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[Frontispiece: SMEATON'S LIGHTHOUSE ON THE EDDYSTONE ROCK.]




  THE STORY OF
  JOHN SMEATON

  AND

  THE EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE.



  "And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright.
    Through the deep purple of the twilight air,
  Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light
    With strange, unearthly splendour in its glare!

  "And the great ships sail outward and return,
    Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells;
  And ever joyful, as they see it burn,
    They wave their silent welcomes and farewells.
                                        LONGFELLOW.



  London
  T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW.
  EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.
  1900




Contents.

I. Ancient and Modern Lighthouses

II. The Eddystone Lighthouse

III. How John Smeaton Rose in Life

IV. Smeaton in Private Life--His Last Years and Character




The following pages are founded on Mr. Smiles' "Lives of the
Engineers," vol. ii.; "Smeaton and Lighthouses" (edition 1844); "Les
Phares;" "Lighthouses and Lightships," by W. H. Davenport Adams; and
Smeaton's own account of the "Eddystone Lighthouse."  Some minor
authorities have also been consulted.




THE STORY OF JOHN SMEATON.



CHAPTER I.

ANCIENT AND MODERN LIGHTHOUSES.

As soon as man began to go down to the deep in ships, and to extend
his enterprise from sea to sea, so soon must he have recognized the
necessity of lighthouses; or, at least, of some system of signals by
which he might guide his course at night when approaching a perilous
coast, or seeking to enter the wished-for harbour.

His first attempt in this direction was probably nothing more than
the kindling of a huge fire on some elevated promontory or headland,
or on the summit of some lofty hill, whence its warning glare could
be seen for miles around.  But as, on windy nights, much difficulty
would be experienced in keeping up the blown and scattered flames, no
doubt he would soon conceive the idea of providing a sufficient
shelter.

[Sidenote: Lighthouses of antiquity.]

So obvious was the value of these fiery beacons, and so impossible
did it seem to the ancient mariner to navigate the dangerous seas
without their help, that he was led to ascribe their origin to
supernatural wisdom.  According to the Greeks, they were invented by
Hercules.  There is good reason to believe, however, that long before
the ocean was furrowed by a Greek keel, light-towers or fire-beacons
had been erected by the Libyans and the Cuthites along the low and
perilous shores of Lower Egypt.  During the day they served as
landmarks, and during the night as beacons.  Their purpose being
essentially sacred, they were also used as temples, and dedicated to
the gods.  Regarded by the seaman with reverence as well as
gratitude, he enriched them with costly offerings.  Some authorities
suppose that charts of the Mediterranean coast and of the channels of
the Nile were painted on their walls, and that these charts were
afterwards transferred to sheets of papyrus.  The priests in charge
of them taught the sciences of hydrography and pilotage, and how to
steer a vessel's course by the aid of the stars and planets.  On the
summit a fire was ever burning; the fuel being placed in a machine of
iron or bronze, composed of three or four branches, each representing
a dolphin or some other marine animal, and all connected by
decorative work.  The machine was fastened to the extremity of a
strong pole or shaft, like a mast, and so placed that its radiance
was mainly directed seaward.

[Sidenote: Homer and the fire-towers.]

The impression which the fire-towers produced on the mind is finely
described by Homer in a well-known passage of the "Iliad:"--

  "As to seamen o'er the wave is borne
  The watch-fire's light, which, high among the hills,
  Some shepherd kindles in his lonely fold."


It is said that the first regular pharos, or light-tower, was erected
by one Lesches, on the Sigæan promontory, at the mouth of the
Hellespont.

Though the most ancient, the honour was not reserved to it of
bequeathing its name to its successors.  This honour was bestowed on
the celebrated tower erected on the island of Pharos, off the harbour
of Alexandria, which served as a model for some of the noblest
lighthouses built in later ages.  Thus, it was the type followed by
the Emperor Claudius in the pharos raised at Ostia, near the mouth of
the Tiber, which appears to have been the completest of any on the
Italian coast.  This pharos was situated upon a breakwater, or
artificial island, which occupied the mid channel between the two
massive piers that formed the harbour, and its ruins were extant as
late as the fifteenth century, when they were visited by Pope Pius
II.  Scarcely inferior in architectural excellence was the pharos
which conducted the homeward-bound into the prosperous harbour of
Puteoli; or that which Augustus erected at Ravenna; or that which
from the mole of Messina poured its useful splendour over the
seething waters of Charybdis; or that which embellished the island of
Capreæ, the favourite retreat of Tiberius, and was destroyed by an
earthquake shortly before the emperor's death.


[Sidenote: Ancient lighthouses.]

