For lawns and muslins of a light texture, the operation of smoothing requires a different process in some respects than close heavy fabrics. They only require to be slightly smoothed to remove any marks which they may have received at the bleaching; and, as their beauty depends rather on their transparency than their closeness, the more the cylindrical form of the yarn is preserved the better. They are therefore put through a small machine, consisting of three rollers or cylinders; and, as the power required to move this is small, the person who attends it generally drives it by a small winch; or the same effect may be produced by passing the muslins between only two or three rollers of the above calender, lightly loaded.
In the thick fabrics of cloth, including those kinds which are used for many parts of household furniture, as also those for female dress, the operation of glazing is used both to add to the original beauty of the cloth, and to render it more impervious to dust or smoke. The glazing operation is performed entirely by the friction of any smooth substance upon the cloth; and, to render the gloss brighter, a small quantity of bleached wax is previously rubbed over the surface. The operation of glazing by the common plan is very laborious, but the apparatus is of the most simple kind. A table is mounted with a thick stout cover of level and well-smoothed wood, forming an inclined plane; that side where the operator stands at work being the lowest. The table is generally placed near a wall, both for convenience in suspending the glazing apparatus, and for the sake of light. A long piece of wood is suspended in a groove formed between two longitudinal beams, placed parallel to the wall, and fixed to it. The groove resembles exactly the aperture between the shears of a common turning lathe. The lever, of which the groove may be supposed to be the centre or fulcrum, is faced at the bottom with a semi-cylindrical piece of finely polished flint, which gives the friction to the cloth stretched upon the table below. Above the flint are two cross handles, of which the operator lays hold, and moves them backward and forward with his hands, keeping the flint pressing slightly upon the cloth. When he has glazed a portion equal to the breadth of the flint, he moves his lever between the shears sidewise, and glazes a fresh part: thus he proceeds from one side or selvage of the cloth to the other: and when all which is upon the table is sufficiently glazed, he draws it over, and exposes a new portion to the same operation. To preserve the cloth at a proper tension, it may be wound smoothly upon a roller or beam, which being set so as to revolve upon its own axis behind the table, another roller to receive the cloth may be placed before, both being secured by a catch, acting in a ratchet wheel. Of late years, however, a great part of the labour employed in glazing cloth has been saved, as the common four or five bowl calender has been altered to fit this purpose by direct pressure.
As a matter of accommodation, the different processes of packing, cording of boxes, sheeting of trunks, and, in general, all the arrangements preparatory to shipments, and also the intimations and surveys necessary for obtaining drawbacks, debentures, or bounties, according to the excise laws, are generally conducted at the calender houses where goods are finished. These operations sufficiently account for the general meaning attached to the word.
CALICO-PRINTING (Impression d’Indiennes, Fr.; Zeugdruckerei, Germ.) is the art of impressing cotton cloth with topical dyes of more or less permanence. Of late years, silk and woollen fabrics have been made the subjects of a similar style of dyeing. Linens were formerly stained with various coloured designs, but since the modern improvements in the manufacture of cotton cloth they are seldom printed, as they are both dearer, and produce less beautiful work, because flax possesses less affinity than cotton for colouring matters.
This art is of very ancient date in India, and takes its English name from Calicut, a district where it has been practised with great success from time immemorial. The Egyptians, also, appear from Pliny’s testimony to have practised at a remote era some of the most refined processes of topical dyeing. “Robes and white veils,” says he, “are painted in Egypt in a wonderful way. They are first imbued, not with dyes, but with dye-absorbing drugs, by which, though they seem to be unaltered, yet, when immersed for a little while in a cauldron of the boiling dye-liquor, they are found to become painted. Yet, as there is only one colour in the cauldron, it is marvellous to see many colours imparted to the robe, in consequence of the influence of the excipient drug. Nor can the dye be washed out. A cauldron, which would of itself merely confuse the colours of cloths previously dyed, is thus made to impart several pigments from a single dye-stuff, painting as it boils.” The last expression pingitque dum coquit, is perfectly graphic and descriptive of calico-printing.
The cotton chintz counterpanes of great size, called pallampoors, which have been manufactured in Madras from the earliest ages, have in like manner peculiar dye-absorbing drugs applied to them with the pencil, as also wax, to protect certain parts of the surface from the action of the dye, and are afterwards immersed in a staining liquor, which, when wax is applied, is usually the cold indigo-vat, but without the wax is a hot liquor similar to the Egyptian. M. Koechlin Roder, of Mulhouse, brought home lately from India a rich collection of cloths in this state of preparation, which I saw in the cabinet of the Société Industrielle of that interesting emporium of calico-printing. The native implements for applying the wax and colouring bases are placed alongside of the cloths, and form a curious picture of primeval art. There is among other samples an ancient pallampoor, five French yards long, and two and a half broad, said to be the labour of Hindoo princesses, which must have taken a lifetime to execute. The printing machinery of great Britain has begun to supersede, for these styles of work, the cheapest hand labour of India.
