  "In science there is work for all hands, more or less skilled; and he is usually the most fit to occupy the higher posts who has risen from the ranks, and has experimentally acquainted himself with the nature of the work to be done in each and every, even the humblest department." J. D. Forbes. The development of the mechanical industry of England has been so rapid, especially as regards the wonders achieved by the machine-tools above referred to, that it may almost be said to have been accomplished within the life of the present generation. "When I first entered this city," said Mr. Fairbairn, in his inaugural address as President of the British Association at Manchester in 1861, "the whole of the machinery was executed by hand. There were neither planing, slotting, nor shaping machines; and, with the exception of very imperfect lathes and a few drills, the preparatory operations of construction were effected entirely by the hands of the workmen. Now, everything is done by machine-tools with a degree of accuracy which the unaided hand could never accomplish. The automaton or self-acting machine-tool has within itself an almost creative power; in fact, so great are its powers of adaptation, that there is no operation of the human hand that it does not imitate." In a letter to the author, Mr. Fairbairn says, "The great pioneers of machine-tool-making were Maudslay, Murray of Leeds, Clement and Fox of Derby, who were ably followed by Nasmyth, Roberts, and Whitworth, of Manchester, and Sir Peter Fairbairn of Leeds; and Mr. Fairbairn might well have added, by himself,—for he has been one of the most influential and successful of mechanical engineers. William Fairbairn was born at Kelso on the 19th of February, 1787. His parents occupied a humble but respectable position in life. His father, Andrew Fairbairn, was the son of a gardener in the employment of Mr. Baillie of Mellerston, and lived at Smailholm, a village lying a few miles west of Kelso. Tracing the Fairbairns still further back, we find several of them occupying the station of "portioners," or small lairds, at Earlston on the Tweed, where the family had been settled since the days of the Solemn League and Covenant. By his mother's side, the subject of our memoir is supposed to be descended from the ancient Border family of Douglas. While Andrew Fairbairn (William's father) lived at Smailholm, Walter Scott was living with his grandmother in Smailholm or Sandyknowe Tower, whither he had been sent from Edinburgh in the hope that change of air would help the cure of his diseased hip-joint; and Andrew, being nine years his senior, and a strong youth for his age, was accustomed to carry the little patient about in his arms, until he was able to walk by himself. At a later period, when Miss Scott, Walter's aunt, removed from Smailholm to Kelso, the intercourse between the families was renewed. Scott was then an Edinburgh advocate, engaged in collecting materials for his Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, or, as his aunt described his pursuit, "running after the auld wives of the country gatherin' havers." He used frequently to read over by the fireside in the evening the results of his curious industry, which, however, were not very greatly appreciated by his nearest relatives; and they did not scruple to declare that for the "Advocate" to go about collecting "ballants" was mere waste of time as well as money. William Fairbairn's first schoolmaster was a decrepit old man who went by the name of "Bowed Johnnie Ker,"—a Cameronian, with a nasal twang, which his pupils learnt much more readily than they did his lessons in reading and arithmetic, notwithstanding a liberal use of "the tawse." Yet Johnnie had a taste for music, and taught his pupils to SING their reading lessons, which was reckoned quite a novelty in education. After a short time our scholar was transferred to the parish-school of the town, kept by a Mr. White, where he was placed under the charge of a rather severe helper, who, instead of the tawse, administered discipline by means of his knuckles, hard as horn, which he applied with a peculiar jerk to the crania of his pupils. At this school Willie Fairbairn lost the greater part of the singing accomplishments which he had acquired under "Bowed Johnnie," but he learnt in lieu of them to read from Scott and Barrow's collections of prose and poetry, while he obtained some knowledge of arithmetic, in which he proceeded as far as practice and the rule of three. This constituted his whole stock of school-learning up to his tenth year. Out of school-hours he learnt to climb the ruined walls of the old abbey of the town, and there was scarcely an arch, or tower, or cranny of it with which he did not become familiar. When in his twelfth year, his father, who had been brought up to farm-work, and possessed considerable practical knowledge of agriculture, was offered the charge of a farm at Moy in Ross-shire, belonging to Lord Seaforth of Brahan Castle. The farm was of about 300 acres, situated on the banks of the river Conan, some five miles from the town of Dingwall. The family travelled thither in a covered cart, a distance of 200 miles, through a very wild and hilly country, arriving at their destination at the end of October, 1799. The farm, when reached, was found overgrown with whins and brushwood, and covered in many places with great stones and rocks; it was, in short, as nearly in a state of nature as it was possible to be. The house intended