Thames Junction, crossed the Great Western line on a level at between
two and three miles from its terminus. The interruption caused certain
jerks in several of our curves, which, having once noticed, it was
impossible to mistake.
I would suggest that every engine should carry a spring clock, marking
small equal intervals of time by means of a needle-point impinging
upon paper, the speed of whose transit should be regulated by the
speed of the engine. It might, perhaps, be desirable to have a
differently-formed mark to indicate each five minutes. Also, two or
more studs on the driving-wheel should mark upon the same paper the
number of its revolutions. Besides this, it might be imperative on the
engine-driver to mark upon the paper a dot upon passing each of certain
prescribed points upon the railway. This latter is not absolutely
necessary, but may occasionally supply very valuable information.
〈TRACTIVE POWER REGISTERED.〉
The second point which I consider of importance is, that—
_Between every engine and its train there should be interposed a
dynamometer, that is, a powerful spring to measure the force exerted by
the engine._
It may, perhaps, be objected that this would require a certain amount
of movement between the engine and its train. A very small quantity
would be sufficient, say half an inch, or less. The forces in action
are so very large, that even a still smaller amount of motion than this
might be sufficiently magnified. Its indications should be marked by
{333} self-acting machinery governing points impinging upon the paper
on which the velocity is marked.
Whenever any unusual resistance has opposed the progress of the train,
it will thus be marked upon the paper. It will indicate in some
measure the state of the road, and it will assuredly furnish valuable
information in case an accident happens, and the train or the engine
gets off the rails.
〈CURVE OF PROGRESS REGISTERED.〉
The third recommendation I have to make is—
_That the curve described by the centre of the engine itself upon the
plane of the railway should be laid down upon the paper._
Finding this a very important element, I caused a plate of hardened
steel to be pressed by a strong spring against the inner edge of
the rail. It was supported by a hinge upon a strong piece of timber
descending from the platform supporting the carriage itself. The motion
of this piece of steel, arising from the varying position of the wheels
themselves upon the rail, was conveyed to a pen which transferred to
the paper the curve traversed by the centre of the carriage referred to
the plane of the rail itself.
The contrivance and management of this portion of my apparatus was
certainly the most difficult part of my task, and probably the most
dangerous. I had several friendly cautions, but I knew the danger, and
having examined its various causes, adopted means of counteracting its
effect.
After a few trials we found out how to manage it, and although it often
broke four or five times in the course of the day’s work, the fracture
inevitably occurred at the place intended for it, and my first notice
of the fact often arose from the blow the fragment made when suddenly
drawn by a strong rope up to the under side of the floor of our
experimental carriage.
I have a very strong opinion that the adoption of such {334}
mechanical registrations would add greatly to the security of railway
travelling, because they would become the unerring record of facts, the
incorruptible witnesses of the immediate antecedents of any catastrophe.
I have, however, little expectation of their adoption, unless Directors
can be convinced that the knowledge derived from them would, by
pointing out incipient defects, and by acting as a check upon the
vigilance of all their officers, considerably diminish the repairs and
working expenses both of the engine and of the rail. Nor should I be
much surprised even if they were pronounced impracticable, although
they existed very nearly a quarter of a century ago.
The question of the gauges has long been settled. A small portion of
broad gauge exists, but it is probable that it will ultimately be
changed. The vast expense of converting the engines and the rolling
stock for use on the narrower gauge presents the greatest obstacle.
〈GEORGE STEPHENSON’S REAL OPINION ON THE QUESTION OF THE GAUGES.〉
It may, however, be interesting to learn the opinion of the father of
railways at an early period of their progress. I have already mentioned
the circumstances under which my acquaintance with George Stephenson
began. They were favourable to that mutual confidence which immediately
arose. I was naturally anxious to ascertain the effect of the existing
experience upon his own mind, but I waited patiently until a favourable
opportunity presented itself.
At a large public dinner, during the meeting of the British Association
at Newcastle, I sat next to George Stephenson. It occurred to me that
the desired opportunity had now arrived. I said little about railways
until after the first glass of champagne. I mentioned several that
I had travelled upon, and the conclusions I had drawn relative to
the mechanical department. I then referred to the economy of {335}
management, and pointed out one railway in which the accounts were so
well arranged, that I had been able to arrive at a testing point of an
opinion I had formed from my own observations.
One great evil of the narrow gauge was, that when some trifling
derangement in the engine occurred, which might be repaired at the
expense of two or three shillings, it frequently became necessary
to remove uninjured portions of the machine, in order to get at the
fault; that the re-making the joints and replacing these parts thus
temporarily removed, frequently led to an expense of several pounds.
The second glass of champagne now interrupted a conversation which
was, I hope, equally agreeable to both, and was certainly very
instructive for me. I felt that the fairest opportunity I could desire
of ascertaining my friend’s real opinion of the gauge had now arrived.
Availing myself of the momentary pause after George Stephenson’s glass
was empty, I said—
“Now, Mr. Stephenson, will you allow me to ask you to suppose for an
instant that no railways whatever existed, and yet that you were in
full possession of all that large amount of knowledge which you have
derived from your own experience. Under such circumstances, if you were
consulted respecting the gauge of a system of railways about to be
inaugurated, would you advise the gauge of 4 feet 8½ inches?”
“Not exactly that gauge,” replied the creator of railroads; “I would
take a few inches more, but a very few.”
I was quite satisfied with this admission, though I confess it reminded
me of the frail fair one who, when reproached by her immaculate friend
with having had a child—an ecclesiastical licence not being first
obtained—urged, as an extenuating circumstance, that it was a very
small one. {336}
〈RAILWAYS OF THE FUTURE.〉
In this age of invention, it is difficult to predict the railroads
of the future. Already it has been suggested to give up wheels and
put carriages upon sledges. This would lower the centre of gravity
considerably, and save the expense of wheels. On the other hand, every
carriage must have an apparatus to clean and grease the rails, and the
wear and tear of these latter might overbalance the economy arising
from abolishing wheels.
Again, short and much-frequented railways might be formed of a broad,
continuous strap, always rolling on. At each station means must exist
for taking up and putting down the passengers without stopping the
rolling strap.
The exhaustion of air in a continuous tunnel was proposed many years
ago for the purpose of sucking the trains along. This has recently been
applied with success to the transmission of parcels and letters.
Possibly in the next International Exhibition a light railway might be
employed within the building.[49]
1st. A quick train to enable visitors to get rapidly from end to end,
avoiding the crowd and saving time, say at the expense of a penny.
2nd. A very slow train passing along the most attractive line, and
occasionally stopping, to enable persons not capable of bearing the
fatigue of pushing on foot through crowds.
If such railways were considered in the original design of the
building, they might be made to interfere but little with the general
public, and would bring in a considerable revenue to the concern.
[49] A gallery, elevated about seven feet, in the centre of each
division of the new National Gallery, might be used either for a
light railway, or for additional means of seeing the pictures on
the walls.
{337}
CHAPTER XXVI.
STREET NUISANCES.
Various Classes injured — Instruments of Torture — Encouragers;
Servants, Beer-shops, Children, Ladies of elastic virtue — Effects on
the Musical Profession — Retaliation — Police themselves disturbed
— Invalids distracted — Horses run away — Children run over — A
Cab-stand placed in the Author’s street attracts Organs — Mobs
shouting out his Name — Threats to Burn his House — Disturbed in the
middle of the night when very ill — An average number of Persons
are always ill — Hence always disturbed — Abusive Placards — Great
Difficulty of getting Convictions — Got a Case for the Queen’s Bench
— Found it useless — A Dead Sell — Another Illustration — Musicians
give False Name and Address — Get Warrant for Apprehension — They keep
out of the way — Offenders not yet found and arrested by the Police
— Legitimate Use of Highways — An Old Lawyer’s Letter to _The Times_
— Proposed Remedies; Forbid entirely — Authorize Police to seize the
Instrument and take it to the Station — An Association for Prevention
of Street Music proposed.
During the last ten years, the amount of street music has so
greatly increased that it has now become a positive nuisance to a
very considerable portion of the inhabitants of London. It robs
the industrious man of his time; it annoys the musical man by its
intolerable badness; it irritates the invalid; deprives the patient,
who at great inconvenience has visited London for the best medical
advice, of that repose which, under such circumstances, is essential
for his recovery, and it destroys the time and the energies of all the
intellectual classes of society by its continual interruptions of their
pursuits. {338}
_Instruments of torture permitted by the Government to be in daily and
nightly use in the streets of London._
Organs.
Brass bands.
Fiddles.
Harps.
Harpsichords.
Hurdy-gurdies.
Flageolets.
Drums.
Bagpipes.
Accordions.
Halfpenny whistles.
Tom-toms.
Trumpets.
The human voice in various forms.
Shouting out objects for sale.
Religious canting.
Psalm-singing.
I have very frequently been disturbed by such music after eleven and
even after twelve o’clock at night. Upon one occasion a brass band
played, with but few and short intermissions, for five hours.
_Encouragers of Street Music._
Tavern-keepers.
Public-houses.
Gin-shops.
Beer-shops.
Coffee-shops.
Servants.
Children.
Visitors from the country.
Ladies of doubtful virtue.
Occasionally titled ladies;
but these are almost invariably
of recent elevation, and
deficient in that taste which
their sex usually possess.
The habit of frequenting public-houses, and the amount of intoxication,
is much augmented by these means. It therefore finds support from
the whole body of licensed victuallers, and from all those who are
interested, as the proprietors of public-houses.
The great encouragers of street music belong chiefly to the lower
classes of society. Of these, the frequenters of public-houses and
beer-shops patronize the worst and the most {339} noisy kinds of
music. The proprietors of such establishments find it a very successful
means of attracting customers. Music is kept up for a longer time,
and at later hours, before the public-house, than under any other
circumstances. It not unfrequently gives rise to a dance by little
ragged urchins, and sometimes by half-intoxicated men, who occasionally
accompany the noise with their own discordant voices.
Servants and children are great admirers of street music; also people
from the country, who, coming up to town for a short time, often
encourage it.
