A practical treatise on coach-building historical and descriptive

by James W. Burgess

The ordinary measure of talent is held to be success, i.e. the acquisition of property; though it is quite clear the qualities which insure success are not those which tend to produce excellence or improvement in carriages more than in any other arts. The inventor may produce, but it is for the most part the mere merchant or tradesman who profits by the inventions. Carriages are made to sell as plays are written to fill theatres, and the English carriage-builder takes a French or German carriage to improve upon because it saves his time and trouble, just as the English play-writer freely uses a French play to save the labour of his brains. Improvements are rarely the voluntary productions of English carriage-builders; they are forced on them by the purchasers—first individuals and then the mass—who desire some mere novelty, others greater ease, and others a more rapid rate of motion. Almost all the changes and improvements in carriages may be traced in their origin to the carriage users and not the carriage-builders. The carriage-builders do not lead, but they have always the means of pressing talent enough into their service whenever a sufficient demand offers them a remunerating return. Coaches were first invented on the Continent, but it was in England that they were improved into public stages, capable of being run 10 miles and upwards per hour for days and weeks together.

This was not done at once, or by any one man: it was the combined result of numberless small improvements, forced on by the necessity of overcoming practical difficulties. Coach-builders have not been remarkable as a scientific body. They have been, strictly speaking, “practical men;” and as the knowledge they have gained by experience has not been carefully hoarded in books, carriage construction has remained a sort of occult matter, without any specific theory attached to it. Each one, as he is freshly initiated, gains his knowledge as best he can—from verbal instruction or from a new series of experiments—and thus a considerable portion of his time must elapse ere he can have verified his judgment. Enough of this knowledge exists in various brains which might suffice for the construction of a sound theory, but it would be a difficult operation to gather it together, for many petty feelings would be at work.

Many experimentalists understand the word theory as synonymous with falsehood or absurdity, as the very opposite of practice. It is clear that practice must be the ultimate verification of theory; but every true practice must have a true theory belonging to it. The theory of a subject is the science or philosophy of that subject; practice is the positive knowledge or proof of the soundness of the theory. But as theories are more plentiful than practices, and as many of them are not verified, there are of course many false ones. On this ground unscientific experimentalists have acquired the habit of regarding all theory as false, which is about as reasonable as it would be to assert that because falsehood exists in the world, all truth must therefore be extinct. This peculiarity is not confined to carriage-building; engineering and architecture abound with it; and law and medicine are not wanting in it. The truth is, that human knowledge is only got together by small portions at a time in the school of experiment, and when that knowledge is considerable in any one branch, a true and verified theory may be constructed from it. And when a great number of subjects have thus been analysed and theorised, it is comparatively easy to construct theories by analogy on new subjects by sound principles. Newton’s theory of the universe was just as true when he first developed it in thought as after he had verified it by calculation.

It is a common notion that a mechanical inventor must necessarily be a man of genius; but, if the matter be analysed, it will be found that though inventors are occasionally men of genius it is not by any means a general rule. Invention, in its ordinary sense, as the word implies, is the art of finding out. By genius is meant a species of creative power, like that of the poet, for example, in his highest state of excellence. Invention is of two kinds—one resulting from a quick habit of observation, which detects the applicability of various forms of matter to similar objects. Of this an example may be given in the case of Dr. Wollaston, who, in a hurried experiment needing some lime which was not at hand, suddenly cast his eye on his ivory paper-cutter, and with some scrapings from its surface accomplished his object. This quick habit of observation, when it goes to the production of beautiful forms, is akin to fancy. The other and higher kind of invention is that which results from bringing a theory into practice—from first imagining a desirable result, and then bringing it to bear by the exercise of the judgment and constant persevering efforts steadily directed through a long period of time. The names of Brindley and Watt are examples of this quality. When Brindley set to work upon canals he did not create, he merely formed the plan of levelling the surfaces of natural streams by drawing off the water into new channels of sufficient depth, and thus preventing the water from being wasted. The process of forming locks was a continued series of mechanical contrivances with purpose aforethought. When Watt first imagined the steam engine he did not invent the power of steam; that was known long before, and had existed from the time that fire and water had existed. But he formed to himself the plan by which he hoped to realise the result of making steam an efficient human servant through the agency of a perfect machine. The general idea of this machine existed in his mind a long time before he brought it into practice; and the slow process by which this was accomplished is evidenced by the fact that the term of his patent right was extended by Act of Parliament, on the ground that he had not had sufficient time to reap benefit from it. An anecdote of Watt serves not only to prove this, but also his high-minded philosophy, which was far beyond the miserable vanity of ordinary inventors, who aim at astonishing their fellows rather than instructing or benefiting them. After success had elevated Watt to the public eminence he so deserved, a nobleman who dined in his company expressed himself in terms of wonder on what Mr. Watt had accomplished. Watt coolly remarked, “The public look only on my success, and not on the intermediate failures and uncouth constructions which have served as steps to climb to the top of the ladder.”