for the farmer's reception was not finished, and Andrew Fairbairn, with his wife and five children, had to take temporary refuge in a miserable hovel, very unlike the comfortable house which they had quitted at Kelso. By next spring, however, the new house was ready; and Andrew Fairbairn set vigorously to work at the reclamation of the land. After about two years' labours it exhibited an altogether different appearance, and in place of whins and stones there were to be seen heavy crops of barley and turnips. The barren years of 1800 and 1801, however, pressed very hardly on Andrew Fairbairn as on every other farmer of arable land. About that time, Andrew's brother Peter, who acted as secretary to Lord Seaforth, and through whose influence the former had obtained the farm, left Brahan Castle for the West Indies with his Lordship, who—notwithstanding his being both deaf and dumb—had been appointed to the Governorship of Barbadoes; and in consequence of various difficulties which occurred shortly after his leaving, Andrew Fairbairn found it necessary to give up his holding, whereupon he engaged as steward to Mackenzie of Allengrange, with whom he remained for two years. While the family lived at Moy, none of the boys were put to school. They could not be spared from the farm and the household. Those of them that could not work afield were wanted to help to nurse the younger children at home. But Andrew Fairbairn possessed a great treasure in his wife, who was a woman of much energy of character, setting before her children an example of patient industry, thrift, discreetness, and piety, which could not fail to exercise a powerful influence upon them in after-life; and this, of itself, was an education which probably far more than compensated for the boys' loss of school-culture during their life at Moy. Mrs. Fairbairn span and made all the children's clothes, as well as the blankets and sheeting; and, while in the Highlands, she not only made her own and her daughters' dresses, and her sons' jackets and trowsers, but her husband's coats and waistcoats; besides helping her neighbours to cut out their clothing for family wear. One of William's duties at home was to nurse his younger brother Peter, then a delicate child under two years old; and to relieve himself of the labour of carrying him about, he began the construction of a little waggon in which to wheel him. This was, however, a work of some difficulty, as all the tools he possessed were only a knife, a gimlet, and an old saw. With these implements, a piece of thin board, and a few nails, he nevertheless contrived to make a tolerably serviceable waggon-body. His chief difficulty consisted in making the wheels, which he contrived to surmount by cutting sections from the stem of a small alder-tree, and with a red-hot poker he bored the requisite holes in their centres to receive the axle. The waggon was then mounted on its four wheels, and to the great joy of its maker was found to answer its purpose admirably. In it he wheeled his little brother—afterwards well known as Sir Peter Fairbairn, mayor of Leeds—in various directions about the farm, and sometimes to a considerable distance from it; and the vehicle was regarded on the whole as a decided success. His father encouraged him in his little feats of construction of a similar kind, and he proceeded to make and rig miniature boats and ships, and then miniature wind and water mills, in which last art he acquired such expertness that he had sometimes five or six mills going at a time. The machinery was all made with a knife, the water-spouts being formed by the bark of a tree, and the millstones represented by round discs of the same material. Such were the first constructive efforts of the future millwright and engineer. When the family removed to Allengrange in 1801, the boys were sent to school at Munlachy, about a mile and a half distant from the farm. The school was attended by about forty barefooted boys in tartan kilt's, and about twenty girls, all of the poorer class. The schoolmaster was one Donald Frazer, a good teacher, but a severe disciplinarian. Under him, William made some progress in reading, writing, and arithmetic; and though he himself has often lamented the meagreness of his school instruction, it is clear, from what he has since been enabled to accomplish, that these early lessons were enough at all events to set him fairly on the road of self-culture, and proved the fruitful seed of much valuable intellectual labour, as well as of many excellent practical books. After two years' trial of his new situation, which was by no means satisfactory, Andrew Fairbairn determined again to remove southward with his family; and, selling off everything, they set sail from Cromarty for Leith in June, 1803. Having seen his wife and children temporarily settled at Kelso, he looked out for a situation, and shortly after proceeded to undertake the management of Sir William Ingleby's farm at Ripley in Yorkshire. Meanwhile William was placed for three months under the charge of his uncle William, the parish schoolmaster of Galashiels, for the purpose of receiving instruction in book-keeping and land-surveying, from which he derived considerable benefit. He could not, however, remain longer at school; for being of the age of fourteen, it was thought necessary that he should be set to work without further delay. His first employment was on the fine new bridge at Kelso, then in course of construction after the designs of