Showing posts with label Industry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Industry. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

The Industrial Revolution in Scotland

by Tom Williams

If you head north from England toward Glasgow, you’ll pass through the Scottish Lowlands. Leave the motorway and drive west into the hills and you might find yourself in Leadhills.

Leadhills has been known to claim the title of ‘highest village in Britain’, a claim strongly disputed by Wanlockhead, a mile or so up the road. Careful research (ten minutes with an OS map) suggests that it rather depends where exactly you measure the spot height. There is no doubt, though, that the Hopetoun Arms is the highest residential hotel in the country and anyone wanting to explore the area is recommended to stay there.

Tiny though it is now, Leadhills was once a thriving community, of vital strategic importance to the nation. The place is named for the fact that Leadhills were full of – yes, lead. Before 20th century alternatives were developed, lead was incredibly valuable. Carters carrying lead down from the hills came under the special protection of the Crown. It had many uses but principally it was needed for making water pipes: the word ‘plumbing’ derives from the Latin (plumbus) for ‘lead’.

Nobody is sure when people started mining lead in Leadhills. It may have been as long ago as Roman times. By the 17th-century mining was very important and the area was flourishing. The lead was so plentiful that, at first, it was mined by opencast mining, just digging the lead out at the surface. Over the centuries, though, the miners began to follow the veins further and further into the mountains using a system known as "drift mining". Eventually shafts were sunk and the mines grew into huge enterprises. The development of larger mines and increasingly sophisticated operations meant there was a need to improve the technology that kept the workings dry.

My novel, His Majesty's Confidential Agent, starts in 1792, so I have naturally developed an interest in this era. It was the start of the Industrial Revolution. At school I was taught about the importance of the development of the Spinning Jenny and the development of new technology at Ironbridge in Shropshire. Nobody mentioned Scotland, which is odd as James Watt, the inventor of the steam engine, was a Scot, working in Scotland. Watt was not alone, though. In Leadhills, William Symington was developing steam power himself. The photograph shows the stonework that supported a beam engine of his at the mines in Wanlockhead. The date, if you can't read it, is 1789.



Symington wasn't just copying existing technology. He was working on ways to use steam engines in entirely new situations. His monument, at the graveyard in Leadhills, shows his greatest achievement: the world's first steam powered vessel, the Charlotte Dundas.



Leadhills, toward the end of the 18th century, was poised on the edge of the modern world. The miners were educated, literate men. Their library (founded in 1741) was the first subscription library in Britain.


Despite this, children worked in the mines, pulling the lead ore out by hand. Even younger children worked outside barefoot in the winter cold, washing the ore in the streams. The miners were encouraged to build their own houses, which offered decent shelter from the elements and which, at the time, were regarded as models of workers' accommodation, but they were tiny places to raise families, and the graveyard was well filled.


From Leadhills, it’s a short journey out of the mountains to New Lanark, and another monument to those changing times. New Lanark, on the banks of the Clyde, was the site of a cotton mill built by David Dale in 1786. It became an important landmark in industrial development when it was acquired by Dale's son-in-law, Robert Owen, who had become the mill manager in 1800.

Owen built housing for the workers which represented a massive step forward in the accommodation provided for ordinary people at that time. The housing was subsidised and Owen also introduced compulsory medical insurance, which gave his workforce effectively free healthcare. Later he introduced free education, insisting that children in the workforce went to school rather than work in the factories before they were ten. Schooling was available until the age of twelve for those who wanted it and adult education classes were provided in the evening for the workers.

The mills were a triumph of engineering with a complex belt system powering several floors of looms from one huge engine. Waterwheels were also used to provide cheaper supplementary power – an early example of an attempt to use renewable resources whenever possible.

Owen was a great reformer, one of the founders of the Cooperative movement, and he saw the opportunity for social improvement alongside the immense technical developments of the day. New Lanark employees worked 12.5 hours a day with Sundays put aside for recreation and, later in his life, he argued that the working day should be reduced to 8 hours.


New Lanark is, even today, an impressive complex of buildings (many now converted into highly sought-after flats) but it was Owen's ideas for social development that were his most important legacy.

The decades around 1800 marked a time of massive change. It was a time of, literally, revolutionary change in politics, technology and social attitudes. It marked, in many ways, the start of the modern era. And in this corner of Scotland we can still see the physical reminders of these changes.

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Tom Williams is the author of His Majesty's Confidential Agent, which has just been published by Accent Press. Most of it is set in Argentina, which was convenient for him as his main interests are tango and street skating and Buenos Aires turns out to be a really good place to do both of them. Tom writes about 19th century history, Argentina and tango on his blog.

His Majesty's Confidential Agent is a Napoleonic War spy story. The hero, James Burke, was a real person who lied and spied for Britain. There's skulduggery and battles and beautiful women. Swashes are buckled and bodices ripped as Burke fights and intrigues his way from the jungles of Haiti, through the court of the Spanish king, to a bloody climax in Buenos Aires. James Bond meets Richard Sharpe in a tale that is rooted surprisingly firmly in historical fact.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Richard Arkwright - An Entrepreneurial Life

by Catherine Curzon

Portrait of Richard Arkwright
by Joseph Wright of Derby, 1790
Sir Richard Arkwright (23rd December 1732 – 3rd August 1792)

Throughout history much has been said of the self-made man, that fabled sort who dragged himself up by his bootstraps to make his mark on the world and usually make a fortune at the same time. Sir Richard Arkwright is truly the model of this Georgian dream; from humble beginnings he triumphed through a combination of his own ambition, shrewd business dealings and, some might say, other people's innovation to get to the top of the business world. Today his name is still known throughout England, forever linked to stories of the Industrial Revolution and the rich industrial heritage of the nation

Arkwright was one of 13 children born to Sarah and Thomas, a tailor in Preston, Lancashire. With so many siblings there was no opportunity for the boy to undertake formal education but Arkwright was fortunate enough to have a cousin who could read and write, and she passed on these vital skills to him. The man who would make a fortune in the mills began his career as a barber and wigmaker, apprenticed first to Mr Nicholson and then the proud proprietor of his own establishment at Churchgate in Bolton, opened when he was just 20 years of age.

