Submarine cables have multiplied recently, and almost every ocean flows over the mysterious wires which flash intelligence beneath the rolling waters from point to point of the civilized world. By a telegraph-cable, which is partly submarine, the India Office in Westminster is united with the Governor-General and his Council at Calcutta. There is also communication between Singapore and Australia, and the network of ocean telegraphy is being so rapidly extended that, before long, the British Government in the metropolis will be enabled to convey its instructions in a few hours to the administrative authorities in every British colony. And thus the words which the poet puts into the mouth of "Puck"

will be nearly realized in a sense the poet never dreamed of--"I'll put a girdle round about the world in forty minutes."

The Silk Manufacture.

I.--JOHN LOMBE.

II.--WILLIAM LEE.

III.--JOSEPH MARIE JACQUARD.

The Silk Manufacture.

I.--JOHN LOMBE.

In the reign of the Emperor Justinian, a couple of Persian monks, on a religious mission to China, brought away with them a quant.i.ty of silkworms' eggs concealed in a piece of hollow cane, which they carried to Constantinople. There they hatched the eggs, reared the worms, and spun the silk,--for the first time introducing that manufacture into Europe, and destroying the close monopoly which China had hitherto enjoyed. From Constantinople the knowledge and the practice of the art gradually extended to Greece, thence to Italy, and next to Spain. Each country, as in turn it gained possession of the secret, strove to preserve it with jealous care; but to little purpose. A secret that so many thousands already shared in common, could not long remain so, although its pa.s.sage to other countries might be for a time deferred.

France and England were behind most of the other states of Europe in obtaining a knowledge of the "craft and mystery." The manufacture of silk did not take root in France till the reign of Francis I.; and was hardly known in England till the persecutions of the Duke of Parma in 1585 drove a great number of the manufacturers of Antwerp to seek refuge in our land. James I. was very anxious to promote the breed of silkworms, and the production of silken fabrics. During his reign a great many mulberry-trees were planted in various parts of the country--among others, that celebrated one in Shakspeare's garden at Stratford-on-Avon--and an attempt was made to rear the worm in our country, which, however, the ungenial climate frustrated.

Silk-throwsters, dyers, and weavers were brought over from the Continent; and the manufacture made such progress that, by 1629, the silk-throwsters of London were incorporated, and thirty years after employed no fewer than 40,000 hands. The emigration from France consequent on the revocation of the Edict of Nantes (1685) added not only to the numbers engaged in the trade, but to the taste, skill, and enterprise with which it was conducted. It is not easy to estimate how deeply France wounded herself by the iniquitous persecution of the Protestants, or how largely the emigrants repaid by their industry the shelter which Britain afforded them.

Although the manufacture had now become fairly naturalized in England, it was restricted by our ignorance of the first process to which the silk was subjected. Up till 1718, the whole of the silk used in England, for whatever purpose, was imported "thrown," that is, formed into threads of various kinds and twists. A young Englishman named John Lombe, impressed with the idea that our dependence on other countries for a supply of thrown silk prevented us from reaping the full benefit of the manufacture, and from competing with foreign traders, conceived the project of visiting Italy, and discovering the secret of the operation. He accordingly went over to Piedmont in 1715, but found the difficulties greater than he had antic.i.p.ated. He applied for admittance at several factories, but was told that an examination of the machinery was strictly prohibited. Not to be balked, he resolved, as a last resort, to try if he could accomplish by stratagem what he had failed to do openly. Disguising himself in the dress of a common labourer, he bribed a couple of the workmen connected with one of the factories, and with their connivance obtained access in secret to the works. His visits were few and short; but he made the best use of his time. He carefully examined the various parts of the machinery, ascertained the principle of its operation, and made himself completely master of the whole process of throwing. Each night before he went to bed he noted down everything he had seen, and drew sketches of parts of the machinery.

This plot, however, was discovered by the Italians. He and his accomplices had to fly for their lives, and not without great difficulty escaped to a ship which conveyed them to England.

Lombe had not forgotten to carry off with him his note-book, sketches, and a chest full of machinery, and on his return home lost no time in practising the art of "throwing" silk. On a swampy island in the river Derwent, at Derby, he built a magnificent mill, yet standing, called the "Old Silk Mill." Its erection occupied four years, and cost 30,000. It was five storeys in height, and an eighth of a mile in length. The grand machine numbered no fewer than 13,384 wheels. It was said that it could produce 318,504,960 yards of organzine silk thread daily; but the estimate is no doubt exaggerated.

While the mill was building, Lombe, in order to save time and earn money to carry on the works, opened a manufactory in the Town Hall of Derby.

His machinery more than fulfilled his expectations, and enabled him to sell thrown silk at much lower prices than were charged by the Italians.

A thriving trade was thus established, and England relieved from all dependence on other countries for "thrown" silk.