The power of mechanical conception is very widely extended; it is a modification of the same power which composes romances. The magic horse in the fairy tale, which turned and was guided by means of a pin in the neck, was a mechanical conception. If the same person who conceived that had worked it out into practice it would have been an evidence of genius, viz. imagination discovering truth by analogical inference. Invention, then, of the highest kind must be composed of four qualities—imagination, to conceive a new and complicated machine; knowledge, to gather materials; judgment, to select and combine them; and perseverance without wearying till the truth be obtained. Those things which commonly go by the name of new inventions are very often mere modifications of what has been done before. “Improvements” is the technical term applied to them.

The task a man has to go through in conceiving, designing, perfecting, and patenting a complicated mechanical invention is by no means inviting. Even when he possesses the hand to execute what the head has contrived, only a portion of his difficulties are overcome. A first idea is fascinating, and apparently easy of execution. It is thought over again and again; all difficulties are apparently surmounted and all obstacles removed; it is, in the imagination of the inventor, perfect. He may, perchance, know how to draw; but if not, he must employ some one to make his drawings for him. In this case, to avoid piracy, he must take out a provisional patent. For this he has to pay some considerable sum, and for a purpose whose success is uncertain.

Having secured his patent, our inventor sets his draughtsman to work and the drawings are made. Then follows the model, and ere that is completed it is discovered that there occur unexpected difficulties in the material construction which did not present themselves on paper. New contrivances must be resorted to, and the model is made and re-made many times over. It is at last completed, perhaps within a very few days of the time allowed for depositing the specifications, and fresh expenses are incurred by the necessity of paying highly those whose business it is to work against time. When all is ready the specification is deposited, and the inventor, perhaps, discovers that the title he has first taken will not cover his invention on account of its being different from his first contemplation. The title must, therefore, be altered, and the fees paid over again. He now sets to work to construct a full-sized sample of his invention, and all his patience is needed. At length the invention is in a state for practical trial. Up to this point all seems well; but practice soon discovers a defect, not in principle, perhaps, but in detail. A second experiment is made without success; and many more follow ere the invention is completed alike in principle and execution. Then begins the task of getting it before the public. Perhaps the inventor has been sanguine, and has attempted to introduce it to the public in an imperfect state, and the consequent failures have excited a prejudice unfavourable to his object. This prejudice has to be overcome by repeated and unceasing exertions, and at length, perhaps when half the period of the patent right has expired, the inventor begins to reap the fruits of his skill and industry. Public rumour is ever fond of exaggeration, and he is soon supposed to be realising a large fortune, though most likely he is only beginning to pay his expenses. Competition is then at work, and rivals who have been at no expense or trouble imitate his invention, or make just so much alteration in it as they think necessary to evade his patent right. He goes to law with the pirates, and then, perhaps, makes the discovery that his title or specification is imperfect, and that he has been labouring for years to bring to perfection an invention from which he can reap no more pecuniary advantage than if he had confined himself to an ordinary trade in which imitation alone was necessary.