We read of a famous lighthouse at the mouth of the river
Chrysorrhoas, which flows into the Thracian Bosporus (that is, the
Strait of Constantinople).  On the crest of the hill washed by this
river may be seen, says an old writer, the Timean Tower, a tower of
extraordinary height, from whose summit the spectator may survey a
wide expanse of sea.  It has been built for the safety of the
navigator, and fires are kindled upon it for his guidance; a
precaution all the more necessary because the shores of this strait
are without ports, and no anchor can reach the bottom.  But the
barbarians in the neighbourhood light other fires upon elevated
points of the coast, in order to deceive the mariner, and profit by
his shipwreck.


[Sidenote: The Alexandrian pharos.]

The pharos, or lighthouse, at Alexandria, to which we have referred,
was built by an architect named Sostrates, in the reign, it is said,
of Ptolemæus Philadelphus.  The island on which it stood lay in front
of the wealthy city of Alexandria, so as to protect both its
harbours, the Greater Harbour and the Haven of Happy Return, from the
northern gales, and the inrush of the Mediterranean.

It forms a ledge of dazzlingly white calcareous rock, the northern
slope of which is fringed with islets, which, in the fourth and fifth
centuries of our era, were inhabited by Christian hermits.  A deep
inlet on that side was called the Pirates' Creek, because, in very
early times, it had been the resort of the Carian and Samian
sea-rovers.

The island was connected with the mainland by an artificial mound, or
causeway, which, from its extent, seven stadia (about three-quarters
of a mile), was called the _Heptastadium_.  In its whole length a
couple of breaks occurred, to allow of the passage of the waters, and
each break was spanned by a drawbridge.  At the island-extremity
stood a temple dedicated to Hephæstos, the god of fire, and, at the
other, the great Gate of the Moon.  The lighthouse was erected at the
eastern end, on a kind of rocky peninsula; and as it was built of
white stone, and of a very considerable elevation, it was equally a
notable landmark from the low sandy Egyptian plains and from the
surrounding waters.

It is generally believed that this splendid erection, which is
estimated to have measured from 550 to 580 feet in height, fell into
decay between 1200 and 1300, and was finally destroyed by the Turkish
conquerors of Egypt.  That it existed in the twelfth century, we know
from the description given by an Arab writer, named Edrisi; a
description which our readers will probably be pleased to peruse:--

This pharos, he says, has not its equal in the world, for skill of
construction or for solidity; since, to say nothing of the fact that
it is built of the best stone, its separate layers of masonry are
cemented together by molten lead, and this so firmly, that the whole
is indissoluble, though the northern waves incessantly beat against
it.  From the rock to the middle gallery or stage the measurement is
exactly seventy fathoms; and from this gallery to the summit,
twenty-six fathoms.

[Sidenote: The interior described.]

We ascend to the gallery by an inner staircase of sufficient width.
This staircase goes no further, and the building, from the gallery
upwards, decreases considerably in diameter.  In the interior, and
under the staircase, some chambers have been built.  From the gallery
we continue our ascent by a very narrow flight of steps: in every
part it is pierced with loopholes, to give light to persons making
use of it, and to assist them in obtaining a proper footing.

This edifice, adds our authority, is singularly remarkable, as much
on account of its height as of its massiveness.  It is of exceeding
usefulness, its fire burning night and day for the guidance of
navigators.  They are well acquainted with its light, and steer their
course accordingly, for it is visible at the distance of a day's
sail.*  During the night it shines like a star; by day you can
distinguish it by its smoke.

* There is, of course, some exaggeration here.


[Sidenote: A Roman pharos.]

Lighthouses or beacons were first introduced into England by the
Romans, to whom we are indebted for so much that is valuable and
useful.  On the crest of the high hill at Dover still stands the
pharos, which is supposed to have been built for the guidance of
vessels from the coasts of France to the Roman station at Portus
Rutupiæ (now Richborough) near Sandwich, or to Regulbium (now known
as the Reculvers) on the Thames.

At the present day it is nothing more than a massive shell.  In the
inside the walls are vertical and squared; on the outside, they
incline to assume a conical form.  Of the building, as we now see it,
only the basement is of Roman work; the octagonal chamber above was
constructed in the reign of Henry VIII.  The dimensions are about
fourteen feet square.

[Sidenote: English beacons.]

The English beacons were of a ruder and more primitive construction
than the Roman.  We read in Lambarde, the old topographer, that
"before the time of King Edward III. they were made of great stacks
of wood; but about the eleventh year of his reign it was ordained
that in one shire [Kent] they should be high standards, with their
pitch-pots"--that is, tall masts, to whose summit was fastened a
vessel full of burning pitch.  Those beacons, however, were more
frequently used to warn the country on the approach of a hostile
fleet than for the purpose of lighting the coasts, though,
doubtlessly, they answered both objects.  Professor Faraday suggests
that the first idea of a lighthouse was the candle in the cottage
window, guiding the husband across the water or the pathless moor.
The main point to be secured was a steady light, and it mattered not
whether this was obtained from pitch-pots, coals, or oil.  Wood,
however, as the material readiest at hand, was most generally used.