Mr. Rennie; but in helping one day to carry a handbarrow-load of stone, his strength proving insufficient, he gave way under it, and the stones fell upon him, one of them inflicting a serious wound on his leg, which kept him a cripple for months. In the mean time his father, being dissatisfied with his prospects at Ripley, accepted the appointment of manager of the Percy Main Colliery Company's farm in the neighbourhood of Newcastle-on-Tyne, whither he proceeded with his family towards the end of 1803, William joining them in the following February, when the wound in his leg had sufficiently healed to enable him to travel. Percy Main is situated within two miles of North Shields, and is one of the largest collieries in that district. William was immediately set to work at the colliery, his first employment being to lead coals from behind the screen to the pitmen's houses. His Scotch accent, and perhaps his awkwardness, exposed him to much annoyance from the "pit lads," who were a very rough and profligate set; and as boxing was a favourite pastime among them, our youth had to fight his way to their respect, passing through a campaign of no less than seventeen pitched battles. He was several times on the point of abandoning the work altogether, rather than undergo the buffetings and insults to which he was almost a daily martyr, when a protracted contest with one of the noted boxers of the colliery, in which he proved the victor, at length relieved him from further persecution. In the following year, at the age of sixteen, he was articled as an engineer for five years to the owners of Percy Main, and was placed under the charge of Mr. Robinson, the engine-wright of the colliery. His wages as apprentice were 8s. a week; but by working over-hours, making wooden wedges used in pit-work, and blocking out segments of solid oak required for walling the sides of the mine, he considerably increased his earnings, which enabled him to add to the gross income of the family, who were still struggling with the difficulties of small means and increasing expenses. When not engaged upon over-work in the evenings, he occupied himself in self-education. He drew up a scheme of daily study with this object, to which he endeavoured to adhere as closely as possible,—devoting the evenings of Mondays to mensuration and arithmetic; Tuesdays to history and poetry; Wednesdays to recreation, novels, and romances; Thursdays to algebra and mathematics; Fridays to Euclid and trigonometry; Saturdays to recreation; and Sundays to church, Milton, and recreation. He was enabled to extend the range of his reading by the help of the North Shields Subscription Library, to which his father entered him a subscriber. Portions of his spare time were also occasionally devoted to mechanical construction, in which he cultivated the useful art of handling tools. One of his first attempts was the contrivance of a piece of machinery worked by a weight and a pendulum, that should at the same time serve for a timepiece and an orrery; but his want of means, as well as of time, prevented him prosecuting this contrivance to completion. He was more successful with the construction of a fiddle, on which he was ambitious to become a performer. It must have been a tolerable instrument, for a professional player offered him 20s. for it. But though he succeeded in making a fiddle, and for some time persevered in the attempt to play upon it, he did not succeed in producing any satisfactory melody, and at length gave up the attempt, convinced that nature had not intended him for a musician.[1] In due course of time our young engineer was removed from the workshop, and appointed to take charge of the pumps of the mine and the steam-engine by which they were kept in work. This employment was more to his taste, gave him better "insight," and afforded him greater opportunities for improvement. The work was, however, very trying, and at times severe, especially in winter, the engineer being liable to be drenched with water every time that he descended the shaft to regulate the working of the pumps; but, thanks to a stout constitution, he bore through these exposures without injury, though others sank under them. At this period he had the advantage of occasional days of leisure, to which he was entitled by reason of his nightwork; and during such leisure he usually applied himself to reading and study. It was about this time that William Fairbairn made the acquaintance of George Stephenson, while the latter was employed in working the ballast-engine at Willington Quay. He greatly admired George as a workman, and was accustomed in the summer evenings to go over to the Quay occasionally and take charge of George's engine, to enable him to earn a few shillings extra by heaving ballast out of the collier vessels. Stephenson's zeal in the pursuit of mechanical knowledge probably was not without its influence in stimulating William Fairbairn himself to carry on so diligently the work of self-culture. But little could the latter have dreamt, while serving his apprenticeship at Percy Main, that his friend George Stephenson, the brakesman, should yet be recognised as among the greatest engineers of his age, and that he himself should have the opportunity, in his capacity of President of the Institute of Mechanical Engineers at Newcastle, of making public acknowledgment of the opportunities for education which he had enjoyed in that neighbourhood in his early years.