Another class who are great supporters of street music, consists
of ladies of elastic virtue and cosmopolitan tendencies, to whom
it affords a decent excuse for displaying their fascinations at
their own open windows. Most ladies resident in London are aware of
this peculiarity, but occasionally some few to whom it is not known
have found very unpleasant inferences drawn, in consequence of thus
gratifying their musical taste.
MUSICAL PERFORMERS.
_Musicians._ _Instruments._
Italians Organs.
Germans Brass bands.
Natives of India Tom-toms.
English Brass bands, fiddles, &c.
The lowest class of clubs Bands with double drum.
The most numerous of these classes, the organ-grinders, are natives of
Italy, chiefly from the mountainous district, whose language is a rude
_patois_, and who are entirely unacquainted with any other. It is said
that there are above a thousand of these foreigners usually in London
employed in tormenting the natives. They mostly reside in {340} the
neighbourhood of Saffron Hill, and are, of course, from their ignorance
of any other language than their own, entirely in the hands of their
padrones. One of these, a most persevering intruder with his organ,
gave me a false address. Having ascertained the real address, he was
sought for by the police for above a fortnight, but not discovered. His
_padrone_ becoming aware of his being “_wanted_,” sent him on a country
circuit. I once met, within a few miles of the Land’s End, one of these
fellows whom I had frequently sent away from my own street.
The amount of interruption from street music, and from other occasional
noises, varies with the nature and the habits of its victims. Those
whose minds are entirely unoccupied receive it with satisfaction,
as filling up the vacuum of time. Those whose thoughts are chiefly
occupied with frivolous pursuits or with any other pursuits requiring
but little attention from the reasoning or the reflective powers,
readily attend to occasional street music. Those who possess an
impaired bodily frame, and whose misery might be alleviated by _good_
music at proper intervals, are absolutely driven to distraction by the
vile and discordant music of the streets waking them, at all hours, in
the midst of that temporary repose so necessary for confirmed invalids.
By professional musicians its effects are most severely felt. It
interrupts them in their own studies, and entirely destroys the
value of the instructions they are giving their domestic pupils.
When they leave their own house to give lessons to their employers,
the “_infernal_” organ still pursues them. Their Belgravian employer
is obliged, at every lesson, to bribe the itinerant miscreant to
desist—his charge for this act of mercy being from a shilling to
half-a-crown for each lesson. {341}
It is, however, right to hint to the members of the musical profession,
that their immediate neighbours do not quite so much enjoy even the
most exquisite professional music when filtered through brick walls,
or transmitted circuitously and partially through open windows into
the houses of their neighbours. I know of no remedy to propose for the
benefit of the latter class, but I think that a proper self-respect
should induce the professional musician himself to close his windows,
and even to suffer the inconvenience of heat, rather than permanently
annoy his neighbours.
The law of retaliation, which is only justified when other arguments
fail, was curiously put in force in a case which was brought under
my notice a few years ago. An artist of considerable eminence, who
resided in the west end of London, had for many a year pursued his
own undisturbed and undisturbing studies, when one fine morning his
professional studies were interrupted by the continuous sound of music
transmitted through the wall from his neighbour’s house.
Finding the noise continuous and his interruption complete, he rang
for his servant, and putting his maul into the man’s hand desired him
to continue knocking against the wall from whence the disturbance
proceeded until he returned from a walk in the Park. He added that he
should probably be absent for an hour, and that if any person called
and wished to see him, he should be at home at the end of that time.
On his return he was informed that the new tenant of the adjacent
house had called during his absence, and that on being informed of the
hour of his master’s return, he had expressed his intention of calling
again. A short time after this the new tenant of the adjacent house
was introduced. He apologized for this visit to a stranger, but said
that during the last hour he had been annoyed by a most extraordinary
knocking {342} against the wall, which entirely interrupted his
professional pursuits.
To this the artist replied in almost precisely the same words, that
during the previous hour he had been annoyed by a most extraordinary
and unusual sound which entirely interrupted _his_ professional
pursuits. After some discussion it was settled that the piano should
be removed to the opposite wall, and that it should be covered with a
stratum of blankets.
This arrangement went on for a few months; but the pupils and their
relatives disapproving of a dumb piano gradually left the professor,
who found it desirable to give up the house and retire to a more
music-tolerating neighbourhood. In this case the evil was equal on both
sides, and it was reasonable that the new comer should retire.
In my own case it has often been suggested to me to retaliate; and as
many of my interruptions have been _intentional_, that course might be
justifiable. But as they have been confined to one or two of the lowest
persons in the neighbourhood, I thought it not right to disturb my more
respectable neighbours. The means at my command for producing the most
hideously discordant noises are ample, having a considerable collection
of shrill organ pipes, with appropriate bellows, and an indefatigable
steam engine ever ready to work them whilst I might be “taking a walk
in the Park.” I hope by the timely amendment of the law no person may
be driven to practise what it refuses to prevent, and thus test the
laws of the country by the _reductio ad absurdum_.
It is difficult to estimate the misery inflicted upon thousands of
persons, and the absolute pecuniary penalty imposed upon multitudes
of intellectual workers by the loss of their time, destroyed by
organ-grinders and other similar nuisances.
I have witnessed much and suffered more; many {343} communications
on the subject have reached me, and I fear that I may appear to have
neglected several of them. I hope, however, that the great sacrifice
of my own time, which has been forced upon me in order to secure the
remainder, may be accepted as my excuse. I will now mention some few of
the results.
Even policemen have frequently told me that organs are a great nuisance
to them personally. A large number of the police are constantly on
night duty, and of course these can only get their sleep during the
day. On such occasions their rest is constantly broken by the nuisance
of street music.
A lady, the wife of an officer on half-pay, writes to me, stating
her own sad case. Her husband, suffering under a painfully nervous
affection, is brought up to London for the benefit of medical advice.
Under these circumstances a sensible improvement takes place, but it
requires time and constant attention to advance the cure. In order to
profit by the eminent skill which London supplies, the lady and her
husband, at considerable sacrifice, take a very small house in a very
quiet little square. Unfortunately, the organ-grinders had possession
of it, and no entreaties would banish them. The irritation produced on
the invalid was frightful, and I feel it some relief not to have known
its almost inevitable termination.
Various accidents occur as the consequence of street music. It
occasionally happens that horses are frightened, and perhaps their
riders thrown; that carriages are run away with, and their occupiers
dreadfully alarmed and possibly even bruised.
The following casualties were reported, about three years ago, in most
of the daily newspapers:—
“SHOCKING OCCURRENCE.—SIX CHILDREN RUN OVER AND MUTILATED.—Yesterday
afternoon, shortly after four o’clock, a German band, whilst {344}
performing in the Old St. Pancras Road, was the cause of a most
dreadful accident. At the time mentioned, the band referred to was
playing at the corner of Aldenham Terrace, when a man named Charles
Field was driving one of Atcherley’s (the horse-slaughterer’s) carts
down Aldenham Street. At the end of Aldenham Street there is a
great declivity into the St. Pancras Road, and just as the cart was
turning it, laden with a dead horse, the big drum was beaten with
extraordinary violence. A cart was standing on the opposite side
of the road, to avoid which a short turn on the part of the driver
of Atcherley’s cart was necessary. The sudden beating of the drum
caused the horse to take fright, and the driver being pitched head
foremost from his seat, caused him to lose control over the animal
he was driving, which dashed in amongst the children and others who
were standing in the road listening to the music, knocking them down
right and left. When the consternation created by the occurrence had
subsided, no less than six poor children were found lying on the
ground in a helpless condition, the vehicle having passed over some
part of their persons. They were conveyed as fast as possible into the
adjacent surgery of Dr. Sutherin, of 28, Aldenham Terrace, who, with
his assistant, promptly attended upon them.
“William Hill, aged nine years, of 34, Stanmore Street, who had
sustained fractured ribs and other injuries; and
“Charles Harwood, aged eleven years, of 4, Clarendon Square, with
fracture of the left arm and groin, as well as right leg, caused by
the vehicle passing over them, were removed, by direction of Dr.
Sutherin, to University College Hospital.
“The other sufferers are Robert Thwaites, of 2, St. Pancras Square,
aged seven years, injury to leg and one of his feet;
“James Gunn, 34, Stanmore Street, crushed toes;
“William Young, 8, Percy Terrace, aged six years, contusion to head
and face; and
“A child, name unknown, considerably injured.
“The persons who witnessed the occurrence do not attribute any blame
to the driver; but as soon as it took place the German band were off
with as little delay as possible.”—_Daily Telegraph, Oct. 3, 1861._
If this sad accident had fortunately happened in Belgravia, there can
be little doubt that the law would have been altered, in order to
prevent the recurrence of such frightful misery.
No attempt, however, has yet been made to remove the cause; and I have
myself more recently seen a German brass band playing in a very narrow,
crowded street, close to the {345} Bank of England, at three o’clock
in the afternoon, making it difficult to pass, as well as dangerous to
one’s pocket.
On another occasion, at two o’clock, a German band was playing in
Piccadilly, at that crowded part, the Circus. In both instances the
police were looking on, and seemed to enjoy the music they were not
directed to stop.
I have obtained, in my _own_ country, an unenviable celebrity, not by
anything I have done, but simply by a determined resistance to the
tyranny of the lowest mob, whose love, not of music, but of the most
discordant noises, is so great that it insists upon enjoying it at all
hours and in every street. It may therefore be expected that I should
in this volume state at least the outline of my own case.
I claim no merit for this resistance; although I am quite aware that
I am fighting the battle of every one of my countrymen who gains
his subsistence by his intellectual labour. The simple reason for
the course I have taken is, that however disagreeable it has been,
it would have been still more painful to have given up a great and
cherished object, already fully within my reach. I have been compelled
individually to resist this tyranny of the lowest mob, because the
Government itself is notoriously afraid to face it.
On a careful retrospect of the last dozen years of my life, I have
arrived at the conclusion that I speak within limit when I state that
one-fourth part of my working power has been destroyed by the nuisance
against which I have protested. Twenty-five per cent. is rather too
large an additional income-tax upon the brain of the intellectual
workers of this country, to be levied by permission of the Government,
and squandered upon its most worthless classes.