Calico-printing has been for several hundred years practised by the oriental methods in Asia Minor and the Levant, but it was unknown as an English art till 1696, when a small print-ground was formed upon the banks of the Thames, near Richmond, by a Frenchman; probably a refugee from his own country, in consequence of the revocation of the edict of Nantes. Some time afterwards, a considerable printing work was established at Bromley Hall, in Essex, and several others sprung up successively in Surrey, to supply the London shops with chintzes, their import from India having been prohibited by act of parliament in 1700. The silk and woollen weavers, indeed, had all along manifested the keenest hostility to the use of printed calicoes, whether brought from the East or made at home. In the year 1680 they mobbed the India House in revenge for some large importations then made of the chintzes of Malabar. They next induced the government, by incessant clamours, to exclude altogether the beautiful robes of Calicut from the British market. But the printed goods, imported by the English and Dutch East India companies, found their way into this country, in spite of the excessive penalties annexed to smuggling, and raised a new alarm among the manufacturing population of Spitalfields. The sapient legislators of that day, intimidated, as would appear, by the East London mobs, enacted in 1720 an absurd sumptuary law, prohibiting the wearing of all printed calicoes whatsoever, either of foreign or domestic origin. This disgraceful enactment, worthy of the meridian of Cairo or Algiers, proved not only a death blow to rising industry in this ingenious department of the arts, but prevented the British ladies from attiring themselves in the becoming drapery of Hindostan. After an oppressive operation of ten years, this act was repealed by a partially enlightened set of senators, who were then pleased to permit what they called British calicoes, if made of linen warp, with merely weft of the hated cotton, to be printed and worn, upon paying a duty of no less than sixpence the square yard. Under this burden, English calico-printing could not be expected to make a rapid progress. Accordingly, even so lately as the year 1750, no more than 50,000 pieces of mixed stuff were printed in Great Britain, and that chiefly in the neighbourhood of London; whereas a single manufacturer, Mr. Coates of Manchester, now-a-days will turn off nearly twenty times that quantity, and there are very many others who manufacture several hundred thousand pieces per annum. It was not till about 1766 that this art migrated into Lancashire, where it has since taken such extraordinary development; but it was only after 1774 that it began to be founded upon right principles, in consequence of the repeal of that part of the act of 1730 which required the warp to be made of linen yarn. Henceforth the printer, though still saddled with a heavy duty of 3d. the square yard, was allowed to apply his colours to a homogeneous web, instead of the mixed fabric of linen and cotton substances, which differ in their affinities for dyes.
France pursued for some time a similar false policy with regard to calico-printing, but she emerged sooner from the mists of manufacturing monopoly than England. Her avowed motive was to cherish the manufacture of flax, a native product, instead of that of cotton, a raw material, for which prejudice urged that money had to be exported. Her intelligent statesmen of that day, fully seventy years ago, replied, that the money expended in the purchase of cotton was the produce of French industry, beneficially employed, and they therefore took immediate measures to put the cotton fabrics upon a footing of equality. Meanwhile the popular prejudices became irritated to such a degree, by the project of permitting the free manufacture and sale of printed cottons, that every French town possessed of a chamber of commerce made the strongest remonstrances against it. The Rouen deputies declared to the government, “that the intended measure would throw its inhabitants into despair, and make a desert of the surrounding country;” those of Lyons said, “the news had spread terror through all its work-shops:” Tours “foresaw a commotion likely to convulse the body of the state:” Amiens said, “that the new law would be the grave of the manufacturing industry of France;” and Paris declared that “her merchants came forward to bathe the throne with their tears upon that inauspicious occasion.”
The government persisted in carrying its truly enlightened principles into effect, and with so manifest advantage to the nation, as to warrant the inspector-general of manufactures to make, soon afterwards, the following appeal to those prejudiced bodies:—“Will any of you now deny that the fabrication of printed cottons has occasioned a vast extension of the industry of France, by giving profitable employment to a great many hands in spinning, weaving, bleaching, and printing the colours? Look only at the dyeing department, and say whether it has not done more good to France in a few years than many of your other manufactures have in a century?”
The despair of Rouen has been replaced by the most signal prosperity in the cotton trade, and especially in printed calicoes, for the manufacture of which it possesses 70 different establishments, producing upwards of a million of pieces of greater average size and price than the English. In the district of the Lower Seine, round that town, there are 500 cotton factories of different kinds, which give employment to 118 thousand operatives of all orders, and thus procure a comfortable livelihood to probably not less than half a million of people.