Arkwright's clients were the gentlemen who made Bolton into a town of industrial might and they demanded the best of everything, so to have the Lancashire drizzle wash the expensive dye from their periwigs was hardly a recipe for customer satisfaction. Whilst re-dying his client's wigs Arkwright realised that there was an opportunity for innovation at hand and he laboured to produce a dye that was waterproof, turning his shop into the go-to place for the latest in wig innovation. Sensing an opportunity for speculation he took to the roads of England, collecting discarded human hair and turning it into fashionable, waterproof wigs using his secret dying method. However, the fashion for wigs was not going to last forever, and when it began to fade the would-be entrepreneur already had his next venture in mind.

Arkwright's water frame
Growing up in Bolton in a tailor's household, Arkwright had spent his childhood surrounded by textile mills and workers, and he knew of the arduous task of running the machinery that transformed raw cotton into thread, a laborious and strung-out process. With his thirst for invention unquenched and well aware that the passionate millworkers of his hometown would not take kindly to innovations that would help the owners but possibly cost them their jobs, the young wigmaker followed the textile trail to its centre in Nottingham. Here he worked alongside clockmaker John Kay to develop and patent the spinning frame (later the water frame), a machine that could produce yarn at a fraction of the cost and a much faster speed than human workers.

Arkwright's name and reputation began to spread through the textile producers of England and the factory he opened with new partner John Smalley added yet another machine to its line, the groundbreaking carding engine. In need of expansion capital, Arkwright went into partnership with Jedediah Strutt and Samuel Need, who financed his innovations until a dispute over Arkwright's speedy expansion brought the partnership to an abrupt end. At a cost of more than £10,000 he completed the carding engine, perfecting and fully mechanising the process, yet as with so many tales of success, others were quick to follow his lead. The engine was patented in 1775 and his contemporaries rushed to copy Arkwright's innovations, eventually causing him to take legal measures to enforce his patent rights.


The gateway to Arkwright's Mill at Cromford
Juggling court cases on one hand and business on the other, Arkwright opened a horse-driven mill in Preston and later became the first to use steam to power the waterwheel that fed the machinery. His Cromford Mill was a state of the art building, with Arkwright bringing in whole families to staff it and live in the newly-built cottages on site. Providing his millworkers with homes, holidays and social gathering places, he also pioneered the use of shift workers and was considered a fair and decent employer.

All of this innovation came at a price and as the 1770s progressed, Arkwright found himself embroiled in ever more bitter legal disputes. His patents of 1775 were subject to a decade-long series of challenges from inventors who claimed that Arkwright had based his own inventions on their work. As he faced these ruinously expensive cases Arkwright's factories were the subjects of industrial espionage as well as the ire of workers, terrified that the mills of the future would be staffed not by men, but by machines. However, Arkwright continued to innovate, and it was under his patronage that Birkacre Mill in Chorley was fully refitted, though it was destroyed by anti-machinery protesters in 1779.

By 1785 the entrepreneur's patents had been overturned and many in the industry looked forward to what they hoped would be the downfall of an apparently egotistical, arrogant man. However, despite his fury that his professional integrity was in dispute, Arkwright was delighted to accept a knighthood in 1786 and the following year became High Sheriff of Derbyshire. Arkwright was a born entrepreneur; he made partnerships only when he had no other choice and as soon as the finances were in place, bought out his partners at the best rate possible. With an unshakable belief in his own abilities and talent, he had a canny business acumen that led him to amass a fortune. He employed tens of thousands of workers and licensed intellectual property rights to elements of his designs at keen rates, ensuring that even the smallest innovation was monetised at every opportunity.

When Arkwright died in 1792 his son took over the business and inherited a fortune that some said was made on the backs of others. The self-made entrepreneur is memorialised across Britain to this day, his name synonymous with the very fabric of industrial England.


References:

Fitton, RS; The Arkwrights: Spinners of Fortune (Manchester University Press, 1989)
Fitton, RS & Wadsworth, AP; The Strutts and the Arkwrights, 1758–1830 (Harvard University Press, 1958)
Griffin, Emma; Liberty's Dawn: A People's History of the Industrial Revolution (Yale University Press, 2013)
Osborne, Roger; Iron, Steam & Money: The Making of the Industrial Revolution (Bodley Head, 2013)
Trinder, Barrie; Britain's Industrial Revolution: The Making of a Manufacturing People, 1700-1870 (Carnegie Publishing Ltd, 2013)


Glorious Georgian ginbag, gossip and gadabout Madame Gilflurt, aka Catherine Curzon, is the author of A Covent Garden Gilflurt’s Guide to Life. When not setting quill to paper, she can usually be found gadding about the tea shops and gaming rooms of the capital or hosting intimate gatherings at her tottering abode. In addition to her blog and Facebook, Madame G is also quite the charmer on TwitterHer first book, Life in the Georgian Court, will be published by Pen and Sword Books.