In the beginning a man depended for his subsistence entirely upon his own efforts

The Romance of Modern Mechanism by Archibald Williams is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here. INTRODUCTION

INTRODUCTION

In the beginning a man depended for his subsistence entirely upon his own efforts, or upon those of his immediate relations and friends. Life was very simple in those days: luxury being unknown, and necessity the factor which guided man's actions at every turn. With infinite labour he ground a flint till it assumed the shape of a rough arrow-head, to be attached to a reed and shot into the heart of some wild beast as soon as he had approached close enough to be certain of his quarry. The meat thus obtained he seasoned with such roots and herbs as nature provided—a poor and scanty choice. Presently he discovered that certain grains supported life much better than roots, and he became an agriculturist. But the grain must be ground; so he invented a simple mill—a small stone worked by hand over a large one; and when this method proved too tedious he so shaped the stones' surfaces that they touched at all points, and added handles by which the upper stone could be revolved.

With the discovery of bronze, and, many centuries later, of iron, his workshop equipment rapidly improved. He became an expert boat- and house-builder, and multiplied weapons of offence and defence. Gradually separate crafts arose. One man no longer depended on his individual efforts, but was content to barter his own work for the products of another man's labour, because it became evident that specialisation promoted excellence of manufacture.

A second great step in advance was the employment of machinery, which, when once fashioned by hand, saved an enormous amount of time and trouble—the pump, the blowing bellows, the spinning-wheel, the loom. But all had to be operated by human effort, sometimes replaced by animal power.

With the advent of the steam-engine all industry bounded forward again. First harnessed by Watt, Giant Steam has become a commercial and political power. Everywhere, in mill and factory, locomotive, ship, it has increased the products which lend ease and comfort to modern life; it is the great ally of invention, and the ultimate agent for transporting men and material from one point on the earth's surface to another.

Try as we may, we cannot escape from our environment of mechanism, unless we are content to revert to the loincloth and spear of the savage. Society has become so complicated that the utmost efforts of an individual are, after all, confined to a very narrow groove. The days of the Jack-of-all-trades are over. Success in life, even bare subsistence, depends on the concentration of one's faculties upon a very limited daily routine. "Let the cobbler stick to his last" is a maxim which carries an ever-increasing force.

The better to realise how dependent we are on the mechanisms controlled by the thousand and one classes of workmen, let us consider the surroundings, possessions, and movements of the average, well-to-do business man.

At seven o'clock he wakes, and instinctively feels beneath his pillow for his watch, a most marvellous assemblage of delicate parts shaped by wonderful machinery. Before stepping into his bath he must turn a tap, itself a triumph of mechanical skill. The razor he shaves with, the mirror which helps him in the operation, the very brush and soap, all are machine-made. With his clothes he adds to the burden of his indebtedness to mechanism. The power-loom span the linen for his shirts, the cloth for his outer garments. Shirts and collars are glossy from the treatment of the steam laundry, where machinery is rampant. His boots, kept shapely by machine-made lasts, should remind him that mechanical devices have played a large part in their manufacture, very possibly the human hand has scarcely had a single duty to perform.

He goes downstairs, and presses an electric button. Mechanism again. While waiting for his breakfast his eye roves carelessly over the knives, spoons, forks, table, tablecloth, wall-paper, engravings, carpet, cruet-stand—all machine-made in a larger or less degree. The very coals blazing in the grate were won by machinery; the marble of the mantelpiece was shaped and polished by machinery; also the fire-irons, the chairs, the hissing kettle. Machinery stares at him from the loaf on its machine-made board. Machines prepared the land, sowed, harvested, threshed, ground, and probably otherwise prepared the grain for baking. Machines ground his salt, his coffee. Machinery aided the capture of the tempting sole; helped to cure the rasher of bacon; shaped the dishes, the plates, the coffee-pot.

Whirr-r-r! The motor-car is at the door, throbbing with the impulses of its concealed machinery. Our friend therefore puts on his machine-made gloves and hat and sallies forth. That wonderful motor, the product of the most up-to-date, scientific, and mechanical appliances, bears him swiftly over roads paved with machine-crushed stone and flattened out by a steam-roller. A book might be reserved to the motor alone; but we must refrain, for a few minutes' travel has brought the horseless carriage to the railway station. Mr. Smith, being the holder of a season ticket, does not trouble the clerk who is stamping pasteboards with a most ingenious contrivance for automatically impressing dates and numbers on them. He strolls out on the platform and buys the morning paper, which, a few hours before, was being battered about by one of the most wonderful machines that ever was devised by the brain of man. Mr. Smith doesn't bother his head with thoughts of the printing-press. Its products are all round him, in timetables and advertisements. Nor does he ponder upon the giant machinery which crushed steel ingots into the gleaming rails that stretch into the far distance; nor upon the marvellous interlocking mechanism of the signal-box at the platform-end; nor upon the electric wires thrumming overhead. No! he had seen all these things a thousand times before, and probably feels little of the romance which lies so thickly upon them.

A whistle blows. The "local" is approaching, with its majestic locomotive—a very orgy of mechanism—its automatic brakes, its thousand parts all shaped by mechanical devices,—steam saws, planes, lathes, drills, hammers, presses. In obedience to a little lever the huge mass comes quickly to rest; the steam pump on the engine commences to gasp; a minute later another lever moves, and Mr. Smith is fairly on his way to business.

Arrived at the metropolis, he presses electricity into his service, either on an electric tram or on a subterranean train. In the latter case he uses an electric lift, which lowers him into the bowels of the earth, to pass him on to the current-propelled cars, driven by power generated in far-away stations.

His office is stamped all over with the seal of mechanism. In the lobby are girls hammering on marvellous typewriters; on his desk rests a telephone, connected through wires and most elaborately equipped exchanges with all parts of the country. To get at his private and valuable papers Mr. Smith must have recourse to his bunch of keys, which, with their corresponding locks, represent ingenuity of a high degree. All day long he is in the grasp of mechanism; not even at lunch time can he escape it, for the food set before him at the restaurant has been cooked by the aid of special kitchen machinery.

And when the evening draws on Mr. Smith touches a switch to turn his darkness into light, wrung through many wonderful processes from the stored illumination of coal.

Were we to trace the daily round of the clerk, artisan, scientist, engineer, or manufacturer, we should be brought into contact with a thousand other mechanical appliances. Space forbids such a tour of inspection; but in the following pages we may rove here and there through the workshops of the world, gleaning what seems to be of special interest to the general public, and weaving round it, with a machine-made pen, some of the romance which is apt to be lost sight of by the most marvellous of all creations—Man.

About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books.

This book is part of the public domain. Archibald Williams (2014). The Romance of Modern Mechanism. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/46094/pg46094-images.html.

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org, located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.