Originally published in The Leisure Hour (Religious Tract Society) vol.1 #6 (05 Feb 1852).
Marie Joseph Jacquard, whose name has gained a well-earned celebrity, was born at Lyons, on the 7th of July, 1752. His father was a weaver of brocaded stuffs, and his mother wrought in the same establishment, as, what was technically called, reader of designs. Her business was to point out to the workman the threads which were to be used in succession for tinting the stuffs. About this period the manufacture of silk in Lyons had received great extension. Crowds of sturdy agriculturists from the fertile banks of the Rhone flocked into the city, and often died prematurely from the effects of a sedentary occupation, and the foul air of over-crowded workshops. Those who survived, usually became owners of looms; but even then their savings were often swallowed up by too bold speculations; they once more worked for others, and generally ended their days in an hospital.
At the time of Joseph Jacquard's birth, his father's circumstances were flourishing; he had purchased a loom, and when the boy grew old enough he sent him to school, instead of condemning him to the lot which usually awaited the children of weavers—an early apprenticeship to the unhealthy labours of the workshop.
The old teacher to whom Joseph was sent, could teach nothing but reading. That the boy soon acquired, and his father seeing him as learned as his tutor, desired him to select a trade. He chose that of a bookbinder, and in his master's house there lodged an old man, a land-surveyor's clerk, who, struck with the boy's intelligence, taught him in the evenings the first elements of mathematics.
The young apprentice was then about thirteen years old, and his taste for mechanics was shown by a number of curious little inventions, which he was in the habit of displaying to his old friend. One evening when he had finished constructing a coach out of a few old cards, the clerk said to him: "Joseph, is there any other trade which would suit you better than that of a bookbinder?"
"Ah!" replied the boy, "there is indeed!"
"What is it?"
Joseph rubbed his forehead in perplexity, and after a few moments, said:—
"The misfortune is, that my father is not rich: if he were, I could get tools and instruments of all kinds, and if I had a forge and workmen at command, I am certain I could invent some new machinery."
"Have you the idea of any new invention in your head?"
"Yes," replied Jacquard. "The other day, happening to enter the cutler's shop opposite, I saw an hour occupied in passing the blade of a knife through the hands of three workman. One sharpened the edge, another polished the blade, and a third pierced holes in the handle. After considering, I thought of a piece of mechanism which would do it all in five minutes. If I could choose, I think I should like to be a cutler."
It was late that night, when the elder Jacquard, uneasy at his son's prolonged absence, came to seek him in the clerk's apartment. He found him occupied in explaining the details of the machine to his old friend, who was listening with breathless attention, and who placed his finger on his own lips to enjoin silence on the visitor. Joseph continued his demonstration without perceiving his father's entrance, and soon the latter shared the clerk's admiration of the boy's earnest and unchildlike eloquence. It was not difficult to gain his consent to Joseph's becoming a cutler. It happened unfortunately, however, that his new master was both dull and ignorant, and mocked at the idea of any new invention. Jacquard soon grew tired of his position, and prevailed on his father to place him with a founder of printing types. He soon displayed his rich inventive powers in his new occupation; but the death of his father, who left him a legacy of two working-looms, caused him once more to change his occupation. At the age of nineteen he found himself at liberty to spend his time in inventing various improvements in the art of weaving. But, unhappily, money began to fail; all his father's prudent savings were spent, and Jacquard, who, like too many geniuses, was thoughtless and improvident, began seriously to think he had been robbed. He sold his looms to pay his debts; and then, when he had nothing left, he committed what, under the generality of circumstances, would have proved a most disastrous step, by entering on marriage with a girl as needy as himself. Notwithstanding its unpromising auspices, however, this marriage proved a happy one. The young wife was affectionate, self-denying, and so good a manager of their slender income, that Jacquard, who was constantly absorbed in his mechanical reveries, allowed himself to be fed like a child, without thinking or inquiring whence the means of support were derived. But at length a day came when no food was to be had. Jacquard during the previous week had earned nothing; all his wife's little ornaments were sold, and even the house in which they lived was now the property of another. Madame Jacquard had just been confined with her first child, and obtained from the purchaser of the house permission to remain in it for a short time, until her health should be reestablished. Stern necessity aroused Jacquard from his dreams: with great difficulty he obtained employment as a lime-burner, while his wife worked as a straw-bonnet maker. During several succeeding years we possess few authentic details of the life of Jacquard. He was at Lyons during the stormy period of the revolution, suffering from many perils and much poverty; the latter evil effectually preventing him from executing a plan for an improved loom, which had long been revolving in his brain. In the year 1800, he obtained employment from an intelligent silk-manufacturer, who kindly advanced money for his support during the time that the construction of the machine would require. In the commencement of the next year he had the happiness of exhibiting his loom at the "Exhibition of National Industry," and obtained a bronze medal for what was, after all, but a rudimental outline of what he subsequently accomplished. Shortly afterwards, while patiently labouring in his obscure garret, he was honoured by a visit from the minister Carnot, who, having seen the new loom, came thus in person to express his satisfaction to its maker. The object of the invention, and which is now amply accomplished by the perfected Jacquard loom, was to substitute machinery for a number of human workers, condemned by the very nature of their unhealthy employment to premature decline and death.