The effect of a _uniform_ and _continuous_ sound, in distracting the
attention or in disturbing intellectual pursuits, is almost {346}
insensible. Those who reside near a waterfall—even Niagara—have their
organs soon seasoned and adapted to its monotony. It is the _change_
from quietness to noise, or from one kind of noise to another, which
instantly distracts the attention. It would be equally distracted by
the reverse—by the sudden change from the hum of the busy world to the
stillness of the desert.
The injurious effect of noisy interruptions upon our attention also
varies with the nature of the investigations upon which we are engaged.
If they are of a kind requiring but a very small amount of intellectual
effort, as, for instance, the routine of a public office, they will
be little felt. If, on the other hand, those subjects are of such a
character as to require the highest efforts of the thinker, then their
examination is interrupted by the slightest change in the surrounding
circumstances.
When the work to be done is proportioned to the powers of the mind
engaged upon it, the painful effect of interruption is felt as deeply
by the least intellectual as by the most highly gifted. The condition
which determines the maximum of interruption is,—that the mind
disturbed, however moderate its powers, shall be working up to its full
stretch.
Finding, many years ago, the increasing interruption of my pursuits
from street music, as it is now tolerated, I determined to endeavour to
get rid of it by putting in force our imperfect law, as far it goes. I
soon found how very imperfect it is.
The first step is to require the performer to desist, and to assign
illness or other sufficient reason for the request. If a female
servant is sent on this mission it is quite useless. The organ-player
is scarcely ever acquainted with more than four or five words of our
language: but these always the most {347} vulgar, the most offensive,
and the most insulting. If a manservant is sent, the Italians are
often very insolent, and constantly refuse to depart. But there are
multitudes of sufferers who are ill and are in lodgings, and have no
servant to send. Besides, the servants must occasionally be absent,
being sent by their employers on their various duties.
The principle on which I proposed to act is, whenever it can be fully
carried out, usually very effective. It was simply this—to make it more
unprofitable to the offender to do the wrong than the right.
Whenever, therefore, an itinerant musician disturbed me, I immediately
sent out, or went out myself, to warn him away. At first this was not
successful; but after summoning and convicting a few, they found out
that their precious time was wasted, and most of them deserted the
immediate neighbourhood. This would have succeeded had the offenders
been few in number; but their name is legion: upwards of a thousand
being constantly in London, besides those on their circuit in the
provinces.
It was not, however, the interest of those who deserted my station
to inform their countrymen of its barrenness; consequently, the
freshly-imported had each to gain his own experience at the expense
of his own and of my time. Perhaps I might have succeeded at last in
banishing the Italian nuisance from the neighbourhood of my residence;
but various other native professors of the art of tormenting with
discords increased as the licence of these Italian itinerants was
encouraged. Another event, however, occurred, which added much more
seriously to my difficulty.
Many years before I had purchased a house in a very quiet locality,
with an extensive plot of ground, on part of which I had erected
workshops and offices, in which I might carry {348} on the experiments
and make the drawings necessary for the construction of the Analytical
Engine. Several years ago the quiet street in which I resided was
invaded by a hackney-coach stand. I, in common with most of the
inhabitants, remonstrated and protested against this invasion of
our comfort and this destruction of the value of our property. Our
remonstrance was ineffectual: the hackney-coach stand was established.
The immediate consequence was obvious. The most respectable tradesmen,
with some of whom I had dealt for five-and-twenty years, saw the ruin
which was approaching, and, wisely making a first sacrifice, at once
left their deteriorated property as soon as they could find for it a
purchaser. The neighbourhood became changed: coffee-shops, beer-shops,
and lodging-houses filled the adjacent small streets. The character of
the new population may be inferred from the taste they exhibit for the
noisiest and most discordant music.
I have looked in vain for any public advantage to justify this heavy
injury to private property. It will scarcely be believed that another
hackney-coach stand actually exists within two hundred yards,[50]
namely, that in Paddington Street, which has a very large space
unoccupied by any houses on either side of the street, and which had
frequently cabs on it plying for hire during the whole night.
[50] The distance of the most eastern cab on the stand in Dorset
Street from the spot in Paddington Street, on which cabs might
stand without being opposite any houses, is in reality less than
140 yards. I am not aware of any two cab-stands placed so near
each other as those in question.
In endeavouring to put in force the existing law, imperfect as it is,
I have met with sundry small inconveniences which a Cabinet Minister
might perhaps think trivial, but which, in a slight degree, try the
temper even of a philosopher. {349}
Some of my neighbours have derived great pleasure from inviting
musicians, of various tastes and countries, to play before my windows,
probably with the pacific view of ascertaining whether there are
not some kinds of instruments which we might both approve. This has
repeatedly failed, even with the accompaniment of the human voice
divine, from the lips of little shoeless children, urged on by their
ragged parents to join in a chorus rather disrespectful to their
philosophic neighbour.
The enthusiasm of the performer, excited by such applause, has
occasionally permitted him to dwell too long upon the already forbidden
notes, and I have been obliged to find a policeman to ascertain the
residence of the offender. In the meantime the crowd of young children,
urged on by their parents, and backed at a judicious distance by a set
of vagabonds, forms quite a noisy mob, following me as I pass along,
and shouting out rather uncomplimentary epithets. When I turn round
and survey my illustrious tail, it stops; if I move towards it, it
recedes: the elder branches are then quiet—sometimes they even retire,
wishing perhaps to avoid my future recognition. The instant I turn,
the shouting and the abuse are resumed, and the mob again follow at a
respectful distance. The usual result is that the deluded musicians
find themselves left in the lurch at the police-court by their
enthusiastic encouragers, and have to pay a heavier fine for having
contributed to collect this unruly and ungenerous mob.
Such occurrences have unfortunately been by no means rare. In one case
there were certainly above a hundred persons, consisting of men, women,
and boys, with multitudes of young children, who followed me through
the streets before I could find a policeman. To such an extent has this
{350} annoyance of shouting out my name, without or with insulting
epithets, been carried, that I can truly affirm, unless I am detained
at home by illness, no week ever passes without many instances of it.
The police tell me that the children, “who are put up to the trick
by their parents,” belong chiefly to several ragged-schools in my
neighbourhood. I have myself repeatedly traced numbers of them into the
Portman Chapel School, in East Street. In one instance I went into that
school and made a formal complaint to the teacher, who expressed great
regret for it, and requested me, if I could see any of the offenders,
to point them out; but amongst the number of children then present I
was unable to identify the offenders.
The insults arising from boys, set on by their parents, and from other
older, and therefore less pardonable offenders, shouting out my name
under my windows, or as I pass along the streets, and even in the
middle of the night, are of almost constant occurrence. Of course, I
always appear to take no notice of such circumstances. Only a few days
ago, whilst I was engaged upon the present chapter, I had occasion to
pass down Manchester Street: when I was about half way down, I heard
from that end of the street I had left, loud and repeated cries of
“Stop thief.” I naturally turned round, when I saw two young fellows at
the corner, who repeated the cry twice, as loudly as they could, and
then ran, as hard as they were able, round the corner out of my sight.
There could be no mistake that this was intended to annoy me, because
it happened at a time when there was no person except myself in the
upper part of the street.
Another source of annoyance, fortunately only of a very limited amount,
arises from a perverse disposition of some of my neighbours, who, in
two or three instances, have gone to {351} the expense of purchasing
worn-out or damaged wind instruments, which they are incapable of
playing, but on which they produced a discordant noise for the purpose
of annoying me. One of these appearing at the police-court as a
witness for an organ-grinder, was questioned by the magistrate, and
informed that he would render himself liable to an indictment by the
continuance of such conduct. Another foolish young fellow purchased
a wind instrument with a hole in it, with which he made discordant
noises purposely to annoy me. Travelling in a third-class carriage to
Deptford, he described, with great zest to the person sitting opposite
to him, the instrument, its price, and the use he made of it. The
listener to this confidence was one of the best of my own draughtsmen,
who was quite as much disturbed by the street music as myself. The
police were made acquainted with the fact, and I believe still have,
from time to time, their eyes upon the young vagabond.
Another wilful disturber of my quiet, was a workman inhabiting an
attic in a street which overlooked my garden. When he returned daily
to his dinner, this fellow, possessing a penny tin whistle, opened
his window, and leaning out of it, blew his shrill instrument in the
direction of my garden for about half-an-hour. I simply noted the
fact in a memorandum book, and then employed the time he thought he
was destroying, in taking my daily exercise, or in any other outdoor
mission my pursuits required. After a perseverance in this course
during many months, he discontinued the annoyance, but for what reason
I never knew.
At an early period when I was putting the law in force, as far as I
could, for the prevention of this destruction of my time, I received
constantly anonymous letters, advising, and even threatening me with
all sorts of evils, such as {352} destruction of my property, burning
my house, injury to myself. I was very often addressed in the streets
with similar threats. On one occasion, when I was returning home from
an affair with a mob whom the police had just dispersed, I met, close
to my own door, a man, who, addressing me, said, “You deserve to have
your house burnt, and yourself in it, and I will do it for you, you old
villain.” I asked him if he had any objection to give me his address.
Of course he refused. I then followed him at a short distance, looking
out for a policeman. Whenever he saw one at a distance he turned
rapidly up the next street; this chase continued above half-an-hour;
he was then joined by a companion, an ill-looking fellow. They still
continued to turn off into another street whenever a constable became
visible in the distance. At last we saw a great crowd, into which they
both rushed, and further pursuit became impossible.
I will not describe the smaller evils of dead cats, and other offensive
materials, thrown down my area; of windows from time to time purposely
broken, or from occasional blows from stones projected by unseen hands.
The last annoyance I shall mention, occurred in the month of December
of the past year. I had been suffering considerably from ill-health,
and it became necessary that I should undergo a painful surgical
operation. Late in the night of that day, I got into a refreshing
sleep, when at one o’clock in the morning I was suddenly awakened by
the crash of a brass band, which continued playing whilst I was unable
to move, and was compelled passively to submit to the tormentors.
By a most singular accident, many weeks after, I became possessed of
evidence, that the musicians held a consultation in Manchester Square
about going to the top of the street to wake me up. I am glad, however,
to add, for the credit of {353} human nature, that _one_ of the party
advised them not to do it, and that he himself immediately left them.