[2] Having finished his five years' apprenticeship at Percy Main, by which time he had reached his twenty-first year, William Fairbairn shortly after determined to go forth into the world in search of experience. At Newcastle he found employment as a millwright for a few weeks, during which he worked at the erection of a sawmill in the Close. From thence he went to Bedlington at an advanced wage. He remained there for six months, during which he was so fortunate as to make the acquaintance of Miss Mar, who five years after, when his wanderings had ceased, became his wife. On the completion of the job on which he had been employed, our engineer prepared to make another change. Work was difficult to be had in the North, and, joined by a comrade, he resolved to try his fortune in London. Adopting the cheapest route, he took passage by a Shields collier, in which he sailed for the Thames on the 11th of December, 1811. It was then war-time, and the vessel was very short-handed, the crew consisting only of three old men and three boys, with the skipper and mate; so that the vessel was no sooner fairly at sea than both the passenger youths had to lend a hand in working her, and this continued for the greater part of the voyage. The weather was very rough, and in consequence of the captain's anxiety to avoid privateers he hugged the shore too close, and when navigating the inside passage of the Swin, between Yarmouth and the Nore, the vessel very narrowly escaped shipwreck. After beating about along shore, the captain half drunk the greater part of the time, the vessel at last reached the Thames with loss of spars and an anchor, after a tedious voyage of fourteen days. On arriving off Blackwall the captain went ashore ostensibly in search of the Coal Exchange, taking our young engineer with him. The former was still under the influence of drink; and though he failed to reach the Exchange that night, he succeeded in reaching a public house in Wapping, beyond which he could not be got. At ten o'clock the two started on their return to the ship; but the captain took the opportunity of the darkness to separate from his companion, and did not reach the ship until next morning. It afterwards came out that he had been taken up and lodged in the watch-house. The youth, left alone in the streets of the strange city, felt himself in an awkward dilemma. He asked the next watchman he met to recommend him to a lodging, on which the man took him to a house in New Gravel Lane, where he succeeded in finding accommodation. What was his horror next morning to learn that a whole family—the Williamsons—had been murdered in the very next house during the night! Making the best of his way back to the ship, he found that his comrade, who had suffered dreadfully from sea-sickness during the voyage, had nearly recovered, and was able to accompany him into the City in search of work. They had between them a sum of only about eight pounds, so that it was necessary for them to take immediate steps to obtain employment. They thought themselves fortunate in getting the promise of a job from Mr. Rennie, the celebrated engineer, whose works were situated at the south end of Blackfriars Bridge. Mr. Rennie sent the two young men to his foreman, with the request that he should set them to work. The foreman referred them to the secretary of the Millwrights' Society, the shop being filled with Union men, who set their shoulders together to exclude those of their own grade, however skilled, who could not produce evidence that they had complied with the rules of the trade. Describing his first experience of London Unionists, nearly half a century later, before an assembly of working men at Derby, Mr. Fairbairn said, "When I first entered London, a young man from the country had no chance whatever of success, in consequence of the trade guilds and unions. I had no difficulty in finding employment, but before I could begin work I had to run the gauntlet of the trade societies; and after dancing attendance for nearly six weeks, with very little money in my pocket, and having to 'box Harry' all the time, I was ultimately declared illegitimate, and sent adrift to seek my fortune elsewhere. There were then three millwright societies in London: one called the Old Society, another the New Society, and a third the Independent Society. These societies were not founded for the protection of the trade, but for the maintenance of high wages, and for the exclusion of all those who could not assert their claims to work in London and other corporate towns. Laws of a most arbitrary character were enforced, and they were governed by cliques of self-appointed officers, who never failed to take care of their own interests." [3] Their first application for leave to work in London having thus disastrously ended, the two youths determined to try their fortune in the country, and with aching hearts they started next morning before daylight. Their hopes had been suddenly crushed, their slender funds were nearly exhausted, and they scarce knew where to turn. But they set their faces bravely northward, and pushed along the high road, through slush and snow, as far as Hertford, which they reached after nearly eight hours' walking, on the moderate fare during their journey of a penny roll and a pint of ale each. Though wet to the skin, they immediately sought out a master millwright, and applied for work. He said he had no job vacant at present; but, seeing their sorry plight, he had compassion upon them, and said, "Though I cannot give you