And lastly, there was his practical demonstration on a large scale. As early as May 1654, we have an intimation of his being in treaty for works at Vauxhall. Not long afterwards we find his workman Kaltoff settled there, and in one of his Petitions he explicitly mentions having spent “£9,000 on buildings and improvements,” and at least “£50,000 in trying experiments and conclusions of art in that Operatory:”[M] thus actually curtailing his personal comforts to fulfil his engagements with all those persons who confided in his promises to perfect his novel undertaking.
His works and Engine were examined and noticed in 1663, by the French traveller M. Sorbière; in 1666 or 1667 by the eminent mathematician Dr. Robert Hook, whose cynicism unfortunately thwarted his judgment; in 1669, by the Grand Duke, Cosmo de Medici; and we find it still in existence in September, 1670, being then alluded to in a letter written by Walter Travers, a Roman Catholic priest.[N]
We have, therefore, certain evidence that the Marquis of Worcester’s Engine was in full operation for at least seven years, and that one of the conditions of the Act of Parliament obliged him to deposit a model in the Exchequer. His own estimate of its value may be judged by his gladly giving up for the promised tithe of it to the King, his claim on Charles the First equal to £40,000, in lieu thereof.[O]
His Lordship’s invention was never offered by him as a merely amusing trifle; it was not a curious model which might or might not possess some practical advantage; and it was not of a nature of which he was but partially aware, and which it was left to others to apply. It is even possible that as early as 1628 he had set up his Engine in its most simple form of application; and that, improved upon through thirty-five years of study and experimenting, the Engine of 1663 was a master-piece of workmanship and contrivance for that age. His invention was no longer a secret, he had done all that any inventor could possibly be required to perform to establish his claim to be considered as a true and first inventor. His right did not depend on the vague notice first put forth in his Century, but on the actual Engine made, and, for not less than seven years, constantly worked for public inspection at Vauxhall. Any one so disposed could have obtained the same examination of it that was conceded to Sorbière and to Cosmo de Medici. Dr. Hook does not condescend to state what he saw of it; he set out for Lambeth with the intention of going to Vauxhall, but the laughing philosopher may have settled the problem in his own mind, to his own entire satisfaction, without taking any trouble on a supposed foolish errand. We speculate in vain whether among the visitors stimulated by curiosity, or invited by intending shareholders, there were such men as Sir Samuel Morland, the King’s Master of Mechanics; Rupert, Duke of Cumberland; Dr. Sprat, the historian of the Royal Society; Bishop Wilkins, the author of “Mathematical Magic”; the Honourable Robert Boyle, Sir William Petty, Lord Viscount Brouncker, and other distinguished personages.
Without positive facts to guide us we are ever in danger of misjudging a bygone age, and in the present instance it would be imprudent to hazard an opinion on what is no less true than strange, that the Marquis of Worcester entirely failed to arouse public inquiry into the merits of his invention: being treated throughout with an indifference, which, to modern apprehension, appears wholly inexplicable. Yet, so inconsistent is human nature, that the same age which burned and drowned so-called witches, which believed in the transmutation of base metals into gold, put faith in the curative effect of sympathetic powders, and the King’s touch for bodily distempers, saw portents in meteoric phenomena, and considered astrology a sound science, could yet look with stolid indifference on this germ of the steam-engine, unimpressed by what was publicly exhibited, written, printed, and for at least four years made the subject of its inventor’s daily conversation. Books and pamphlets were constantly being published, filled with mysticism, gravely recording the day-dreams of fanatics and impostors, and letters lent their aid to promulgate such fables; yet here was a new agent at work, of such potent power that its like had never been seen, which nevertheless men saw, heard, and listened to in dumb astonishment, with the infantile simplicity of the poor Indian, ignorant of the value of the gold or diamonds strewn in his path.