It has been found, upon undoubted authority, by returns from benefit
societies, that in London, about 4·72 persons per cent. are constantly
ill. This approximation may be fairly assumed as the nearest yet
attained for the population of London. It follows, therefore, that
about forty-seven out of every thousand inhabitants are always ill.
The number of persons per house varies in different parts. In my own
district it averages ten to each house; in a neighbouring district the
average is thirteen per house.
In Manchester Street, which faces my own residence, there are fifty-six
houses. This, allowing the above average of ill-health, will show
that about twenty-six persons are usually ill in that street. Now the
annoyance from street music is by no means confined to the performers
in the street in which a house is situated. In my own case, there
are portions of five other streets in which street music constantly
interrupts me in my pursuits. If the portions of these five streets are
considered to be only equal in population to that of Manchester Street,
it will appear that upwards of fifty people who are ill, are constantly
disturbed by the same noises which so frequently interrupt my own
pursuits.
The misery inflicted upon those who are really ill is far greater than
that which arises from the mere destruction of time, however valuable.
A friend of mine, himself an excellent magistrate, suffering under a
severe and fatal complaint, was almost driven to distraction during the
last six months of his painful existence, by the constant occurrence of
the organ nuisance, which he was entirely unable to stop.
I have at times made attempts to register the number of such
interruptions in my pursuits; but these have been very {354} partial
and imperfect. I find by some notes, that during about eighty days,
I registered one hundred and sixty-five instances, the greater part
of which I went out myself to put a stop to the nuisance. In several
of these cases my whole day’s work was destroyed, for they frequently
occurred at times when I was giving instruction to my workmen relative
to some of the most difficult parts of the Analytical Engine.
At one period after I had succeeded in getting two or three
convictions, some of my neighbours put themselves to the expense of
having large placards printed, in which they abused me for having put
the law in force against the destroyers of my time. These placards
they stuck up in the windows of their little shops, at intervals from
Edgware Road to Tottenham Court Road. Some of them attempted verse and
thought it poetry; though the only part really imaginative was their
prose statements.
Unfortunately for my comfort, a few years ago, Mr. X——, one of the
magistrates of Marylebone Office, was succeeded by Mr. Y——. Now
the taste of the new magistrate, like that of his predecessor, was
favourable to the Italian organ: his predecessor might, however, have
been excused, as he was deaf. Possibly Mr. Y—— thinks that all Italian
music is high art, and therefore ought to be encouraged.
I soon discovered that it was useless to bring any musical offender
before him, and I had for some time to endure the most intolerable
interruption of my pursuits.
Upon one occasion, when I had summoned an organ-grinder before him, his
decision was, in my opinion, so unsatisfactory, that I determined to
address to the Home Secretary a remonstrance against it.
The case was heard by Mr. Y—— about the middle of July. My letter to
Sir George Grey, accompanied by a series {355} of the placards, was
sent to the Home Office about the middle of August. I waited patiently
for a reply, but, receiving none, I took it for granted that my letter
could not have reached the Home Secretary. At last, on the 17th of
December, I wrote to his private secretary, in order to ascertain
the fact: the reply to my note was—the simple admission that _the
letter had been received_. I confess that this event baffled all my
calculations. I had observed that high officials, distinguished by
their intellectual powers, were occasionally oblivious upon minor
points; but that high officials distinguished only by the office they
held were usually most rigidly courteous and exact.
After this I abstained for a long time from bringing any case before
Mr. Y——. At last a case occurred, which it appeared to me could not be
resisted. I brought it before that magistrate; it was heard, and the
charge was dismissed. Believing the decision to be erroneous in law,
I consulted a solicitor who had much experience in the Metropolitan
Police Courts, with the view of getting the opinion of the Court of
Queen’s Bench upon the subject.
My legal adviser had no doubt that the decision would be favourable,
but urged upon me the great expense, and advised me not to proceed. On
inquiry as to the probable amount, he suggested that it might reach
fifty pounds. I immediately replied that it would be good economy to
purchase my own time at that expense, and I desired him to take the
necessary steps.
The first was to get some housekeeper to enter with me into a bond for
twenty pounds to pay the magistrate’s costs, in case I failed. Having
wasted some time upon this, the magistrate granted a case for the
Queen’s Bench, a copy of which my solicitor immediately sent me. {356}
The grounds of Mr. Y——’s decision, were—
1st. That the man was not _legally_ in custody.
2nd. That he was not within reasonable distance of my house.
3rd. That he did not understand the English language.
On receiving this, I felt quite relieved, and thought that a clear
decision upon these three points would be very cheaply purchased by an
expenditure of fifty pounds.
However, on mentioning the subject to several of my personal friends,
who were themselves high in the profession of the law, I was destined
to be grievously disappointed. I was informed that the Court of Queen’s
Bench would not decide upon any one of the questions, but would decide
generally that the magistrate’s decision was right or was wrong,
without giving me the least intimation on which of the grounds it
rested.
I now perceived the _dodge_ that had been practised upon me, and I
felt compelled to admit that Mr. Y—— was a _clever fellow_. A regard
for truth, however, forbids me to extend the application of this
observation to anybody else concerned in this matter.
I have spared neither expense nor personal trouble in endeavouring to
put a stop to this nuisance. During one twelvemonth those expenses
amounted, within a few shillings, to one hundred and four pounds. I
was not, however, the only sufferer; that amount would otherwise have
been expended in giving a year’s employment to a skilled workman, whose
wages are about two pounds a week.
I shall now give one illustration from my own experience of the utterly
imperfect state of the law for suppressing the nuisance of street
music:—
On Monday, the 29th of February, in the present year, at 3 P.M., in
the midst of a thick fog, a brass band struck up {357} close under
my windows. I was in ill-health, and engaged in a subject requiring
much attention. I knocked at the window; but the band continued their
performance. Then I opened the window and desired them to desist;
they still continued, and I then sent my servant to desire them to go
away. Having finished their tune, they removed about five doors from
my residence, and commenced another performance. My patience being
exhausted, I then went out myself to desire my tormentors to depart.
My servant went on to the station before he could get a constable. In
the meantime the band had removed about six doors further, and began
another tune. At last my servant arrived with a policeman, who took
down the names and addresses of the nine musicians constituting the
band.
The next day I paid twenty-seven shillings for summonses. The day
after, the police informed me that all the addresses given, which were
either in Richmond or Brentford, were false. I applied to the police,
who watched at certain haunts; but they only succeeded in identifying
two of them. I then obtained warrants to apprehend those two, and
came up from the country expressly to attend at the police-court; but
the men were not to be found. I am still waiting in the hope that our
police is not quite so inefficient as to allow them to escape. I have
already been put to the charge of employing a solicitor and to other
expenses. But the band itself is, I believe, still going about in
London and playing every day.
Now, if it had been legal for the police to have taken possession
of the instruments of those disturbers of the public peace, a false
address would have been useless, for it would have been cheaper to have
paid the penalties than to have lost their instruments.
It is, I presume, admitted that streets and high roads are not {358}
the property of those who use them. They are the Queen’s highways, and
were devoted to the public for certain uses only.
The public have an undoubted right to traverse them, and convey over
them persons, goods, materials, &c. The adjacent householders must bear
any amount of noise which is fairly required for the legitimate use of
roads; but no individual has any right to use them for other purposes,
as for instance—
Theatrical representations—as Punch, Gymnastics.
Playground and games.
Religious services.
Music—as Organs and Brass Bands.
These not merely interfere with their proper use, but disturb the
householders and are in most cases a positive nuisance.
The following letter, from an “Old Lawyer,” recently appeared in _The
Times_. It states the law briefly, and with authority:—
STREET MUSIC.
_To the Editor of The Times._
“SIR,—Whether street music in London ought to be put down or not, I,
living in the country, am not concerned to answer. I suppose it is a
question, like smoking, on which the public will always be divided;
but as the law on the subject is so clear and simple, I am surprised
how legislators and justices can be puzzled about it.
“Every public road or street belongs to the Sovereign, as embodying
the nation, and is accordingly called the King’s or Queen’s highway.
The interest of each individual is limited to a right of passing
and repassing over such highway, and he is no more entitled to use
it for business or amusement than he is to build upon it or dig for
ore beneath its surface. {359} Hence the keeping of stalls for sale
is illegal, and, though often winked at, is sometimes denounced and
punished. Hence, the police are justified in desiring you to ‘move
on,’ if you loiter, in looking at a shop window or conversing with a
friend, so as to bar the progress of passengers. _A fortiori_, a band
of musicians has no _locus standi_ on the ground.
“There is, in my neighbourhood, a right of way over a gentleman’s
park. But I have only the privilege of passage, and none of remaining
on the path for the purpose of reading, sketching, or playing the
violin.
“I am, Sir, your obedient Servant,
“AN OLD LAWYER.”
At most, the tolerance of noisy occupants of the streets, such as
organ-grinders, German bands, _et hoc genus omne_, is on sufferance
only, and neither the municipal law nor common sense justifies the
invasion or curtailment of a man’s liberty to use his brain, and exert
his mental energies as the occasion may require; and that, too, even
within the very recesses of the “Englishman’s castle.”
With respect to the remedies against street music, I am not at all
sanguine. The only one which is certain is, positively to forbid it
in all cases, and with it also that varied multitude of vocal noises
made by persons parading the streets singing, relating tales, praying,
offering trifling articles for sale, &c., all of them with the
transparent object of begging.
In all these cases which admit of it, the police ought to be directed
to take possession of the offensive instrument and convey it to the
police-court, there to await the decision of the magistrate.
Certain street nuisances re-appear periodically every few years: thus
the game called ‘tip-cat’ again prevails. {360}
After a certain number of eyes have been knocked out, the police will
probably have orders to stop the nuisance. It will then be put down in
a few weeks, and, perhaps, after a year or two it may break out afresh,
and be again as easily put down.
A similar cycle occurs with children’s hoops: they are trundled about
until they get under horses’ legs. Now if, as it frequently happens,
they are made of iron, not only is the rider thrown as well as the
horse, but the poor animal is almost sure to have his leg broken.
