CHAPTER XV.

INVENTION.

English carriage constructors are certainly not an inventive race, if

we allow that the names by which carriages are known are indicative

of their origin. Coach is derived from the Hungarian _kotsee_,

chariot is French, chaise is French, landau is German, cabriolet is

French, and so on with many other names.

But mere invention—mere original conception—does not constitute

excellence; and if foreigners may fairly lay claim to the greatest

originality, English artists have the merit, perhaps still more

important, of gradually improving the original designs, and so

contriving all the details that, in their state of comparative

excellence, the carriages can be scarcely recognised as constructions

of the same principle as their models.

That English artists are not remarkable for the invention of new

carriages is no proof of their want of talent; they have invention in

abundance if there were sufficient motives to call it forth, and as

a matter of fact invention is but poorly paid for. England possesses

abundance of mind and matter, and there is no country in which a

union of the two is just now more indispensable, and yet there is no

country which throws greater obstacles in the way of the development

of its minds. On an English patent lasting _fourteen_ years the

stamp duties amount to £175, whilst on an American patent lasting

_seventeen_ years the duty is only £7, or ¹⁄₂₅th of the English

stamp duty. Under such a system no one will be surprised to find that

on December 31st, 1879, there were only 15,755 patents in force in

England, as against more than 200,000 in the United States. (These

figures, of course, refer to patents of all kinds.) It has been

calculated that about 10 per cent. of patentees manage to survive

the seventh year of their patents, at which time the £100 duty is

payable; that is to say, as far as their patents are concerned.

English artists and artisans are little more than merchants in

their trades and methods of doing business; they cannot afford to

lose time, and their principal object is to make as large an annual

return as possible, and as large a profit as possible on that return.

Continental men are more enthusiastic lovers of their arts and

sciences. They aim at improvement from mere liking for it, and when

they fail it is mostly from want of efficient workmen to further

their designs. The demand with them is not sufficient to make every

branch of their art a manufacture. In England, on the contrary, the

manufacture of carriages is a work of many trades, and greater skill

is produced in manipulation by the division of labour. If chance

brings in a new fashion, competition is aroused, which does not

subside until some degree of improvement or excellence be obtained.

The ordinary measure of talent is held to be success, _i.e._ the

acquisition of property; though it is quite clear the qualities

which insure success are not those which tend to produce excellence

or improvement in carriages more than in any other arts. The

inventor may produce, but it is for the most part the mere merchant

or tradesman who profits by the inventions. Carriages are made

to sell as plays are written to fill theatres, and the English

carriage-builder takes a French or German carriage to improve

upon because it saves his time and trouble, just as the English

play-writer freely uses a French play to save the labour of his

brains. Improvements are rarely the voluntary productions of English

carriage-builders; they are forced on them by the purchasers—first

individuals and then the mass—who desire some mere novelty, others

greater ease, and others a more rapid rate of motion. Almost all

the changes and improvements in carriages may be traced in their

origin to the carriage users and not the carriage-builders. The

carriage-builders do not lead, but they have always the means of

pressing talent enough into their service whenever a sufficient

demand offers them a remunerating return. Coaches were first invented

on the Continent, but it was in England that they were improved into

public stages, capable of being run 10 miles and upwards per hour for

days and weeks together.

This was not done at once, or by any one man: it was the combined

result of numberless small improvements, forced on by the necessity

of overcoming practical difficulties. Coach-builders have not been

remarkable as a scientific body. They have been, strictly speaking,

“practical men;” and as the knowledge they have gained by experience

has not been carefully hoarded in books, carriage construction

has remained a sort of occult matter, without any specific theory

attached to it. Each one, as he is freshly initiated, gains his

knowledge as best he can—from verbal instruction or from a new

series of experiments—and thus a considerable portion of his time

must elapse ere he can have verified his judgment. Enough of this

knowledge exists in various brains which might suffice for the

construction of a sound theory, but it would be a difficult operation

to gather it together, for many petty feelings would be at work.

Many experimentalists understand the word _theory_ as synonymous

with falsehood or absurdity, as the very opposite of _practice_. It

is clear that practice must be the ultimate verification of theory;

but every true practice must have a true theory belonging to it.

The _theory_ of a subject is the _science_ or philosophy of that

subject; practice is the positive knowledge or proof of the soundness

of the theory. But as theories are more plentiful than practices,

and as many of them are not verified, there are of course many false

ones. On this ground unscientific experimentalists have acquired

the habit of regarding _all_ theory as false, which is about as

reasonable as it would be to assert that because falsehood exists

in the world, all truth must therefore be extinct. This peculiarity

is not confined to carriage-building; engineering and architecture

abound with it; and law and medicine are not wanting in it. The truth

is, that human knowledge is only got together by small portions

at a time in the school of experiment, and when that knowledge is

considerable in any one branch, a true and verified theory may be

constructed from it. And when a great number of subjects have thus

been analysed and theorised, it is comparatively easy to construct

theories by analogy on new subjects by sound principles. Newton’s

theory of the universe was just as true when he first developed it in

thought as after he had verified it by calculation.

