorious sunset was observed, the usual expression among
the lovers of art was, "What a magnificent Claudish effect!"  thus
setting up the result of man's feeble attempt at representation as the
standard of comparison, in place of the far grander original!

My brother carefully studied Nature herself. His works, following
those of my father, led back the public taste to a more healthy and
true condition, and by the aid of a noble army of modern British
landscape painters, this department of art has been elevated to a very
high standard of truth and excellence.

I find some letters from Patrick to my father, after his settlement as
an artist in London. My father seems to have supplied him with money
during the early part of his career, and afterwards until he had
received the amount of his commissions for pictures. In one of his
letters he says: "That was an unlucky business, the loss of that order
which you were so good as send me on my account."  It turned out that
the order had dropt out of the letter enclosing it, and was not
recovered. In fact, Patrick was very careless about all money
transactions.

In 1814 he made the acquaintance of Mr. Barnes, and accompanied him to
Bure Cottage, Ringwood, near Southampton, where he remained for some
time. He went into the New Forest, and brought home "lots of sketches."
In 1815 he exhibited his works at the Royal Academy. He writes to his
father that "the prices of my pictures in the Gallery are--
two at fourteen guineas each (small views in Hampshire), one at
twelve guineas, and two at fourteen guineas. They are all sold but
one. These pictures would now fetch in the open market from two to
three hundred guineas each. But in those days good work was little
known, and landscapes especially were very little sought after.

Patrick Nasmyth's admirable rendering of the finer portions of
landscape nature attracted the attention of collectors, and he received
many commissions from them at very low prices. There was at that time
a wretched system of delaying the payment for pictures painted on
commission, as well as considerable loss of time by the constant
applications made for the settlement of the balance. My brother was
accordingly under the necessity of painting his pictures for the
Dealers, who gave him at once the price which he required for his
works. The influence of this system was not always satisfactory.
The Middlemen or Dealers, who stood between the artist and the final
possessor of the works, were not generous. They higgled about prices,
and the sums which they gave were almost infinitesimal compared with
the value of Patrick Nasmyth's pictures at the present time.

The Dealers were frequent visitors at his little painting-room in his
lodgings. They took undue advantage of my brother's simplicity and
innate modesty in regard to the commercial value of his works. When he
had sketched in a beautiful subject, and when it was clear that in its
highest state of development it must prove a fine work, the Dealer
would pile up before him a row of guineas, or sovereigns, and say,
"Now, Peter, that picture's to be mine!", The real presence of cash
proved too much for him. He never was a practical man. He agreed to
the proposal, and thus he parted with his pictures for much less than
they were worth. He was often remonstrated with by his brother artists
for letting them slip out of his hands in that way--works that he
would not surrender until he had completed them, and brought them up to
the highest point of his fastidious taste and standard of excellence.
Among his dearest friends were David Roberts and Clarkson Stanfield.
He usually replied to their friendly remonstrances by laughingly
pointing to his bursting portfolios of sketches, and saying,
"There's lots of money in these banks to draw from."  He thus warded off
their earnest and often-repeated remonstrances. Being a single man,
and his habits and style of living of the most simple kind, he had very
little regard for money except as it ministered to his immediate
necessities. His evenings were generally spent at a club of brother
artists "over the water;" and in their company he enjoyed many a
pleasant hour. His days were spent at his easel. They were
occasionally varied by long walks into the country near London,
for the purpose of refilling his sketch-book.

It was on one of such occasions--when he was sketching the details of
some picturesque pollard old willows up the Thames, and standing all
the time in wet ground--that he caught a severe cold which confined
him to the house. He rapidly became worse. Two of his sisters,
who happened to be in London at the time, nursed him with devoted
attention. But it was too late. The disease had taken fatal hold of
him. On the evening of the l7th August 1831 there was a violent
thunderstorm. At length the peals of thunder ceased, the rain passed
away, and the clouds dispersed. The setting sun burst forth in a
golden glow. The patient turned round on his couch and asked that the
curtains might be drawn. It was done. A blaze of sunset lit up his
weary and worn-out face. "How glorious it is!" he said. Then, as the
glow vanished he fell into a deep and tranquil sleep, from which he
never awoke. Such was the peaceful end of my brother Patrick, at the
comparatively early age of forty-four years.

CHAPTER 4. My Early Years.

I WAS born on the morning of the 19th of August 1808, at my father's
house No. 47 York Place, Edinburgh. I was named James Hall after my
father's dear friend, Sir James Hall of Dunglass. My mother afterwards
told me that I must have been "a very noticin'  bairn," as she observed
me, when I was only a few days old, following with my little eyes any
one who happened to be in the room, as if I had been thinking to my
little self, "Who are you?"

After a suitable time I was put under the care of a nursemaid.
I remember her well--Mary Peterkin--a truly Scandinavian name.
She came from Haddingtonshire, where most of the people are of
Scandinavian origin. Her hair was of a bright yellow tint.
She was a cheerful young woman, and sang to me like a nightingale.
She could not only sing old Scotch songs, but had a wonderful memory
for fairy tales. When under the influence of a merry laugh,
you could scarcely see her eyes; their twinkle was hidden by her
eyelids and lashes. She was a willing worker, and was always ready
to lend a helping hand at everything about the house, she took great
pride in me, calling me her "laddie."

When I was toddling about the house, another sister was born, the last
of the family. Little Mary was very delicate; and to improve her
health she was sent to a small farm-house at Braid Hills, about four
miles south of Edinburgh. It was one of the most rural and beautiful
surroundings of the city at that time. One of my earliest
recollections is that of being taken to see poor little Mary at the
farmer's house. While my nursemaid was occupied in inquiring after my
sister, I was attracted by the bright red poppies in a neighbouring
field. When they made search for me I could not be found. I was lost
for more than an hour. At last, seeing a slight local disturbance
among the stalks of corn, they rushed to they spot, and brought me out
with an armful of brilliant red poppies. To this day poppies continue
to be my greatest favourites.

When I was about four or five years old, I was observed to give a
decided preference to the use of my left hand. Everything was done to
prevent my using it in preference to the right. My mother thought that
it arose from my being carried on the wrong arm by my nurse while an
infant. The right hand was thus confined, and the left hand was used.
I was constantly corrected, but "on the sly" I always used it,
especially in drawing my first little sketches. At last my father,
after viewing with pleasure one of my artistic efforts, done with the
forbidden hand, granted it liberty and independence for all time
coming. "Well," he said, "you may go on in your own way in the use of
your left hand, but I fear you will be an awkward fellow in everything
that requires handiness in life. I used my right hand in all that was
necessary, and my left in all sorts of practical manipulative affairs.
My left hand has accordingly been my most willing and obedient servant
in transmitting my will through my fingers into material or visible
forms. In this way I became ambidexter.

When I was about four years old, I often followed my father into his
workshop when he had occasion to show to his visitors some of his
mechanical contrivances or artistic models. The persons present
usually expressed their admiration in warm terms of what was shown to
them. On one occasion I gently pulled the coat-tail of one of the
listeners and confidentially said to him, as if I knew all about it,
"My papa's a kevie Fellae!"  My father was so greatly amused by this
remark that he often referred to it as "the last good thing" from that
old-fashioned creature little Jamie.

One of my earliest recollections is the annual celebration of my
brother Patrick's birthday. Being the eldest of the family, his
birthday was held in special honour. My father invited about twenty of
his most intimate friends to dinner. My mother brought her culinary
powers into full operation. The younger members of the family also
took a lively interest in all that was going on, with certain
reversionary views as to "the day after the feast."  We took a great
interest in the Trifle, which was no trifle in reality, in so far as
regarded the care and anxiety involved in its preparation.
In connection with this celebration, it was all established institution
that a large hamper always arrived in good time from the farm attached
to my mother's old home at Woodhall, near Edinburgh. It contained many
substantial elements for the entertainment--a fine turkey, fowls,
duck, and suchlike; with two magnums of the richest cream. There never
was such cream! It established a standard of cream in my memory;
and since then I have always been hypercritical about the article.

On one of these occasions, when I was about four years old, and being
the youngest of the family, I was taken into the company after the
dinner was over, and held up by my sister Jane to sing a verse from a
little song which my nurse Mary Peterkin had taught me, and Which ran
thus:

"I'll no bide till Saturday,
But I'll awa' tile morn,
An' follow Donald Hielandman,
An' carry his poother-horn."

This was my first and last vocal performance. It was received with
great applause. In fact, it was encored. The word "poother,"
which I pronounced "pootle", excited the enthusiasm of the audience.
I was then sent to bed with a bit of plum-cake, and was doubtless
awakened early next morning by the irritation of the dried crumbs of
the previous night's feast.

I am reminded, by reading over a letter of my brother Patrick's, of an
awkward circumstance that happened to me when I was six years old.
In his letter to my father, dated London, 22d September 1814, he says:
"I did get a surprise when Margaret's letter informed me of my little
brother Jamie's fall. It was a wonderful escape. For God's sake keep
an eye upon him!"  Like other strong and healthy boys, I had a turn for
amusing myself in my own way. When sliding down the railing of the
stairs I lost my grip and fell suddenly over. The steps were of stone.
Fortunately, the servants were just coming up laden with carpets which
they had been beating. I fell into their midst and knocked them out of
their hands. I was thus saved from cracking my poor little skull.
But for that there might have been no steam hammer--at least of my
contrivance!

Everything connected with war and warlike exploits is interesting to a
boy. The war with France was then in full progress. Troops and bands
paraded the streets. Recruits were sent away as fast as they could be
drilled. The whole air was filled with war. Everybody was full of
excitement about the progress of events in Spain. When the great guns
boomed forth from the Castle, the people were first startled.
Then they were surprised and anxious. There had been a battle and a
victory! "Who had fallen?" was the first thought in many minds.
Where had the battle been, and what was the victory? Business was
suspended. People rushed about the streets to ascertain the facts.
It might have been at Salamanca, Talavera, or Vittoria. But a long
time elapsed before the details could be received; and during that time
sad suspense and anxiety prevailed in almost every household.
There was no telegraph then. It was only after the Gazette had been
published that people knew who had fallen and who had survived.

The war proceeded. The volunteering which went on at the time gave
quite a military aspect to the city. I remember how odd it appeared to
me to see some well-known faces and figures metamorphosed into soldiers
It was considered a test of loyalty as well as of patriotism, to give
time, money, and leisure to take up the arms of defence, and to
practise daily in military uniform in the Meadows or on Bruntsfield
Links. Windows were thrown up to hear the bands playing at the head of
the troops, and crowds of boys, full of military ardour, went, as usual,
hand to hand in front of the drums and fifes. The most interesting
part of the procession to my mind was the pioneers in front, with their
leather aprons, their axes and saws, and their big hairy caps and
beards. They were to me so suggestive of clearing the way through
hedges and forests, and of what war was in its actual progress.

Every victory was followed by the importation of large numbers of
French prisoners. Many of them were sent to Edinburgh Castle.
They were permitted to relieve the tedium of their confinement by
manufacturing and selling toys; workboxes, brooches, and carved work of
different kinds. In the construction of these they exhibited great
skill, taste, and judgment. They carved them out of bits of bone and
wood. The patterns were most beautiful; and they were ingeniously and
tastefully ornamented. The articles were to be had for a mere trifle,
although fit to be placed with the most choice objects of artistic
skill.

These poor prisoners of war were allowed to work at their tasteful
handicrafts in small sheds or temporary workshops at the Castle, behind
the palisades which separated them from their free customers outside.
There was just room between the bars of the palisades for them to hand
through their exquisite works, and to receive in return the modest
prices which they charged. The front of these palisades became a
favourite resort for the inhabitants of Edinburgh; and especially for
the young folks. I well remember being impressed with the contrast
between the almost savage aspect of these dark-haired foreigners,
and the neat and delicate produce of their skilful fingers.

At the peace of 1814, which followed the siege of Paris, great
rejoicings and illuminations took place, in the belief that the war was
at an end. The French prisoners were sent back to their own country,
alas! to appear again before us at Waterloo. The liberation of those
confined in Edinburgh Castle was accompanied by an extraordinary scene.
The French prisoners marched down to the transport ships at Leith by
torchlight. All the town was out to see them. They passed in military
procession through the principal streets, singing as they marched along
their revolutionary airs, "Ca lra" and "The Marseillaise."  The wild
enthusiasm of these haggard-looking men, lit up by torchlight and
accompanied by the cheers of the dense crowd which lined the streets
and filled the windows, made an impression on my mind that I can never
forget.

A year passed. Napoleon returned from Elba, and was rejoined by nearly
all his old fighting-men. I well remember, young as I was, an assembly
of the inhabitants of Edinburgh in Charlotte Square, to bid farewell to
the troops and officers then in garrison. It was a fine summer
evening when this sad meeting took place. The bands were playing as
their last performance, "Go where glory waits thee!"  The air brought
tears to many eyes; for many who were in the ranks might never return.
After many a hand-shaking, the troops marched to the Castle, previous
to their early embarkation for the Low Countries on the following
morning.

Then came Waterloo and the victory! The Castle guns boomed forth again;
and the streets were filled with people anxious to hear the news.
At last came the Gazette filled with the details of the killed and
wounded. Many a heart was broken, many a fireside was made desolate.
It was indeed a sad time. The terrible anxiety that pervaded so many
families; the dreadful sacrifice of lives on so many battlefields; and
the enormously increased taxation, which caused so many families to
stint themselves to even the barest necessaries of life;--such was
the inglorious side of war.

But there was also the glory, which almost compensated for the sorrow.
I cannot resist narrating the entry of the Forty-second Regiment into
Edinburgh shortly after the battle of Waterloo. The old "Black Watch"
is a regiment dear to every Scottish heart. It has fought and
struggled when resistance was almost certain death. At Quatre Bras two
flank companies were cut to pieces by Pire's cavalry. The rest of the
regiment was assailed by Reille's furious cannonade, and suffered
severely. The French were beaten back, and the remnant of the
Forty-second retired to Waterloo, where they formed part of the brigade
under Major-General Pack. At the first grand charge of the French,
Picton fell and many were killed. Then the charge of the Greys took
place, and the Highland regiments rushed forward, with cries of
"Scotland for ever!"  Only a remnant of the Forty-second survived.
They were however recruited, and marched into France with the rest of
the army.