In these and other similar cases, the offending instrument should
invariably be detained by the police and taken to the station to be
destroyed, or only to be returned on payment of a small fine by the
offending party within three days after the seizure.
If this were the case, a multitude of daily street nuisances would very
soon disappear. Boys with accordions and other noisy instruments, small
children with shrill tin whistles would then be obliged to ask their
parents to go to the police-office and pay a fine for the recovery of
toys, and the parents themselves would prevent their children from
destroying the time of other persons as soon as they were made to feel
that it incurred an equal penalty on their own.
Every kind of noisy instrument, whether organ or harp, or trumpet or
penny whistle, if sounded, should be seized by the police and taken
to the station, also all hoops and instruments for playing games. The
effect of this would ultimately be to diminish the labours of the
police. At first they would have some additional trouble; but a few
months would make the disturbers feel that it was a very unprofitable
practice; and after that, if the police did their duty, they would only
occasionally have to seize a stray instrument or two. {361}
Proper warning of this intention to enforce the law ought to be given.
The multitude of music-halls now established in all parts of London is
such that those who enjoy street music may have a much larger quantity
of it, and of a better kind, at a cheaper rate than that which in their
own street disturbs all their neighbours.
If street music is to be at all tolerated by law, against which I
protest in the strongest manner, then every performer ought to carry on
his back or upon his instrument his name and address, or an authorized
number, by which the public might be saved from wasting their time by
false addresses, now so frequently given.
I have received several suggestions about organizing a society, to
endeavour to put a stop to these street nuisances. My reply has been
that such a combination well managed would probably have a very
considerable effect, but that it would be impossible for me to give up
to it any of my own time. I would willingly subscribe to it, and offer
it any suggestions that might assist its operations. Its most important
duty would be to ascertain whether the present law is sufficient to put
down the nuisance. In case it is not, then it would become necessary
to get it amended, and for that purpose to consult with influential
Members about the introduction of a Bill for that purpose.
Amongst the legal difficulties are the following:—The magistrates in
different districts interpret the law differently. Might it not be
expedient that police magistrates should meet from time to time and
discuss such differences of opinion, and agree to act upon that of the
majority? Or ought they not to apply to the Home Secretary for his
authority how to interpret it?
If I am right in the opinion which is confirmed in the {362} letter of
the “Old Lawyer,” that the Queen’s highways can only be legally used by
her subjects for the passage of themselves and the transport of their
property, then it is desirable to ascertain how that principle of the
common law can be enforced. Hitherto all proceedings have been under
certain clauses of the Metropolitan Police Act.
In case any Association should be formed to endeavour to procure
an Act of Parliament to put an end to the music nuisance, it would
be desirable to apply distinctly to each of the Members for the
Metropolitan Boroughs, in order that it might be known on which side of
the question they intended to vote.
As upon all other subjects, men differ upon street nuisances. An
ancient philosopher divided all mankind into _two_ sections, namely,
fools and philosophers; and, unhappily for the race, the one cannot
enjoy his whistle except at the expense of the other. I was once asked
by an astute and sarcastic magistrate whether I seriously believed that
a man’s brain would be injured by listening to an organ; my reply was,
“_Certainly not_;” for the obvious reason that no man having brain ever
listened to street musicians.
“The opera, like the pillory, may be said
To nail the ears down, but expose the head.”
I believe that the greater part of the householders of London would
gladly assist in putting a stop to street-music. The proportion of
cases prosecuted compared with the number of interruptions, is, in
my own case, less than one in a thousand. If the annoyance is not
absolutely prohibited by law, the number of the police must be at least
double, to give quiet working people any repose.
{363}
CHAPTER XXVII.
WIT.
Poor Dogs — Puns Double and Triple — History of the Silver Lady —
Disappointed by the Milliner — The Philosopher performs her functions
— Lady Morgan’s Criticism — Allsop’s Beer — Sydney Smith — Toss up a
Bishop — Lady M . . . and the Gipsy in Spain — Epigram on the Planet
Neptune — Epigram on Henry Drummond’s attack upon Catholics in the
House of Commons — On Catholic Miracles.
It has often struck me that an analysis of the causes of wit would be
a very interesting subject of inquiry. With that view I collected many
jest-books, but fortunately in this one instance I had resolution to
abstain from distracting my attention from more important inquiries.
I may, however, note some illustrations of it which occur to my memory.
The late Sir Harris Nicolas used to practice rather strongly upon some
of his friends. I was not an unwilling victim. The pleasure derived
from the wit far exceeded any pain it inflicted. Indeed, Sir Harris
himself one day expressed his disappointment at my insensibility, by
saying that he had never in his whole life been able really to hit me.
The late Lord S . . . . was sitting with him one morning listening to a
very astute but rather dry explanation of some matter about which his
Lordship had inquired. At last he threw himself back in his arm-chair
and said, “My dear Nicolas, I am very stupid this morning: my brains
are all {364} gone to the dogs.” On which Sir Harris pathetically
exclaimed,—“Poor dogs!”
It is evident in this case, that the wit of the reply arose from
sympathy expressed on the wrong side. The peer expected sympathy from
the knight: but the knight gave it to the dogs.
Another remarkable feature of jokes formed upon this principle is, that
they generally depend upon the intimate meaning of the words employed,
and not either upon their sound or their arrangement; consequently,
they possess the rare quality of being translatable into all languages.
One of the principles of discovery in many subjects is, to generalize
from the individual case up to the species, and thence to descend to
other individual instances.
〈A TRIPLE PUN.〉
Puns are detestable. The greater number of them depend on the double
meaning of the same word, or on the similar pronunciation of words
differently spelt. The following may serve as an example of a triple
pun:—
A gentleman calling one morning at the house of a lady whose sister was
remarkably beautiful, found her at the writing-table. Putting his hand
upon the little bell used for calling the attendant, he inquired of the
lady of the house what relationship existed between his walking-stick,
her sister, and the instrument under his finger.
His walking-stick was {cane, Cain} the brother of {a bell, a belle,
Abel}.
I mentioned, in an early chapter, my boyish admiration of an automaton
in the shape of a silver lady, who attitudinized in the most graceful
manner. Her fate was singular: at the death of her maker she was
sold with the rest of his collection {365} of mechanical toys, and
was purchased by Weekes, who had a mechanical exhibition in Cockspur
Street. No attempt appears to have been made to finish the automaton;
and it seems to have been placed out of the way in an attic uncovered
and utterly neglected.
〈THE SILVER LADY.〉
On the sale by auction of Weeke’s Museum, I met again the object of my
early admiration. Having purchased the silver figure, I proceeded to
take to pieces the whole of the mechanism, and found a multitude of
small holes which had been stopped up as not having fulfilled their
intended object. In fact, it appeared tolerably certain that scarcely
any drawings could have been prepared for the automaton, but that the
beautiful result arose from a system of continual trials.
I myself repaired and restored all the mechanism of the Silver Lady, by
which title she was afterwards known to my friends. I placed her under
a glass case on a pedestal in my drawing-room, where she received,
in her own silent but graceful manner, those valued friends who so
frequently honoured me with their society on certain Saturday evenings.
This piece of mechanism formed a striking contrast with the unfinished
portion of the Difference Engine, No. 1, which was placed in the
adjacent room: the whole of the latter mechanism existed in drawings
upon paper before any portion of it was put together.
The external surface of the figure, which was beautiful in form, was
made of silver. It was, therefore, necessary to supply her with robes
suitable to her station. This would have been rather difficult for a
philosopher, but it was made easy by the aid of one or two of my fair
friends who kindly intervened. These generously assisted with their own
peculiar skill and taste at the _toilette_ of their rival Syren. {366}
Sketches were made and modists of the purest water were employed. The
result was, upon the whole, highly satisfactory. One evening, however,
the arrival of the new dress was postponed to so late a period, that
I feared it had entirely escaped the recollection of the executive
department. The hour at which my friends usually arrived was rapidly
approaching.
In this difficulty it occurred to me that there were a few remnants of
beautiful Chinese crape in the silver lady’s wardrobe. Having selected
two strips, one of pink and the other of light green, I hastily wound
a platted band of bright auburn hair round the block on which her
head-dresses were usually constructed, and then pinned on the folds
of coloured crape. This formed a very tolerable turban, and was not
much unlike a kind of head-dress called a toke, which prevailed at
that period. Another larger piece of the same pink Chinese crape I
wound round her person, which I thought showed it off to considerable
advantage. Fortunately, I found in her wardrobe a pair of small pink
satin slippers, on each of which I fixed a single silver spangle: then
placing a small silver crescent in the front of her turban, I felt I
had accomplished all that time and circumstances permitted.
〈LADY MORGAN’S CRITICISM.〉
The criticisms on the costume of the Silver Lady were various. In the
course of the evening, Lady Morgan communicated to me confidentially
her own opinion of the dress.
Holding up her fan, she whispered, “My dear Mr. Babbage, I think
your Silver Lady is rather slightly clad to-night; shall I lend her
a petticoat?” to which I replied, “My dear Lady Morgan, I am much
indebted for your very considerate offer, but I fear you have not got
_one_ to spare.”
This retort was not a pun, but merely a “double-entendre.” It might
mean either that her Ladyship had on invisibles, but {367} not enough
to be able to spare one: or it might imply that, having no garment of
that kind, she was unable to lend one to a friend.
About the time of the attempt to assassinate the Emperor of the French
by Orsini, an Englishman named Alsop was arrested in London, and
afterwards tried and acquitted of a connection with the assassins.
〈ALLSOP’S BEER.〉
At a distinguished dinner-party, amongst whom was the Attorney-General
of that day, there arose a question as to who Mr. Alsop was. One of
the company asked, “Whether it was Allsop’s beer?” meaning, whether
the prisoner was the concoctor of that delightful beverage. The
gentleman to whom the question was addressed, immediately replied,
“It is not at present Allsop’s _beer_, but,” said he, turning to the
Attorney-General, “if your prosecution succeeds, it is very likely to
become Alsop’s _bier_.”
Sydney Smith occasionally called upon me in the morning, and was ever
a most welcome visitor. The conversation usually commenced upon grave
subjects, and I was always desirous of profiting by the light his
powerful mind threw upon the most difficult questions.