The Italians conceived a bitter hatred against Lombe for having broken in upon their monopoly and diminished their trade. In revenge, therefore, according to William Hutton, the historian of Derby, they "determined _his_ destruction, and hoped that of his works would follow." An Italian woman was despatched to corrupt her two countrymen who a.s.sisted Lombe in the management of the works. She obtained employment in the factory, and gained over one of the Italians to her iniquitous design. They prepared a slow poison, and administered it in small doses to Lombe, who, after lingering three or four years in agony, died at the early age of twenty-nine. The Italian fled; the woman was seized and subjected to a close examination, but no definite proof could be elicited that Lombe had been poisoned. Lombe was buried in great state, as a mark of respect on the part of his townsmen. "He was," says Hutton, "a man of quiet deportment, who had brought a beneficial manufactory into the place, employed the poor, and at advanced wages,--and thus could not fail to meet with respect; and his melancholy end excited much sympathy."

II.--WILLIAM LEE.

In the Stocking Weavers' Hall, in Redcross Street, London, there used to hang a picture, representing a man in collegiate costume in the act of pointing to an iron stocking-frame, and addressing a woman busily knitting with needles by hand. Underneath the picture appeared the following inscription: "In the year 1589, the ingenious William Lee, A.M., of St. John's College, Cambridge, devised this profitable art for stockings (but, being despised, went to France), yet of iron to himself, but to us and to others of gold; in memory of whom this is here painted." As to who this William Lee was, and the way in which he came to invent the stocking-frame, there are conflicting stories, but the one most generally received and best authenticated is as follows:--

William Lee, a native of Woodborough, near Nottingham, was a fellow of one of the Cambridge Colleges. He fell in love with a young country la.s.s, married her, and consequently forfeited his fellowship. A poor scholar, with much learning, but without money or the knowledge of any trade, he found himself in very embarra.s.sed circ.u.mstances. Like many another "poor scholar," he might exclaim:--

"All the arts I have skill in, Divine and humane; Yet all's not worth a shilling; Alas! poor scholar, whither wilt thou go?"

His wife, however, was a very industrious woman, and by her knitting contributed to their joint support. It is said--but the story lacks authentic confirmation--that when Lee was courting her, she always appeared so much more occupied with her knitting than with the soft speeches he was whispering in her ear, that her lover thought of inventing a machine that would "facilitate and forward the operation of knitting," and so leave the object of his love more leisure to converse with him. "Love, indeed," says Beckmann, "is fertile in invention, and gave rise, it is said, to the art of painting; but a machine so complex in its parts, and so wonderful in its effects, would seem to require longer and greater reflection, more judgment, and more time and patience than could be expected of a lover." But afterwards, when Lee, in his painfully enforced idleness, sat many a long hour watching his wife's nimble fingers toiling to support him, his mind again recurred to the idea of a machine that would give rest to her weary fingers. His cogitations resulted in the contrivance of a stocking-frame, which imitated the movements of the fingers in knitting.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WILLIAM LEE, THE INVENTOR OF THE STOCKING-FRAME. Page 226.]

Although the invention of this loom gave a great impulse to the manufacture of silk stockings in England, and placed our productions in advance of those of other countries, Lee reaped but little profit from it. He met with neglect both from Queen Elizabeth and James I.; and, not succeeding as a manufacturer on his own account, went to France, where he did very well until after the a.s.sa.s.sination of Henri IV., when he shared the persecutions of the Protestants, and died in great distress in Paris.

III.--JOSEPH MARIE JACQUARD.

Joseph Marie Jacquard, the inventor of the loom which bears his name, and to whom the extent and prosperity of the silk manufacture of our time is mainly due, was born at Lyons in 1752, of humble parents, both of whom were weavers. His father taught him to ply the shuttle; but for education of any other sort, he was left to his own devices. He managed to pick up some knowledge of reading and writing for himself; but his favourite occupation was the construction of little models of houses, towers, articles of furniture, and so on, which he executed with much taste and accuracy. On being apprenticed to a type-founder, he exhibited his apt.i.tude for mechanical contrivances by inventing a number of improved tools for the use of the workmen. On his father's death he set up as a manufacturer of figured fabrics; but although a skilful workman, he was a bad manager, and the end of the undertaking was, that he had to sell his looms to pay his debts. He married, but did not receive the dowry with his wife which he expected, and to support his family had to sell the house his father had left him,--the last remnant of his little heritage. The invention of numerous ingenious machines for weaving, type-founding, &c., proved the activity of his genius, but produced not a farthing for the maintenance of his wife and child. He took service with a lime-maker at Brest, while his wife made and sold straw hats in a little shop at Lyons. He solaced himself for the drudgery of his labours by spending his leisure in the study of machines for figure-weaving. The idea of the beautiful apparatus which he afterwards perfected began to dawn on him, but for the time it was driven out of his mind by the stirring transactions of the time. The whirlwind of the Revolution was sweeping through the land. Jacquard ardently embraced the cause of the people, took part in the gallant defence of Lyons in 1793, fled for his life on the reduction of the city, and with his son--a lad of sixteen--joined the army of the Rhine. His boy fell by his side on the field of battle, and Jacquard, dest.i.tute and broken-hearted, returned to Lyons. His house had been burned down; his wife was nowhere to be heard of. At length he discovered her in a miserable garret, earning a bare subsistence by plaiting straw. For want of other employment he shared her labours, till Lyons began to rise from its ruins, to recover its scattered population, and revive its industry. Jacquard applied himself with renewed energy to the completion of the machine of which he had, before the Revolution, conceived the idea; exhibited it at the National Exposition of the Products of Industry in 1801; and obtained a bronze medal and a ten years' patent.