Towards the end of the year the Forty-Second returned to England,
and in the beginning of 1816 they set out on their march towards
Edinburgh. They were everywhere welcomed with enthusiasm. Crowds
turned out to meet them and cheer them. When the first division of the
regiment approached Edinburgh, almost the entire population turned out
to welcome them. At Musselburgh, six miles off; the road was thronged
with people. When the soldiers reached Piershill, two miles off, the
road was so crowded that it took them two hours to reach the Castle.
I was on a balcony in the upper part of the High Street, and my father,
mother, and sisters were with me. We had waited very long; but at last
we heard the distant sound of the cheers, which came on and on, louder
and louder.

The High Street was wedged with people excited and anxious.
There seemed scarcely room for a regiment to march through them.
The house-tops and windows were crowded with spectators. It was a
grand sight. The high-gabled houses reaching as far as the eye could
see, St. Giles' with its mural crown, the Tron Kirk in the distance,
and the picturesque details of the buildings, all added to the
effectiveness of the scene.

At last the head of the gallant band appeared. The red coats gradually
wedged their way through the crowd, amidst the ringing of bells and the
cheers of the spectators. Every window was in a wave of gladness,
and every house-top was in a fever of excitement. As the red line
passed our balcony, with Colonel Dick at its head, we saw a sight that
can never be forgotten. The red-and-white plumes, the tattered colours
riddled with bullets, the glittering bayonets, were seen amidst the
crowd that thronged round the gallant heroes, amidst tears and cheers
and hand-shakings and shouts of excitement. The mass of men appeared
like a solid body moving slowly along; the soldiers being almost hidden
amongst the crowd. At last they passed, the pipers and drums playing a
Highland march; and the Forty-Second slowly entered the Castle. It was
perhaps the most extraordinary scene ever witnessed in Edinburgh.

One of my greatest enjoyments when a child was in going out with the
servants to the Calton, and wait while the "claes" bleached in the sun
on the grassy slopes of the hill. The air was bright and fresh and
pure. The lasses regarded these occasions as a sort of holiday.
One or two of the children usually accompanied them. They sat
together, and the servants told us their auld-warld stories; common
enough in those days, but which have now, in a measure, been forgotten.
"Steam" and "progress" have made the world much less youthful and
joyous than it was then.

The women brought their work and their needles with them, and when they
had told their stories, the children ran about the hill making bunches
of wild flowers--including harebells and wild thyme. They ran after
the butterflies and the bumbees, and made acquaintance in a small way
with the beauties of nature. Then the servants opened their baskets of
provisions, and we had a delightful picnic. Though I am now writing
about seventy years after the date of these events, I can almost
believe that I am enjoying the delightful perfume of the wild thyme and
the fragrant plants and flowers, wafted around me by the warm breezes
of the Calton hillside.

In the days I refer to, there was always a most cheerful and intimate
intercourse kept up between the children and the servants. They were
members of the same family, and were treated as such. The servants
were for the most part country-bred--daughters of farm servants or
small farmers. They were fairly educated at their parish schools;
they could read and write, and had an abundant store of old
recollections. Many a pleasant crack we had with them as to their
native places, their families, and all that was connected with them.
They became lastingly attached to their masters and mistresses, as well
as to the children. All this led to true attachment; and when they
left; us, for the most part to be married we continued to keep up a
correspondence with them, which lasted for many years.

While enjoying these delightful holidays, before my school-days began,
my practical education was in progress, especially in the way of
acquaintance with the habits of nature in a vast variety of its phases,
always so attractive to the minds of healthy children. It happened
that close to the Calton Hill, in the valley at its northern side,
there were many workshops where interesting trades were carried on;
there were coppersmiths, tinsmiths, brass-founders, goldbeaters, and
blacksmiths. Their shops were all arranged in a busy group at the foot
of the hill, in a place called Greenside. The workshops were open to
the inspection of passers-by. Little boys looked in and saw the men at
work amidst the blaze of fires and the beatings of hammers.

Amongst others, I was an ardent admirer. I may almost say that this
row of busy workshops was my first school of practical education.
I observed the mechanical manipulation of the men, their dexterous use
of the hammer, the chisel, and the file; and I imbibed many lessons
which afterwards proved of use to me. Then I had tools at home in my
father's workshop. I tried to follow their methods; I became greatly
interested in the use of tools and their appliances; I could make
things for myself. In short, I became so skilled that the people about
the house called me "a little Jack-of-all-trades."

While sitting on the grassy slopes of the Calton Hill I would often
hear the chimes sounding from the grand old tower of St.Giles.
The cathedral lay on the other side of the valley which divides the
Old Town from the New. The sounds came over the murmur of the traffic
in the streets below.

The chime-bells were played every day from twelve till one--the
old-fashioned dinner-hour of the citizens. The practice had been in
existence for more than a hundred and fifty years. The pleasing effect
of the merry airs, which came wafted tome by the warm summer breezes,
made me long to see them as well as hear them.

[Image]  Mural crown of St Giles', Edinburgh

My father was always anxious to give pleasure to his children.
Accordingly, he took me one day, as a special treat, to the top of the
grand old tower, to see the chimes played. As we passed up the tower,
a strong vaulted room was pointed out to me, where the witches used to
be imprisoned. I was told that the poor old women were often taken
down from this dark vault to be burnt alive! Such terrible tales
enveloped the tower with a horrible fascination to my young mind.
What a fearful contrast to the merry sound of the chimes issuing from
its roof on a bright summer day.

On my way up to the top flat, where the chimes were played, I had to
pass through the vault in which the great pendulum was slowly swinging
in its ghostly-like tick-tack, tick-tack; while the great ancient clock
was keeping time with its sudden and startling movement. The whole
scene was almost as uncanny as the witches' cell underneath. There was
also a wild rumbling thumping sound overhead. I soon discovered the
cause of this, when I entered the flat where the musician was at work.
He was seen in violent action, beating or hammering on the keys of a
gigantic pianoforte-like apparatus. The instruments he used were two
great leather-faced mallets, one of which he held in each hand.
Each key was connected by iron rods with the chime-bells above.
The frantic and mad-like movements of the musician, as he energetically
rushed from one key to another, often widely apart gave me the idea
that the man was daft--especially as the noise of the mallets was
such that I heard no music emitted from the chimes so far overhead.
It was only when I had climbed up the stair of the tower to where the
bells were rung that I understood the performance, and comprehended the
beating of the chimes which gave me so much pleasure when I heard them
at a distance.

Another source of enjoyment in my early days was to accompany my mother
to the market. As I have said before, my mother, though generous in
her hospitality, was necessarily thrifty and economical in the
management of her household. There were no less than fourteen persons
in the house to be fed, and this required a good deal of marketing.
At the time I refer to, (about 1816, it was the practice of every lady
who took pride in managing economically the home department of her
husband's affairs, to go to market in person. The principal markets in
Edinburgh were then situated in the valley between the Old and New Towns,
in what used to be called the Nor Loch.

Dealers in fish and vegetables had their stalls there: the market for
butcher meat was near at hand: each being in their several locations.
It was a very lively and bustling sight to see the marketing going on.
When a lady was observed approaching, likely to be a customer, she was
at once surrounded by the "caddies."  They were a set of sturdy
hard-working women, each with a creel on her back. Their competition
for the employer sometimes took a rather energetic form. The rival
candidates pointed to her with violent exclamations; "She's my ledie!
she's my ledie!" ejaculated one and all. To dispel the disorder,
a selection of one of the caddies would be made, and then all was quiet
again until another customer appeared.

There was a regular order in which the purchases were deposited in the
creel. First, there came the fish, which were carefully deposited in
the lowest part, with a clean deal board over them. The fishwives were
a most sturdy and independent class, both in manners and language.
When at home, at Newhaven or Fisherrow, they made and mended their
husbands' nets, put their fishing tackle to rights, and when the
fishing boats came in they took the fish to market at Edinburgh.
To see the groups of these hard-working women trudging along with their
heavy creels on their backs, clothed in their remarkable costume,
with their striped petticoats kilted up and showing their sturdy legs,
was indeed a remarkable sight. They were cheerful and good-natured,
but very outspoken. Their skins were clear and ruddy, and many of the
young fishwives were handsome and pretty. They were, in fact, the
incarnation of robust health. In dealing with them at the Fish Market
there was a good deal of higgling. They often asked two or three times
more than the fish were worth--at least, according to the then market
price. After a stormy night, during which the husbands and sons had
toiled to catch the fish, on the usual question being asked,
"Weel, Janet, hoo's haddies the day!" "Haddies, mem? Ou, haddies is
men's lives the day!"  which was often true, as haddocks were often
caught at the risk of their husbands' lives. After the usual amount of
higgling, the haddies were brought down to their proper market price,
--sometimes a penny for a good haddock, or, when herrings were rife,
a dozen herrings for twopence, crabs for a penny, and lobsters for
threepence. For there were no railways then to convey the fish to
England, and thus equalise the price for all classes of the community.

Let me mention here a controversy between a fishwife and a buyer called
Thomson. the buyer offered a price so ridiculously small for a parcel
of fish that the seller became quite indignant, and she terminated at
once all further higgling. Looking up to him, she said, "Lord help yer
e'e-sight, Maister Tamson!" "Lord help my e'e-sight, woman! What has
that to do with it?" "Ou," said she, "because ye ha'e nae nose to put
spectacles on!"  As it happened, poor Mr. Thomson had, by some accident
or disease, so little of a nose left, if any at all, that the bridge of
the nose for holding up the spectacles was almost entirely wanting.
And thus did the fishwife retaliate on her niggardly customer.

When my mother had got her fish laid at the bottom of the creel, she
next went to the "flesher" for her butcher-meat. There was no higgling
here, for the meat was sold at the ordinary market price. Then came the
poultry stratum; then the vegetables, or fruits in their season;
and, finally, there was "the floore"--a bunch of flowers;
not a costly bouquet, but a, large assortment of wallflowers, daffodils
(with their early spring fragrance), polyanthuses, lilacs, gilly-flowers,
and the glorious old-fashioned cabbage rose, as well as the even more
gloriously fragrant moss rose. The caddy's creel was then topped up,
and the marketing was completed. The lady was followed home; the
contents were placed in the larder; and the flowers distributed all
over the house.

I have many curious traditional evidences of the great fondness for
cats which distinguished the Nasmyth family for several generations.
My father had always one or two of such domestic favourites, who were,
in the best sense, his "familiars."  Their quiet, companionable habits
rendered them very acceptable company when engaged in his artistic
work. I know of no sound so pleasantly tranquillising as the purring
of a cat, or of anything more worthy of admiration in animal habit as
the neat, compact, and elegant manner in which the cat adjusts itself
at the fireside, or in a snug, cosy place, when it settles down for a
long quiet sleep. Every spare moment that a cat has before lying down
to rest is occupied in carefully cleaning itself, even under adverse
circumstances. The cat is the true original inventor of a sanitary
process, which has lately been patented and paraded before the public
as a sanitary novelty; and yet it has been in practice ever since cats
were created. Would that men and women were more alive to habitual
cleanliness--even the cleanliness of cats. The kindly and gentle
animal gives us all a lesson in these respects.

Then, nothing can be more beautiful in animal action than the
exquisitely precise and graceful manner in which the cat exerts the
exact amount of effort requisite to land it at the height and spot it
wishes to reach at one bound. The neat and delicately precise manner
in which cats use their paws when playing with those who habitually
treat them with gentle kindness is truly admirable. In these respects
cats are entitled to the most kindly regard. There are, unfortunately,
many who entertain a strong prejudice against this most perfect and
beautiful member of the animal creation, and who abuse them because
they resist ill-treatment, occasioned by their innate feeling of
independence. Cats have no doubt less personal attachment than dogs,
but when kindly treated they become in many respects attached and
affectionate animals.

My father, when a boy, made occasional visits to Hamilton, in the West
of Scotland, where the descendants of his Covenanting ancestors still
lived. One of them was an old bachelor--a recluse sort of man;
and yet he had the Nasmyth love of cats. Being of pious pedigree and
habits, he always ended the day by a long and audible prayer.
My father and his companions used to go to the door of his house to
listen to him, but especially to hear his culminating finale.
He prayed that the Lord would help him to forgive his enemies and all
those who had done him injury; and then, with a loud burst, he
concluded, "Except John Anderson o' the Toonhead, for he killed my cat,
and him I'll ne'er forgie! In conclusion, I may again refer to Elspeth
Nasmyth, who was burnt alive for witchcraft, because she had four black
cats, and read her Bible through two Pairs of spectacles!

CHAPTER 5. My School-days.

Before I went to school it was my good fortune to be placed under the
special care of my eldest sister, Jane. She was twenty years older
than myself, and had acquired much practical experience in the
management of the younger members of the family. I could not have
had a more careful teacher. She initiated me into the difficulties of
A B C, and by learning me to read she gave me a key to the thoughts of
the greatest thinkers who have ever lived.

But all this was accomplished at first in a humdrum and tentative way.
About seventy years ago children's books were very uninteresting.
In the little stories manufactured for children, the good boy ended in
a Coach-and-four, and the bad boy in a ride to Tyburn. The good boys
must have been a set of little snobs and prigs, and I could scarcely
imagine that they could ever have lived as they were represented in
these goody books. If so, they must have been the most tiresome and
uninteresting vermin that can possibly be imagined. After my sister had
done what she could for me, I was sent to school to learn "English."
I was placed under the tuition of a leading teacher called Knight,
whose school-room was in the upper storey of a house in George Street.
Here I learned to read with ease. But my primitive habit of spelling
by ear, in accordance with the simple sound of the letters of the
alphabet (phonetically, so to speak) brought me into collision with my
teacher. I got many a cuff on the side of the head, and many a
"palmy" on my hands with a thick strap of hard leather, which did not
give me very inviting views as to the pleasures of learning.
The master was vicious and vindictive. I think it a cowardly way to
deal with a little boy in so cruel a manner, and to send him home with
his back and fingers tingling and sometimes bleeding, because he cannot
learn so quickly as his fellows.

On one occasion Knight got out of temper with my stupidity or dulness
in not comprehending something about 'a preter-pluperfect tense,' or
some mystery of that sort. He seized me by the ears, and beat my head
against the wall behind me with such savage violence that when he let
me go, stunned and unable to stand, I fell forward on the floor
bleeding violently at the nose, and with a terrific headache.
The wretch might have ruined my brain for life. I was carried home and
put to bed, where I lay helpless for more than a week. My father
threatened to summon the teacher before the magistrates for what might
have been a fatal assault on poor little me; but on making a humble
apology for his brutal usage he was let off. Of course I was not sent
back to his school. I have ever since entertained a hatred against
grammatical rules.