When railways first came into existence much reasonable alarm arose
from the rapidity of the trains and the immense masses of matter in
motion. One morning my friend called and asked my opinion on the
subject. I pointed out what then appeared to me the chief sources of
danger, and entered upon some of the precautions to be attended to, and
of remedies to be applied.
Sydney Smith then asked me why I did not go and inform the Government
of the danger and of the means of remedying it. My answer was, that
such a mission would be a pure waste of time, that nothing whatever
would be done until {368} some great man, a prime minister for
instance, were smashed. I then continued, “Perhaps a bishop or two
would do; for you know,” said I, looking slyly at my friend, “they are
so much better prepared for the change than we are.”
I have heard this view of the subject assigned to Sydney Smith. It is
very probable that it should have occurred to him, although I scarcely
imagine he would have given the reason I did for the preference. His
celebrated suggestion to the person who asked him how a man could find
which way the wind blew when there was no weathercock in sight,[51]
adds to the probability of Sydney Smith’s originality. On the other
hand, I may support my own pretensions to independent invention by
referring to a parallel remark I made many years before:—
[51] Toss up a bishop.
〈OPINION ON DUELLING.〉
At a large dinner party the subject of duelling was discussed. Various
opinions were propounded as to its absolute necessity. I had made
no remark upon the question, but during a slight pause somebody on
the opposite side of the table asked my opinion on the subject. My
reply was, I always wished that the injured man should fall. On being
asked my reason for that wish, I answered, “Because he is so much
better prepared for the change than the wrong-doer.” I afterwards
learned, with great satisfaction, that when the ladies retired to the
drawing-room, the discussion was much criticized and my reply highly
applauded.
The late Lady M.........., having a great desire to see Mr. Borrow,
asked me to invite him to one of my Saturday evening parties. I
expressed my regret that, not having the pleasure of his acquaintance,
I was unable to ask him to my house, as I never made “lions” of my
guests.
A short time after, a friend who was coming to me on the {369}
following Saturday, called to ask me to allow him to bring Mr. Borrow
who dined with him on that day, to my party in the evening. Of course,
I willingly gave the invitation, and then wrote a note to inform Lady
M.......... of the occurrence of the opportunity she wished for.
On the following Saturday evening Lady M.......... was announced, and
immediately asked me whether Mr. Borrow had arrived. I said that he
had, and that he was in the further room. I then added, that in the
course of a few moments I should have great pleasure in presenting to
her Mr. Borrow.
Lady M.........., who had several other engagements that evening, said,
“Only tell me what sort of a person he is, and I will go and find him
out myself.”
I observed that he was a remarkably tall, straggling person, with a
very intelligent countenance. With these instructions her ladyship left
me, and finding, as she imagined, exactly the man I had described,
immediately accosted him. The conversation was highly interesting, and
included a great variety of widely different subjects. It concluded by
Lady M.......... expressing her delight with her new acquaintance, from
whom she parted with this remark, “What a delightful gipsying life you
must have led!”
〈A SLIGHT MISTAKE.〉
A slight mistake had, however, occurred, which was not discovered until
long after: the person thus addressed was not Mr. Borrow, but Dr.
Whately, the Archbishop of Dublin.
In this chapter may be placed one or two epigrams which, though upon
subjects of transitory interest, may amuse those who are acquainted
with the attending circumstances.
It will be remembered that great discussion arose about the conflicting
claims of Adams and Le Verrier to the {370} discovery of the planet
Neptune. A great controversy resulted, which was at last summed up in
the following couplet:—
“When Airy was told, he wouldn’t believe it;
When Challis saw, he couldn’t perceive it.”
〈WINKING STATUES.〉
The clever and eccentric member for East Surrey, the late Henry
Drummond, who founded a professorship of Political Economy at Oxford,
made in the House of Commons a most amusing, though rather strong
speech against the modern miracles of the Roman Catholic Church, in
which he spoke of “their bleeding pictures, their winking statues,
and the Virgin’s milk.” On this some profane wag wrote the following
couplet:—
“Sagacious Drummond, explain, with your divinity:
Why reject the milk, yet swallow the virginity?”
Probably some clever fellow of that faith was at the bottom of this
mischief; for I have observed that the cleverest fellows seem to think
that the merit of adhering to a cause entitles them to the right of
quizzing it.
I was particularly struck with this idea when I saw, for the first
time, at Cologne, the celebrated picture of St. Ursula and her eleven
thousand virgins. The artist has quietly made every one of them more or
less matronly.
{371}
CHAPTER XXVIII.
HINTS FOR TRAVELLERS.
New Inventions — Stomach Pump — Built a Carriage — Description of
Thames Tunnel — Barton’s Iridescent Buttons — Chinese Orders of
Nobility — Manufactory of Gold Chains at Venice — Pulsations and
Respirations of Animals — Punching a Hole in Glass without cracking
it — Specimen of an Enormous Smash — Proteus Anguineus — Travellers’
Hotel at Sheffield — Wentworth House.
In this chapter I propose to throw together a few suggestions, which
may assist in rendering a tour successful for its objects and agreeable
in its reminiscences.
Money is the fuel of travelling. I can give the traveller a few hints
how to get money, although I never had any skill in making it myself.
In one tour, extending over more than a twelvemonth, I took with me two
letters of credit, each for half the sum I should probably require.
My reasons for this were, that in case one was lost the other might
still be available. One of these was generally kept about my person,
the other concealed in my writing-case. Another reason was, that if I
were unluckily carried off and detained for a ransom, it might thus be
mitigated.
〈TRAVELLING CARRIAGE.〉
It is of great advantage to a traveller to have some acquaintance
with the use of tools. It is often valuable for his own comfort, and
sometimes renders him able to assist a friend. I met at Frankfort the
eldest son of the coachmaker {372} of the Emperor of Russia. He had
been travelling over the western part of Europe, and showed me drawings
he had made of all the most remarkable carriages he had met with. Some
of these were selected for their elegance, others for the reverse;
take, as an example, the Lord Mayor’s.
We travelled together to Munich, and I took that opportunity of
discussing, seriatim, with my very intelligent young friend, every part
of the structure of a carriage.
I made notes of certain portions in case I should find occasion to have
a carriage built for my own use.
The young Russian was on his way to Moscow, and was very anxious to
prevail on me to accompany him thither, for which purpose he offered
to wait my own time at Munich. As, however, I wished to reach Italy as
soon as possible, I declined his proposition with much regret.
However, in the following year, I profited by the information I then
gained. I had built for me at Vienna, from my own design, a strong
light four-wheeled calèche in which I could sleep at full length.
Amongst its conveniences were a lamp by which I occasionally boiled
an egg or cooked my breakfast. A large shallow drawer in which might
be placed, without folding, plans, drawings, and dress-coats. Small
pockets for the various kinds of money, a larger one for travelling
books and telescopes, and many other conveniences. It cost somewhat
about sixty pounds. After carrying me during six months, at the expense
of only five francs for repair, I sold it at the Hague for thirty
pounds.
It is always advantageous for a traveller to carry with him anything of
use in science or in art if it is of a portable nature, and still more
so if it has also the advantage of novelty. At the time I started on a
lengthened tour the stomach-pump had just been invented. It appeared
to give {373} promise of great utility. I therefore arranged in a
small box the parts of an instrument which could be employed either as
a syringe, a stomach-pump, or for cupping. As a stomach-pump, it was
in great request from its novelty and utility. I had many applications
for permission to make drawings of it, to which I always most willingly
acceded. At Munich, Dr. Weisbrod, the king’s physician, was greatly
interested with it, and at his wish I lent it to the chief surgical
instrument-maker who produced for him an exact copy of the whole
apparatus.
〈DESCRIPTION OF THAMES TUNNEL.〉
Having visited the Thames Tunnel a day or two before I started for the
Continent, I purchased a dozen copies of the very lucid account of
that most interesting work. Six of the copies were in French and the
other six in the German language. I frequently lent a copy, and upon
some occasions I gave one away; but if I had had twice that number I
should have found that I might have distributed them with advantage as
acknowledgments of the many attentions I received.
Another most valuable piece of travelling merchandise consisted of
a dozen large and a dozen small gold buttons stamped by Barton’s
steel dies. These buttons displayed the most beautiful iridescence,
especially in the light of the sun. They were formed by ruling the
steel die in parallel lines in various forms. The lines were from the
four to the ten thousandth of an inch apart.
I possessed a die which Mr. Barton had kindly given me. This I kept in
my writing-case; but I had had a small piece of steel ruled in the same
way, though not with quite the same perfection, which I always kept in
my waistcoat pocket; it was also accompanied by a small gold button in
a sandalwood case. These were frequently of great service. The {374}
mere sight of them procured me many little attentions in diligences
and steamboats.
〈IRIDESCENT BUTTONS.〉
Of course I never appeared to be the possessor of more than one of
these treasured buttons; so that if any one had saved my life, its gift
would have been thought a handsome acknowledgment. If I had travelled
in the East, as I had originally intended until the battle of Navarino
prevented me, my buttons might have given me unlimited success in the
celestial empire.
The Chinese, like ourselves, have five orders of nobility. They are
indicated by spherical buttons. The Chinese nobles, however, wear them
on the top of their caps, whilst our nobility wear their pearls and
strawberry-leaves in their armorial bearings.
It is a curious circumstance that the most anciently civilized nation
should have invented an order of knighthood almost exactly similar to
our own—the order of the Peacock’s Feather—which, like our own Garter,
is confined to certain classes of nobility of the highest rank. Of the
two the decoration of the Chinese noble is certainly the more graceful.
One out of many illustrations may show the use I made of a button.
During my first visit to Venice I wished to see a manufactory of
gold chains for which that city is justly celebrated. I readily got
permission, and the proprietor was so good as to accompany me round his
factory. I had inquired the price of various chains, and had expressed
my wish to purchase a few inches of each kind; but I was informed that
they never sold less than a braccia of any one chain. This amount would
have made my purchase more costly than I proposed, so I gave it up.