employment, you seem to be two nice lads;" and he concluded by offering Fairbairn a half-crown. But his proud spirit revolted at taking money which he had not earned; and he declined the proffered gift with thanks, saying he was sorry they could not have work. He then turned away from the door, on which his companion, mortified by his refusal to accept the half-crown at a time when they were reduced almost to their last penny, broke out in bitter remonstrances and regrets. Weary, wet, and disheartened, the two turned into Hertford churchyard, and rested for a while upon a tombstone, Fairbairn's companion relieving himself by a good cry, and occasional angry outbursts of "Why didn't you take the half-crown?" "Come, come, man!" said Fairbairn, "it's of no use crying; cheer up; let's try another road; something must soon cast up." They rose, and set out again, but when they reached the bridge, the dispirited youth again broke down; and, leaning his back against the parapet, said, "I winna gang a bit further; let's get back to London." Against this Fairbairn remonstrated, saying "It's of no use lamenting; we must try what we can do here; if the worst comes to the worst, we can 'list; you are a strong chap—they'll soon take you; and as for me, I'll join too; I think I could fight a bit." After this council of war, the pair determined to find lodgings in the town for the night, and begin their search for work anew on the morrow. Next day, when passing along one of the back streets of Hertford, they came to a wheelwright's shop, where they made the usual enquiries. The wheelwright, said that he did not think there was any job to be had in the town; but if the two young men pushed on to Cheshunt, he thought they might find work at a windmill which was under contract to be finished in three weeks, and where the millwright wanted hands. Here was a glimpse of hope at last; and the strength and spirits of both revived in an instant. They set out immediately; walked the seven miles to Cheshunt; succeeded in obtaining the expected employment; worked at the job a fortnight; and entered London again with nearly three pounds in their pockets. Our young millwright at length succeeded in obtaining regular employment in the metropolis at good wages. He worked first at Grundy's Patent Ropery at Shadwell, and afterwards at Mr. Penn's of Greenwich, gaining much valuable insight, and sedulously improving his mind by study in his leisure hours. Among the acquaintances he then made was an enthusiastic projector of the name of Hall, who had taken out one patent for making hemp from bean-stalks, and contemplated taking out another for effecting spade tillage by steam. The young engineer was invited to make the requisite model, which he did, and it cost him both time and money, which the out-at-elbows projector was unable to repay; and all that came of the project was the exhibition of the model at the Society of Arts and before the Board of Agriculture, in whose collection it is probably still to be found. Another more successful machine constructed By Mr. Fairbairn about the same time was a sausage-chopping machine, which he contrived and made for a pork-butcher for 33l. It was the first order he had ever had on his own account; and, as the machine when made did its work admirably, he was naturally very proud of it. The machine was provided with a fly-wheel and double crank, with connecting rods which worked a cross head. It contained a dozen knives crossing each other at right angles in such a way as to enable them to mince or divide the meat on a revolving block. Another part of the apparatus accomplished the filling of the sausages in a very expert manner, to the entire satisfaction of the pork-butcher. As work was scarce in London at the time, and our engineer was bent on gathering further experience in his trade, he determined to make a tour in the South of England and South Wales; and set out from London in April 1813 with 7L. in his pocket. After visiting Bath and Frome, he settled to work for six weeks at Bathgate; after which he travelled by Bradford and Trowbridge—always on foot—to Bristol. From thence he travelled through South Wales, spending a few days each at Newport, Llandaff, and Cardiff, where he took ship for Dublin. By the time he reached Ireland his means were all but exhausted, only three-halfpence remaining in his pocket; but, being young, hopeful, skilful, and industrious, he was light of heart, and looked cheerfully forward. The next day he succeeded in finding employment at Mr. Robinson's, of the Phoenix Foundry, where he was put to work at once upon a set of patterns for some nail-machinery. Mr. Robinson was a man of spirit and enterprise, and, seeing the quantities of English machine-made nails imported into Ireland, he was desirous of giving Irish industry the benefit of the manufacture. The construction of the nail-making machinery occupied Mr. Fairbairn the entire summer; and on its completion he set sail in the month of October for Liverpool. It may be added, that, notwithstanding the expense incurred by Mr. Robinson in setting up the new nail-machinery, his workmen threatened him with a strike if he ventured to use it. As he could not brave the opposition of the Unionists, then all-powerful in Dublin, the machinery was never set to work; the nail-making trade left Ireland, never to return; and the Irish market was thenceforward supplied entirely with English-made nails. The Dublin iron-manufacture was ruined in the same