Brief mention has been made of Whitney's invention of the cotton gin.
The event was of such world-wide importance that the story should be
told here. Whitney, the inventor of the gin, was born in Massachusetts
in 1765, in very poor circumstances. While the War of the Revolution was
going on, he was earning his living by making nails by hand. He was such
an apt mechanic that he was able to make and save enough money to pay
his way through Yale College, where he graduated in 1792. In that year
he engaged himself to come to Georgia as a private tutor in the family
of a gentleman of Savannah; but when he reached that city, he found that
the place had been filled.
While in Savannah, Whitney attracted the attention of the widow of
General Nathanael Greene, who lived at Mulberry Grove, on the river at
no great distance from the city. Mrs. Greene invited the young man to
make his home on her plantation. He soon found opportunity to show his
fine mechanical genius, and Mrs. Greene became more interested in him
than ever.
The story goes, that soon after the young man had established himself on
the Mulberry Grove Plantation, several Georgia planters were dining with
Mrs. Greene. During their conversation the difficulty of removing the
seed from the cotton fiber was mentioned, and the suggestion was made
that this might be done by machinery. At this Mrs. Greene mentioned the
skill and ingenuity of young Whitney, and advised her guests that he
should be given the problem to solve. This advice was followed. The
planters had a talk with the young man, and explained to him the
difficulty which they found in separating the seed from the lint.
At that time one pound of lint cotton was all that a negro woman could
separate from the seed in a day; and the more cotton the planters
raised, the deeper they got in debt. The close of the war had found them
in a state of the utmost poverty, so that they had been compelled to
mortgage their lands in order to get money on which to begin business.
Cotton was the only product of the farm for which there was any constant
demand; but, owing to the labor of separating the lint from the seed,
it could not be raised at a profit. Thus, in 1791, the number of pounds
exported from the South to Europe amounted to only about 379 bales of
500 pounds each.
When the planters went to Whitney with their problem, he was entirely
ignorant of the whole matter. He knew nothing of cotton or of cotton
planting; but he at once set himself at work. He made a careful study of
the cotton plant. He shut himself in a room with some uncleaned cotton,
and worked at his task during a whole winter. He made his own tools at
the plantation blacksmith shop; and all day long, and sometimes far into
the night, he could be heard hammering and sawing away.
In 1793 he called together the planters who had asked him to solve the
problem, and showed them the machine, which he called a cotton gin. When
they saw it work, their surprise and delight knew no bounds. They
knew at once that the problem had been solved by the young genius from
Massachusetts. Little calculation was needed to show them that the
cotton gin could clean as much cotton in a day as could be cleaned on
a plantation during a whole winter. What before had been the work of a
hundred hands for several months could now be completed in a few days.
[Illustration: Whitney and his Cotton Gin 163]
But it seems to be the fate of the majority of those who make wonderful
inventions never to enjoy the full benefits of the work of their genius.
Eli Whitney was not an exception to the general rule. While he was
working on his cotton gin, rumors of it went abroad; and by the time it
was completed, public expectation was on tiptoe. When the machine was
finished, it was shown to only a few people; but the fact, of such
immense importance to the people of the State, was soon known throughout
the State, and the planters impatiently waited for the day when they
would be able to put it in use.
One night the building in which Whitney's cotton gin was concealed
was broken into, ransacked, and the machine carried off. It was a bold
robbery, and a very successful one. The inventor made haste to build
another gin; but before he could get his model completed, and obtain
a patent right to the invention, the machine had been manufactured at
various points in the South by other parties, and was in operation on
several plantations. Whitney formed a partnership with a gentleman who
had some capital, and went to Connecticut to manufacture his gin; but he
was compelled to spend all the money he could make, fighting lawsuits.