〈THE VALUE OF A BUTTON.〉
In the meantime we proceeded through several rooms in which various
processes were going on. Observing some {375} tools in one of the
shops, I took up a file and asked whence it was procured. This led
to a conversation on the subject, in which the proprietor gave me
some account of files from various countries, but concluded by
observing that the Lancashire files, when they could be got, were by
far the best. I took this opportunity of asking him whether he had
seen any of our latest productions in steel: then pulling out of my
waistcoat-pocket the piece of hardened steel, ruled by a diamond, I
put it into his hands. The sun was shining brightly, and he was very
much interested with it. I remarked that in a darkened room, and
with a single lamp, it would be seen with still greater advantage. A
room was soon darkened, and a single lamp produced, and the effect
was still more perfect. My conductor then observed that his managing
man was a very skilful workman, and if I could afford the time, he
should much wish to show him this beautiful sight. I said it always
gave me pleasure to see and converse with a skilful workman, and
that I considered it as time well spent. The master sent for his
superintendent, who, being of a judicious turn of mind, was lavish in
admiring what his master approved. The master himself, gratified by
this happy confirmation, turning to me, said that he would let me have
pieces of any or all of his gold chains of any length, however short I
might wish them to be.
I thanked him for thus enabling me to make my countrymen appreciate
the excellence of Venetian workmanship, and purchased small samples
of every kind of chain then manufactured. These, on my return to
London, I weighed and measured, and referred to them in the economy of
manufactures as illustrations of the different proportions in which
skilled labour and price of raw material occur in the same class of
manufactured articles. {376}
A friend of mine, then at Venice, again visited that city about five
years afterwards. He subsequently informed me that he had purchased, at
the manufactory I visited, samples of gold chains about an inch or two
long, fixed on black velvet, and that it formed a regular article of
trade in some demand.
* * * * *
〈PULSATIONS AND INSPIRATIONS.〉
A man may, without being a proficient in any science, and indeed with
only the most limited knowledge of a small portion of it, yet make
himself useful to those who are most instructed. However limited
the path he may himself pursue, he will insensibly acquire other
information in return for that which he can communicate. I will
illustrate this by one of my own pursuits. I possess the slightest
possible acquaintance with the vast fields of animal life, but at
an early period I was struck by the numerical regularity of the
pulsation and of the breathings. It appeared to me that there must
exist some relation between these two functions. Accordingly, I took
every opportunity of counting the numbers of the pulsations and of
the breathings of various animals. The pig fair at Pavia and the book
fair at Leipsic equally placed before me menageries in which I could
collect such facts. Every zoological collection of living animals which
I visited thus gained an additional interest, and occasionally excited
the attention of those in charge of it to making a collection of facts
relating to that subject. This led me at another period to generalize
the subject of inquiry, and to print a skeleton form for the constants
of the class mammalia. It was reprinted by the British Association at
Cambridge in 1833, and also at Brussels in the ‘Travaux du Congress
Général de Statistique,’ Brussels, 1853.
* * * * *
I have so frequently been mortified by having the {377}
utterly-undeserved reputation of knowing everything that I was led to
inquire into the probable grounds of the egregious fallacy. The most
frequent symptom was an address of this kind:—“Now Mr. Babbage, will
you, who know everything, kindly explain to me — — —.” Perhaps the
thing whose explanation was required might be the metre of some ancient
Chinese poem: or whether there were any large rivers in the planet
Mercury.
〈HOW TO PUNCH A HOLE IN GLASS.〉
One of the most useful accomplishments for a philosophical traveller
with which I am acquainted, I learned from a workman, who taught me how
to punch a hole in a sheet of glass without making a crack in it.
The process is very simple. Two centre-punches, a hammer, an ordinary
bench-vice, and an old file, are all the tools required. These may be
found in any blacksmith’s shop. Having decided upon the part of the
glass in which you wish to make the hole, scratch a cross (Ⅹ) upon the
desired spot with the point of the old file; then turn the bit of glass
over, and scratch on the other side a similar mark exactly opposite to
the former.
Fix one of the small centre-punches with its point upwards in the vice.
Let an assistant gently hold the bit of glass with its scratched point
exactly resting upon the point of the centre-punch.
Take the other centre-punch in your own left hand and place its point
in the centre of the upper scratch, which is of course nearly, if not
exactly, above the fixed centre-punch. Now hit the upper centre-punch a
_very_ slight blow with the hammer: a mere touch is almost sufficient.
This must be carefully repeated two or three times. The result of these
blows will be to cause the centre of the cross to be, as it were,
gently pounded. {378}
Turn the glass over and let the slight cavity thus formed rest upon the
fixed centre-punch. Repeat the light blows upon this side of the glass,
and after turning it two or three times, a very small hole will be
made through the glass. It not unfrequently happens that a small crack
occurs in the glass; but with a little skill this can be cut out with
the pane of the hammer.
The next process is to enlarge the hole and cut it into the required
shape with the pane of the hammer. This is accomplished by supporting
the glass upon the point of the fixed centre-punch, very close to the
edge required to be cut. A light blow must then be struck with the pane
of the hammer upon the edge to be broken. This must be repeated until
the required shape is obtained.
The principles on which it depends are, that glass is a material
breaking in every direction with a conchoidal fracture, and that the
vibrations which would have caused cracking or fracture are checked by
the support of the fixed centre-punch in close contiguity with the part
to be broken off.
When by hastily performing this operation I have caused the glass to
crack, I have frequently, by using more care, cut an opening all round
the cracked part, and so let it drop out without spreading.
〈CUTTING A HOLE IN GLASS.〉
This process is rendered still more valuable by the use of the diamond.
I usually carried in my travels a diamond mounted on a small circle of
wood, so that I could easily cut out circles of glass with small holes
in the centre. The description of this process is sufficient to explain
it to an experienced workman; but if the reader should wish to employ
it, his readiest plan would be to ask such a person to show him how to
do it.
The above technical description will doubtless be rather {379} dry
and obscure to the general reader; so I hope to make him amends by
one or two of the consequences which have resulted to me from having
instructed others in the art.
〈THE GRATEFUL GLAZIER.〉
In the year 1825, during a visit to Devonport, I had apartments in
the house of a glazier, of whom one day I inquired whether he was
acquainted with the art of punching a hole in glass, to which he
answered in the negative, and expressed great curiosity to see it
done. Finding that at a short distance there was a blacksmith whom he
sometimes employed, we went together to pay him a visit, and having
selected from his rough tools the centre-punches and the hammer, I
proceeded to explain and execute the whole process, with which my
landlord was highly delighted.
On the eve of my departure I asked for the landlord’s account, which
was duly sent up and quite correct, except the omission of the charge
for the apartments which I had agreed for at two guineas a week. I
added the four weeks for my lodgings, and the next morning, having
placed the total amount upon the bill, I sent for my host in order to
pay him, remarking that he had omitted the principal article of his
account, which I had inserted.
He replied that he had intentionally omitted the lodgings, as he could
not think of taking payment for them from a gentleman who had done
him so great a service. Quite unconscious of having rendered him any
service, I asked him to explain how I had done him any good. He replied
that he had the contract for the supply and repair of the whole of the
lamps of Devonport, and that the art in which I had instructed him
would save him more than twenty pounds a year. I found some difficulty
in prevailing on my grateful landlord to accept what was justly his due.
〈MODESTY REWARDED.〉
The second instance I shall mention of the use to which I {380} turned
this art of punching a hole in glass occurred in Italy, at Bologna.
I spent some weeks very agreeably in that celebrated university,
which is still proud of having had the discoverer of the circulation
of the blood amongst its students. One morning an Italian friend
accompanied me round the town, to point out the more remarkable shops
and manufactories. Passing through a small street, he remarked that
there was a very well-informed man who kept a little shop for the sale
of needles and tape and a few other such articles, but who also made
barometers and thermometers, and had a very respectable knowledge
of such subjects. I proposed that we should look in upon him as we
were passing through the street. On entering his small shop, I was
introduced to its tenant, who conversed very modestly and very sensibly
upon various mathematical instruments.
I had invited several of my friends and professors to spend the evening
with me at my hotel, for the purpose of examining various instruments
I had brought with me. I knew that the sight of them would be quite
a treat to the occupier of this little shop, so I mentioned the idea
to my friend, and inquired whether my expected guests in the evening
would think I had taken a liberty with them in inviting the humble
constructor of instruments at the same time.
My friend and conductor immediately replied that he was well known to
most of the professors, and much respected by them, and that they would
think it very kind of me to give him that opportunity of seeing the
instruments I possessed. I therefore took the opportunity of asking him
to join the very agreeable party which assembled in my apartments in
the evening.
〈PRETENSION REPRESSED.〉
We now made a tour of the city, and reached the factory {381} of the
chief philosophical instrument-maker of Bologna. He took great pleasure
in showing me the various instruments he manufactured; but still there
was a certain air of presumption about him, which seemed to indicate
a less amount of knowledge than I should otherwise have assigned to
him. I had on the preceding day mentioned to my Italian friend, who now
accompanied me, that there existed a very simple method of punching a
hole in a piece of glass, which, as he was much interested about it, I
promised to show him on the earliest opportunity.
Finding myself in the workshop of the first instrument maker in
Bologna, and observing the few tools I wanted, I thought it a good
opportunity to explain the process to my friend; but I could only do
this by applying to the master for the loan of some tools. I also
thought it possible that the method was known to him, and that, having
more practice, he would do the work better than myself.
I therefore mentioned the circumstance of my promise, and asked
the master whether he was acquainted with the process. His reply
was, “Yes; we do it every day.” I then handed over to him the punch
and the piece of glass, declaring that a mere amateur, who only
occasionally practised it could not venture to operate before the first
instrument-maker in Bologna, and in his own workshop.
I had observed a certain shade of surprise glance across the face of
one of the workmen who heard the assertion of this daily practice of
his master’s, and, as I had my doubts of it, I contrived to put him
in such a position that he must either retract his statement or else
attempt to do the trick.
〈AWFUL SMASH.〉
He then called for a flat piece of iron with a small hole in it.
Placing the piece of glass upon the top of this bit of iron, and
holding the punch upon it directly above the {382} aperture, he gave a
strong blow of the hammer, and smashed the glass into a hundred pieces.