During the peace of Amiens, Jacquard happened to take up a newspaper in a _cabaret_ which he frequented, and his eye fell on a translated extract from an English journal, stating that a prize was offered by a society in London for the construction of a machine for weaving nets. As a mere amus.e.m.e.nt he turned his thoughts to the subject, contrived a number of models, and at last solved the problem. He made a machine and wove a little net with it. One day he met a friend who had read the paragraph from the English paper. Jacquard drew the net from his pocket saying, "Oh! I've got over the difficulty! see, there is a net I've made." After that he took no more thought about the matter, and had quite forgotten it, when he was startled by a summons to appear at the Prefectal Palace. The prefect received him very kindly, and expressed his astonishment that his mechanical genius should so long have remained in obscurity. Jacquard could not imagine how the prefect had discovered his mechanical experiments, and began vaguely to dread that he had got into some shocking sc.r.a.pe. He stammered out a sort of apology. The prefect was surprised he should deny his own talent, and said he had been informed that he had invented a machine for weaving nets. Jacquard owned that he had.

"Well, then, you're the right man, after all," said the prefect. "I have orders from the emperor to send the machine to Paris."

"Yes, but you must give me time to make it," replied Jacquard.

In a week or two Jacquard again presented himself at the palace with his machine and a half manufactured net. The prefect was eager to see how it worked.

"Count the number of loops in that net," said Jacquard, "and then strike the bar with your foot."

The prefect did so, and was surprised and delighted to see another loop added to the number.

"Capital!" cried he. "I have his majesty's orders, M. Jacquard, to send you and your machine to Paris."

"To Paris! How can that be? How can I leave my business here?"

"There is no help for it; and not only must you go to Paris, but you must start at once, without an hour's delay."

"If it must be, it must. I will go home and pack up a little bundle, and tell my wife about my journey, I shall be ready to start to-morrow."

"To-morrow won't do; you must go to-day. A carriage is waiting to take you to Paris; and you must not go home. I will send to your house for any things you want, and convey any message to your wife. I will provide you with money for the journey."

There was no help for it, so Jacquard got into the carriage, along with a gendarme who was to take charge of him, and wondered, all the way to Paris, what it all meant. On reaching the capital he was taken before Napoleon, who received him in a very condescending manner. Carnot, who was also present, could not at first comprehend the machine, and turning to the inventor, exclaimed roughly, "What, do you pretend to do what is beyond the power of man? Can you tie a knot in a stretched string?"

Jacquard, not at all disconcerted, explained the construction of his machine so simply and clearly, as to convince the incredulous minister that it accomplished what he had hitherto deemed an impossibility.

Jacquard was now employed in the Conservatory of Arts and Manufactures to repair and keep in order the models and machines. At this time a magnificent shawl was being woven in one of the government works for the Empress Josephine. Very costly and complicated machinery was employed, and nearly 1000 had already been spent on it. It appeared to Jacquard that the shawl might be manufactured in a much simpler and less expensive manner. He thought that the principle of a machine of Vaucousin's might be applied to the operation, but found it too complex and slow. He brooded over the subject, made a great many experiments, and at last succeeded in contriving an improved apparatus.

He returned to Lyons to superintend the introduction of his machine for figure-weaving and the manufacture of nets. The former invention was purchased for the use of the people, and was brought into use very slowly. The weavers of Lyons denounced Jacquard as the enemy of the people, who was striving to destroy their trade, and starve themselves and families, and used every effort to prevent the introduction of his machine. They wilfully spoiled their work in order to bring the new process into discredit. The machine was ordered to be destroyed in one of the public squares. It was broken to pieces,--the iron-work was sold for old metal, and the wood-work for f.a.ggots. Jacquard himself had on one occasion to be rescued from the hands of a mob who were going to throw him into the Rhone.

Before Jacquard's death in 1835, his apparatus had not only made its way into every manufactory in France, but was used in England, Switzerland, Germany, Italy, and America. Even the Chinese condescended to avail themselves of this invention of a "barbarian."

Jacquard's apparatus is, strictly speaking, not a loom, but an appendage to one. It is intended to elevate or depress, by bars, the warp threads for the reception of the shuttle, the patterns being regulated by means of bands of punched cards acting on needles with loops and eyes. At first applied to silk weaving only, the use of this machine has since been extended to the bobbin net, carpets, and other fancy manufactures.

By its agency the richest and most complex designs, which could formerly be achieved only by the most skilful labourers, with a painful degree of labour, and at an exorbitant cost, are now produced with facility by the most ordinary workmen, and at the most moderate price.

Of late years the silk manufacture has greatly improved, both in character and extent. The products of British looms exhibited at the Great Exhibition of 1862 vied with those of the Continent. Every year upwards of 2,300,000 worth of silk is brought to England; and the silk manufacture engages some 55,000,000 of capital, and employs eleven to twelve hundred thousand of our population.