way; not through any local disadvantages, but solely by the prohibitory regulations enforced by the workmen of the Trades Unions. Arrived at Liverpool, after a voyage of two days—which was then considered a fair passage—our engineer proceeded to Manchester, which had already become the principal centre of manufacturing operations in the North of England. As we have already seen in the memoirs of Nasmyth, Roberts, and Whitworth, Manchester offered great attractions for highly-skilled mechanics; and it was as fortunate for Manchester as for William Fairbairn himself that he settled down there as a working millwright in the year 1814, bringing with him no capital, but an abundance of energy, skill, and practical experience in his trade. Afterwards describing the characteristics of the millwright of that time, Mr. Fairbairn said—"In those days a good millwright was a man of large resources; he was generally well educated, and could draw out his own designs and work at the lathe; he had a knowledge of mill machinery, pumps, and cranes, and could turn his hand to the bench or the forge with equal adroitness and facility. If hard pressed, as was frequently the case in country places far from towns, he could devise for himself expedients which enabled him to meet special requirements, and to complete his work without assistance. This was the class of men with whom I associated in early life—proud of their calling, fertile in resources, and aware of their value in a country where the industrial arts were rapidly developing." [4] When William Fairbairn entered Manchester he was twenty-four years of age; and his hat still "covered his family." But, being now pretty well satiated with his "wandetschaft,"—as German tradesmen term their stage of travelling in search of trade experience,—he desired to settle, and, if fortune favoured him, to marry the object of his affections, to whom his heart still faithfully turned during all his wanderings. He succeeded in finding employment with Mr. Adam Parkinson, remaining with him for two years, working as a millwright, at good wages. Out of his earnings he saved sufficient to furnish a two-roomed cottage comfortably; and there we find him fairly installed with his wife by the end of 1816. As in the case of most men of a thoughtful turn, marriage served not only to settle our engineer, but to stimulate him to more energetic action. He now began to aim at taking a higher position, and entertained the ambition of beginning business on his own account. One of his first efforts in this direction was the preparation of the design of a cast-iron bridge over the Irwell, at Blackfriars, for which a prize was offered. The attempt was unsuccessful, and a stone bridge was eventually decided on; but the effort made was creditable, and proved the beginning of many designs. The first job he executed on his own account was the erection of an iron conservatory and hothouse for Mr. J. Hulme, of Clayton, near Manchester; and he induced one of his shopmates, James Lillie, to join him in the undertaking. This proved the beginning of a business connection which lasted for a period of fifteen years, and laid the foundation of a partnership, the reputation of which, in connection with mill-work and the construction of iron machinery generally, eventually became known all over the civilized world. Although the patterns for the conservatory were all made, and the castings were begun, the work was not proceeded with, in consequence of the notice given by a Birmingham firm that the plan after which it was proposed to construct it was an infringement of their patent. The young firm were consequently under the necessity of looking about them for other employment. And to be prepared for executing orders, they proceeded in the year 1817 to hire a small shed at a rent of 12s. a week, in which they set up a lathe of their own making, capable of turning shafts of from 3 to 6 inches diameter; and they hired a strong Irishman to drive the wheel and assist at the heavy work. Their first job was the erection of a cullender, and their next a calico-polishing machine; but orders came in slowly, and James Lillie began to despair of success. His more hopeful partner strenuously urged him to perseverance, and so buoyed him up with hopes of orders, that he determined to go on a little longer. They then issued cards among the manufacturers, and made a tour of the principal firms, offering their services and soliciting work. Amongst others, Mr. Fairbairn called upon the Messrs. Adam and George Murray, the large cotton-spinners, taking with him the designs of his iron bridge. Mr. Adam Murray received him kindly, heard his explanations, and invited him to call on the following day with his partner. The manufacturer must have been favourably impressed by this interview, for next day, when Fairbairn and Lillie called, he took them over his mill, and asked whether they felt themselves competent to renew with horizontal cross-shafts the whole of the work by which the mule-spinning machinery was turned. This was a formidable enterprise for a young firm without capital and almost without plant to undertake; but they had confidence in themselves, and boldly replied that they were willing and able to execute the work. On this, Mr. Murray said he would call and see them at their own workshop, to satisfy himself that they possessed the means of undertaking such an order. This proposal was by no means encouraging to the partners, who feared that when Mr. Murray