I immediately began to console him, remarking that I did not myself
always succeed, and that unaccountable circumstances sometimes defeated
the skill even of the most accomplished workman. I then advised him to
try a larger[52] piece of glass. Just after the crash I had put my hand
upon a heavier hammer, which I immediately withdrew on his perceiving
it. Thus encouraged, he called for a larger piece of glass, and a
bit of iron with a smaller hole in it. In the meantime all the men
in the shop rested from their work to witness this feat of every-day
occurrence. Their master now seized the heavier hammer, which I had
previously just touched. Finding him preparing for a strong and decided
blow, I turned aside my head, in order to avoid seeing him blush—and
also to save my own face from the coming cloud of splinters.
[52] The larger the piece of glass to be punched the more
certainly the process succeeds.
I just saw the last triumphant flourish of the heavy hammer waving over
his head, and then heard, on its thundering fall, the crash made by the
thousand fragments of glass which it scattered over the workshop.
I still, however, felt it my duty to administer what consolation I
could to a fellow-creature in distress; so I repeated to him (which was
the truth) that I, too, occasionally failed. Then looking at my watch,
and observing to my companion that these tools were not adapted to my
mode of work, I reminded him that we had a pressing engagement. I then
took leave of this celebrated instrument-maker, with many thanks for
all he had shown me.
After such a misadventure, I thought it would be cruel to {383}
invite him to meet the learned professors who would be assembled at
my evening party, especially as I knew that I should be asked to show
my friends a process with which he had assured me he was so familiar.
The unpretending maker of thermometers and barometers did however join
the party; and the kind and considerate manner in which my guests of
the university and of the city treated him raised both parties in my
estimation.
I will here mention another mode of treating glass, which may
occasionally be found worth communicating.
Ground glass is frequently employed for transmitting light into an
apartment, whilst it effectually prevents persons on the outside from
seeing into the room. Rough plate-glass is now in very common use for
the same purpose. In both these circumstances there is a reciprocity,
for those who are within such rooms cannot see external forms.
〈ROUGH GLASS MADE TRANSPARENT.〉
It may in some cases be desirable partially to remedy this difficulty.
In my own case, I cut with my diamond a small disc of window-glass,
about two inches in diameter, and cemented it with Canada balsam to
the rough side of my rough plate-glass. I then suspended a circular
piece of card by a thread, so as to cover the circular disc. When the
Canada balsam is dry, it fills up all the little inequalities of the
rough glass with a transparent substance, of nearly the same refracting
power; consequently, on drawing aside the suspended card, the forms of
external objects become tolerably well defined.
The smooth surface of the rough plate-glass, not being perfectly flat,
produces a slight distortion, which might, if it were worth while, be
cured by cementing another disc of glass upon that side. In case the
ground glass itself happens to be plate-glass, the image of external
objects is perfect. {384}
Occasionally I met, in the course of my travels, with various things
which, though not connected with my own pursuits, might yet be highly
interesting to others. If the cost suited my purse, and the subject was
easily carried, or the specimen of importance, I have in many instances
purchased them. Such was the case with respect to that curious creature
the _proteus anguineus_, a creature living only in the waters of dark
caverns, which has eyes, but the eyelids cannot open.
〈THE CAVES OF ADELSBURG.〉
When I visited the caves of Adelsburg, in Styria, I inquired whether
any of these singular creatures could be procured. I purchased all I
could get, being six in number. I conveyed them in large bottles full
of river water, which I changed every night. During the greater part of
their journey the bottles were placed in large leathern bags lashed to
the barouche seat of my calash.
The first of these pets died at Vienna, and another at Prague. After
three months, two only survived, and reached Berlin, where they also
died—I fear from my servant having supplied them with water from a well
instead of from a river.
At night they were usually placed in a large wash-hand basin of water,
covered over with a napkin.
They were very excitable under the action of light. On several
occasions when I have visited them at night with a candle, one or more
have jumped out of their watery home.
These rare animals were matters of great interest to many naturalists
whom I visited in my rambles, and procured for me several very
agreeable acquaintances. When their gloomy lives terminated I preserved
them in spirits, and sent the specimens to the collections of our own
universities, to India, and some of our colonies.
* * * * *
When I was preparing materials for the ‘Economy of {385}
Manufactures,’ I had occasion to travel frequently through our
manufacturing and mining districts. On these occasions I found the
travellers’ inn or the travellers’ room was usually the best adapted
to my purpose, both in regard to economy and to information. As my
inquiries had a wide range, I found ample assistance in carrying them
on. Nobody doubted that I was one of the craft; but opinions were
widely different as to the department in which I practised my vocation.
In one of my tours I passed a very agreeable week at the Commercial
Hotel at Sheffield. The society of the travellers’ room is very
fluctuating. Many of its frequenters arrive at night, have supper,
breakfast early the next morning, and are off soon after: others make
rather a longer stay. One evening we sat up after supper much later
than is usual, discussing a variety of commercial subjects.
〈GUESSES AT MY VOCATION.〉
When I came down rather late to breakfast, I found only one of my
acquaintance of the previous evening remaining. He remarked that we had
had a very agreeable party last night, in which I cordially concurred.
He referred to the intelligent remarks of some of the party in our
discussion, and then added, that when I left them they began to talk
about me. I merely observed that I felt myself quite safe in their
hands, but should be glad to profit by their remarks. It appeared, when
I retired for the night, they debated about what trade I travelled for.
“The tall gentleman in the corner,” said my informant, “maintained
that you were in the hardware line; whilst the fat gentleman who sat
next to you at supper was quite sure that you were in the spirit
trade.” Another of the party declared that they were both mistaken: he
said he had met you before, and that you were travelling for a great
iron-master. “Well,” said I, “you, I presume, knew my vocation better
than our friends.”—“Yes,” {386} said my informant, “I knew perfectly
well that you were in the Nottingham lace trade.” The waiter now
appeared with his bill, and announced that my friend’s trap was at the
door.
〈THE PHILOSOPHER FOUND OUT.〉
I had passed nearly a week at the Commercial Inn without having broken
the eleventh commandment; but the next day I was doomed to be found
out. A groom, in the gay livery of the Fitzwilliams, having fruitlessly
searched for me at all the great hotels, at last in despair thought
of inquiring for me at the Commercial Hotel. The landlady was sure
I was not staying in her house; but, in deference to the groom’s
urgent request, went to make inquiries amongst her guests. I was the
first person she questioned, and was, of course, obliged to admit the
impeachment. The groom brought a very kind note from the late Lord
Fitzwilliam, who had heard of my being in Sheffield, to invite me to
spend a week at Wentworth.
I gladly availed myself of this invitation, and passed it very
agreeably. During the few first days the party in the house consisted
of the family only. Then followed three days of open house, when their
friends came from great distances, even as far as sixty or eighty
miles, and that at a period when railroads were unknown.
On the great day upwards of a hundred persons sat down to dinner,
a large number of whom slept in the house. This was the first time
the ancient custom of open house had been kept up at Wentworth since
the death of the former Earl, the celebrated Whig Lord Lieutenant of
Yorkshire.
{387}
CHAPTER XXIX.
MIRACLES.
Difference Engine set so as to follow a given law for a vast period —
Thus to change to another law of equally vast or of greater duration,
and so on — Parallel between the successive creations of animal life
— The Author visited Dublin at the first Meeting of the British
Association — Is the Guest of Trinity College — Innocently wears a
Waistcoat of the wrong colour — Is informed of the sad fact — Rushes
to a Tailor to rectify it — Finds nothing but party-colours — Nearly
loses his Breakfast, and is thought to be an amazing Dandy — The Dean
thinks better of the Philosopher, and accompanied him to Killarney —
The Philosopher preaches a Sermon to the Divine by the side of the
Lake.
After that portion of the Difference Engine which was completed had
been for some months promoted from the workshop to my drawing-room,
I met two of my friends from Ireland—Dr. Lloyd, the present Provost
of Trinity College, and Dr. Robinson, of Armagh. I invited them to
breakfast, that they might have a full opportunity of examining
its structure. I invited also another friend to meet them—the late
Professor Malthus.
After breakfast we adjourned to the drawing-room. I then proceeded
to explain the mechanism of the Engine, and to cause it to calculate
Tables. One of the party remarked two axes in front of the machine
which had not hitherto been performing any work, and inquired for what
purpose they were so placed. I informed him that these axes had been
so placed in order to illustrate a series of calculations of the {388}
most complicated kind, to which they contributed. I observed that the
Tables thus formed were of so artificial and abstract a nature, that I
could not foresee the time when they would be of any use.
This remark additionally excited their curiosity, and they requested me
to set the machine at work to compute such a table.
Having taken a simple case of this kind, I set the Engine to do its
work, and then told them—
That it was now prepared to count the natural numbers; but that it
would obey this law only as far as the millionth term.
〈LAWS CHANGING AT VERY DISTANT INTERVALS.〉
That after that term it would commence a series, following a different,
but known law, for a very long period.
That after this new law had been fulfilled for another long period, it
would then suddenly abandon it, and calculate the terms of a series
following another new law, and so on throughout all time.
Of course it was impossible to verify these assertions by making the
machine actually go through the calculations; but, after having made
the Engine count the natural numbers for some time, I proceeded to
point out the fact, that it was impossible, by its very structure, that
the machine could record any but the natural numbers before it reached
the number 999,990. This I made evident to my friends, by showing them
the actual structure of the Engine. Having demonstrated this to their
entire satisfaction, I put the machine on to the number 999,990, and
continued to work the Engine, when the result I had predicted soon
arrived. After the millionth term a new law _was_ taken up, and my
friends were convinced that it must, from the very structure of the
machine, continue for a very long time, and then {389} inevitably give
place to another new law, and so on throughout all time.
When they were quite satisfied about this fact, I observed that, in a
new engine which I was then contemplating, it would be possible to set
it so that—
1st. It should calculate a Table for any given length of time,
according to any given law.
2nd. That at the termination of that time it should cease to compute a
Table according to that law; but that it should commence a new Table
according to any other given law that might be desired, and should then
continue this computation for any other given period.
3rd. That this succession of a new law, coming in and continuing during
any desired time, and then giving place to other new laws, in endless
but known succession, might be continued indefinitely.