第 45 页

After giving an account of the true origin of his process, in which he had met with failures as well as successes, but at last recognised the decarburation of pig iron by atmospheric air, Sir Henry proceeds to say:

"I prepared to try another experiment, in a crucible having no hole the the bottom, but which was provided with an iron pipe put through a hole in the cover, and passing down nearly to the bottom of the crucible. The small lumps and grains of iron were packed around fit, so as nearly to fill the crucible. A blast of air was to be forced down the pipe so as to rise up among the pieces of granular iron and partially decarburise them. The pipe could then be withdrawn, and the fire urged until the metal with its coat of oxyde was fused, and cast steel thereby produced.

"While the blowing apparatus for this experiment was being fitted up, I was taken with one of those short but painful illnesses to which I was subject at that time. I was confined to my bed, and it was then that my mind, dwelling for hours together on the experiment about to be made, suggested that instead of trying to decarburise the granulated metal by forcing the air down the vertical pipe among the pieces of iron, the air would act much more energetically and more rapidly if I first melted the iron in the crucible, and forced the air down the pipe below the surface of the fluid metal, and thus burn out the carbon and silicum which it contained.

"This appeared so feasible, and in every way so great an improvement, that the experiment on the granular pieces was at once abandoned, and, as soon as I was well enough, I proceeded to try the experiment of forcing the air under the fluid metal. The result was marvellous. Complete decarburation was effected in half an hour. The heat produced was immense, but, unfortunately more than half the metal was blown out of the pot. This led to the use of pots with large hollow perforated covers, which effectually prevented the loss of metal. These experiments continued from January to October 1855. I have by me on the mantelpiece at this moment, a small piece of rolled bar iron which was rolled at Woolwich arsenal, and exhibited a year later at Cheltenham.

"I then applied for a patent, but before preparing my provisional specification (dated October 17, 1855), I searched for other patents to ascertain whether anything of the sort had been done before. I then found your patent for puddling with the steam rabble, and also Martin's patent for the use of steam in gutters while molten iron was being conveyed from the blast furnace to a finery, there to be refined in the ordinary way prior to puddling.

"I then tried steam in my cast steel process, alone, and also mixed with air. I found that it cooled the metal very much, and of itself could not be used, as it always produced solidification. I was nevertheless advised to claim the use of steam as well as air in my particular process (lest it might be used against me), at the same time disclaiming its employment for any purpose except in the production of fluid malleable iron or steel. And I have no doubt it is to this fact that I referred when speaking to you on the occasion you mention. I have deemed it best that the exact truth--so far as a short history can give it--should be given at once to you, who are so true and candid. Had it not been for you and Martin I should probably never have proposed the use of steam in my process, but the use of air came by degrees, just in the way I have described."

It was thoroughly consistent with Mr. Bessemer's kindly feelings towards me, that, after our meeting at Cheltenham, he made me an offer of one-third share of the value of his patent. This would have been another fortune to me. But I had already made money enough. I was just then taking down my signboard and leaving business. I did not need to plunge into any such tempting enterprise, and I therefore thankfully declined the offer.

Many long years of pleasant toil and exertion had done their work. A full momentum of prosperity had been given to my engineering business at Patricroft. My share in the financial results accumulated with accelerated rapidity to an amount far beyond my most sanguine hopes. But finding, from long continued and incessant mental efforts, that my nervous system was beginning to become shaken, especially in regard to an affection of the eyes, which in some respects damaged my sight, I thought the time had arrived for me to retire from commercial life.

Some of my friends advised me to "slack off," and not to retire entirely from Bridgewater Foundry. But to do so was not in my nature. I could not be indifferent to any concern in which I was engaged. I must give my mind and heart to it as before. I could not give half to leisure, and half to business. I therefore concluded that a final decision was necessary. Fortunately I possessed an abundant and various stock of hobbies. I held all these in reserve to fall back upon. They would furnish me with an almost inexhaustible source of healthy employment. They might give me occupation for mind and body as long as I lived. I bethought me of the lines of Burns: "Wi' steady aim some Fortune chase; Keen hope does ev'ry sinew brace; Thro' fair, thro' foul, they urge the race, And seize the prey: Then cannie, in some cosy place, They close the day."