The Tour de Cordouan, situated at the mouth of the Gironde, was long
lit up by fires of wood; while, until a comparatively recent period,
the lighthouses at Spurn Head, north of the Humber, and on the Isle
of May, at the entrance to the Firth of Forth, were lighted by
braziers of burning coal.

[Sidenote: On Dungeness.]

Our English Kings were quick to perceive the importance of insuring
greater safety to the vessels composing their commercial navy; and in
1525, Henry VIII. granted a charter to the "brotherhood of the Holy
Trinity" (now known as the Trinity House), for the purpose of
assisting and protecting navigation by licensing and regulating
pilots, and planting beacons, lighthouses, and buoys along the
British coasts.  But, as Mr. Smiles remarks, the only step taken to
carry out objects of such national interest was the granting of
leases by the Crown, for a definite number of years, to private
persons willing to find the means of building and maintaining lights,
in return for permission to levy tolls on all passing shipping.  Yet
not much was done to render our dangerous coasts easier of approach
by means of well-supplied lights.  The first erected was on Dungeness
in the reign of James I.  About the same time some parts of the
Cornish coast were lighted up; for we read in the "Travels of the
Grand Duke Cosmo, about two centuries ago, that the Plymouth shipping
paid fourpence per ton for the lights which were in the lighthouses
at night."  Fourpence in those days was worth about as much as five
shillings in our own, so that the tax must have fallen very heavily
on merchantmen.  It is also recorded, in the annals of the old town
of Rye, that a light was hung out from the south-east angle of the
Ypres Tower, as a guide for vessels entering the harbour in the night
time; and that this proving insufficient, another light was ordered
by the corporation "to be hung out o' nights on the south-west corner
of the church, for a guide to vessels entering the port."  A
pitch-pot was formerly hung from the spire of old Arundel Church, as
a beacon for vessels which wished to enter the port of Little
Hampton, and the iron support of the apparatus is still to be seen.

[Sidenote: Lighting the coasts.]

It is obvious that lights such as these were exceedingly imperfect.
It was difficult to maintain an equable radiance; they were not
visible far out at sea; and they were easily affected by variations
of weather, great gales, tempests, or thick mists.  Moreover, as
navigation increased, and ships more frequently threaded the narrow
pass or dangerous channel, more lights became necessary, and thus the
old system of lights had to give way to a more regular and extensive
lighthouse system.

[Sidenote: The modern system.]

The first modern lighthouse of a solid and permanent character
erected on the shores of England was built, it is said, at Lowestoft
in Suffolk, in 1609.  In 1665 one was erected at Hunstanton Point;
and in 1680, a third on the Scilly Isles.  About the same time were
established the lighthouses at Dungeness and Orfordness.  But all
these wore of clumsy construction, of very slight elevation, and of
inconsiderable illuminating power.  To inaugurate the modern
lighthouse the genius of John Smeaton was needed; and from the date
of his marvellous monument on the Eddystone Rock up to the present
time, nearly every dangerous point of our coasts, every harbour and
every river-mouth, has been included in the system of defence which
guards our imperial commerce, and enables the seaman to navigate the
British waters in almost perfect safety.




CHAPTER II.

THE EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE.

About fourteen miles to the south-west of Plymouth harbour, and out
in the deep and billowy channel, lies a reel or ledge of rocks,
known, in allusion to the swirl of currents always tossing and
seething around it, by the name of the Eddystone.

This reef is situated in a line with Lizard Head in Cornwall, and
Start Point in Devonshire.

Consequently, it forms a perilous obstruction, not only in the
water-way which leads to the great arsenal and haven of South Devon,
but in the track of all vessels entering or leaving the English
Channel; which, we may add, is frequented by a greater number of
ships than any other part of the wide ocean.

[Sidenote: The Eddystone rock.]

When the tide is up, its hoary crest is scarcely visible, but its
position is shown by the eddy which washes to and fro above it; at
low tide, several low, jagged, and dreary ridges of gneiss lift their
heads from the boiling waves.  During a stiff breeze from the
south-west, these form the centre, the focus, as it were, of a
boiling caldron of waters, and no ship enticed within their vortex
can escape destruction.

[Sidenote: Henry Winstanley.]

As may be supposed, the erection of a lighthouse on rocks so perilous
came to be regarded as an urgent need soon after men had learned the
value of commercial enterprise.  The task, however, seemed so
dangerous, not to say impossible, that no one ventured to attempt it,
until 1696, when it was undertaken by a noble and patriotic
gentleman, named Henry Winstanley, who was much grieved by the loss
of life which annually occurred there.

Winstanley is described as one of those eccentric but ingenious men
who find a peculiar pleasure in mystifying their friends, and in
throwing a kind of glamour or magical atmosphere over our daily,
commonplace, realistic life.  He made use of his scientific knowledge
to play the most extraordinary practical jokes.  You went to spend a
night or two at his old Essex manor-house.  On entering your
bed-room, you nearly tripped over an old slipper.  You kicked it
aside, and, lo, a ghost immediately started from the floor.  In your
sudden alarm you flung yourself into the nearest chair: out sprang a
couple of arms, and clasped you and held you a prisoner.  You went
into the garden, and sought repose in a woodbine-trellised arbour.
Your seat and yourself shot away from the pleasant alcove, and were
quickly floating in the middle of the adjoining canal!