spied "the nakedness of the land" in that quarter, he might repent him of his generous intentions. He paid his promised visit, and it is probable that he was more favourably impressed by the individual merits of the partners than by the excellence of their machine-tools—of which they had only one, the lathe which they had just made and set up; nevertheless he gave them the order, and they began with glad hearts and willing hands and minds to execute this their first contract. It may be sufficient to state that by working late and early—from 5 in the morning until 9 at night for a considerable period—they succeeded in completing the alterations within the time specified, and to Mr. Murray's entire satisfaction. The practical skill of the young men being thus proved, and their anxiety to execute the work entrusted to them to the best of their ability having excited the admiration of their employer, he took the opportunity of recommending them to his friends in the trade, and amongst others to Mr. John Kennedy, of the firm of MacConnel and Kennedy, then the largest spinners in the kingdom. The Cotton Trade had by this time sprung into great importance, and was increasing with extraordinary rapidity. Population and wealth were pouring into South Lancashire, and industry and enterprise were everywhere on foot. The foundations were being laid of a system of manufacturing in iron, machinery, and textile fabrics of nearly all kinds, the like of which has perhaps never been surpassed in any country. It was a race of industry, in which the prizes were won by the swift, the strong, and the skilled. For the most part, the early Lancashire manufacturers started very nearly equal in point of worldly circumstances, men originally of the smallest means often coming to the front—work men, weavers, mechanics, pedlers, farmers, or labourers—in course of time rearing immense manufacturing concerns by sheer force of industry, energy, and personal ability. The description given by one of the largest employers in Lancashire, of the capital with which he started, might apply to many of them: "When I married," said he, "my wife had a spinning-wheel, and I had a loom—that was the beginning of our fortune." As an illustration of the rapid rise of Manchester men from small beginnings, the following outline of John Kennedy's career, intimately connected as he was with the subject of our memoir—may not be without interest in this place. John Kennedy was one of five young men of nearly the same age, who came from the same neighbourhood in Scotland, and eventually settled in Manchester as cottons-pinners about the end of last century. The others were his brother James, his partner James MacConnel, and the brothers Murray, above referred to—Mr. Fairbairn's first extensive employers. John Kennedy's parents were respectable peasants, possessed of a little bit of ground at Knocknalling, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, on which they contrived to live, and that was all. John was one of a family of five sons and two daughters, and the father dying early, the responsibility and the toil of bringing up these children devolved upon the mother. She was a strict disciplinarian, and early impressed upon the minds of her boys that they had their own way to make in the world. One of the first things she made them think about was, the learning of some useful trade for the purpose of securing an independent living; "for," said she, "if you have gotten mechanical skill and intelligence, and are honest and trustworthy, you will always find employment and be ready to avail yourselves of opportunities for advancing yourselves in life." Though the mother desired to give her sons the benefits of school education, there was but little of that commodity to be had in the remote district of Knocknalling. The parish-school was six miles distant, and the teaching given in it was of a very inferior sort—usually administered by students, probationers for the ministry, or by half-fledged dominies, themselves more needing instruction than able to impart it. The Kennedys could only attend the school during a few months in summer-time, so that what they had acquired by the end of one season was often forgotten by the beginning of the next. They learnt, however, to read the Testament, say their catechism, and write their own names. As the children grew up, they each longed for the time to come when they could be put to a trade. The family were poorly clad; stockings and shoes were luxuries rarely indulged in; and Mr. Kennedy used in after-life to tell his grandchildren of a certain Sunday which he remembered shortly after his father died, when he was setting out for Dalry church, and had borrowed his brother Alexander's stockings, his brother ran after him and cried, "See that you keep out of the dirt, for mind you have got my stockings on!" John indulged in many day-dreams about the world that lay beyond the valley and the mountains which surrounded the place of his birth. Though a mere boy, the natural objects, eternally unchangeable, which daily met his eyes—the profound silence of the scene, broken only by the bleating of a solitary sheep, or the crowing of a distant cock, or the thrasher beating out with his flail the scanty grain of the black oats spread upon a skin in the open air, or the streamlets leaping from the rocky clefts, or the distant church-bell sounding up the valley on Sundays—all bred in his mind a profound melancholy and feeling of loneliness, and