There was at that time an excellent system of teaching young folks the
value of thrift. This consisted in saving for some purpose or another
the Saturdays penny--one penny being our weekly allowance of
pocket-money. The feats we could perform in the way of procuring toys,
picture-books, or the materials for constructing flying kites, would
amaze the youngsters of the present day, who are generally spoiled by
extravagance. And yet we obtained far more pleasure from our
purchases. We had in my time "penny pigs," or thrift boxes.
They were made in a vase form, of brown glazed earthenware, the only
entrance to which was a slit--enough to give entrance to a penny.
When the Saturday's penny was not required for any immediate purposes,
it was dropped through the slit, and remained there until the box was
full. The maximum of pennies it could contain was about forty-eight.
When that was accomplished, the penny pig was broken with a hammer,
and its rich contents flowed forth. The breaking of the pig was quite
an event. The fine fat old George the Third penny pieces looked
thoroughly substantial in our eyes. And then there was the spending of
the money,--for some long-looked-for toy, or pencils, or book,
or painting materials.

One of the ways in which I used my Saturday pennies was in going with
some of my companions into the country to have a picnic. We used to
light a fire behind a hedge or a dyke, or in the corner of some ruin,
and there roast our potatoes, or broil a red herring on an extempore
gridiron we contrived for the purpose. We lit the fire by means of a
flint and steel and a tinder-box, which in those days every boy used to
possess. The bramble-berries gave us our dessert. We thoroughly
enjoyed these glorious Saturday afternoons. It gave us quite a
Robinson Crusoe sort of feeling to be thus secluded from the world.
Then the beauty of the scenery amidst which we took our repast was such
as I cannot attempt to describe. A walk of an hour or so would bring
us into the presence of an old castle, or amongst the rocky furze and
heather-clad hills, amidst clear rapid streams, so that, but for the
distant peeps of the city, one might think that he was far from the
busy haunts of men and boys.

To return to my school-days. Shortly after I left the school in
George Street, where the schoolmaster had almost split my skull in
battering it upon the wall behind me, I was entered as a pupil at the
Edinburgh High School, in October 1817. The school was situated near
the old Infirmary. Professor Pillans was the rector, and under him
were four masters. I was set to study Latin under Mr. Irvine. He was
a mere schoolmaster in the narrowest sense of the term. He was not
endowed with the best of tempers, and it was often put to the
breaking strain by the tricks and negligence of the lower-form
portion of his class. It consisted of nearly two hundred boys;
the other three masters had about the same number of scholars.
They each had a separate class-room.

I began to learn the elementary rudiments of Latin grammar. But not
having any natural aptitude for aquiring classic learning so called,
I fear I made but little progress during the three years that I
remained at the High School. Had the master explained to us how
nearly allied many of the Latin and Greek roots were to our familiar
English words, I feel assured that so interesting and valuable a
department of instruction would not have been neglected. But our
memories were strained by being made to say off "by heart," as it was
absurdly called, whole batches of grammatical rules, with all the
botheration of irregular verbs and suchlike. So far as I was
concerned, I derived little benefit from my High School teaching,
except that I derived one lesson which is of great use in after life.
I mean as regards the performance of duty. I did my tasks punctually
and cheerfully, though they were far from agreeable. This is an
exercise in early life that is very useful in later years.

In my walks to and from the High School, the usual way was along the
North and South Bridges,--the first over the Nor' Loch, now the
railway station, and the second over the Cowgate. That was the main
street between the Old Town and the New. But there were numerous
wynds and closes (as the narrow streets are called) which led down
from the High Street and the upper part of the Canongate to the High
School, through which I often preferred to wander. So long as Old
Edinburgh was confined within its walls the nobles lived in those
narrow streets; and the Old houses are full of historical incident.
My father often pointed out these houses to me, and I loved to keep
up my recollections. I must have had a little of the antiquarian
spirit even then. I got to know the most remarkable of those ancient
houses--many of which were distinguished by the inscriptions on the
lintel of the entrance, as well as the arms of the former possessors.
Some had mottoes such as this: "BLESIT BE GOD AND HYS GIFTIS. 1584."
There was often a tower-shaped projection from the main front of the
house, up which a spiral stair proceeded.

This is usually a feature in old Scotch buildings. But in these closes
the entrance to the houses was through a ponderous door, studded with
great broad-headed nails, with loopholes at each side of the door,
as if to present the strongest possible resistance to any attempt at
forcible entrance. Indeed, in the old times before the Union the
nobles were often as strong as the King, and many a time the High Street
was reddened by the blood of the noblest and bravest of the land.
In 1588 there was a cry of "A Naesmyth," "A Scott," in the High Street.
It was followed by a clash of arms, and two of Sir Michael Naesmyth's
sons were killed in that bloody feud. Edinburgh was often the scene of
such disasters. Hence the strengthening of their houses, so as to
resist the inroads of feudal enemies.

[Image]  Doorhead, from an old mansion

The mason-work of the doors was executed with great care and dexterity.
It was chamfered at the edges in a bold manner, and ornamented with an
O.G. bordering, which had a fine effect while it rendered the entrance
more pleasant by the absence of sharp angles. The same style of
ornamentation was generally found round the edges of the stone-work of
the windows, most commonly by chamfering off the square angle of the
stone-work. This not only added a grim grace to the appearance of the
windows, but allowed a more free entrance of light into the apartments,
while it permitted the inmates to have a better ranged view up and down
the Close. These gloomy-looking mansions were grim in a terrible
sense, and they reminded one of the fearful transactions of
"the good old times!"

On many occasions, when I was taking a daunder through these historic
houses in the wynds and closes of the Old Town, I have met Sir Walter
Scott showing them to his visitors, and listened to his deep, earnest
voice while narrating to them some terrible incident in regard to their
former inhabitants. On other occasions I have frequently met Sir Walter
sturdily limping along over the North Bridge, while on his way from the
Court of Session (where he acted as Clerk of the Records) to his house
in Castle Street. In the same way I saw most of the public characters
connected with the Law Courts or the University. Sir Waiter was easily
distinguished by his height, as well as his limp or halt in his walk.
My father was intimate with most, if not all, of the remarkable
Edinburgh characters, and when I had the pleasure of accompanying him
in his afternoon walks I could look at them and hear them in the
conversations that took place.

I remember, when I was with my father in one of his walks, that a
young English artist accompanied us. He had come across the Border to
be married at Gretna Green, and he brought his bride onward to
Edinburgh. My father wished to show him some of the most remarkable
old buildings of the town. It was about the end of 1817, when one of
the most interesting buildings in Edinburgh was about to be
demolished. This was no less a place than the Old Tolbooth in the
High Street,--a grand but gloomy old building. It had been
originally used as the city palace of the Scottish kings. There they
held their councils and dispensed justice. But in course of time the
King and Court abandoned the place, and it had sunk into a gaol or
prison for the most abandoned of malefactors. After their trial the
prisoners were kept there waiting for execution, and they were hanged
on a flat-roofed portion of the building at its west end.

[Image]  The Old Tolbooth, Edinburgh. By Alexander Nasmyth.
         From the drawing in the possession of lord Inglis,
         Lord Justice-General.

At one of the strongest parts of the building a strong oak chest,
iron-plated, had been built in, held fast by a thick wall of stone and
mortar on each side. The iron chest measured about nine feet square,
and was closed by a strong iron door with heavy bolts and locks. This
was the Heart of Midlothian, the condemned cell of the Tolbooth.*
[footnote...
Long after the condemned cell had been pulled down, an English Chartist
went down to Edinburgh to address a large meeting of his brother
politicians. He began by addressing them as "Men of the Heart of
Midlothian!"  There was a loud guffaw throughout the audience.
He addressed them as if they were a body of condemned malefactors.
...]

The iron chest was so heavy that the large body of workmen could not,
with all their might, pull it out. After stripping it of its masonry,
they endeavoured by strong levers to tumble it down into the street.
At last, with a "Yo! heave ho!" it fell down with a mighty crash.

The iron chest was so strong that it held together, and only the narrow
iron door, with its locks, bolts, and bars, was burst open, and jerked
off amongst the bystanders.

It was quite a scene. A large crowd had assembled, and amongst them
was Sir Walter Scott. Recognising my father, he stood by him,
while both awaited the ponderous crash. Sir Walter was still the Great
Unknown. When his Heart of Midlothian was published in the course of
the following year, it was pretty well known that he was the author of
that fascinating novel. Sir Waiter got the door and the key, as
relics, for his house at Abbotsford.

There was a rush of people towards the iron chest to look into the dark
interior of that veritable chamber of horrors. My father's artist
friend went forward with the rest, and endeavoured to pick up some
remnant of the demolished structure. As soon as the clouds of dust had
been dispersed, he observed, under the place where the iron box had
stood, a number of skeletons of rats, as dry as mummies. He selected
one of these,*
[footnote...
I was so much impressed with the events of the day, and also with the
fact of the young artist having taken with him so repulsive a memento
as a rat's skeleton, that I never forgot it. More than half century
later, when I was at a private view of the Royal Academy, I saw sitting
on one of the sofas a remarkable and venerable-looking old gentleman.
On inquiring of my friend Thomas Webster who he was, he answered,
"Why, that's old Linnell!"  I then took the liberty of sitting down
beside him, and, apologising for my intrusion on his notice, I said it
was just fifty-seven years since I had last seen him! I mentioned the
circumstance of the rat-skeleton which he had put in his pocket at
Edinburgh. He was pleased and astonished to have the facts so vividly
recalled to his mind. At last he said, "Well, I have that mummy rat,
the relic of the Heart of Midlothian, safe in a cabinet of curiosities
in my house at Redhill to this day."
...]
wrapped it in a newspaper and put it in his pocket as a recollection
of his first day in Edinburgh, and of the final destruction of the
"Heart of Midlothian."  This artist was no other than John Linnell,
the afterwards famous landscape painter. He was then a young and
unknown man. He brought a letter of introduction to my father.
He also brought a landscape as a specimen of his young efforts, and it
was so splendidly done that my father augured a brilliant career for
this admirable artist.

I had the pleasure of seeing Sir Waiter Scott on another and, to me, a
very memorable occasion. From an early period of my schoolboy days I
had a great regard for every object that had reference to bygone times.
They influenced my imagination, and conjured up in my mind dreamy
visions of the people of olden days. It did not matter whether it was
an old coin or an old castle. took pleasure in rambling about the old
castles near Edinburgh, many of them connected with the times of Mary
Queen of Scots. Craigmillar Castle was within a few miles of the city;
there was also Crighton Castle, and above all Borthwick Castle.
This grand massive old ruin left a deep impression on my mind.
The sight of its gloomy interior, with the great hall lighted up only
by stray glints of sunshine, as if struggling for access through the
small deep-seated windows in its massive walls, together with its
connection with the life and times of Queen Mary, had a far greater
influence upon my mind than I experienced while standing amidst the
Coliseum at Rome.

Like many earnest-minded boys, I had a severe attack at the right time
of life, say from 12 to 15, of what I would call "the collecting period."
This consisted, in my case, of accumulating old coins, perhaps one of
the most salutary forms of this youthful passion. I made exchanges
with my school companions. Sometimes my father's friends, seeing my
anxiety to improve my collection gave me choice specimens of bronze and
other coins of the Roman emperors, usually duplicates from their own
collection.

These coins had the effect of promoting my knowledge of Roman history.
I read up in order to find out the acts and deeds of the old rulers of
the civilised world. Besides collecting the coins, I used to make
careful drawings of the obverse and reverse faces of each in an
illustrated catalogue which I kept in my little coin cabinet.

I remember one day, when sitting beside my father making a very careful
drawing of a fine bronze coin of Augustus, that Sir Walter Scott
entered the room. He frequently called upon my father in order to
consult him with respect to his architectural arrangements. Sir Walter
caught sight of me, and came forward to look over the work I was
engaged in. At his request I had the pleasure of showing him my little
store of coin treasures, after which he took out of his waistcoat
pocket a beautiful silver coin of the reign of Mary Queen of Scots,
and gave it to me as being his "young brother antiquarian."  I shall
never forget the kind fatherly way in which he presented it.
I considered it a great honour to be spoken to in so friendly a way by
such a man; besides, it vastly enriched my little collection of coins
and medals.

It was in the year 1817 that I had the pleasure, never to be forgotten,
of seeing the great engineer, James Watt. He was then close upon his
eighty-second year. His visit to Edinburgh was welcomed by the most
distinguished scientific and literary men of the city. My father had
the honour of meeting him at a dinner given by the Earl of Buchan,
at his residence in George Street. There were present, Sir James Hall,
President of the Royal Society; Francis Jeffrey, Editor of the
Edinburgh Review; Walter Scott, still the Great Unknown; and many other
distinguished notabilities. The cheerful old man delighted them with
his kindly talk, as well as astonished them with the extent and
profundity of his information.

On the following day Mr. Watt paid my father a visit he carefully
examined his artistic and other works. Having inspected with great
pleasure some landscape paintings of various scenes in Scotland
executed by my sisters, who were then highly efficient artists,
he purchased a specimen of each, as well as three landscapes painted by
my father, as a record of his pleasant visit to the capital of his
native country. I well remember the sight I then got of the Great
Engineer. I had just returned from the High School when he was leaving
my father's house. It was but a glimpse I had of him. But his
benevolent countenance and his tall but bent figure made an impression
on my mind that I can never forget. It was even something to have seen
for a few seconds so truly great and noble a man.

I did not long continue my passion for the collection of coins, I felt
a greater interest in mechanical pursuits. I have a most cherished and
grateful remembrance of the happy hours and days that I spent in my
father's workroom. When the weather was cold or wet ,he took refuge
with his lathe and tools, and there I followed and watched him.
He took the greatest pleasure in instructing me. Even in the most
humble mechanical job he was sure to direct my attention to the action
of the tools and to the construction of the work he had in hand,
and pointed out the manipulative processes requisite for its being
effectually carried out. My hearty zeal in assisting him was well
rewarded by his implanting in my mind the great fundamental principles
on which the practice of engineering in its grandest forms is based.
But I did not learn this all at once. It came only gradually, and by
dint of constant repetition and inculcation. In the meantime I made a
beginning by doing some little mechanical work on my own account.

While attending the High School, from 1817 to 1820, there was the usual
rage amongst boys for spinning-tops, "peeries," and "young cannon."
By means of my father's excellent foot-lathe I turned out the
spinning-tops in capital style, so much so that I be came quite noted
amongst my school companions. They all wanted to have specimens of my
productions. They would give any price for them. The peeries were
turned with perfect accuracy, and the steel shod, or spinning pivot,
was centred so as to correspond exactly with the axis of the top.
They could spin twice as long as the bought peeries. When at full
speed they would "sleep," that is, revolve without the slightest
waving. This was considered high art as regarded top-spinning.