His patent had been infringed, and those who sought to rob him of the
fruits of his labor took a bold stand. The result of all this was, that
the inventor never received any just compensation for a machine that
revolutionized the commerce of the country, and added enormously to the
power and progress of the Republic. Lord Macaulay said that Eli Whitney
did more to make the United States powerful than Peter the Great did to
make the Russian Empire dominant. Robert Fulton declared that Arkwright,
Watt, and Whitney were the three men that did more for mankind than any
of their contemporaries. This is easy to believe, when we remember that
while the South shipped 6 bags of cotton to England in 1786, and only
379 in 1791, ten years after the cotton gin came into use, 82,000
bales were exported. The very importance of Whitney's invention made
it immensely profitable for the vicious and the depraved to seize and
appropriate the inventor's rights. These robberies were upheld by those
who were anxious to share in the profits; and political demagogues made
themselves popular by misrepresenting Whitney, and clamoring against
the law that was intended to protect him. It was only by means of this
clamor, half political and wholly dishonest, that the plain rights
of Whitney could be denied and justice postponed. His invention was
entirely new. It was distinct from every other. It had no connection
with and no relation to any other invention that had been made. It stood
alone, and there could be no difficulty whatever in identifying it. And
yet Whitney had just this difficulty. In his efforts to prove that he
was the inventor of the cotton gin, and that he was entitled to a share
of the immense profits that those who used it were reaping, he had to
travel thousands of miles, and spend thousands of dollars in appearing
before Legislatures and in courts that denied him justice. The life
of his patent had nearly expired before any court finally enforced
his right, and Congress refused to grant him an extension beyond
the fourteen years that had then nearly expired. Associations and
combinations had been formed for the purpose of defrauding Whitney, and
these were represented by the ablest lawyers that could be hired. It is
no wonder that Whitney, in writing to Robert Fulton, a brother inventor,
declared that the troubles he had to contend with were the result of a
lack of desire on the part of mankind to see justice done. The truth is,
his invention was of such prime importance that the public fought for
its possession, and justice and honesty were for the moment lost sight
of. At one time but a few men in Georgia were bold enough to go into
court and testify to the simplest facts within their knowledge;
and Whitney himself says, that in one instance he had the greatest
difficulty in proving that the machine had been used in Georgia,
although at that very moment three, separate gins were at work within
fifty yards of the building in which the court sat. They were all so
near, that the rattle and hum of the machinery could be heard from the
court-house steps.
In December, 1807, a judge was found to affirm the rights of Whitney
under his patent. The judge's name was Johnson; and in his decision he
said, "The whole interior of the Southern States was languishing, and
its inhabitants emigrating for want of some object to engage their
attention and employ their industry, when the invention of this machine
at once opened views to them which set the whole country in active
motion. From childhood to age it has presented to us a lucrative
employment. Individuals who were depressed with poverty, and sunk in
idleness, have suddenly risen to wealth and respectability. Our debts
have been paid off. Our capital has increased, and our lands have
trebled themselves in value. We cannot express the weight of the
obligation which the country owes to this invention. The extent of it
cannot now be seen."
The language of the learned judge was high-flown; but he was a just
judge, and he had a faint and glimmering idea of the real importance of
this remarkable invention. It was a very simple affair. The principle
came to Whitney in a flash, and he had a model constructed within ten
days after the despairing planters had gone to him with their problem.
But it may be doubted whether any other individual, by one simple
invention, ever did so much for the progress and enrichment of human
interests, and for the welfare and the comfort of the human race. This
little machine made the agriculture of the South the strongest and the
richest in the world, and gave to this section a political power that
was for years supreme in the nation, and was only surrendered as the
result of a long and exhausting war. By means of the cotton gin, towns
and cities have sprung up, and a vast network of railways has been
built; and yet the most that Whitney received was a royalty on his gin
in North Carolina, and a donation of fifty thousand dollars from the
State of South Carolina. In Georgia his right to his invention was
stolen, and all that he got out of it was a number of costly lawsuits.
After struggling for five years against the overwhelming odds that
avarice and greed had mustered to aid them, Whitney turned his attention
in another direction, and made a still more remarkable display of his
genius. This part of his career does not belong directly to the history
of Georgia, but it is interesting enough to be briefly recorded here.
The United States Government was in want of arms, and this want various
contractors had failed to meet. Through the influence of the secretary
of the treasury, Whitney was given a contract to make ten thousand
muskets at $13.40 apiece. He had no capital, no works, no machinery, no
tools, no skilled workmen, no raw material. In creating a part of these
and commanding the rest, he called into play an inventive genius, the
extent of which must always excite wonder and admiration.
Within ten years he created his own works, and invented and made his own
tools, invented and made his own machinery. More than this, he invented
and applied a wholly new principle of manufacture,--a principle that
has done more to advance human industry and increase wealth all over the
world than any other known effort of the human mind to solve material
problems. He invented and developed the principle or system of making
the various parts of a musket or any other complex manufactured
article, such as the sewing machine, so absolutely uniform as to be
interchangeable. This principle has been carried out in hundreds of
thousands of different ways. It has entered into and become a feature of
a vast range of manufactures. The principle was established by a series
of inventions as wonderful as any that the human mind ever conceived,
so that Whitney has been aptly called the Shakespeare of invention. His
inventions remain practically unchanged. After ninety years of trial,
they are found to be practically perfect.
It was his peculiar gift to be able to convey into inanimate machinery
the skill that a human being could acquire only after years of study and
practice.
It is almost like belittling the greatest of marvels to call it a
stroke of genius. He made it possible for the most ordinary laborer
to accomplish a hundred times as much in an hour, and with the most
exquisite perfection, as a skilled laborer could accomplish in a day.
On these wonderful inventions Whitney took out no patents. He gave them
all to the public. In this way he revenged himself on those who had
successfully robbed him of the fruits of his labor and genius in the
invention of the cotton gin. Perhaps if he had been more justly treated
in Georgia, he might have set up his works in this State, and this fact
might have made the South the seat of great manufacturing industries.
Who knows?