It was no doubt a great sorrow for me and my dear wife to leave the Home in which we had been so happy and prosperous for so many years. It was a cosy little cottage at Patricroft. We had named it "Fireside." It was small, but suitable for our requirements. We never needed to enlarge it, for we had no children to accommodate. It was within five minutes' walk of the Foundry, and I was scarcely ever out of reach of the Fireside, where we were both so happy. It had been sanctified by our united love for thirteen years. It was surrounded by a nice garden, planted with trees and shrubs. Though close to the Bridgewater Canal, and a busy manufacturing population was not far off, the cottage was perfectly quiet. It was in this garden, when I was arranging the telescope at night, that I had been detected by the passing boatman as "The Patricroft Ghost"

When we were about to leave Patricroft, the Countess of Ellesmere, who, as well as the Earl, had always been our attached friends, wrote to my wife as follows: "I can well understand Mr. Nasmyth's satisfaction at the emancipation he looks forward to in December next. But I hope you do not expect us to share it! for what is so much natural pleasure to you is a sad loss and privation to us. I really don't know how we shall get on at Worsley without you. You have nevertheless my most sincere and hearty good wishes that the change may be as grateful to you both as anything in this world can be."

Yet we had to tear ourselves away from this abode of peace and happiness. I had given notice to my partner* [footnote... The "Partner" here referred to, was my excellent friend Henry Garnett, Esq., of Wyre Side, near Lancaster. He had been my sleeping partner or "Co." for nearly twenty years, and the most perfect harmony always existed between us. ...] that it was my intention to retire from business at the end of 1856. The necessary arrangements were accordingly made for carrying on the business after my retirement. All was pleasantly and satisfactorily settled several months before I finally left; and the character and prosperity of the Bridgewater Foundry have been continued to the present day.

But where was I to turn to for a settled home? Many years before I had seen a charming picture by my brother Patrick of "A Cottage in Kent" It took such a hold of my memory and imagination that I never ceased to entertain the longing and ambition to possess such a cottage as a cosy place of refuge for the rest of my life. Accordingly, about six months before my final retirement, I accompanied my wife in a visit to the south. In the first place we made a careful selection from the advertisements in the Times of "desirable residences" in Kent. One in particular appeared very tempting. We set out to view it. It seemed to embody all the conditions that we had pictured in our imagination as necessary to fulfil the idea of our "Cottage in Kent." It had been the property of F. R. Lee, the Royal Academician. With a few alterations and additions it would entirely answer our purpose. So we bought the property.

I may mention that when I retired from business, and took out of it the fortune that had accumulated during my twenty-two years of assiduous attention and labour, I invested the bulk of it in Three per cent Consols. The rate of interest was not high, but it was nevertheless secure. High interest, as every one knows, means riskful security. I desired to have no anxiety about the source of my income, such as might hinder my enjoying the rest of my days in the active leisure which I desired. I had for some time before my retirement been investing in consols, which my dear wife termed "the true antibilious stock," and I have ever since had good reason to be satisfied with that safe and tranquillising investment. All who value the health-conserving influence of the absence of financial worry will agree with me that this antibilious stock is about the best.

The "Cottage in Kent" was beautiful, especially in its rural surroundings. The view from it was charming, and embodied all the attractive elements of happy-looking English scenery. The noble old forest trees of Penshurst Park were close alongside, and the grand old historic mansion of Penshurst Place was within a quarter of a mile's distance from our house. There were many other beautiful parks and country residences in our neighbourhood; the railway station, which was within thirty-five minutes' pleasant walk, enabling us to be within reach of London, with its innumerable attractions, in little more than an hour and a quarter. Six acres of garden-ground at first surrounded our cottage, but these were afterwards expanded to sixteen; and the whole was made beautiful by the planting of trees and shrubs over the grounds. In all this my wife and myself took the greatest delight.

[Image] Hammerfield, Penshurst.