Flying-kites and tissue paper balloons were articles that I was
somewhat famed for producing. There was a good deal of special skill
required for the production of a flying-kite. It must be perfectly
still and steady when at its highest flight in the air.
Paper messengers were sent up to it along the string which held it to
the ground. The top of the Calton Hill was the most favourite place
for enjoying this pleasant amusement.

Another article for which I became equally famous was the manufacture
of small brass cannon. These I cast and bored, and mounted on their
appropriate gun-carriages. They proved very effective, especially in
the loudness of the report when fired. I also converted large
cellar-keys into a sort of hand-cannon. A touch-hole was bored into
the barrel of the key, with a sliding brass collar that allowed the
key-guns to be loaded and primed and ready for firing. The principal
occasion on which the brass cannon and hand-guns were used was on the
4th of June--King George the Thirds birthday. This was always
celebrated with exuberant and noisy loyalty. The guns of the Castle
were fired at noon, and the number of shots corresponded with the
number of years that the king had reigned. The grand old Castle was
enveloped in smoke, and the discharges reverberated along the streets
and among the surrounding hills. Everything was in holiday order.
The coaches were hung with garlands, the shops were ornamented,
the troops were reviewed on Bruntsfield Links, and the citizens drank
the king's health at the Gross, throwing the glasses over their
shoulders. The boys fired off gunpowder, or threw squibs or crackers
from morning till night. It was one of the greatest schoolboy events
of the year. My little brass cannon and hand-guns were very busy
during that day. They were fired until they became quite hot.
These were the pre-lucifer days. The fire to light the powder at the
touch-hole was obtained by the use of a flint, a steel, and a tinder-box.
The flint was struck sharply on the steel; a spark of fire fell into
the tinderbox, and the match of hemp string, soaked in saltpetre,
was readily lit, and fired off the little guns.

I carried on quite a trade in forging beautiful little steels.
I forged them out of old files, which proved excellent material for the
purpose. I filed them up into neat and correct forms, and then
hardened and tempered them, secundum artem, at the little furnace stove
in my father's workroom, where of course there were also a suitable
anvil, hammer, and tongs. I often made potent use of these steels in
escaping from the ordeal of some severe task imposed upon me at school.
The schoolmaster often deputed his authority to the monitors to hear us
say our lessons. But when I slyly exhibited a beautiful steel the
monitor could not maintain his grim sense of duty, and he often let me
escape the ordeal of repeating some passage from a Latin school-book by
obtaining possession of the article. I thus bought myself off.
This system of bribery and corruption was no doubt shockingly improper,
but as I was not naturally endowed with the taste for learning Latin
and Greek, I continued my little diplomatic tricks until I left school.

As I have said, I did not learn much at the High School. My mind was
never opened up by what was taught me there. It was a mere matter of
rote and cram. I learnt by heart a number of Latin rules and phrases,
but what I learnt soon slipped from my memory. My young mind was
tormented by the tasks set before me. At the same time my hungry mind
thirsted for knowledge of another kind.

There was one thing, however, that I did learn at the High School. That
was the blessings and advantages of friendship. There were several of
my schoolfellows of a like disposition with myself, with whom I formed
attachments which ended only with life. I may mention two of them in
particular--Jemmy Patterson and Tom Smith. The former was the son of
one of the largest iron founders in Edinburgh. He was kind, good, and
intelligent. He and I were great cronies. He took me to his father's
workshops. Nothing could have been more agreeable to my tastes.
For there I saw how iron castings were made. Mill-work and
steam-engines were repaired there, and I could see the way in which
power was produced and communicated. To me it was a most instructive
school of practical mechanics. Although I was only about thirteen at
the time, I used to "lend a hand," in which hearty zeal made up for
want of strength. I look back to these days, especially to the
Saturday afternoons spent in the workshops of this admirably conducted
iron foundry, as a most important part of my education as a mechanical
engineer. I did not read about such things; for words were of little
use. But I saw and handled, and thus all the ideas in connection with
them became permanently rooted in my mind.

Each department of the iron foundry was superintended by an able and
intelligent man, who was distinguished not only by his ability but
for his steadiness and sobriety. The men were for the most part
promoted to their fore-manship from the ranks, and had been brought
up in the workshop from their boyhood. They possessed a strong
individuality of character, and served their employer faithfully and
loyally. One of these excellent men, with whom I was frequently
brought into contact, was William Watson. He took special charge of
all that related to the construction and repairs of steam-engines,
water-wheels, and mill-work generally. He was a skilful designer and
draughtsman, and an excellent pattern maker. His designs were drawn
in a bold and distinct style, on large deal boards, and were passed
into the hands of the mechanics to be translated by them into actual
work. It was no small privilege to me to stand by, and now and then
hold the end of the long straight edge, or by some humble but zealous
genuine help of mine contribute to the progress of these substantial
and most effective mechanical drawings. Watson explained to me,
in the most common-sense manner, his reasons for the various forms,
arrangements, and proportions of the details of his designs. He was
an enthusiast on the subject of Euclid; and to see the beautiful
problems applied by him in working out his excellent drawings was to me
a lesson beyond all price.

Watson was effectively assisted by his two sons, who carried out their
father's designs in constructing the wood patterns after which the
foundry-men or moulders reproduced their forms in cast iron, while the
smiths by their craft realised the wrought-iron portions. Those sons of
Mr. Watson were of that special class of workmen called millwrights--
a class now almost extinct, though many of the best known engineers
originally belonged to them. They could work with equal effectiveness
in wood or iron.

Another foreman in Mr. Patterson's foundry was called Lewis. He had
special charge of the iron castings designed for architectural and
ornamental purposes. He was a man of great taste and artistic
feeling, and I was able even at that time to appreciate the beauty of
his designs. One of the most original characters about the foundry,
however, was Johnie Syme. He took charge of the old Boulton and Watt
steam-engine, which gave motion to the machinery of the works.
It also produced the blast for the Cupolas, in which the pig and cast
iron scrap was daily melted and cast into the various objects produced
in the foundry. Johnie was a complete incarnation of technical
knowledge. He was the Jack-of-all-trades of the establishment;
and the standing counsel in every out-of-the-way case of managing and
overcoming mechanical difficulties. He was the superintendent of the
boring machines. In those days the boring of a steam-engine cylinder
was considered high art in excelsis! Patterson's firm was celebrated
for the accuracy of its boring.

I owe Johnie Syme a special debt of gratitude, as it was he who first
initiated me into that most important of all technical processes in
practical mechanism--the art of hardening and temperinq steel.
It is, perhaps, not saying too much to assert that the successful
practice of the mechanical arts, by means of which man rises from the
savage to the civilised state, is due to that wonderful change.
Man began with wood, and stone, and bone; he proceeded to bronze and
iron; but it was only by means of hardened steel that he could
accomplish anything in arms, in agriculture, or in architecture.
The instant hardening which occurs on plunging a red-hot piece of steel
into cold water may well be described as mysterious. Even in these
days, when science has defined the causes of so many phenomena,
the reason of steel becoming hard on suddenly cooling it down from a
red-heat, is a fact that no one has yet explained. The steel may be
tempered by modifying the degree of heat to which it is afterwards
subjected. It may thus be toughened by slightly reheating the hardened
steel; the resoftening course is indicated by certain prismatic tints,
which appear in a peculiar order of succession on its surface.
The skilful artisan thus knows by experience the exact point at which
it is necessary again to plunge it into cold water in order to secure
the requisite combination of toughness and hardness to the steel
required for his purposes.

In all these matters, my early instructor, Johnie Syme, gave me such
information as proved of the greatest use to me in the after progress
of my mechanical career. Johnie Syme was also the very incarnation of
quaint sly humour; and when communicating some of his most valued
arcana of practical mechanical knowledge he always reminded me of some
of Ostade's Dutchmen, by an almost indescribable sly humorous twinkle
of the eye, which in that droll way stamped his information on my
memory.

Tom Smith was another of my attached cronies. Our friendship began at
the High School in 1818. Our similarity of disposition bound us
together. Smith was the son of an enterprising general merchant at
Leith. His father had a special genius for practical chemistry.
He had established an extensive colour manufactory at Portobello, near
Edinburgh, where he produced white lead, red lead, and a great variety
of colours--in the preparation of which he required a thorough
knowledge of chemistry.Tom Smith inherited his father's tastes, and
admitted me to share in his experiments, which were carried on in a
chemical laboratory situated behind his father's house at the bottom of
Leith Walk.

We had a special means of communication. When anything particular was
going on at the laboratory, Tom hoisted a white flag on the top of a
high pole in his father's garden. Though I was more than a mile apart,
I kept a look-out in the direction of the laboratory with a spy-glass.
My father's house was at the top of Leith Walk, and Smith's house was
at the bottom of it. When the flag was hoisted I could clearly see the
invitation to me to "come down."  I was only too glad to run down the
Walk and join my chum, and take part with him in some interesting
chemical process. Mr. Smith, the father, made me heartily welcome.
He was pleased to see his son so much attached to me, and he perhaps
believed that I was worthy of his friendship. We took zealous part in
all the chemical proceedings, and in that way Tom was fitting himself
for the business of his life.

Mr. Smith was a most genial tempered man. He was shrewd and
quick-witted, like a native of York, as he was. I received the
greatest kindness from him as well as from his family. His house was
like a museum. It was full of cabinets, in which were placed choice
and interesting objects in natural history, geology, mineralogy, and
metallurgy. All were represented. Many of these specimens had been
brought to him from abroad by his ship captains who transported his
colour manufactures and other commodities to foreign parts.

My friend Tom Smith and I made it a rule--and in this we were
encouraged by his father--that, so far as was possible, we ourselves
should actually make the acids and other substances used in our
experiments. We were not to buy them ready made, as this would have
taken the zest out of our enjoyment. We should have lost the pleasure
and instruction of producing them by aid of our own wits and energies.
To encounter and overcome a difficulty is the most interesting of all
things. Hence, though often baffled, we eventually produced perfect
specimens of nitrous, nitric, and muriatic acids. We distilled alcohol
from duly fermented sugar and water, and rectified the resultant spirit
from fusel oil by passing the alcoholic vapour through animal charcoal
before it entered the worm of the still. We converted part of the
alcohol into sulphuric ether. We produced phosphorus from bones,
and elaborated many of the mysteries of chemistry.

The amount of practical information which we obtained by this system of
making our own chemical agents was such as to reward us, in many
respects, for the labour we underwent. To outsiders it might appear a
very troublesome and roundabout way of getting at the finally desired
result. But I feel certain that there is no better method of rooting
chemical or any other instruction, deeply in our minds. Indeed, I
regret that the same system is not pursued by young men of the present
day. They are seldom, if ever, called upon to exert their own wits and
industry to obtain the requisites for their instruction. A great deal
is now said about "technical education"; but how little there is of
technical handiness or head work! Everything is bought ready made to
their hands; and hence there is no call for individual ingenuity.

I often observe, in shop-windows, every detail of model ships and model
steam-engines, supplied ready made for those who are "said to be" of an
ingenious and mechanical turn. Thus the vital uses of resourcefulness
are done away with, and a sham exhibition of mechanical genius is
paraded before you by the young impostors--the result, for the most
part, of too free a supply of pocket money. I have known too many
instances of parents, led by such false evidence of constructive skill,
apprenticing their sons to some engineering firm; and, after paying
vast sums, finding out that the pretender comes out of the engineering
shop with no other practical accomplishment than that of cigar-smoking!

The truth is that the eyes and the fingers--the bare fingers--are
the two principal inlets to sound practical instruction. They are the
chief sources of trustworthy knowledge as to all the materials and
operations which the engineer has to deal with, No book knowledge can
avail for that purpose. The nature and properties of the materials
must come in through the finger ends. Hence, I have no faith in young
engineers who are addicted to wearing gloves. Gloves, especially kid
gloves, are perfect non-conductors of technical knowledge.
This has really more to do with the efficiency of young aspirants for
engineering success than most people are aware of!

CHAPTER 6.  Mechanical Beginnings.

I left the High School at the end of 1820. I carried with me a small
amount of Latin, and no Greek. I do not think I was much the better
for my small acquaintance with the dead languages. I wanted something
more living and quickening. I continued my studies at private classes.
Arithmetic and geometry were my favourite branches.The three first
books of Euclid were to me a new intellectual life. They brought out
my power of reasoning. They trained me mentally. They enabled me to
arrive at correct conclusions, and to acquire a knowledge of absolute
truths. It is because of this that I have ever since held the
beautifully perfect method of reasoning, as exhibited in the exact
method of arriving at Q.E.D., to be one of the most satisfactory
efforts and exercises of the human intellect.

Besides visiting and taking part in the works at Patterson's foundry,
and joining in the chemical experiments at Smith's laboratory, my
father gave me every opportunity for practising the art of drawing.
He taught me to sketch with exactness every object, whether natural or
artificial, so as to enable the hand to accurately reproduce what the
eye had seen. In order to acquire this almost invaluable art, which
can serve so many valuable purposes in life, he was careful to educate
my eye, so that I might perceive the relative proportions of the
objects placed before me. He would throw down at random a number of
bricks, or pieces of wood representing them, and set me to copy their
forms, their proportions, their lights and shadows respectively.

I have often heard him say that any one who could make a correct
drawing in regard to outline, and also indicate by a few effective
touches the variation of lights and shadows of such a group of model
object's, might not despair of making a good and correct sketch of the
exterior of York Minster!

My father was an enthusiast in praise of this graphic language,
and I have followed his example. In fact, it formed a principal part
of my own education. It gave me the power of recording observations
with a few graphic strokes of the pencil, which far surpassed in
expression any number of mere words. This graphic eloquence is one
of the highest gifts in conveying clear and correct ideas as to the
forms of objects--whether they be those of a simple and familiar
kind, or of some form of mechanical construction, or of the details of
fine building, or the characteristic features of a wide-stretching
landscape. This accomplishment of accurate drawing, which I achieved
for the most part in my father's work-room, served me many a good turn
in future years with reference to the engineering work which became the
business of my life.

I was constantly busy. Mind, hands, and body were kept in a state of
delightful and instructive activity. When not drawing, I occupied
myself in my father's workshop at the lathe, the furnace, or the bench.
I gradually became initiated into every variety of mechanical and
chemical manipulation. I made my own tools and constructed my chemical
apparatus, as far as lay in my power. With respect to the latter,
I constructed a very handy and effective blowpipe apparatus, consisting
of a small air force-pump, connected with a cylindrical vessel of tin
plate. By means of an occasional use of the handy pump, it yielded
such a fine steady blowpipe blast, as enabled me to bend glass tubes
and blow bulbs for thermometers, to analyse metals or mineral substances,
or to do any other work for which intense heat was necessary.
My natural aptitude for manipulation, whether in mechanical or chemical
operations, proved very serviceable to myself as well as to others;
and (as will be shown hereafter) it gained for me the friendship of
many distinguished scientific men.