It is evident, therefore, that a man who possesses a good trade as a coachmaker has little inducement to embark in the perilous field of invention. His time is mostly taken up with his ordinary business, and unless under very peculiar circumstances he has little or no time to study improvements. Those who have too little business to fill up their time are interested in producing new things in order to attract public attention. First ideas very often originate with mechanics and artisans, who have not the means of putting them into practice, unless in comparatively trifling improvements. Established tradesmen generally consider it their interest to discourage such things, as interfering with their plans and giving them more trouble without extra profit. Thus, when under-springs were first adapted to carriages, it was prophesied that they would be the ruin of the coach-making trade, by making carriages too durable. When the streets were Macadamised, wheelwrights and coachmakers alike complained that it was destruction to their trade. It is the same in other things. The Manchester cotton-spinner, who has a mill and machinery already erected, does not feel very benevolently disposed towards an inventor who contrives new machinery of a better class, by which he can underwork him and take away his trade. It may be taken as a general rule that new inventions are viewed with jealousy by all established tradesmen, on the ground that they are an individual advantage, and not in the outset advantageous to the trade in general. Therefore, they keep them down all in their power, and when they succeed it is by the circumstance that they are valuable in themselves, and that the customers of the tradesmen insist on having them.

Sound mechanical knowledge is less necessary to the fashionable coachmaker than taste. Taste is the one requisite, without which he cannot thrive, and which therefore constitutes his real business qualification. Taste is exhibited in form, colour, and proportion, and having this he can employ other persons to fill up the details. The general mechanism of carriages does not vary, and the mechanism serves as a skeleton framework which may be clothed according to fancy. Therefore, to produce what is commonly called a new carriage is a work of composition, and not invention. It is a combination of already existing parts to form a new arrangement. The tasteful combiner may know nothing of his wheels or axles, or their due proportion of strength, but he has the wheelwright to take the responsibility for him. He may know nothing of the construction of springs, but the spring-maker is at hand ready to calculate the requisite strength according to an estimated weight; and if the weight should prove more than was expected it is easy to apply an extra plate. He gives a general drawing of the framework, and a skilful workman knows how to apportion the scantling, and build it strongly together. A skilful smith makes his ornamental ironwork to a given form, and takes all the responsibility of understanding and duly working the metal. The employer directs the painter what portions to put in colours and what in ground colours; what to make conspicuous and what to hide; what to lighten by lines and what to leave heavy. The preparation of the colours and the laying of them on are the work of the painter alone. The enterprising maker also directs the trimmer as to the general effect of the lining, and arranges the harmony of the colours; but the trimmer has to study the best mode of performing his work. The braces and other leather work are left to the skill of the workman, who is mostly left to select his own materials and apportion their strength; and the ornamental metal-work is the province of the plater, who is responsible for its wear. It is clear, however, that in addition to taste, it is necessary that the carriage constructor should know how to draw, in order to effectually direct those whom he employs, and also to facilitate operations with the purchasers who may employ him to build for them.

To be a complete carriage constructor a man ought to be familiar with all the branches before alluded to. But there are few mechanics of such universal knowledge, and still rarer is it that they combine such knowledge with taste. Even it would be scarcely possible for a single individual to carry on a large business and do everything in his own factory. It would require a very large capital and very large premises, and also an extensive mercantile knowledge and skill—which last is based on qualities the direct opposite of those which nourish the faculty of taste. Mercantile skill depends on calculation; taste is a combination of imagination and observation. There are three modes in which carriage-building on a large scale may be successfully conducted: first, by a single individual whose only business is to combine parts, and who employs tradesmen for every separate branch; secondly, by a single individual, who employs responsible superintendents in every branch at high salaries; and, thirdly, by a combination of partners, one possessing taste, another mechanical knowledge, a third mercantile knowledge, and so on. This last mode would assuredly produce the most certain result, provided the partners possessed the necessary moral qualities to assure the absence of suspicion, jealousy, &c., amongst themselves. If these evil qualities existed they would destroy unanimity, and thus render the business unproductive by preventing efficient arrangements.