and he is very nice, and he likes people and people like him, and he
always succeeds,--his things turn out well, like Dr. Franklin's; and he
says the world has always been grateful to him. He never sulks or
complains; he knows all about the moon, and makes wonderful pictures of
it; and he's enormously rich, I believe, too,--but that's not so much
matter. The best of all is, that he began just as we begin. He had a
nice father and a nice mother and a good happy home, and was brought up
like good decent children. Now really, Uncle Fritz, you mustn't laugh;
but do you not think that most of the people whose lives we read have to
begin horridly? They have to be beaten when they are apprentices, or
their fathers and mothers have to die, or they have to walk through
Philadelphia with loaves of bread under their arms, or to be brought up
in poor-houses or something. Now, nothing of that sort happened to my
inventor. And I am very much encouraged. For my father never beat me,
and my mother never scolded me half as much as I deserved, and I never
was in a poor-house, and I never carried a loaf of bread under my arm,
and so I really was afraid I should come to no good. But now I have
found my new moon-man, I am very much encouraged."
The others laughed heartily at Hester's zeal, and Blanche asked what
Hester's hero had invented, and what was his name. The others turned to
Uncle Fritz half incredulously. But Uncle Fritz came to Hester's relief.
"Hester is quite right," he said; "and his name it is James Nasmyth. He
has invented a great many things, quite necessary in the gigantic system
of modern machine-building. He has chosen the steam-hammer for his
device. Here is a picture of it on the outside of his Life. You see I
was ready for you, Hester."
The children looked with interest on the device, and Fergus said that it
was making heraldry do as it should, and speak in the language of the
present time.
Then Uncle Fritz bade Hester find for them a passage in the biography
where Mr. Nasmyth tells how he changed the old motto of the family.
Oddly enough, the legend says that the first Nasmyth took his name
after a romantic escape, when one of his pursuers, finding him disguised
as a blacksmith, cried out, "Ye're _nae smyth_."
It is a little queer that this name should have been given to the family
of a man, who, in his time, forged heavier pieces of iron than had ever
been forged before, and, indeed, invented the machinery by which this
should be done. The old Scotch family had for a motto the words
"Non arte, sed Marte."
With a very just pride, James Nasmyth has changed the motto, and made it
"Non Marte, sed arte."
That is, while they said, "Not by art, but by war," this man, who has
done more work for the world, directly or indirectly, than any of
Aladdin's genii, says, "Not by war, but by art."
Hester was well pleased that their old friend justified her enthusiasm
so entirely. He and she began dipping into her copy and his copy of the
biography, which is one of the most interesting books of our time.
JAMES NASMYTH.
My grandfather, Michael Naesmyth, like his father and grandfather, was a
builder and architect. The buildings he designed and erected for the
Scotch nobility and gentry were well arranged, carefully executed, and
thoroughly substantial. 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 excellence of my grandfather's workmanship was a thing that my own
father 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.
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.
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 afterward 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 read his Bible and to
learn his Carritch (the Shorter Catechism).
My father's profession was that of a portrait-painter, to begin with;
but later he devoted himself to landscape-painting. But he did not
confine himself to this pursuit. He was an all-round man, with something
of the universal about him. He was a painter, an architect, and a
mechanic. Above all, he was an incessantly industrious man.
I was born on the morning of the 19th of August, 1808, at my father's
house in Edinburgh. I was named James Hall, after a dear friend of my
father. My mother afterward 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?"
When I was about four or five years old I was observed to give a decided
preference to the use of my left hand. At first everything was done to
prevent my using it in preference to the right, until my father, after
viewing a little sketch I had drawn with my left hand, allowed me to go
on in my own way. 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, and in this way I
became ambidexter.
In due time I was sent to school; and while attending the High School,
from 1817 to 1820, there was the usual rage among 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 became quite noted among 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 with the
heaviest diameter at the top. They would spin twice as long as the
bought peeries. When at full speed they would "sleep;" that is, turn
round without a particle of wavering. This was considered high art as
regarded top-spinning.
Flying-kites and tissue-paper balloons were articles that I was also
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 favorite 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, 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 Third's 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 Cross, throwing the glasses over their backs. 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 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 consequently fell into the tinder-box, and the
match (of hemp string, soaked in saltpetre) was readily lit and fired
off the little guns.
One of my attached cronies was Tom Smith. Our friendship began at the
High School in 1818. A 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 color-manufactory at Portobello, near Edinburgh, where he
produced white lead, red lead, and a great variety of colors,--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 away, I
kept a lookout 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, to take part 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
color 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 means 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 vapor through animal charcoal before
it entered the worm of the still. We converted part of the alcohol into
sulphuric ether. We produced phosphorus from old 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 labor 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 the youth 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 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.
By the time I was 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-colors 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.
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
fly-wheel 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.
I was a regular attendant at the Edinburgh School of Arts from 1821 to
1826, meanwhile inventing original contrivances of various sorts.
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 of 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 Carmichael's, 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.