In 1802, Jacquard went to Paris, led thither by the following circumstance. The Society of Arts in London, and also that in Paris, had offered a prize for the invention of any process by which the making of fishing-nets and quarter-netting for ships might be facilitated. During a quiet country walk one evening, Jacquard invented the theory of the desired improvement.
"Do you know," said he, next morning, to his employer, "that I have thought of a method of making nets, without the use of a shuttle, by means of a machine, which will cost but a hundred crowns?"
The manufacturer, who had become his friend, desired him to explain the process; and its simplicity was so great, that Jacquard spoke of it as a thing which any one might discover.
"Well, Jacquard," said his master, "you must try for the prize."
"Qh!" replied Joseph, "it would not be worth while for such a trifle. I have much more important inventions in my head."
His employer, however, insisted, and advanced the necessary money; and in three weeks the machine was completed.
In a few days Jacquard received a summons from the Prefect of Lyons. He obeyed the call, and was introduced into a private room.
"Ah! Jacquard," said the Prefect, "I hear that you have invented an ingenious method of weaving nets without using a shuttle; and as it is my duty to make known to the government everything that may concern the promotion of national industry, I request that you will write for me a description of the process, and I will immediately forward it to Paris."
"But, Monsieur," replied Joseph, "I never composed a written sentence in my life, and how, then, could I write what you require? But if you like to send for the machine (two men will easily bring it), I can explain its construction by word of mouth; and then you can, if you wish, write a description of it."
"An excellent plan," said the Prefect. And in less than two hours the machine, in all its effective simplicity, was in full operation beneath the Prefect's eyes: he himself had the pleasure of weaving several rows of meshes. An accurate description was sent to Paris, and in a fortnight Jacquard received a peremptory order from the agent of the secret police to follow him to the great city. No explanation of the motive of this enforced journey was given by his guide; and he passed the first night after his arrival in the dwelling of the minister of police. Next morning this official conducted him to the Tuilleries, when they were immediately introduced into a room occupied by a gentleman seated at a table.
"Is your name Jacquard?" said this latter.
"Yes, Monsieur."
"Do you know me?"
"No, Monsieur, I don't remember"--
"I am the Emperor—sit down."
At these unexpected words, Jacquard stood speechless.
"Come, my friend, be seated," said the Emperor, with a benevolent smile; and the artisan fell, rather than placed himself, on a chair. The minister of police remained standing.
Then commenced a long and earnest conversation between the poor workman and the master of France. It was a part, and not the least successful one, of Napoleon's policy, to speak with frank and cordial familiarity to his humblest subjects. Jacquard soon felt completely at his ease; he explained his ideas of mechanical invention as freely as if he had been conversing with an equal, and even smiled and shook his head when the Emperor, in his eagerness to jump to a conclusion, hazarded some erroneous conjecture.