The author of such devices as these might be, and was, a noble and
chivalrous gentleman, but he was also, unquestionably, a very
eccentric character!  His eccentricity displayed itself in the
lighthouse which his chivalrous humanity instigated him to build on
the Eddystone Rock.  On first glancing at an engraving of it, you
hardly know whether you see before you a Chinese pagoda or a Turkish
minaret, grafted on a circular tower, and ornamented with cranes and
chains like a London warehouse!

Winstanley began his work in 1696.

The first summer--and, of course, it was in summer only that men
could labour on that wind-swept, wave-worn rock--was occupied in
excavating twelve holes, and fastening as many irons in them, to
serve for the superstructure.

[Sidenote: Progress of the work.]

Very slowly and drearily did the work go on; for though it was the
"sweet summer-time," out in the wild channel the weather would
frequently prove of such terrible violence that, for ten or fourteen
days in succession, the waters would boil and toss about the
rocks--vexed by contrary winds, and by the inrush of the swelling
billows from the main ocean--and mount one upon another, like
maddened horses, and leap and bound to such a height as completely to
bury the reef and all upon it, and effectually prevent any vessel or
boat from drawing near.  On such days the men, you may be sure,
thanked God that they were housed safely on the green shores of Devon.


The second summer was spent in building up a solid circular mass of
masonry, twelve feet high and fourteen feet in diameter.  In the
third summer this huge pillar was enlarged two feet at the base, and
the superstructure was carried up to a height of sixty feet.  "Being
all finished," says the engineer, "with the lantern, and all the
rooms that were in it, we ventured to lodge in the work.  But the
first night the weather became bad, and so continued, that it was
eleven days before any boats could come near us again; and not being
acquainted with the height of the sea's rising, we were almost
drowned with wet, and our provisions in as bad a condition, though we
worked day and night as much as possible to make shelter for
ourselves.  In this storm we lost some of our materials, although we
did what we could to save them; but the boat then returning, we all
left the house, to be refreshed on shore: and as soon as the weather
did permit we returned and finished all, and put up the light on the
14th November 1698; which being so late in the year, it was three
days before Christmas before we had relief to go on shore again, and
were almost at the last extremity for want of provisions; but, by
good Providence, then two boats came with provisions and the family
that was to take care of the light; and so ended this year's work."

[Sidenote: Winstanley's lighthouse.]

In the course of the fourth summer the foundations were considerably
strengthened, and the remainder of the work appertaining to the
fabric itself was completed.  We are told, and the extant engravings
show us, that it bore, in its finished condition, a close resemblance
to "a Chinese pagoda, with open galleries and fantastic projections."
Round the lantern ran a wide open gallery; so wide and open, indeed,
that it was possible, when the sea ran high, for a six-oared boat to
be lifted up by the waves and driven through it.  Such an edifice
could not long withstand the violence of the gale or the fury of the
waters; but this much was gained by its construction,--it was shown
that a lighthouse could be erected on this sea-girt rock, and,
therefore, the achievement deserves to be described as "one of the
most laudable enterprises which any heroic mind could undertake, for
it filled the breast of the mariner with new hope."


[Sidenote: The great storm.]

Winstanley was very proud of his work, and so convinced, it is said,
of its thorough stability, that he frequently expressed a wish to be
under its roof in the fiercest hurricane that ever blew beneath the
face of heaven, assured that it would not shake one joist or beam.
Heaven sometimes takes the presumptuous at their word!  Winstanley,
with his workmen and light-keepers, had fixed his residence in the
tower, when a tremendous storm arose, which, on the 26th of November,
1702, blew a hurricane of unprecedented violence.  The sea rolled its
billows heavily, and the wind raged, and masses of cloud darkened the
horizon, and all Nature seemed convulsed by the elemental strife.

When the dawn broke, the people of Plymouth hastened to the beach,
and turned their anxious gaze towards the Eddystone.  The waters
swirled and seethed around and about the rock; but where was the
lighthouse, the fantastic structure raised by the ready brain and
daring soul of Winstanley?

During the night it had been swept away, and not a memorial remained
of its ill-fated occupants.

The melancholy incident forms the theme of a striking ballad by Jean
Ingelow, which concludes in the following manner:--

  "And it fell out, fell out at last,
    That he would put to sea,
  To scan once more his lighthouse-tower
    On the rock o' destiny.

  "And the winds woke, and the storm broke,
    And wrecks came plunging in;
  None in the town that night lay down
    Or sleep or rest to win.

  "The great mad waves were rolling graves,
    And each flung up its dead;
  The seething flow was white below,
    And black the sky o'erhead.