It is a common notion that a mechanical inventor must necessarily be

a man of genius; but, if the matter be analysed, it will be found

that though inventors are occasionally men of genius it is not by

any means a general rule. _Invention_, in its ordinary sense, as the

word implies, is the art of _finding out_. By _genius_ is meant a

species of creative power, like that of the poet, for example, in his

highest state of excellence. Invention is of two kinds—one resulting

from a quick habit of observation, which detects the applicability of

various forms of matter to similar objects. Of this an example may

be given in the case of Dr. Wollaston, who, in a hurried experiment

needing some lime which was not at hand, suddenly cast his eye on

his ivory paper-cutter, and with some scrapings from its surface

accomplished his object. This quick habit of observation, when

it goes to the production of beautiful forms, is akin to fancy.

The other and higher kind of invention is that which results from

bringing a theory into practice—from first imagining a desirable

result, and then bringing it to bear by the exercise of the judgment

and constant persevering efforts steadily directed through a long

period of time. The names of Brindley and Watt are examples of this

quality. When Brindley set to work upon canals he did not create, he

merely formed the plan of levelling the surfaces of natural streams

by drawing off the water into new channels of sufficient depth,

and thus preventing the water from being wasted. The process of

forming locks was a continued series of mechanical contrivances with

purpose aforethought. When Watt first imagined the steam engine he

did not invent the power of steam; that was known long before, and

had existed from the time that fire and water had existed. But he

formed to himself the plan by which he hoped to realise the result

of making steam an efficient human servant through the agency of a

perfect machine. The general idea of this machine existed in his

mind a long time before he brought it into practice; and the slow

process by which this was accomplished is evidenced by the fact that

the term of his patent right was extended by Act of Parliament, on

the ground that he had not had sufficient time to reap benefit from

it. An anecdote of Watt serves not only to prove this, but also his

high-minded philosophy, which was far beyond the miserable vanity

of ordinary inventors, who aim at astonishing their fellows rather

than instructing or benefiting them. After success had elevated

Watt to the public eminence he so deserved, a nobleman who dined

in his company expressed himself in terms of wonder on what Mr.

Watt had accomplished. Watt coolly remarked, “The public look only

on my success, and not on the intermediate failures and uncouth

constructions which have served as steps to climb to the top of the

ladder.”

The power of mechanical conception is very widely extended; it is a

modification of the same power which composes romances. The magic

horse in the fairy tale, which turned and was guided by means of a

pin in the neck, was a mechanical conception. If the same person

who conceived that had worked it out into practice it would have

been an evidence of genius, viz. imagination discovering truth by

analogical inference. Invention, then, of the highest kind must

be composed of four qualities—imagination, to conceive a new and

complicated machine; knowledge, to gather materials; judgment, to

select and combine them; and perseverance without wearying till the

truth be obtained. Those things which commonly go by the name of new

inventions are very often mere modifications of what has been done

before. “Improvements” is the technical term applied to them.

The task a man has to go through in conceiving, designing,

perfecting, and patenting a complicated mechanical invention is by no

means inviting. Even when he possesses the hand to execute what the

head has contrived, only a portion of his difficulties are overcome.

A first idea is fascinating, and apparently easy of execution. It

is thought over again and again; all difficulties are apparently

surmounted and all obstacles removed; it is, in the imagination of

the inventor, perfect. He may, perchance, know how to draw; but if

not, he must employ some one to make his drawings for him. In this

case, to avoid piracy, he must take out a provisional patent. For

this he has to pay some considerable sum, and for a purpose whose

success is uncertain.

Having secured his patent, our inventor sets his draughtsman to

work and the drawings are made. Then follows the model, and ere

that is completed it is discovered that there occur unexpected

difficulties in the material construction which did not present

themselves on paper. New contrivances must be resorted to, and

the model is made and re-made many times over. It is at last

completed, perhaps within a very few days of the time allowed for

depositing the specifications, and fresh expenses are incurred by

the necessity of paying highly those whose business it is to work

against time. When all is ready the specification is deposited, and

the inventor, perhaps, discovers that the title he has first taken

will not cover his invention on account of its being different from

his first contemplation. The title must, therefore, be altered,

and the fees paid over again. He now sets to work to construct a

full-sized sample of his invention, and all his patience is needed.

At length the invention is in a state for practical trial. Up to

this point all seems well; but practice soon discovers a defect, not

in principle, perhaps, but in detail. A second experiment is made

without success; and many more follow ere the invention is completed

alike in principle and execution. Then begins the task of getting it

before the public. Perhaps the inventor has been sanguine, and has

attempted to introduce it to the public in an imperfect state, and

the consequent failures have excited a prejudice unfavourable to his

object. This prejudice has to be overcome by repeated and unceasing

exertions, and at length, perhaps when half the period of the patent

right has expired, the inventor begins to reap the fruits of his

skill and industry. Public rumour is ever fond of exaggeration,

and he is soon supposed to be realising a large fortune, though

most likely he is only beginning to pay his expenses. Competition

is then at work, and rivals who have been at no expense or trouble

imitate his invention, or make just so much alteration in it as they

think necessary to evade his patent right. He goes to law with the

pirates, and then, perhaps, makes the discovery that his title or

specification is imperfect, and that he has been labouring for years

to bring to perfection an invention from which he can reap no more

pecuniary advantage than if he had confined himself to an ordinary

trade in which imitation alone was necessary.