But I did not devote myself altogether to experiments. Exercise is
as necessary for the body as the mind. Without full health a man
cannot enjoy comfort, nor can he possess endurance. I therefore took
plenty of exercise out of doors. I accompanied my father in his walks
round Edinburgh. My intellect was kept alive during these delightful
excursions. For sometimes my father was accompanied by brother-artists,
whose conversation is always so attractive; and sometimes by scientific
men, such as Sir James Hall, Professor Leslie, Dr. Brewster, and others.
Whatever may have been my opportunities for education so-called,
nothing could have better served the purpose of real education
(the evolution of the mental faculties) than the opportunities I
enjoyed while accompanying and listening to the conversation of men
distinguished for their originality of thought and their high
intellectual capacity. This was a mental culture of the best kind.

The volcanic origin of the beautiful scenery round Edinburgh was often
the subject of their conversation. Probably few visitors are aware
that all those remarkable eminences, which give to the city and its
surroundings so peculiar and romantic an aspect, are the results of the
operation, during inconceivably remote ages, of volcanic force
penetrating the earth's crust by disruptive power, and pouring forth
streams of molten lava, now shrunk and cooled into volcanic rock.
The observant eye, opened by the light of Science, can see unmistakable
evidences of a condition of things which were in action at periods so
remote as, in comparison, to shrink up the oldest of human records into
events of yesterday.

I had often the privilege of standing by and hearing the philosophic
Leslie, Brewster, and Hall, discussing these volcanic remains in their
actual presence; sometimes at Arthur's Seat or on the Calton Hill,
or at the rock on which Edinburgh Castle stands, Their observations
sank indelibly into my memory, and gave me the key to the origin of
this grand class of terrestrial phenomena. When standing at the
"Giant's Ribs," on the south side of Arthur's Seat, I felt as if one
of the grandest pages of the earth's history lay open before me.
The evidences of similar volcanic action abound in many other places
near Edinburgh; and they may be traced right across Scotland from the
Bass Rock to Fingal's Cave, the Giant's Causeway in Antrim, and Slievh
League on the south-west coast of Donegal in Ireland.

Volcanic action, in some inconceivably remote period of the earth's
crust history, has been the Plough, and after denudation by water,
has been the Harrow, by which the originally deep-seated mineral
treasures of the globe have been brought within the reach of man's
industrial efforts. It has thus yielded him inexhaustible mineral
harvests, and helped him to some of the most important material
elements in his progress towards civilisation. It is from this
consideration that, while enjoying the results of these grand
fundamental actions of the Creator's mighty agencies in their
picturesque aspect, the knowledge of their useful results to man adds
vastly to the grandeur of the contemplation of their aspect and nature.
This great subject caused me, even at this early period of my life, to
behold with special interest the first peep at the structure of the
moon's surface, as revealed to me by an excellent Ramsden "spy-glass,"
which my father possessed, and thus planted the seed of that earnest
desire to scrutinise more minutely the moon's wonderful surface, which
in after years I pursued by means of the powerful reflecting telescopes
constructed by myself.

To turn to another subject. In 1822 the loyalty of Scotland was
greatly excited when George the Fourth paid his well-known visit to
Edinburgh. It was then the second greatest city in the kingdom,
and had not been visited by royalty for about 170 years. The civic
authorities, and the inhabitants generally, exerted themselves to the
utmost to give the king a cordial welcome, in spite of a certain
feeling of dissatisfaction as to his personal character. The recent
trial and death of Queen Caroline had not been forgotten, yet all such
recollections were suppressed in the earnest desire to show every
respect to the royal visitor. Edinburgh was crowded with people from
all parts of the country; heather was arrayed on every bonnet and hat;
and the reception was on the whole magnificent. Perhaps the most
impressive spectacle was the orderliness of the multitude, all arrayed
in their Sunday clothes. The streets, windows; and house-tops were
crowded; and the Calton Hill, Salisbury Crags, and even Arthur's Seat
it self, were covered with people. On the night before the arrival a
gigantic bonfire on Arthur's Seat lit up with a tremendous blaze the
whole city, as well as the surrounding country. It formed a
magnificent and picturesque sight, illuminating the adjacent mountains
as well as the prominent features of the city. It made one imagine
that the grand old volcanic mountain had once more, after a rest of
some hundreds of thousands of years, burst out again in its former
vehemence of eruptive activity.

There were, of course, many very distinguished men who took part in the
pageant of the king's entry into Edinburgh, but none of them had their
presence more cordially acknowledged than Sir Walter Scott, who never
felt more proud of "his own romantic town" than he did upon this
occasion. It is unnecessary to mention the many interesting features
of the royal reception. The king's visit lasted for seven or eight
days, and everything passed off loyally, orderly, happily,
and successfully.

Shortly after this time there was a great deal of distress among the
labouring classes. All the manufacturing towns were short of
employment, and the weavers and factory workers were thrown upon the
public. Many of the workmen thought that politics were the causes of
their suffering. Radical clubs were formed, and the Glasgow weavers
began to drill at nights in the hopes of setting things to rights by
means of physical force. A large number of the starving weavers came
to Edinburgh. A committee was formed, and contributions were
collected, for the purpose of giving them temporary employment.
They were set to work to make roads and walks round the Calton Hill and
Crags. The fine walk immediately under the precipitous crags, which
opens out such perfect panoramic views of Edinburgh, was made by these
poor fellows. It was hard work for their delicate hands and fingers,
which before had been accustomed only to deal with threads and soft
fabrics. They were very badly suited for handling the mattock, shovel,
and hand-barrow. The result of their labours, however, proved of great
advantage to Edinburgh in opening up the beauties of its scenery.
The road round the crags is still called "The Radical Road."

Let me here mention one of the most memorable incidents of the year
1824. I refer to the destructive fire which took place in the old town
of Edinburgh. It broke out in an apartment situated in one of the
highest piles of houses in the High Street. In spite of every effort
of the firemen the entire pile was gutted and destroyed. The fire was
thought to be effectually arrested; but towards the afternoon of the
next day smoke was observed issuing from the upper part of the steeple
of the Tron Church. The  steeple was built of timber, covered with
lead. There is never smoke but there is fire; and at last the flames
burst forth. The height of the spire was so lofty that all attempts to
extinguish the fire were hopeless. The lead was soon melted, and
rushed in streams into the street below. At length the whole steeple
fell down with a frightful crash.

I happened to see the first outbreak of this extraordinary fire, and I
watched its progress to its close. Burning embers were carried by the
wind and communicated the fire to neighbouring houses. The last
outburst took place one night about ten. All the fire-engines of
Edinburgh and the neighbourhood were collected round the buildings,
and played water upon the flames, but without effect. Whole ranges of
lofty old houses were roaring with fire. In the course of two or three
hours, several acres, covered by the loftiest and most densely crowded
houses in the High Street, were in a blaze. Some of them were of
thirteen stories. Floor after floor came crashing down, throwing out a
blaze of embers. The walls of each house acted as an enormous chimney
--the windows acting as draught-holes. The walls, under the intense
heat, were fluxed and melted into a sort of glass. The only method of
stopping the progress of the fire was to pull down the neighbouring
houses, so as to isolate the remaining parts of the High Street.

As the parapet of the grand old tower of the High Church, St. Giles,
was near the site of the fire,--so near as to enable one to look down
into it,--my father obtained permission to ascend, and I with him.
When we emerged from the long dark spiral stairs on to the platform on
the top of the tower, we found a select party of the most distinguished
inhabitants looking down into the vast area of fire; and prominent
among them was Sir Walter Scott. At last, after three days of
tremendous efforts, the fire was subdued; but not till after a terrible
destruction of property. The great height of the ruined remains of the
piles of houses rendered it impossible to have them removed by the
ordinary means. After several fruitless attempts with chains and
ropes, worked by capstans, to pull them down, gunpowder was at last
resorted to. Mines were dug under each vast pile; one or two barrels
of gunpowder were placed into them and fired; and then the before solid
masses came tumbling down amidst clouds of dust. The management of
this hazardous but eventually safe process was conducted by Captain
Basil Ball. He ordered a crew of sailors to be brought up from the
man-of-war guardship in the Firth of Forth; and by their united efforts
the destruction of the ruined walls was at last successfully
accomplished.

In the autumn of 1823, when I was fifteen years old, I had a most
delightful journey with my father. It was the first occasion on which
I had been a considerable distance from home. And yet the journey was
only to Stirling. My father had received a commission to paint a view
of the castle as seen from the ruins of Cambuskenneth Abbey, situated a
few miles from the town. We started from Newhaven by a small steamboat,
passing, on our way up the Firth, Queensferry, Culross, and Alloa.
We then entered the windings of the river, from which I saw the Ochils,
a noble range of bright green mountains. The passage of the steamer
through the turns and windings of the Forth was most interesting.

We arrived at Stirling, and at once proceeded to Cambuskenneth Abbey,
where there was a noble old Gothic tower. This formed the foreground
of my father's careful sketch, with Stirling Castle in the background,
and Ben Lomond with many other of the Highland mountains in the
distance. As my father wished to make a model of the Gothic tower,
he desired me to draw it carefully, and to take the dimensions of all
the chief parts as well as to make detailed sketches of its minor
architectural features. It was a delightful autumn afternoon, and,
before the day had closed, our work at the abbey was done. We returned
to Stirling and took a walk round the castle to see the effect of the
sun setting behind the Highland mountains.

Next morning we visited the castle. I was much interested with the
interior, especially with a beautifully decorated Gothic oratory or
private chapel, used by the Scottish kings when they resided at
Stirling. The oratory had been converted with great taste into an
ante-drawingroom of the governor's house. The exquisite decorations of
this chapel*
[footnote...
This exquisite specimen of a carved oak Gothic apartment had a terrible
incident in Scottish history connected with it. It was in this place
that The Douglas intruded his presence on James the Third. He urged
his demands in a violent and threatening manner, and afterwards laid
hands upon the king. The latter, in defending himself with his dagger,
wounded the Douglas mortally; and to get rid of the body the king cast
it out of the window of the chapel, where it fell down the precipitous
rock underneath. The chapel has since been destroyed by fire.
...]
were the first specimens of Gothic carving in oak that I had ever seen,
and they seemed to put our modern carvings to shame. The Great Hall,
where the Scottish Parliament used to meet, was also very interesting
as connected with the ancient history of the country.

From Stirling we walked to Alloa, passing the picturesque cascades
rushing down the cleft's of the Ochils. We put up for the night at
Clackmannan, a very decayed and melancholy-looking village, though it
possessed a fine specimen of the Scottish castellated tower. It is
said that Robert Bruce slept here before the Battle of Bannockburn.
But the most interesting thing that I saw during the journey was the
Devon Ironworks. I had read and heard about the processes carried on
there in smelting iron ore and running it into pig-iron. The origin of
the familiar trade term "pig-iron" is derived from the result of the
arrangement most suitable for distributing the molten iron as it rushes
forth from the opening made at the bottom part of the blast-furnace;
when, after its reduction from the ore, it collects in a fluid mass of
several tons weight. Previous to "tapping" the furnace a great central
channel is made in the sand-covered floor of the forge; this central
channel is then subdivided into many lateral branches or canals, into
which the molten iron flows, and eventually hardens.

The great steam-engine that worked the blast furnace was the largest I
had ever seen. A singular expedient was employed at these works, of
using a vast vault hewn in the solid rock of the hillside for the
purpose of storing up the blast produced by the engines, and so
equalising the pressure; thus turning a mountain side into a reservoir
for the use of a blast-furnace. This seemed to me a daring and
wonderful engineering feat.

We waited at the works until the usual time had arrived for letting out
the molten iron which had been accumulating at the lower part of the
blast-furnace. It was a fine sight to see the stream of white-hot iron
flowing like water into the large gutter immediately before the
opening. From this the molten iron flowed on until it filled the
moulds of sand which branched off from the central gutter. The iron
left in the centre, when cooled and broken up, was called sow metal,
while that in the branches was called pig iron; the terms being derived
from the appearance of a sow engaged in its maternal duties.
The pig-iron is thus cast in handy-sized pieces for the purpose of
being transported to other iron foundries; while the clumsy sow metal
is broken up and passes through another process of melting, or is
reserved for foundry uses at the works where it is produced.
After inspecting with great pleasure the machinery connected with the
foundry, we took our leave and returned to Edinburgh by steamer from
Alloa.

Shortly after, I had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of
Robert Bald, the well-known mining engineer. He was one of the most
kind-hearted men I have ever known. He was always ready to communicate
his knowledge to young and old. His sound judgment and long practical
experience in regard to coal-mining and the various machinery connected
with it, rendered him a man of great importance in the northern
counties, where his advice was eagerly sought for. Besides his special
knowledge, he had a large acquaintance with literature and science.
He was bright, lively, and energetic. He was a living record of good
stories, and in every circle in which he moved he was the focus of
cheerfulness. In fact, there was no greater social favourite in
Edinburgh than Robert Bald.

Bald was very fond of young people, and he became much attached to me.
He used to come to my father's house, and often came in to see what I
was about in the work-room. He was rejoiced to see the earnest and
industrious manner in which I was employed, in preparing myself for my
proposed business as an engineer. He looked over my tools, mostly of
my own making, and gave me every encouragement. When he had any
visitors he usually brought them and introduced them to me. In this
way I had the happiness to make the acquaintance of Robert Napier,
Nelson, and Cook, of Glasgow; and in after life I continued to enjoy
their friendship. It would be difficult for me to detail the acts of
true disinterested kindness which I continued to receive from this
admirable man.

On several occasions he wished me to accompany him on his business
journeys, in order that I might see some works that would supply me
with valuable information. He had designed a powerful pumping engine
to drain more effectually a large colliery district situated near
Bannockburn--close to the site of the great battle in the time of
Robert the Bruce. He invited me to join him. It was with the greatest
pleasure that I accepted his invitation; for there would be not only
the pleasure of seeing a noble piece of steam machinery brought into
action for the first time, but also the enjoyment of visiting the
celebrated Carron Ironworks.