  "And when the dawn, the dull gray dawn,
    Broke on the trembling town,
  And men looked south to the harbour mouth,
    The lighthouse-tower was down!

  "Down in the deep where he doth sleep
    Who made it shine afar,
  And then in the night that drowned its light,
    Set, with his pilot star."


[Sidenote: John Rudyerd.]

The usefulness of a beacon on the Eddystone Rock had been so
abundantly proved that it was not long before an attempt was made to
replace Winstanley's unfortunate structure.  A Captain Lovet obtained
a ninety-nine years' lease of the rock from the Trinity House
Corporation, and engaged as his architect a silk-mercer on Ludgate
Hill, named John Rudyerd.  The reasons that led him to make so
curious a choice are unknown, but the event proved that it was a
sensible one.  Rudyerd designed a graceful and even elegant building,
choosing a circle for the outline, and studying the greatest
simplicity, so as to offer the least possible resistance to wind and
wave.

In order to obtain a firm foundation, he divided the surface of the
rock into seven slightly unequal stages, and in these he dug or
excavated six and thirty holes, varying in depth from twenty to
thirty inches.  Each hole was six inches square at the top, gradually
narrowing to five inches, and then again expanding and flattening to
nine inches by three at the bottom.  Into these dove-tailed cavities
or sockets were inserted strong iron bolts, weighing from two to five
hundredweight, according to length and structure.

These bolts held fast a course of squared oak-timbers laid lengthwise
on the lowest of the seven stages, so as to reach the level of the
stage or step immediately above it.  Another set of beams was then
laid diagonally covering those already laid, and raising the level
surface to the height of the third stage.  The next course was
deposited longitudinally, and the fourth diagonally, and so on
alternately, until a basement of solid timber was erected, two
courses higher than the highest point of the rock.

[Sidenote: His lighthouse.]

Rudyerd's lighthouse is generally described as a fabric of wood; but
this is incorrect.  To obtain the necessary solidity, and a
sufficient weight to counteract the weight of the waters of the
Channel, he combined courses of Cornish granite with his courses of
timber, in the proportion of five to two, so far as the basement
went: that is, he laid two courses of timber, and then five of
granite, and then two more of timber; all being firmly secured by
iron bolts and cramps.  On this substructure, which measured 63 feet
in height, with a base of 23 feet, he raised four stories of timber,
crowned by an octagonal lantern, 10 feet 6 inches in diameter, and a
ball of 2 feet 3 inches in diameter.  The total elevation, from the
lowest surface of the rock to the top of this ball, was 92 feet.
Rudyerd completed his work in 1709.

[Sidenote: On fire!]

For a long period of years, nearly half a century, it withstood the
attacks of wind and wave, and many a vessel was kept from destruction
by its warning light.  On the 2nd of December 1755, it was fated to
fall before an unexpected enemy.  There were three keepers resident
in the lighthouse at the time.  One of them, whose turn it was to
watch, entered the lantern, at about two o'clock A.M., to snuff the
candles, and, to his horror, discovered it to be filled with smoke.
On opening the door which led to the balcony, to permit of its
escape, a flame instantly leaped from the interior of the cupola.  He
hastened to alarm his companions, and vigorous efforts were made to
extinguish the fire; but these proved ineffectual, owing to the
dryness of the woodwork, and the difficulty of raising a sufficient
supply of water to the top of the building.  Fortunately for the
keepers, the flames were descried from the shore, and a well-manned
boat put off to their relief.

It reached the Eddystone about ten o'clock, when the fire had been
raging for eight hours.  The building was wholly destroyed; and the
keepers, who had been driven away by the falling beams, the red-hot
iron, and molten lead, were found, in a panic-stricken condition,
crouching in a recess or cavern on the east side of the rock.  They
were carried into the boat, and conveyed ashore.  Curious to relate,
they were no sooner landed than one of them stole away, and was never
afterwards heard of.  His flight gave rise to a suspicion that the
fire was not accidental; yet, when we remember that a lighthouse rock
affords no means of escape for its inmates, we can hardly suppose it
to be the place an incendiary would select for the scene of his
wicked attempt.  It is possible that the man's nerves had been so
tried by the terrible nature of the peril he had undergone, that he
knew not what he did.

[Sidenote: The lightkeeper's fate.]

Of the other two light-keepers, one, named Henry Hall, met with a
singular fate.  While engaged in dashing some buckets of water on the
burning roof of the cupola, he chanced to look upwards, and a mass of
molten lead fell down upon his head, face, and shoulders, burning him
severely.  On his arrival ashore, he persisted in asserting that a
portion of the liquefied metal had gone down his throat.  His medical
attendant regarded the assertion as the offspring of a disordered
imagination; but the man rapidly grew worse, and on the twelfth day
of his illness, after an attack of violent convulsions, expired.  A
_post-mortem_ examination of his body then took place, and Hall's
story was found to be true; for in the stomach lay a flat, oval piece
of lead, seven ounces and five drachms in weight!