he used to think to himself, "What can I do to see and know something of the world beyond this?" The greatest pleasure he experienced during that period was when packmen came round with their stores of clothing and hardware, and displayed them for sale; he eagerly listened to all that such visitors had to tell of the ongoings of the world beyond the valley. The people of the Knocknalling district were very poor. The greater part of them were unable to support the younger members, whose custom it was to move off elsewhere in search of a living when they arrived at working years,—some to America, some to the West Indies, and some to the manufacturing districts of the south. Whole families took their departure in this way, and the few friendships which Kennedy formed amongst those of his own age were thus suddenly snapped, and only a great blank remained. But he too could follow their example, and enter upon that wider world in which so many others had ventured and succeeded. As early as eight years of age, his mother still impressing upon her boys the necessity of learning to work, John gathered courage to say to her that he wished to leave home and apprentice himself to some handicraft business. Having seen some carpenters working in the neighbourhood, with good clothes on their backs, and hearing the men's characters well spoken of, he thought it would be a fine thing to be a carpenter too, particularly as the occupation would enable him to move from place to place and see the world. He was as yet, however, of too tender an age to set out on the journey of life; but when he was about eleven years old, Adam Murray, one of his most intimate acquaintances, having gone off to serve an apprenticeship in Lancashire with Mr. Cannan of Chowbent, himself a native of the district, the event again awakened in him a strong desire to migrate from Knocknalling. Others had gone after Murray, James MacConnel and two or three more; and at length, at about fourteen years of age, Kennedy himself left his native home for Lancashire. About the time that he set out, Paul Jones was ravaging the coasts of Galloway, and producing general consternation throughout the district. Great excitement also prevailed through the occurrence of the Gordon riots in London, which extended into remote country places; and Kennedy remembered being nearly frightened out of his wits on one occasion by a poor dominie whose school he attended, who preached to his boys about the horrors that were coming upon the land through the introduction of Popery. The boy set out for England on the 2nd of February, 1784, mounted upon a Galloway, his little package of clothes and necessaries strapped behind him. As he passed along the glen, recognising each familiar spot, his heart was in his mouth, and he dared scarcely trust himself to look back. The ground was covered with snow, and nature quite frozen up. He had the company of his brother Alexander as far as the town of New Galloway, where he slept the first night. The next day, accompanied by one of his future masters, Mr. James Smith, a partner of Mr. Cannan's, who had originally entered his service as a workman, they started on ponyback for Dumfries. After a long day's ride, they entered the town in the evening, and amongst the things which excited the boy's surprise were the few street-lamps of the town, and a waggon with four horses and four wheels. In his remote valley carts were as yet unknown, and even in Dumfries itself they were comparative rarities; the common means of transport in the district being what were called "tumbling cars." The day after, they reached Longtown, and slept there; the boy noting ANOTHER lamp. The next stage was to Carlisle, where Mr. Smith, whose firm had supplied a carding engine and spinning-jenny to a small manufacturer in the town, went to "gate" and trim them. One was put up in a small house, the other in a small room; and the sight of these machines was John Kennedy's first introduction to cotton-spinning. While going up the inn-stairs he was amazed and not a little alarmed at seeing two men in armour—he had heard of the battles between the Scots and English—and believed these to be some of the fighting men; though they proved to be but effigies. Five more days were occupied in travelling southward, the resting places being at Penrith, Kendal, Preston, and Chorley, the two travellers arriving at Chowbent on Sunday the 8th of February, 1784. Mr. Cannan seems to have collected about him a little colony of Scotsmen, mostly from the same neighbourhood, and in the evening there was quite an assembly of them at the "Bear's Paw," where Kennedy put up, to hear the tidings from their native county brought by the last new comer. On the following morning the boy began his apprenticeship as a carpenter with the firm of Cannan and Smith, serving seven years for his meat and clothing. He applied himself to his trade, and became a good, steady workman. He was thoughtful and self-improving, always endeavouring to acquire knowledge of new arts and to obtain insight into new machines. "Even in early life," said he, in the account of his career addressed to his children, "I felt a strong desire to know what others knew, and was always ready to communicate what little I knew myself; and by admitting at once my want of education, I found that I often made friends of those on whom I had no claims beyond what an ardent desire for knowledge could give me." |
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