It is evident, therefore, that a man who possesses a good trade as a

coachmaker has little inducement to embark in the perilous field of

invention. His time is mostly taken up with his ordinary business,

and unless under very peculiar circumstances he has little or no

time to study improvements. Those who have too little business to

fill up their time are interested in producing new things in order

to attract public attention. First ideas very often originate with

mechanics and artisans, who have not the means of putting them into

practice, unless in comparatively trifling improvements. Established

tradesmen generally consider it their interest to discourage such

things, as interfering with their plans and giving them more trouble

without extra profit. Thus, when under-springs were first adapted

to carriages, it was prophesied that they would be the ruin of the

coach-making trade, by making carriages too durable. When the streets

were Macadamised, wheelwrights and coachmakers alike complained that

it was destruction to their trade. It is the same in other things.

The Manchester cotton-spinner, who has a mill and machinery already

erected, does not feel very benevolently disposed towards an inventor

who contrives new machinery of a better class, by which he can

underwork him and take away his trade. It may be taken as a general

rule that new inventions are viewed with jealousy by all established

tradesmen, on the ground that they are an individual advantage, and

not in the outset advantageous to the trade in general. Therefore,

they keep them down all in their power, and when they succeed it is

by the circumstance that they are valuable in themselves, and that

the customers of the tradesmen insist on having them.

Sound mechanical knowledge is less necessary to the fashionable

coachmaker than taste. Taste is the one requisite, without which he

cannot thrive, and which therefore constitutes his real business

qualification. Taste is exhibited in form, colour, and proportion,

and having this he can employ other persons to fill up the details.

The general mechanism of carriages does not vary, and the mechanism

serves as a skeleton framework which may be clothed according to

fancy. Therefore, to produce what is commonly called a new carriage

is a work of composition, and not invention. It is a combination

of already existing parts to form a new arrangement. The tasteful

combiner may know nothing of his wheels or axles, or their due

proportion of strength, but he has the wheelwright to take the

responsibility for him. He may know nothing of the construction of

springs, but the spring-maker is at hand ready to calculate the

requisite strength according to an estimated weight; and if the

weight should prove more than was expected it is easy to apply an

extra plate. He gives a general drawing of the framework, and a

skilful workman knows how to apportion the scantling, and build it

strongly together. A skilful smith makes his ornamental ironwork

to a given form, and takes all the responsibility of understanding

and duly working the metal. The employer directs the painter what

portions to put in colours and what in ground colours; what to make

conspicuous and what to hide; what to lighten by lines and what to

leave heavy. The preparation of the colours and the laying of them

on are the work of the painter alone. The enterprising maker also

directs the trimmer as to the general effect of the lining, and

arranges the harmony of the colours; but the trimmer has to study the

best mode of performing his work. The braces and other leather work

are left to the skill of the workman, who is mostly left to select

his own materials and apportion their strength; and the ornamental

metal-work is the province of the plater, who is responsible for

its wear. It is clear, however, that in addition to taste, it is

necessary that the carriage constructor should know how to draw,

in order to effectually direct those whom he employs, and also to

facilitate operations with the purchasers who may employ him to build

for them.

To be a complete carriage constructor a man ought to be familiar

with all the branches before alluded to. But there are few mechanics

of such universal knowledge, and still rarer is it that they combine

such knowledge with taste. Even it would be scarcely possible for

a single individual to carry on a large business and do everything

in his own factory. It would require a very large capital and very

large premises, and also an extensive mercantile knowledge and

skill—which last is based on qualities the direct opposite of those

which nourish the faculty of taste. Mercantile skill depends on

calculation; taste is a combination of imagination and observation.

There are three modes in which carriage-building on a large scale

may be successfully conducted: first, by a single individual whose

only business is to combine parts, and who employs tradesmen for

every separate branch; secondly, by a single individual, who employs

responsible superintendents in every branch at high salaries; and,

thirdly, by a combination of partners, one possessing taste, another

mechanical knowledge, a third mercantile knowledge, and so on. This

last mode would assuredly produce the most certain result, provided

the partners possessed the necessary moral qualities to assure the

absence of suspicion, jealousy, &c., amongst themselves. If these

evil qualities existed they would destroy unanimity, and thus render

the business unproductive by preventing efficient arrangements.

It is probable that at a future time the workmen themselves will

enter into some such combination, but it must be after the lapse

of many years, as the principle of caste must be first eradicated

amongst them, which is at present so fruitful a source of jealousy

amongst the different branches. Ere that takes place the increasing

plenty of capital will probably induce many capitalists to invest

money in carriage-building, as they now do in house-building, giving

shares and salaries to men of undoubted skill and probity in order to

insure efficiency and perseverance.

A practical treatise on coach-building historical and descriptive · 第 15 / 16 章