[Sidenote: John Smeaton.]

Acting on the old maxim of "Try, try, and try again," the Trinity
House Corporation determined to erect another light-tower on the
Eddystone, and intrusted the work to a mathematical instrument maker,
named John Smeaton, who had already acquired a reputation as an
ingenious mechanician.

Smeaton at this time was thirty-two years of age.  As we shall tell
the story of his brave and industrious life hereafter, it will
suffice us now to state that he had shown himself in a variety of
experiences, skilful, prompt, patient, and indefatigable; never
baffled by a difficulty, fertile in resource, and incapable of
faltering in any enterprise he had deliberately undertaken.

[Sidenote: Design of his lighthouse.]

On examining into the conditions of the task which had devolved upon
him, he came to the conclusion that the structures of his
predecessors had both been deficient in weight; and that if Rudyerd's
had not been destroyed by fire, it would not much longer have
resisted the fury of the tempest.  He announced his intention,
therefore, of raising a fabric of such solidity that the sea should
give way to _it_, and not _it_ to the sea; and he determined to build
it entirely of stone.  Moreover, Winstanley and Rudyerd had wasted
much valuable time, from the difficulty of landing on the rock, and
the impossibility of working on it continuously for any length of
time.  But Smeaton proposed to moor a vessel within a quarter of a
mile of the scene of action, which should accommodate his company of
workmen; and thus they would be prepared to seize every opportunity
of launching their boat, and carrying their materials to the rock,
instead of making a long voyage from Plymouth on each occasion.

So far as concerned the design of his intended erection, he was ready
to adopt Rudyerd's idea of a cone, but he proposed to enlarge its
diameter considerably; and the type he kept constantly before his eye
was the trunk of an oak tree, which is equally remarkable for
gracefulness and strength, and withstands successfully the most
furious gales, when other forest trees are bent or broken.

The autumn of 1756 was occupied in the transport of the granite and
other materials to the rock, in their preparation, and in the
excavation of the steps or stages on which the foundation was to be
laid.

[Sidenote: Laying the foundation.]

Early in June 1757 the work of erection began.  The first stone,
weighing two tons five hundredweight, was laid on the 12th.  On the
next day was finished the first course, consisting of four stones, so
ingeniously dove-tailed into one another and into the rock as to form
a single compact mass.  The sloping form of the rock, to which the
foundation was, of course, adapted, required only this small number
of stones for the first course; the diameter of the masonry gradually
increasing until the highest level surface was reached.  Thus:--

[Illustration: Eddystone lighthouse foundation]

The second course, completed on the 30th of June, consisted of
thirteen blocks of granite; the third course, completed on the 11th
of July, of twenty-five; the fourth, on the 31st, of thirty-three.
The sixth course was laid down by the 11th of August; and as it rose
above the high-water mark, Smeaton was entitled to consider that he
had conquered the greatest difficulties of his task.

[Sidenote: Fixing the blocks.]

Up to this point the mode of procedure in laying and fixing each
great block of granite was as follows:--

The stone to be set being hung in the tackle, and its bed of mortar
spread, was then lowered into its place, beaten with a heavy wooden
mall, and levelled with a spirit-level; and the stone being
accurately brought to its marks, was considered as set in its proper
position.  The next thing was to keep it there, notwithstanding the
utmost violence of the sea might beat upon it before the mortar was
thoroughly hard and dry.  Therefore the carpenter dropped into a
couple of vertical grooves, which had been previously cut in "the
waist" of the stone, each an inch deep and three inches wide, two
oaken wedges, one upon its head, the other with its point downwards,
so that the two in each groove would lie heads and points.
[Illustration: Foundation wedges.] With an iron bar, about two inches
and a half broad, a quarter of an inch thick, and two feet and a half
long, he then drove down one wedge upon the other--very gently at
first, so that the opposite pairs of wedges, being equally tightened,
would equally resist each other, and the stone would therefore keep
its place.  In like manner, a couple of wedges were pitched at the
top of each groove; the dormant wedge (_i.e._, the one with the point
upward) being held in the hand, while the drift wedge (i.e., the one
with the point downward) was driven with a hammer.  So much as
remained above the upper surface of the stone was cut away with saw
or chisel; and, generally, a couple of thin wedges were driven very
moderately at the butt-end of the stone, whose tendency being to
force it out of its dove-tail, they would, by moderate driving,
assist in preserving the steadiness of the entire mass, in opposition
to any violent agitation arising from the sea.

[Sidenote: Progress of the work.]

The stone thus firmly secured, a certain portion of mortar was
liquefied, and the joints having been carefully "pointed," this
liquid cement was poured in with iron ladles, so as to occupy every
vacant space.  The heavier part of the cement naturally fell to the
bottom, while the fluid was absorbed by the stone.  The vacancy thus
left at the top was repeatedly refilled, until all remained solid;
then the top was pointed, and, where necessary, defended by a layer
of plaster.