The Carron Ironworks are classic ground to engineers. They are
associated with the memory of Roebuck, Watt, and Miller of Dalswinton.
For there Roebuck and Watt began the first working steam-engine; Miller
applied the steam-engine to the purposes of navigation, and invented
the Carronade gun. The works existed at an early period in the history
of British iron manufacture. Much of the machinery continued to be of
wood. Although effective in a general way it was monstrously cumbrous.
It gave the idea of vast power and capability of resistance, while it
was far from being so in reality. It was, however, truly imposing and
impressive in its effect upon strangers. When seen partially lit up by
the glowing masses of white-hot iron, with only the rays of bright
sunshine gleaming through a few holes in the roof, and the dark, black,
smoky vaults in which the cumbrous machinery was heard rumbling away in
the distance--while the moving parts were dimly seen through the
murky atmosphere, mixed with the sounds of escaping steam and rushes of
water; with the half-naked men darting about with masses of red-hot
iron and ladles full of molten cast-iron--it made a powerful
impression upon the mind.

I was afterwards greatly interested by a collection of old armour, dug
up from the field of the Battle of Bannockburn close at hand. They were
arranged on the walls of the house of the manager of the Carron
Ironworks. There were swords, daggers, lances, battle-axes, shields,
and coats of chain-armour. Some of the latter were whole, others in
fragmentary portions. I was particularly interested with the admirable
workmanship of the coats of mail. The iron links extended from the
covering of the head to the end of the arms, and from the shoulders
down to the hips, in one linked iron fabric. The beauty and exactness
with which this chain-armour had been forged and built up were truly
wonderful. There must have been "giants in those days."  This grand
style of armour was in use from the time of the Conquest, and was most
effective in the way of protection, as it was fitted by its flexibility
to give full play to the energetic action of the wearer. It was
infinitely superior to the senseless plate-armour that was used, at a
subsequent period, to encase soldiers like lobsters. The chain-armour
I saw at Carron left a deep impression on my mind. I never see a bit
of it, or of its representation in the figures on our grand tombs of
the thirteenth century, but I think of my first sight of it at Carron
and of the tremendous conflict at Bannockburn.

Remembering, also, the impressive sight of the picturesque fire-lit
halls, and the terrible-looking, cumbrous machinery which I first
beheld on a grand scale at Carron, I have often regretted that some of
our artists do not follow up the example set them by that admirable
painter, Wright of Derby, and treat us to the pictures of some of our
great ironworks. They not only abound with the elements of the
picturesque in its highest sense, but also set forth the glory of the
useful arts in such a way as would worthily call forth the highest
power of our artists.

To return to my life at Edinburgh. I was now seventeen years old.
I had acquired a considerable amount of practical knowledge as to the
use and handling of mechanical tools, and I desired to turn it to some
account. I was able to construct working models of steam-engines and
other apparatus required for the illustration of mechanical subjects.
I began with making a small working steam engine for the purpose of
grinding the oil-colours used by my father in his artistic work.
The result was quite satisfactory. Many persons came to see my active
little steam-engine at work, and they were so pleased with it that I
received several orders for small workshop engines, and also for some
models of steam-engines to illustrate the subjects taught at Mechanics'
Institutions.

[Image]  Sectional model of condensing steam-engine. By James Nasmyth

I contrived a sectional model of a complete condensing steam-engine of
the beam and parallel motion construction. The model, as seen from one
side, exhibited every external detail in full and due action when the
flywheel was moved round by hand; while, on the other or sectional
side, every detail of the interior was seen, with the steam-valves and
air-pump, as well as the motion of the piston in the cylinder, with the
construction of the piston and the stuffing box, together with the
slide-valve and steam passages, all in due position and relative
movement.

The first of these sectional models of the steam-engine was made for
the Edinburgh School of Arts, where its uses in instructing mechanics
and others in the application of steam were highly appreciated.
The second was made for Professor Leslie, of the Edinburgh University,
for use in his lectures on Natural Philosophy. The professor had,
at his own private cost, provided a complete and excellent set of
apparatus, which, for excellent workmanship and admirable utility,
had never, I believe, been provided for the service of any university.
He was so pleased with my addition to his class-room apparatus, that,
besides expressing his great thanks for my services, he most handsomely
presented me with a free ticket to his Natural Philosophy class as a
regular student, so long as it suited me to make use of his instruction.
But far beyond this, as a reward for my earnest endeavours to satisfy
this truly great philosopher, was the kindly manner in which he on all
occasions communicated to me conversationally his original and masterly
views on the great fundamental principles of Natural Philosophy--
especially as regarded the principles of Dynamics and the Philosophy of
Mechanics. The clear views which he communicated in his conversation,
as well as in his admirable lectures, vividly illustrated by the
experiments which he had originated, proved of great advantage to me;
and I had every reason to consider his friendship and his teaching as
amongst the most important elements in my future success as a practical
engineer.

Having referred to the Edinburgh School of Arts, I feel it necessary to
say something about the origin of that excellent institution.
A committee of the most distinguished citizens of Edinburgh was formed
for the purpose of instituting a college in which working men and
mechanics might possess the advantages of instruction in the principles
on which their various occupations were conducted. Among the committee
were Leonard Horner, Francis Jeffrey, Henry Cockburn, John Murray of
Henderland, Alexander Bryson, James Mline, John Miller, the Lord Provost,
and various members of the Council. Their efforts succeeded, and the
institution was founded. The classes were opened in 1821, in which
year I became a student.

In order to supply the students, who were chiefly young men of the
working class, with sound instruction in the various branches of
science, the lectures were delivered and the classes were superintended
by men of established ability in their several departments.
This course was regularly pursued from its fundamental and elementary
principles to the highest point of scientific instruction.
The consecutive lectures and examinations extended, as in the
University, from October to May in each year's session. It was, in
fact, our first technical college. In these later days when so many of
our so-called Mechanics' Institutes are merely cheap reading-clubs for
the middle classes, and the lectures are delivered for the most part
merely for a pleasant evening' s amusement, it seems to me that we have
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
"talking book" or "graphic diary."  When his visitors called and entered
into conversation with him about mechanical matters, he made rapid
sketches on the successive pages of the book, and entered the brief
particulars and date of the conversation, together with the name and
address of the visitor. So that a conversation, once begun, might
again be referred to, and, when the visitor called, the graphic
memoranda might be recalled without loss of time, and the consultation
again proceeded. The pages of Mr. Field's "talking books" were in many
ways most interesting. They contained data that, in future years,
supplied valuable evidence in respect to first suggestions of
mechanical contrivances, and which sometimes were developed into very
important results. I may add that Mr. Field kept these "talking books"
on a shelf in front of his drawing table. The back of each volume was
marked with the year to which the entries referred, and an index was
appended to each. A general index book was also placed at the end of
the goodly range of these graphic records of his professional life.

The completion of the working drawings of the Lambeth pumping engines
occupied me until August 1831. I had then arrived at my twenty-third
year. I had no intention of proceeding further as an assistant or a
journeyman. I intended to begin business for my self. Of course I
could only begin in a very small way. I informed Mr. Field of my
intention, and he was gratified with my decision. Not only so; but he
kindly permitted me to obtain castings of one of the best
turning-lathes in the workshops. I knew th at when I had fitted it up
it would become the parent of a vast progeny of descendants--not only
in the direct line, but in planing machines, screw-cutting lathes,
and many other minor tools.

At the end of the month, after taking a grateful farewell of Mr. Field
and his partners, I set sail for Leith with my stock of castings,
and reached Edinburgh in due time. In order to proceed with the
construction of my machine tools, I rented a small piece of land at Old
Broughton. It was at the rear of my worthy friend George Douglass's
small foundry, and was only about five minutes' walk from my father's
house. I erected a temporary workshop 24 feet long by 16 feet wide.

I removed thither my father's foot-lathe, to which I had previously
added an excellent slide-rest of my own making. I also added a
"slow motion," which enabled me to turn cast-iron and cast-steel
portions of my great Maudslay lathe. I soon had the latter complete
and in action. Its first child was a planing machine capable of
executing surfaces in the most perfect style--of 3 feet long by
1 foot 8 inches wide. Armed with these two most important and
generally useful tools, and by some special additions, such as boring
machines and drilling machines, I soon had a progeny of legitimate
descendants crowded about my little workshop, so that I often did not
know which way to turn.

[Image]  My temporary workshop at Edinburgh

I had one labourer to drive the wheel which gave motion to my big
lathe; but I was very much in want of some one else to help me.
One day a young hearty fellow called upon me. He had come from the
Shotts Iron Company's Works in Edinburgh. Having heard of what I was
about, he offered his services. When he told me that he had been bred
as a millwright, and that he could handle the plane and the saw as well
as the chisel and the file, I closed with him at once. He was to have
fifteen shillings a week. I liked the young man very much--he was so
hearty and cheerful. His name was Archibald Torry, or " Archie," as he
was generally called during the twenty years that he remained in my
service I obtained another assistant in the person of a young man whose
father wished him to get an insight into practical engineering. I was
offered a premium of #50 for twelve months' experience in my workshop.
I arranged to take the young man, and to initiate him in the general
principles and practice of engineering. The #50 premium was a very
useful help to me, especially as I had engaged the millwright.
It enabled me to pay Torry's wages during the time that he remained
with me in Edinburgh. I found it necessary, however, to take in some
work in the regular way of business, in order to supply me with the
means of completing my proper supply of tools.

The chief of these extraneous and, I may say, disturbing jobs, was that
of constructing a rotary steam-engine. Mr. Robert Steen had contrived
and patented an engine of this sort. He was a dangerously enthusiastic
man, and entertained the most visionary ideas as to steam power.
He was of opinion that his own contrivance was more compact and simple,
and possessed of more capability of producing power from the
consumption of a given quantity of fuel, than the best steam-engines
then in use. I warned him of his error; but nothing but an actual
proof would satisfy him. He urgently requested me to execute his
order.He made me a liberal and tempting offer of weekly payments for my
work during the progress of his engine. He only required that I should
give his invention the benefit of my careful workmanship.
He considered that this would be sufficient to substantiate all his
enthusiastic expectations. I was thus seduced to accept his order.

I made the requisite drawings, and proceeded with the work. At the
same time my own machine tools were in progress, though at a retarded
pace. The weekly payments we're regularly made, and I was kept in a
sort of financial ease. After three months the rotary engine was
finished to the inventor's complete satisfaction. But when the power
it gave out was compared with that of a good ordinary steam-engine,
the verdict as to consumption of fuel was against the new rotary
engine. Nevertheless, the enthusiastic projector, "tho' vanquished he
would argue still," insisted that the merits of his contrivance would
sooner or later cause it to be a most formidable rival to the crank
steam-engines. As he was pleased with its performances, I had no
reason to be dissatisfied. I had done my part in the matter, and
Mr. Steen had done his. His punctual weekly payments had assisted me
in the completion of my tools; and after a few months more labour I had
everything ready for starting business on my own account.

My choice lay between Liverpool and Manchester. I had seen both of
these cities while on my visit to Lancashire to witness the opening of
the Liverpool and Manchester Railway. I now proceeded to visit them
again. I was fortified with valuable introductions to leading men in
both places. I was received by them with great kindness and
hospitality. I have heard a great deal about the ingratitude and
selfishness of the world. It may have been my good fortune, but I have
never experienced either of those unfeeling conditions. On the whole I
have found a great deal of unselfish kindness among my fellow-beings.
They have often turned out of their way to do me a service; and I can
never be too grateful for the unwearied kindness, civility, and
generosity of the friends I met with during my stay in Lancashire.

It was a question which would be the best place to settle in--
Liverpool or Manchester. I had seen striking evidences of the natural
aptitude of Lancashire workmen for every sort of mechanical employment,
and had observed their unsparing energy while at work. I compared them
with the workmen whom I had seen in London, and found them superior.
They were men of greater energy of character; their minds were more
capacious; their ingenuity was more inventive. I felt assured that in
either Liverpool or Manchester--the centres of commercial and
manipulative energy--I could settle down with my limited capital and
tools, and in course of time contrive to get on, helped by energy,
self-reliance, and determination. I also found that the demand for
machine-making tools was considerable, and that their production would
soon become an important department of business. It might be carried
on with little expenditure of capital, as the risks were small and the
returns were quick. I resolved to cultivate that moderate and safe
class of mechanical business, at all events at the outset.

I first went to Liverpool. I presented my letter of introduction to
Mr. Roscoe, head of the Mersey Steel and Iron Company. He received me
with great kindness, and gave me much good advice. I called upon
Edward Berry, engineer, and also upon William Fawcett, who had received
me with so much kindness on my former visit. I cannot omit mentioning
also the friendly reception which I received from Dr. Sillar.
He had been a medical student at Edinburgh, and had during that time
met with some kindness from my father. He expressed his remembrance of
it with grateful effusion; and added his personal introduction, with
that of my letters, to some of the leading men in Liverpool. I may
mention that Dr. Sillar was the son of Burns's "Brother Poet" Davie,
to whom the well-known "Epistle" was addressed.

Among the other well-known men to whom I was introduced at Liverpool
was John Cragg, an intelligent and enterprising ironfounder. He was an
extensive manufacturer of the large sugar-boiling pans used in the West
Indies. He had also given his attention to the introduction of iron
into buildings of different sorts. Being a man of artistic taste he
had even introduced cast-iron into Gothic architecture. In order to
exhibit, in an impressive form, the uses of his favourite metal,
he erected at his own cost a very elegant church in the northern part
of Liverpool.*
[footnote...
So far as I can recollect, the name of the church was St. James's.
It exhibited a very early introduction of iron as an important element
in architectural construction. Iron was afterwards largely introduced
into mills, mill gearing, and buildings generally.
...]

Cast-iron was introduced, not only in the material parts of the
structure, but into the Gothic columns and Gothic tracery of the
windows, as well as into the lofty and elegant spire. Iron was also
employed in the external ornamental details, where delicate yet
effective decoration was desirable. The famous architect,
Edward Blore, was the designer of the church; and the whole details of
the building--of which cast-iron formed the principal material--
were executed to his entire satisfaction*
[footnote...
So far as I can recollect, the name of the church was St. James's.
It exhibited a very early introduction of iron as an important element
in architectural construction. Iron was afterwards largely introduced
into mills, mill gearing, and buildings generally.
...]

My introduction to Mr. Cragg led to an acquaintance, and then to a
friendship. When the ice was broken which was very soon--he told me
that he was desirous of retiring from the more active part of his
business. Whether he liked my looks or not I do not know; but, quite
unexpectedly, he made me a very tempting offer to enter his works as
his successor. He had already amassed a fortune, and I might do the
same. I could only thank him most sincerely for his kindness.
But, on carefully thinking the matter over, I declined the proposal.
My principal reason was, that the special nature of his foundry work
did not quite harmonise with my desire to follow the more strictly
mechanical part of the iron business. Besides, I thought I had a
brighter prospect of success before me; though I knew that I had many
difficulties to contend against. Did I throw away my chances in
declining the liberal proposal of Mr. Cragg? The reader will be able
to judge from the following pages. But to the last*
[footnote...
Mr. Cragg died in 1853, aged 84.
...]                                                                                             
I continued a most friendly intercourse with my intended patron, while
he on his part took an almost paternal interest in my progress.