The chief object of my ambition was now to be taken on at Henry
Maudsley's works in London. I had heard so much of his engineering work,
of his assortment of machine-making tools, and of the admirable
organization of his manufactory, that I longed to obtain employment
there. But I was aware that my father had not the means of paying the
large premium required for placing me there, and I was also informed
that Maudsley had ceased to take pupils, they caused him so much
annoyance. My father and I went to London; and Mr. Maudsley received us
in the most kind and frank manner, and courteously invited us to go
round the works. When this was concluded I ventured to say to Mr.
Maudsley 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 to-morrow 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. Maudsley'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
handcart to Mr. Maudsley'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."
One of his favorite maxims was, "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 lookout 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. Maudsley 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.
On the morning of Monday, May 30, 1829, I began my regular attendance at
Mr. Maudsley's workshop, and remained with him until he died, Feb. 14,
1831. It was a very sad thing for me to lose my dear old master, who
always treated me like a friend and companion. At his death I passed
over into the service of his worthy partner, Joshua Field, until my
twenty-third year, when I intended to begin business for myself.
I first settled myself at Manchester, but afterwards established a large
business outside of Manchester on the Bridgewater Canal. In August,
1836, the Bridgewater Foundry was in complete and efficient action. The
engine ordered at Londonderry was at once put in hand, and the concern
was fairly started in its long career of prosperity. The wooden
workshops had been erected upon the grass, but the greensward soon
disappeared. The hum of the driving-belts, the whirl of the machinery,
the sound of the hammer upon the anvil, gave the place an air of busy
activity. As work increased, workmen multiplied. The workshops were
enlarged. Wood gave place to brick. Cottages for the accommodation of
the work-people sprung up in the neighborhood, and what had once been a
quiet grassy field became the centre of a busy population.
It was a source of vast enjoyment to me, while engaged in the anxious
business connected with the establishment of the foundry, to be
surrounded with so many objects of rural beauty. The site of the works
being on the west side of Manchester, we had the benefit of breathing
pure air during the greater part of the year. The scenery round about
was very attractive. Exercise was a source of health to the mind as well
as the body. As it was necessary that I should reside as near as
possible to the works, I had plenty of opportunities for enjoying the
rural scenery of the neighborhood. I had the good fortune to become the
tenant of a small cottage in the ancient village of Barton, in
Cheshire, at the very moderate rental of fifteen pounds a year. The
cottage was situated on the banks of the river Irwell, and was only
about six minutes' walk from the works at Patricroft. It suited my
moderate domestic arrangements admirably.
On June 16, 1840, a day of happy memory, I was married to Miss Anne
Hartop.
I was present at the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, on
Sept. 15, 1830. Every one knows the success of the undertaking. Railways
became the rage. They were projected in every possible direction; and
when made, locomotives were required to work them. When George
Stephenson was engaged in building his first locomotive, at
Killingworth, he was greatly hampered, not only by the want of handy
mechanics, but by the want of efficient tools. But he did the best that
he could. His genius overcame difficulties. It was immensely to his
credit that he should have so successfully completed his engines for the
Stockton and Darlington, and afterward for the Liverpool and Manchester,
Railway.
Only a few years had passed, and self-acting tools were now enabled to
complete, with precision and uniformity, machines that before had been
deemed almost impracticable. In proportion to the rapid extension of
railways the demand for locomotives became very great. As our machine
tools were peculiarly adapted for turning out a large amount of
first-class work, we directed our attention to this class of business.
In the course of about ten years after the opening of the Liverpool and
Manchester Railway, we executed considerable orders for locomotives for
the London and Southampton, the Manchester and Leeds, and the Gloucester
Railway Companies.
The Great Western Railway Company invited us to tender for twenty of
their very ponderous engines. They proposed a very tempting condition of
the contract. It was that if, after a month's trial of the locomotives,
their working proved satisfactory, a premium of £100 was to be added to
the price of each engine and tender. The locomotives were made and
delivered; they ran the stipulated number of test miles between London
and Bristol in a perfectly satisfactory manner; and we not only received
the premium, but, what was much more encouraging, we received a special
letter from the board of directors, stating their entire satisfaction
with the performance of our engines, and desiring us to refer other
contractors to them with respect to the excellence of our workmanship.
This testimonial was altogether spontaneous, and proved extremely
valuable in other quarters.
The date of the first sketch of my steam-hammer was Nov. 24, 1839. It
consisted of, first, a massive anvil, on which to rest the work; second,
a block of iron constituting the hammer, or blow-giving portion; and,
third, an inverted steam cylinder, to whose piston-rod the hammer-block
was attached. All that was then required to produce a most effective
hammer, was simply to admit steam of sufficient pressure into the
cylinder, so as to act on the under side of the piston, and thus to
raise the hammer-block attached to the end of the piston-rod. By a very
simple arrangement of a slide-valve under the control of an attendant,
the steam was allowed to escape, and thus permit the massive block of
iron rapidly to descend by its own gravity upon the work then upon the
anvil.