The interview lasted two hours, during which but little was said of the netting machine, and a great deal as to the projected improvements in silk weaving. At its close, the Emperor took Jacquard's hand, pressed it cordially, and said:—
"Your ideas are excellent, and must be applied. Remain at Paris, and study machinery. You shall have rooms at your disposal at the Institute of Arts and Manufactures, and will be in constant communication with men who can teach you whatever you require to learn. But remember that your genius ought to invent things far beyond its present scope. When I had you conveyed hither as a prisoner, all I knew of you was, that you had invented a machine for which England had offered a reward. I did not wish that she should profit in the smallest degree by the genius of our French workmen. Now I know you, Jacquard; you will devote your labours to the service of France, and I shall not forget you."
Once installed at the Conservatory of Arts and Manufactures, our hero concentrated all his powers in seeking to accomplish his great aim—that of substituting mechanical agency for the labours of a multitude of workers, condemned by the nature of their occupation to physical sufferings and moral degradation.
Amongst the machines preserved at the Conservatory, was an imperfect model designed by Vaucanson. It consisted of a cylinder perforated with holes, which allowed to pass, or impeded, according to the holes which it presented, needles causing to deviate the threads of the warp, and thus formed a pattern in the weft. The sight of this machine, unfinished as it was, and hitherto regarded as merely an object of curiosity, suggested a new idea to Jacquard. To Vaucanson's cylinder, he added a pasteboard spiral pierced with holes, through which the threads of the warp passed to the weaver; thus dispensing with the intervention of the thread-drawer. He also added an ingenious contrivance for showing the weaver the colour of the shuttle which he was to throw; thus rendering superfluous the employment of a reader of patterns.
When Jacquard had finished his loom, the first use he made of it was to weave several ells of rich tissue as a present to the Empress Josephine. It is said that Napoleon came in person to the Conservatory, to express his lively satisfaction: it is certain, at all events, that he showed it, by employing expert workmen to construct on Jacquard's model several beautiful looms, which he presented to their inventor. Jacquard returned to Lyons, and improvements were speedily adopted there by the principal manufacturers. There speedily, however, broke out a tumult amongst the workmen. They complained that the use of machinery deprived them and their families of bread; totally forgetting that the vast impetus given thereby to their trade, must cause the employment of a double number of operatives. But mobs never listen to reason: and poor Jacquard, so far from meeting honour in his own city, was doomed to see his looms torn to pieces, "the iron sold for old iron, and the timber for fire-wood." So he said himself when speaking, at the age of eighty, before the Chamber of Commerce; and he uttered the words in a voice of the deepest emotion. Nor was this the worst: three times he narrowly escaped with his life; on one occasion being menaced with a watery grave in the Rhone, and being saved almost by a miracle. Truth and right, however, generally prevail. The increase of the silk-trade in Lyons, the opulence of its conductors, and the number of persons employed, became shortly so great, that in a very few years the people who had vowed vengeance against Jacquard, carried him in triumph through the streets, while celebrating the anniversary of his birth.
It was not long before England, and then the whole world, adopted the Jacquard loom. We must not forget to make honourable mention of two master weavers, Depouilly and Schirmer, and the mechanist Breton. They encouraged and supported Jacquard during the sharp struggle in which he had been wellnigh overcome. "These men," said Jacquard, "have become rich through my invention, and I am glad of it. I remain poor, but I do not complain: it suffices me that I have been useful to my countrymen."
A patent was taken out for the loom, and Jacquard was with difficulty persuaded to make use of it; neither could he ever be prevailed on to prosecute offenders. When the municipal council of Lyons proposed to him to devote his entire time and labour to the service of their town, and to bestow on it all the future improvements which his genius might devise, he hesitated not to comply, and accepted in return only a very moderate salary of his own naming. These few facts strongly attest his disinterestedness.
At the age of seventy Jacquard retired to the village of Oullins, his father's native place. There, in 1820, he received the decoration of the Legion of Honour; and lived happy and respected until the year 1834, when he expired at the age of eighty-two. A fine statue of Jacquard has since been erected by public subscription at Oullins.