After my visit to Liverpool I passed on to Manchester.
I was fortunate in having introductions to some of the leading men
there,--to John Kennedy, William Fairbairn, the Grant Brothers, and
lastly, to that most admirable man, Benjamin Hick, engineer, Bolton.
To narrate in detail all the instances of warm and hospitable
kindnesses which I received from men in Lancashire, even from the
outset of my career there, would fill a volume.

I first went to see my friend Edward Tootal, who had given me so kind
a reception in 1830. I was again cordially received; he now promised
to befriend me, which he did most effectually. I next visited John
Chippendale, of the firm of Thomson, Chippendale, and Company, calico
printers. I had met him at a friend's house in London, where he had
offered, if I ever visited Manchester, to introduce me to some of the
best men there. I accordingly called upon him at his counting-house.
It happened to be Tuesday, the market day, when all the heads of
manufacturing establishments in and round Manchester met together at
the Exchange between 12 and 1; and thus all were brought to a focus in
a very convenient manner.

Mr. Chippendale first introduced me to Mr. John Kennedy, one of
the most distinguished men in Manchester. I had a special letter
of introduction to him from Buchanan of Catrine, and his partner
Smith of Deanstone. I explained to him the object of my visit to
Manchester, and he cordially entered into my views. He left his
occupation at the time, and went with me to see a place which he
thought might be suitable for my workshop. The building was new at
hand--in Dale Street, Piccadilly. It had been used as a cotton mill,
but was abandoned by the owner in favour of more suitable and extensive
premises. It was now let out in flats for manufacturing purposes.
Power was supplied to each flat from a shaft connected with a large
mill up the street, the owner of which had power to spare. The flat
shown to me was 130 feet long by 27 feet wide, and the rent was only
#50 a year. I thought the premises very suitable, but I took a night
to sleep over it. I thanked Mr. Kennedy very much for his kindness,
and for the trouble which he had taken on behalf of an unknown
stranger.

On this memorable day I had another introduction, through the kindness
of Mr. Chippendale, which proved of great service to me. It was to the
Messrs. Grant, the famous "Brothers Cheeryble" of Dickens. I was taken
to their counting-house in Cannon Street, where I was introduced to
Daniel Grant. Although business was at its full height, he gave me a
cordial reception. But, to save time, he invited me to come after the
Exchange was over and take "tiffin" with him at his hospitable mansion
in Mosely Street.

There, he said, I should meet some of the most enterprising men in
Lancashire. I was most happy, of course, to avail myself of his
invitation. I went thither accordingly, and the first thing that
Daniel did was to present me in the most cordial manner to "his noble
brother William," as he always affectionately called him. William was
the head of the firm, and he, too, gave me a warm and hearty welcome.
He asked me to sit beside him at the head of the table.

During dinner--for indeed it was such, being the survival of the
old-fashioned one o'clock dinner of a departing age--William entered
into conversation with me. He took occasion to inquire into the object
of my visit to Manchester. I told him, as briefly as I could,
that I intended to begin the business of a mechanical engineer on a
very moderate scale, and that I had been looking out for premises
wherein to commence operations. He seemed interested, and asked more
questions. I related to him my little history, and told him of my
desires, hopes, and aspirations. What was my age? "Twenty-six."
"That is a very young age at which to begin business on your own account"
"Yes; but I have plenty of work in me, and I am very economical."
Then he pressed his questions home. "But what is your capital?"
I told him that my capital in cash was #63. "What!" he said,
"that will do very little for you when Saturday nights come round."
"That's true," I answered; "but as there will be only myself and Archy
Torry to provide for, I think I can manage to get along very well until
profitable work comes in."

He whispered to me, "Keep your heart up!"  With such views, he said,
I was sure to do well. And if, he added, on any Saturday night I
wanted money to pay wages or other expenses, I would find a credit for
#500 at 3 per cent at his office in Cannon Street, "and no security."
These were his very words. What could have been more generous?
I could only whisper my earnest thanks for his warm-hearted kindness.
He gave me a kindly squeeze of the hand in return, which set me in a
glow of gladness. He also gave me a sort of wink that I shall never
forget--a most knowing wink. In looking at me he seemed to turn his
eye round and brought his eyebrows down upon it in a sudden and
extraordinary manner. I thought it was a mere confirmation of his kind
advice to "keep my heart up!"  It was not until two years after that
I found, from a mutual friend, that the eye in question was made of
glass! Sometimes the glass eye got slightly out of its place, and
Mr. Grant had to force it in again by this odd contortion of his
eyebrows, which I had translated into all manner of kind intentions.
As soon as the party broke up I went to Wren and Bennett, the agents
for the flat of the old mill which I had seen in Dale Street.
I inspected it again, and found that it was in all respects suitable
for my purpose. I may mention in passing that the flat below mine was
in the occupation of a glass-cutter, whose glass-cutting lathes and
grindstones were supplied with power from the same upright shaft that
was to serve me in the same manner on the flat above, Encouraged by the
support of William Grant, I immediately entered into a contract for the
premises as a yearly tenant. Nothing could have been more happily
arranged for my entering into business as a mechanical engineer and
machine tool maker. The situation of the premises was excellent, being
in the heart of Manchester There was a powerful crab crane, or hoisting
apparatus, in the upper story, and the main chains came down in front
of the wide door of my workshop, so that heavy castings or cases of
machinery might be lifted up or let down with the utmost case and
convenience. At the same time I was relieved from looking after the
moving power and its natural accompaniment of trouble and expense in
the way of fuel and attendance.

[Image]  My factory flat at Manchester

When I had settled the contract for taking the place, I wrote down to
Edinburgh by that night's post to tell my father of the happy results
of my visit to Manchester, and also to inform my right hand man, Archy
Torry, that I should soon be with him. He was to prepare for packing
up my lathes, planing machines, drilling machines, and other smaller
tools, not forgetting my father's foot lathe, of which I had made such
effective use.*
[footnote...
I have still this foot-lathe in full and perfect and almost daily
action. I continue to work with it now, after sixty-three years of
almost constant use. It is a lathe that I duly prize and venerate, not
only because it was my father's, but also because it was, in practical
fact, the progenitor, more or less directly, of all the mechanical
productions of my long and active life.
...]

I soon followed up my letter. I was in Edinburgh in a few days' time,
and had all my tools packed up. In the course of about ten days
I returned to Manchester, and was followed by Archy Torry and the
ponderous cases of machinery and engineer's tools. They were all duly
delivered, hoisted to my flat, and put in their proper places.
I was then ready for work.

The very first order I received was from my friend Edward Tootal.
It was a new metallic piston for the small steam-engine that gave
motion to his silk-winding machinery. It was necessary that it should
be done over night, in order that his factory should be at work as
usual in the morning.

My faithful Archy and I set to work accordingly. We removed the old
defective piston, and replaced it by a new and improved one, made
according to my own ideas of how so important a part of a steam-engine
should be constructed. We conveyed it to Mr. Tootal's factory over
night, and by five o'clock in the morning gave it a preliminary trial
to see that everything was in order. The "hands" came in at six,
and the machine was set to work. It was no doubt a very small order,
but the piston was executed perfectly and satisfactorily. The result
of its easier action, through reduced friction, was soon observable in
the smaller consumption of coal. Mr. Tootal and his brother were
highly pleased at my prompt and careful attention to their little
order, and it was the forerunner of better things to come.

Orders soon came in. My planing machine was soon fully occupied.
When not engaged in executing other work it was employed in planing the
flat cast-iron inking tables for printing machines. These were made in
considerable numbers by Messrs. Wren and Bennett (my landlords) under
the personal superintendence of Ebenezer Cowper, brother of the
inventor, who, in conjunction with Mr. Applegath, was the first to
produce a really effective newspaper printing machine. I had many
small subsidiary jobs sent to me to execute. They not only served to
keep my machine tools properly employed, but tended in the most
effective way to make my work known to some of the best firms in
Manchester, who in course of time became my employers.

In order to keep pace with the influx of work I had to take on fresh
hands. I established a smithy down in the cellar flat of the old mill
in Dale Street, so that all forge work in iron and steel might be
promptly and economically produced on the premises. There was a small
iron foundry belonging to a Mr. Heath, about three minutes walk from my
workshop, where I had all my castings of iron and brass done with
promptness, and of excellent quality. Mr. Heath very much wanted a
more powerful steam-engine to drive his cupola blowing fan. I had made
a steam-engine in Edinburgh and brought it with me. There it lay in my
workshop, where it remained unused, for I was sufficiently supplied
with power from the rotating shaft. Mr. Heath offered to buy it.
The engine was accordingly removed to his iron foundry, and I received
my full quota of value in castings.

Week by week my orders grew, and the flat of the old mill soon assumed
a very busy aspect. By occasionally adding to the number of my lathes,
drilling machines, and other engineers' tools, I attracted the
attention of employers. When seen in action they not only facilitated
and economised the production of my own work, but became my best
advertisements. Each new tool that I constructed had some feature of
novelty about it. I always endeavoured after greater simplicity and
perfectness of workmanship. I was punctual in all my engagements.
The business proved safe and profitable. The returns were quick.
Sometimes one-third of the money was paid in advance on receipt of the
order, and the balance was paid on delivery at my own premises.
All risk of bad debts was avoided. Thus I was enabled to carry on my
business with a very moderate amount of capital.

My crowded workshop and the active scene it presented, together with
the satisfaction my work gave to my employers, induced several persons
to offer to enter into partnership with me. Sometimes it was on their
own account, or for a son or relation for whom they desired an opening.
But I fought shy of such proposals. It was a very riskful affair to
admit as partners young men whose character for ability might be very
doubtful. I was therefore satisfied to go on as before. Besides, I had
the kind and disinterested offer of the Brothers Grant, which was
always available, though, indeed, I did not need to make use of it.
I had also the good fortune to be honoured by the friendship of Edward
Lloyd, the head of the firm of Jones, Lloyd, and Co. I had some
moderate financial transactions with the bank. Mr. Lloyd had,
no doubt, heard something of my industry and economy. I never asked
him for any accommodation; but on one occasion he invited me into his
parlour, not to sweat me, but to give me some most kindly hints and
advice as to the conduct of my financial affairs. He volunteered an
offer which I could not but feel proud of. He said that I should have
a credit of #1000 at my service, at the usual bank rate. He added,
"As soon as you can, lay by a little capital of your own, and baste it
with its own gravy!"  A receipt which I have carefully followed through
life, and I am thankful to say with satisfactory results.

Before I conclude this chapter, let me add something more about my kind
friends the Brothers Grant. It is well that their history should be
remembered, as the men who personally knew them will soon be all dead.
The three brothers, William, Daniel, and John Grant, were the sons of a
herdsman or cattle-dealer, whose occupation consisted in driving cattle
from the far north of Scotland to the rich pastures of Cheshire and
Lancashire. The father was generally accompanied by his three sons,
who marched barefoot, as was the custom of the north country lads in
those days. Being shrewd fellows, they observed with interest the
thriving looks and well-fed condition of the Lancashire folks.
They were attracted by the print works and cotton mills which lay by
the Irwell, as it crept along in its bright and rural valley towards
Manchester. When passing the works of Sir Robert Peel at Nuttal, near
Bury, they admired the beauty of the situation. The thought possessed
them that they would like to obtain some employment in the neighbourhood.
They went together in search of a situation. It is said that when they
reached the crown of the hill near Walmsley, from which a beautiful
prospect is to be seen, they were in doubt as to the line of road which
they should pursue. To decide their course, a stick was put up,
and they agreed to follow the direction in which it should fall.
The stick fell in the direction of Ramsbottom, then a little village in
the bottom of the valley, on the river Irwell. There they went,
and found employment.

They were thrifty, economical, and hard-working; and they soon saved
money. Their savings became capital, and they invested it in a little
print work. Their capital grew, and they went on investing it in print
works and cotton mills.

They became great capitalists and manufacturers; and by their industry,
ability, and integrity, were regarded as among the best men in
Lancashire. As a memorial of the event which enabled them to take up
their happy home at Ramsbottom, they caused to be erected at the top of
Walmsley Hill a lofty tower, overlooking the valley, as a kind of
public thank-offering for the prosperity and success which they had
achieved in their new home. Their well-directed diligence made the
valley teem with industry, activity, health, joy, and opulence.
They never forgot the working class from which they had sprung, and as
their labours had contributed to their wealth, they spared no expense
in providing for the moral, intellectual, and physical interests of
their work-people. Whenever a worthy object was to be achieved,
the Brothers Grant were always ready with their hearty and substantial
help. They contributed to found schools, churches, and public buildings,
and many a deserving man did they aid with their magnanimous bounty.

I may also mention that they never forgot their first impression of the
splendid position of the first Sir Robert Peel's works at Nuttal.
In course of time Sir Robert had, by his skill and enterprise, acquired
a large fortune, and desired to retire from business. By this time the
Grant Brothers had succeeded so well that they were enabled to purchase
the whole of his works and property in the neighbourhood.
They proceeded to introduce every improvement in the way of machinery
and calico printing, and thus greatly added to the quality of their
productions. Their name became associated with everything that was
admirable. They abounded in hospitality and generosity.
In the course of many long years of industry, enterprise, and benevolence,
they earned the goodwill of thousands, the gratitude of many, and the
respect of all who knew them. I was only one of many who had cause to
remember them with gratefulness. How could I acknowledge their
kindness? There was one way; it was a very small way, but I will
relate it.  Soon after my introduction to the Grants, and before I had
brought my tools to Manchester, William invited me to join a gathering
of his friends at Ramsbottom. The church built at his cost had just
been finished, and it was to be opened with great eclat on the
following Sunday. He asked me to be his guest, and I accepted his
invitation with pleasure. As it was a very fine day at the end of May,
I walked out to Ramsbottom, and enjoyed the scenery of the district.
Here was the scene of the Grant Brothers' industry and prosperity.
I met many enterprising and intelligent men, to whom William Grant
introduced me. I was greatly pleased with the ceremonies connected
with the opening of the church.