The whole of the foundation having thus been brought to a proper
level, some other means were required to secure a similar degree of
solidity for the superstructure.

A hole, one foot square, was accordingly cut right through the middle
of the central stone in the sixth course; and at equal distances in
the circumference were sunk eight other sockets, each one foot
square, and six inches deep.  A strong plug of hard marble, also one
foot square, but twenty-two inches long, was driven into the
aforementioned central cavity, and set fast with mortar and wedges.
This course, however, was only thirteen inches in depth; consequently
the marble plug rose nine inches above the surface.

Upon the block thus prepared was set the central stone of the next
course, having a similar hole in the middle, so as to receive the
upper portion of the marble plug.  Hence it is clear that no force or
pressure of the sea, acting horizontally on any one of these central
stones, could move it from its position, unless it were able to cut
in two the marble plug; and to prevent the upper stone from being
lifted, in case its mortar was destroyed, it was fixed down by four
trenails.  The blocks surrounding the central were dove-tailed
together as before; and thus one course rose above another without
any interruption, except from the occasional inrush of the waves or
violence of the weather.

[Sidenote: Smeaton's industry.]

In his superintendence of the difficult and laborious work, Smeaton's
activity and perseverance were unwearied.  As soon as it had been so
far accomplished as to present the appearance of a level platform, he
could not deny himself the pleasure of a promenade upon it; but
making a false step, and being unable to recover himself, he fell
over the brink of the masonry, and among the rocks on the west side.
As it was low water at the time, he received no serious injury.  He
dislocated his thumb, however, and as medical assistance was not
available, he set it himself,--afterwards returning to his work.  The
incident is characteristic of the firmness and resolution which
Smeaton exhibited throughout his busy career.

[Sidenote: Building the light tower.]

The ninth course was laid on the 30th of September, and concluded the
operations for the year.

On the 12th of May 1758, Smeaton and his "merry men" returned to the
lonely wave-washed rock, and were delighted to find their work
intact.  The cement seemed to have become as hard as the stone
itself, from which, indeed, it was scarcely distinguishable.

Lusty arms and willing hearts made rapid progress; and by September,
the twenty-fourth course was reached and laid.  It completed the
"solid" part of the building, and was designed to form the floor of
the store-room; so that Smeaton had good reason to be satisfied with
the progress made.  But he knew how great an advantage it would be to
exhibit a light in the coming winter; and therefore he resolved on
completing the storeroom, if within the range of the possible, and
planting a light above it.

The building had hitherto been carried up as a solid mass of masonry,
like a breakwater or seawall, to a height of 35 feet 4 inches above
its base, and 27 feet above the summit of the rock.  It was now
reduced to 16 feet in diameter.  Of this limited space it was needful
to make good use, so far as was consistent with the primary and
indispensable condition of strength.  The rooms were built with a
diameter of 12 feet 4 inches, the walls being 2 feet 2 inches thick.
These walls were built up of single blocks, and so shaped that a
complete circle was formed by sixteen pieces, which were bound
together with strong iron clamps, and secured to the lower courses by
marble plugs in the fashion already described.  That no damp might
make its way through the vertical joints, flat stones were introduced
into each, in such a manner as to be lodged partly in one block and
partly in another.  With all these careful and ingenious
contrivances, the twenty-eighth course was completely set by the 30th
of September.

[Sidenote: Progress of the work.]

This and the next course received the vaulted flooring, which
answered the double purpose of the ceiling of the lower and the floor
of the upper store-rooms.  For additional security, a deep groove was
here cut into the outer surface of the course, in which a massive
iron chain was embedded in molten lead.  The next course was laid and
set after the same pattern; and by the 10th of October Smeaton had
nearly completed his arrangements for establishing a light and
lightkeepers at the Eddystone, when they were interrupted by legal
difficulties, which had arisen between the lessee of the rock and the
Trinity House Corporation.

These were not settled until the following year, so that Smeaton was
unable to resume operations before the 5th of July.  He worked,
however, with so much vigour that the second stage was finished by
the 21st; and on the 29th the fortieth course was set, and the third
floor finished.

[Sidenote: "Laus Deo."]

The main column, or body, of the lighthouse was completed on the 17th
of August, consisting of forty-six courses of masonry, and attaining
an elevation of 70 feet.  The last work done was singularly
appropriate: the masons carved the words "Laus Deo" (Praise be to
God!) on the last stone set above the lantern.  All honest work
should thus be dedicated to Him through whose infinite goodness we
are permitted to achieve it.  And, at an earlier date, Smeaton, in
devout recognition of the Eternal Power, had inscribed on the course
of masonry beneath the ceiling of the upper store-room, "Except the
LORD build the house, they labour in vain that build it."  It was in
this spirit that the great engineer entered upon and accomplished his
wonderful enterprises; and it is in this spirit that each of us
should go through our daily toil, as if feeling ourselves ever in the
immediate presence of our Father, and knowing that we strive, and
endure, and hope, and suffer before his all-seeing eye.

