In the Stocking Weavers' Hall, in Redcross Street, London, there used to
hang a picture, representing a man in collegiate costume in the act of
pointing to an iron stocking-frame, and addressing a woman busily
knitting with needles by hand. Underneath the picture appeared the
following inscription: "In the year 1589, the ingenious William Lee,
A.M., of St. John's College, Cambridge, devised this profitable art for
stockings (but, being despised, went to France), yet of iron to himself,
but to us and to others of gold; in memory of whom this is here
painted." As to who this William Lee was, and the way in which he came
to invent the stocking-frame, there are conflicting stories, but the
one most generally received and best authenticated is as follows:--
William Lee, a native of Woodborough, near Nottingham, was a fellow of
one of the Cambridge Colleges. He fell in love with a young country
lass, married her, and consequently forfeited his fellowship. A poor
scholar, with much learning, but without money or the knowledge of any
trade, he found himself in very embarrassed circumstances. Like many
another "poor scholar," he might exclaim:--
"All the arts I have skill in,
Divine and humane;
Yet all's not worth a shilling;
Alas! poor scholar, whither wilt thou go?"
His wife, however, was a very industrious woman, and by her knitting
contributed to their joint support. It is said--but the story lacks
authentic confirmation--that when Lee was courting her, she always
appeared so much more occupied with her knitting than with the soft
speeches he was whispering in her ear, that her lover thought of
inventing a machine that would "facilitate and forward the operation of
knitting," and so leave the object of his love more leisure to converse
with him. "Love, indeed," says Beckmann, "is fertile in invention, and
gave rise, it is said, to the art of painting; but a machine so complex
in its parts, and so wonderful in its effects, would seem to require
longer and greater reflection, more judgment, and more time and patience
than could be expected of a lover." But afterwards, when Lee, in his
painfully enforced idleness, sat many a long hour watching his wife's
nimble fingers toiling to support him, his mind again recurred to the
idea of a machine that would give rest to her weary fingers. His
cogitations resulted in the contrivance of a stocking-frame, which
imitated the movements of the fingers in knitting.
[Illustration: WILLIAM LEE, THE INVENTOR OF THE STOCKING-FRAME. Page
226.]
Although the invention of this loom gave a great impulse to the
manufacture of silk stockings in England, and placed our productions in
advance of those of other countries, Lee reaped but little profit from
it. He met with neglect both from Queen Elizabeth and James I.; and, not
succeeding as a manufacturer on his own account, went to France, where
he did very well until after the assassination of Henri IV., when he
shared the persecutions of the Protestants, and died in great distress
in Paris.