The early associated scientific men may have been perplexed on finding an individual coming forth, in the sixty-second year of his age, to propound a new doctrine. The suspicion was natural; the cause appeared evident; his project might be a chimera, or an absolute delusion. No one ever so remotely suspected his own want of wisdom. Had the Marquis suddenly dropped from the clouds, or sprung from the earth, he could not have been in himself a much greater phenomenon than he appeared to the virtuosi (as the learned were called) of his day. Such a prodigy had never been heard of, and perhaps will never again appear, as that of a secluded scholar, studying all his life, suddenly coming to light with unheard-of knowledge. If true, he was a Leviathan, and compared with him all must have acknowledged a sense of painful inferiority. The Marquis on his part appears to have acted with unsuspecting confidence and modesty, as one quite unconscious of the intellectual disparity between himself and the professors of mechanical science in his day. However, he neither sought nor formed new acquaintances; he seems to have rested satisfied with his early associates, or his own immediate connexions; so that no one was gratified by his condescension, or induced to proffer advice, through any application on his part. Indeed he mainly looked to the Crown for efficient support; but the luxurious and gay monarch sought only youth and beauty, the banquet, the ball-room, or the tennis-court, and was not to be disturbed in his pleasures by aged philosophy propounding mechanical experiments, and smoky steam-engines. The King carried “Hudibras” in his breast, and might perchance have a copy of the “Century” in some remote cabinet. Need we be surprised that his Lordship’s confidence in succour from such a source was every way misplaced? His treaties with the business world, it is to be feared, ran counter to all accepted forms, the talented philosopher being no plodding trader; so that act as he might for the best, it nevertheless appears to have been his uniform misfortune neither to acquire friends nor conciliate enemies, a posture of affairs not uncommon to fallen greatness.
It is most unfortunate that he did not survive to complete his intended publication of a larger work than the “Century,” presenting his hundred inventions with illustrative engraved plates. But in common candour let it never be overlooked, that we have before us a promise published in 1663, long preceding the devastating plague, which almost depopulated the metropolis in 1665, and the terrible conflagration of 1666, which laid waste the city of London; and that it was in the midst of such accumulated public calamities his health appears to have suddenly given way, aged, harassed, disappointed, and dismayed, when he was prematurely called to his long rest.
Neglected by contemporaries, modern writers have rested satisfied with a detail of some three or four years of his political career in Ireland, and a notice that he possibly possessed some mechanical ability, as giving a sufficiently comprehensive view of his character through a life extending over sixty-six years. This lax course, on the part of his biographers, has favoured the opinion expressed on the Continent, that the invention of the steam-engine is not of English, but of French origin! And this statement has been long colourably supported by means of a forged letter, the subject of which has been graphically represented by the painter, and copied by the lithographer; all attesting the prevailing zealous ardour of France to honour native genius. Thus, as though it were not a sufficient infliction to be ruined, dishonoured, oppressed, and neglected while living, it would almost seem as if events conspired to lessen, if possible, the lustre of his memory by the dark shades of apocryphal history.[R]
The Marquis of Worcester, considered in his true character, was in every sense a learned, deep-thinking, studious, amiable, and good man. He was a Roman Catholic wholly free from religious prejudices, and a most loyal subject without displaying under an adverse change of circumstances any appearance of undue party zeal. In all his public conduct he was invariably consistent, scrupulously conscientious, and strictly honourable and humane. In scientific acquirements he stood grandly alone, not from pride, but rather as the result of a naturally modest retiring habit, probably constitutional, but certainly confirmed by long continued close study, favoured by his early domestic course of life. When at length he was forced to come before the public, he proved himself one of the most extraordinary mechanical geniuses of the seventeenth, or any preceding century; yet he was neither understood nor appreciated in his own day; his surpassing mental endowments were probably lost for want of earlier and fuller exhibition; while the influence of combined prejudice and ignorance served further to obstruct his rising in public estimation. It is, however, the glorious privilege of genius to leave on all its works the sure impress of mighty intellect. The “Century of Inventions,” gradually increasing in public estimation through two hundred years, owes its vitality to its remarkable ingenuity and its concentration of thought; and it cannot fail to happen that each succeeding age will inquire, with increasing interest, into every particular of the singular and touching history of its noble author.
END OF THE LIFE.