From my hereditary regard for hammers--two broken hammer-shafts being the crest of our family for hundreds of years--I named the place Hammerfield; and so it remains to this day. The improvements and additions to the house and the grounds were considerable. A greenhouse was built, 120 feet long by 32 feet wide. Roomy apartments were added to the house. The trees and shrubs planted about the grounds were carefully selected. The coniferae class were my special favourites. I arranged them so that their natural variety of tints should form the most pleasing contrasts. In this respect I introduced the beech-tree with the happiest effect. It is bright green in spring, and in the autumn it retains its beautiful ruddy-tinted leaves until the end of winter, when they are again replaced by the new growth.

The warm tint of the beech contrasts beautifully with the bright green of the coniferae, especially of the Lawsoniania and the Douglassi-- the latter being one of the finest accessions to our list of conifers. It is graceful in form, and perfectly hardy. I also interspersed with these several birch-trees, whose slender and graceful habit of growth forms so fine a contrast to the dense foliage of the conifers. To thus paint, as it were, with trees, is a high source of pleasure in gardening. Among my various enjoyments this has been about the greatest.

During the time that the alterations and enlargements were in progress we rented a house for six months at Sydenham, close to the beautiful grounds of the Crystal Palace. This was a most happy episode in our lives, for, besides the great attractions of the place, both inside and out, there were the admirable orchestral daily concerts, at which we were constant attendants. We had the pleasure of listening to the noble compositions of the great masters of music, the perfectly trained band being led by Herr Manns, who throws so much of his fine natural taste and enthusiastic spirit into the productions as to give them every possible charm.

From a very early period of my life I have derived the highest enjoyment from listening to music, especially to melody, which is to me the most pleasing form of composition. When I have the opportunity of listening to such kind of music, it yields me enjoyment that transcends all others. It suggests ideas, and brings vividly before the mind's eye scenes that move the imagination. This is, to me, the highest order of excellence in musical composition. I used long ago, and still continue, to whistle a bit, especially when engaged in some pleasant occupation. I can draw from my mental repository a vast number of airs and certain bits of compositions that I had once heard. I possess that important qualification for a musician--"a good ear;" and I always worked most successfully at a mechanical drawing when I was engaged in whistling some favourite air. The dual occupation of the brain had always the best results in the quick development of the constructive faculty. And even in circumstances where whistling is not allowed I can think airs, and enjoy them almost as much as when they are distinctly audible. This power of the brain, I am fain to believe, indicates the natural existence of the true musical faculty. But I had been so busy during the course of my life that I had never any opportunity of learning the practical use of any musical instrument. And here I must leave this interesting subject.

So soon as I was in due possession of my house, I had speedily transported thither all my art treasures--my telescopes, my home stock of tools, the instruments of my own construction, made from the very beginning of my career as a mechanic, and associated with the most interesting and active parts of my life. I lovingly treasured them, and gave them an honoured place in the workshop which I added to my residence. There they are now, and I often spend a busy and delightful hour in handling my tools. It is curious how the mere sight of such objects brings back to the memory bygone incidents and recollections. Friends long dead seem to start up while looking at them. You almost feel as if you could converse with the departed. I do not know of anything so touchingly powerful in vividly bringing back the treasured incidents and memories of one's life as the sight of such humble objects. Every one has, no doubt, a treasured store of such material records of a well-remembered portion of his past life. These strike, as it were, the keynote to thoughts that bring back in vivid form the most cherished remembrances of our lives. On many occasions I have seen at sale rooms long treasured hoards of such objects thrown together in a heap as mere rubbish. And yet these had been to some the sources of many pleasant thoughts and recollections, But the last final break-up has come, and the personal belongings of some departed kind heart are scattered far and wide. These touching relics of a long life, which had almost become part of himself, are "knocked down" to the lowest class of bidders. It is a sad sight to witness the uncared for dispersion of such objects--objects that had been lovingly stored up as the most valued of personal treasures. I could have wished that, as was the practice in remote antiquity, such touching relics were buried with the dead, as their most fitting repository. Then they might have left some record, instead of being desecrated by the harpies who wait at sales for such "job lots."