On the Monday morning William Grant, having seen some specimens of my
father's artistic skill as a landscape painter, requested me to convey
to him his desire that he should paint two pictures--one of Castle
Grant, the residence of the chief of the Clan Grant, and the other of
Elgin Cathedral. These places were intimately associated with his
early recollections, The brothers had been born in the village
adjoining Castle Grant; and Elgin Cathedral was one of the principal
old buildings of the north. My father replied, saying that he would be
delighted to execute the pictures for a gentleman who had given me so
kindly a reception, but that he had no authentic data--no drawings,
no engravings--from which to paint them; and that he was now too old
to visit the places. I therefore resolved to do what I could to help
him to paint the pictures.

As it was necessary that I should go to London before returning to
Edinburgh to pack up my machine tools there, I went thither, and after
doing my business, I embarked for Dundee by the usual steamer.
I made my way from there, via Perth and Dunkeld, to Inverness, and from
thence I proceeded to Elgin. I made most careful drawings of the
remains of that noble cathedral. I endeavoured to include all that was
most beautiful in the building and its surrounding scenery.
I then went on to Castle Grant, through a picturesque and romantic
country. I found the castle amidst its deep forests of pine, larch,
elm, and chestnut. The building consists of a high quadrangular pile
of many stories, projecting backwards at each end, and pierced with
windows of all shapes and sizes. I did my best to carry away a graphic
sketch of the old castle and its surroundings: and then, with my stock
of drawings, I prepared to return to Inverness on foot. The scenery
was grand and beautiful. The weather was fine, although after mid-day
it became very hot. A thunder storm was evidently approaching.
The sun was obscured by a thunder-cloud; the sky flashed with
lightning, and the rain began to pour down. I was then high up on a
wild looking moor, covered with heather and vast boulders.

[Image]  An extemporised shower-bath

There was no shelter to be had, for not a house was in sight.
I did not so much mind for my clothes, but I feared very much for my
sketches. Taking advantage of the solitude, I stripped myself, put my
sketches under my clothes, and thrust them into a hollow underneath a
huge boulder. I sat myself down on the top of it, and there I had a
magnificent shower-bath of warm rain. I never enjoyed a bath under
such romantic circumstances. The thunder-clouds soon passed over my
head, and the sun broke out again  cheerily. When the rain had ceased
I took out my clothes and drawings from the hollow, and found them
perfectly dry. I set out again on my long walk to Inverness;
and reached it just in time to catch the Caledonian Canal steamer.
While passing down Loch Ness I visited the romantic Fail of Foyers;
then through Loch Lochy, past Ben Nevis to Loch Linnhe, Oban, and the
Kyles of Bute, to Glasgow, and from thence to Edinburgh.

I had the pleasure of placing in my father's hands the sketches I had
made. He was greatly delighted with them. They enabled him to set to
work with his usual zeal, and in the course of a short time he was able
to execute, con amore, the commission of the Brothers Grant. So soon
as I had completed my sketches I wrote to Daniel Grant and informed him
of the result of my journey. He afterwards expressed himself most
warmly as to my prompt zeal in obtaining for him authentic pictures of
places so dear to the brothers, and so much associated with their
earliest and most cherished recollections.

I have already referred to the Brothers Cowper. They were among my
most attached friends at Manchester. Many of my most pleasant
associations are connected with them. Edward Cowper was one of the
most successful mechanics in bringing the printing machine to a state
of practical utility. He was afterwards connected with Mr. Applegath
of London, the mechanical engineer of the Times newspaper*
[footnote...
Mr. Koeig's machines, first used at the Times office, were patented in
1814. They were too complicated and expensive, and the inking was too
imperfect for general adoption. They were superseded by Mr. Edward
Cowper's machine, which he invented and patented in 1816.
He afterwards added the inking roller and table to the common press.
The effect of Mr. Cowper's invention was to improve the quality and
speed of printing, and to render literature accessible to millions of
readers.
...]
he invented for the proprietors a machine that threw off from 4500 to
5000 impressions in the hour.

In course of time the Brothers Cowper removed the manufacture of their
printing machines from London ,to Manchester. There they found skilled
and energetic workmen, ready to carry their plans into effect.
They secured excellent premises, supplied with the best modern machine
tools, in the buildings of Wren and Bennett, about two minutes' walk
from my workshop, which I rented from the same landlords.

I had much friendly intercourse with the Cowpers, especially with
Ebenezer the younger brother, who took up his residence at Manchester
for the purpose of specially superintending the manufacture of printing
machines. These were soon in large demand, not only for the printing
of books but of newspapers. One of the first booksellers who availed
himself of the benefits of the machine was Mr. Charles Knight,
who projected the Penny Magazine of 1832, and sold it to the extent of
about 180,000 copies weekly. It was also adopted by the Messrs.
Chambers of Edinburgh, and the proprietors of the Magasin Pittoresque
of Paris. The Universities of Oxford and Cambridge also used Cowper's
machine in printing vast numbers of bibles and prayer-books, thereby
reducing their price to one-third of the former cost. There was
scarcely a newspaper of any importance in the country that was not
printed with a Cowper's machine.

As I possessed some self-acting tools that were specially suited to
execute some of the most refined and important parts of the printing
machine, the Messrs. Cowper transferred their execution to me. This
was a great advantage to both. They were relieved of the technical
workmanship; while I kept my men and machine tools fully employed at
times when they might otherwise have been standing idle.
Besides, I derived another advantage from my connection with the
Brothers Cowper, by having frequent orders to supply my small
steam-engines, which were found to be so suitable for giving motion to
the printing machines. At first the machines were turned by hand, and
very exhausting work it was; but the small steam-engine soon relieved
the labourer from his heavy work.

Edward frequently visited Manchester to arrange with his brother as to
the increasing manufacture of the printing machines, and also to
introduce such improvements in the minor details as the experience and
special requirements of the printing trade suggested. It was on these
occasions that I had the happy opportunity of becoming intimately
acquainted with him; and this resulted in a firm friendship which
continued until the close of his admirable life. The clear and
masterly way in which, by some happy special faculty, he could catch up
the essential principles and details of any mechanical combination,
however novel the subject might be, was remarkable; and the quaint and
humorous manner in which he treated all such subjects, in no small
degree caused his shrewd and intelligent remarks to take a lasting hold
of the memory.

On many occasions Edward Cowper gave Friday evening lectures on
technical subjects at the Royal Institution, London. Next to Faraday,
no one held the attention of a delighted audience in so charming a
manner as he did. Like Faraday, he possessed the power of clearly
unveiling his subject, and stripping it of all its complicated
perplexities. His illustrations were simple, clear, and understandable.
Technical words were avoided as much as possible. He threw the
ordinary run of lecturers far into the shade. Intelligent boys and
girls could understand him. Next to Faraday, no one filled the theatre
of the Institution with such eager and crowded audiences as he did.
His choice of subjects, as well as his masterly treatment, always
rendered his lectures instructive and attractive. He was one of the
most kind-hearted of men, and the cheerful way in which he laid aside
his ordinary business to give instruction and pleasure to others
endeared him to a very wide circle of devoted friends.

CHAPTER 11. Bridgewater Foundry--Partnership.

My business went on prosperously. I had plenty of orders, and did my
best to execute them satisfactorily. Shortly after the opening of the
Liverpool and Manchester Railway there was a largely increased demand
for machine-making tools. The success of that line led to the
construction of other lines, concentrating in Manchester;
and every branch of manufacture shared in the prosperity of the time.

There was a great demand for skilled, and even for unskilled labour.
The demand was greater than the supply. Employers were subjected to
exorbitant demands for increased rates of wages. The workmen struck,
and their wages were raised. But the results were not always
satisfactory. Except in the cases of the old skilled hands, the work
was executed more carelessly than before. The workmen attended less
regularly; and sometimes, when they ought to have been at work on
Monday mornings, they did not appear until Wednesday.
Their higher wages had been of no use to them, but the reverse.
Their time had been spent for the most part in two days' extra drinking.

The irregularity and carelessness of the workmen naturally proved very
annoying to the employers. But it gave an increased stimulus to the
demand for self-acting machine tools by which the untrustworthy efforts
of hand labour might be avoided. The machines never got drunk;
their hands never shook from excess; they were never absent from work;
they did not strike for wages; they were unfailing in their accuracy
and regularity, while producing the most delicate or ponderous portions
of mechanical structures.

It so happened that the demand for machine tools, consequent upon the
increasing difficulties with the workmen, took place at the time that I
began business in Manchester, and I had my fair share of the increased
demand. Most of my own machine tools were self-acting--planing
machines, slide lathes, drilling, boring, slotting machines, and so on.
When set up in my workshop they distinguished themselves by their
respective merits and efficiency. They were, in fact, their own best
advertisements. The consequence was that orders for similar machines
poured in upon me, and the floor of my flat became completely loaded
with the work in hand.

The tenant below me, it will be remembered, was a glass-cutter.
He observed, with alarm, the bits of plaster from the roof coming down
among his cut glasses and decanters. He thought that the rafters
overhead were giving way, and that the whole of my machinery and
engines would come tumbling down upon him some day and involve him in
ruin. He probably exaggerated the danger; still there was some cause
for fear.

When the massive castings on my floor were moved about from one part to
another, the floor quivered and trembled under the pressure.
The glass-cutter complained to the landlord, and the landlord
expostulated with me. I did all that I could to equalise the pressure,
and prevent vibration as much as possible. But at length, in spite of
all my care, an accident occurred which compelled me to take measures
to remove my machinery to other premises. As this removal was followed
by consequences of much importance to myself, I must endeavour to state
the circumstances under which it occurred.

My kind friend, John Kennedy, continued to take the greatest interest
in my welfare. He called in upon me occasionally. He admired the
quality of my work, and the beauty of my self-acting machinery.
More than that, he recommended me to his friends. It was through his
influence that I obtained an order for a high-pressure steam-engine of
twenty horse-power to drive the machinery connected with a distillery
at Londonderry, in Ireland. I was afraid at first that I could not
undertake the job. The size of the engine was somewhat above the
height of my flat, and it would probably occupy too much space in my
already overcrowded workshop. At the same time I was most anxious not
to let such an order pass me. I wished to please my friend Mr. Kennedy;
besides, the execution of the engine might lead to further business.

At length, after consideration, I undertook to execute the order.
Instead of constructing the engine perpendicularly, I constructed it
lying upon its side. There was a little extra difficulty, but I
managed to complete it in the best style. It had next to be taken to
pieces for the purpose of being conveyed to Londonderry. It was then
that the accident happened. My men had the misfortune to allow the end
of the engine beam to crash through the floor! There was a terrible
scattering of lath and plaster and dust. The glass-cutter was in a
dreadful state. He rushed forthwith to the landlord, and called upon
him to come at once and judge for himself!

Mr. Wren did come, and did judge for himself. He looked in at the
glass shop, and saw the damage that had been done amongst the tumblers
and decanters. There was the hole in the roof, through which the end
of the engine beam had come and scattered the lath and plaster.
The landlord then came to me. The whole flat was filled with
machinery, including the steam-engine on its side, now being taken to
pieces for the purpose of shipment to Ireland. Mr. Wren, in the
kindest manner, begged me to remove from the premises as soon as I
could, otherwise the whole building might be brought to the ground with
the weight of my machinery. "Besides," he argued, "you must have more
convenient premises for your rapidly extending business."  It was quite
true. I must leave the place and establish myself elsewhere.

The reader may remember that while on my journey on foot from Liverpool
to Manchester in 1830, I had rested myself for a little on the parapet
of the bridge overlooking the canal near Patricroft, and gazed
longingly upon a plot of land situated along the canal side.
On the afternoon of the day on which the engine beam crashed through
the glass-cutter's roof, I went out again to look at that favourite
piece of land. There it was, unoccupied, just as I had seen it some
years before. I went to it and took note of its dimensions.
It consisted of about six acres. It was covered with turf,
and as flat and neat as a bowling-green. It was bounded on one side by
the Bridgewater Canal, edged by a neat stone margin 1050 feet long,
on another side by the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, while on a
third side it was bounded by a good road, accessible from all sides.
The plot was splendidly situated. I wondered that it had not been
secured before. It was evidently waiting for me!

I did not allow the grass to grow beneath my feet. That very night I
ascertained that the proprietor of this most beautiful plot was squire
Trafford, one of the largest landed proprietors in the district.
Next morning I proceeded to Trafford Hall for the purpose of
interviewing the Squire. He received me most cordially. After I had
stated my object in calling upon him, he said he would be exceedingly
pleased to have me for one of his tenants. He gave me a letter of
introduction to his agent, Mr. Thomas Lee, of Princes Street, Manchester,
with whom I was to arrange as to the terms. I was offered a lease of
the six acre plot for 999 years, at an annual rent of 1 3/4d per square
yard. This proposal was most favourable, as I obtained the advantage
of a fee-simple purchase without having to sink capital in the land.
All that I had to provide for was the annual rent.

My next step in this important affair was to submit the proposal to the
judgment of my excellent friend Edward Lloyd, the banker. He advised
me to close the matter as soon as possible, for he considered the terms
most favourable. He personally took me to his solicitors, Dennison,
Humphreys, and Cunliffe, and introduced me to them. Mr. Humphreys took
the matter in hand. We went together to Mr.Lee, and within a few days
the lease was signed and I was put into possession of the land upon
which the Bridgewater Foundry was afterwards erected.*
[footnote...
I called the place the Bridgewater Foundry as an appropriate and humble
tribute to the memory of the first great canal maker in Britain the
noble Duke of Bridgewater. My ground was on the first mile of the
Bridgewater Canal which the Duke had constructed under the
superintendence of Brindley, so that it might well be considered,
in an Engineering sense, "classic ground."
...]

I may mention briefly the advantages of the site. The Bridgewater Canal,
which lay along one side of the foundry communicated with every
waterway and port in England whilst the railway alongside enabled a
communication to be kept up by rail with every part of the country.
The Worsley coal-boats came alongside the wharf, and a cheap and
abundant supply of fuel was thus insured. The railway station was near
at hand, and afforded every opportunity for travelling to and from the
works, while I was at the same time placed within twenty minutes of
Manchester.

Another important point has to be mentioned. A fine bed of brick-clay
lay below the surface of the ground, which supplied the material for
bricks. Thus the entire works may be truly said to have "risen out of
the ground;" for the whole of the buildings rested upon the land from
which the clay below was dug and burned into bricks. Then, below the
clay lay a bed of New Red Sandstone rock, which yielded a solid
foundation for any superstructure, however lofty or ponderous.

As soon as the preliminary arrangements for the lease of the six acre
plot had been made, I proceeded to make working drawings of a temporary
timber workshop; as I was anxious to unload the floor of my flat in
Dale Street, and to get as much of my machinery as possible speedily
removed to Patricroft. For