The iron-work of the balcony and lantern were next erected, and the
gracefully strong and massive structure was crowned by a gilded ball.

The interior of Smeaton's lighthouse was (and is) arranged as
follows:--

[Sidenote: Interior of the lighthouse.]

On the ground-floor--Store-room, with a door-way, but no windows.

First stage, or story--Upper store-room, with two loopholed-windows.

Second stage--Kitchen, with fire-place and sink; two settles, with
lockers; a dresser, with drawers; two cupboards; and a rack for
dishes.  Four windows.

Third stage--Bedroom, with three cabin-beds, each large enough for an
adult; three drawers, and two lockers in each, to receive the
clothing and other property of the light-keepers.  Four windows.

Fourth--Lantern, with circular bench, or seat.

[Sidenote: A narrow escape.]

In fixing the window-bars, Smeaton met with an accident which might
easily have been attended with fatal results.  He thus describes the
circumstances:--

"After the boat was gone, and it became so dark that we could not see
any longer to pursue our occupations, I ordered a charcoal-fire to be
made in the upper store-room, in one of the iron pots we used for
melting lead, for the purpose of annealing the blank ends of the
bars; and they were made hot all together in the charcoal.  Most of
the workmen were set round the fire; and by way of making ourselves
comfortable, by screening ourselves and the fire from the wind, the
windows were shut, and, as well as I remember, the copper cover or
hatch put over the man-hole of the floor of the room where the fire
was--the hatch above being left open for the heated vapour to ascend.
I remember to have looked into the fire attentively to see that the
iron was made hot enough, but not overheated.  I also remember I felt
my head a very little giddy; but the next thing of which I had any
sensation or idea was finding myself upon the floor of the room
below, half drowned with water.  It seems that, without being further
sensible of anything to give me warning, the effluvia of the charcoal
so suddenly overcame all sensation, that I dropped down upon the
floor; and had not the people hauled me down to the room below, where
they did not spare for cold water to throw in my face and upon me, I
certainly should have expired upon the spot."

Smeaton, however, was reserved for useful service; and on the 16th of
October the welcome light shone once more from the dreaded Eddystone
Rock.  And the storm-tossed mariner, as he saw in the distance its
helpful ray, and was guided by it how to steer his course, gratefully
acknowledged the genius and resolution of the man who had raised it
above the whirl of waters, and planted it in a tower so fair and
strong.

[Sidenote: The light on the rock.]

For more than a century it has withstood the storm, an enduring
monument to the fame of its great architect.  At times, when the
billows roll in from the Atlantic with more than ordinary fury, and
the white-crested waters come up the Channel under the impulse of a
south-west gale, the lighthouse is shrouded in spray, and its flame
for a moment obscured.  But the shadow passes away, and again across
the wild waves it shines like a signal-star.  Occasionally, when a
mighty wave strikes it, the central mass of water runs up the tall,
shapely column, and leaps quite over the lantern; or it beats against
the masonry, as if to topple it from its foundation, and the windows
rattle, and the building seems smitten with a sharp shudder.  But the
wind dies down, and the sea grows calm, leaving the lighthouse firmly
planted on its rock.




CHAPTER III.

HOW JOHN SMEATON ROSE IN LIFE.

John Smeaton, one of the most distinguished of British engineers, was
born at Austhorpe Lodge, near Leeds, on the 8th of June 1724.

[Sidenote: Smeaton's early years.]

His father was a respectable attorney, who came of an old Yorkshire
family; his mother, a quick-witted, firm, gentle-mannered woman, was
not unworthy of such a son.  He was taught at home during his earlier
years, and a happy home it was.  Leeds, in those days, had not
attained to its present immense proportions, and Austhorpe was
completely in the country, sheltered by the noble park and
overhanging woods of Temple-Newsham.  There was ample scope for the
healthy, active boy, to indulge himself in his favourite pursuits,
which had all of them a mechanical character.  He was never so happy,
says one of his biographers, as when put in possession of any cutting
tool, by which he could make his little imitations of houses, pumps,
and wind-mills.  Even while still in petticoats, he was continually
dividing circles and squares; and the only playthings in which he
took a genuine pleasure were his working models.  If any carpenters
or masons chanced to be employed in the neighbourhood of Austhorpe,
the boy was sure to find his way amongst them; and there he would
spend hour after hour, watching the men at work, and observing how
they handled their tools.  Holmes tells us that, having one day taken
due note of the operations of some mill-wrights, shortly afterwards,
to the terror of his family, he was seen fixing a rude likeness of a
wind-mill on the top of his father's barn.

Another time, when watching the procedure of a party of men engaged
in refixing the village pump, he was fortunate enough to obtain from
them a piece of bored pipe, which he succeeded in fashioning into a
working-pump that actually raised water.

[Sidenote: The young mechanic.]

At a proper age, the boy was sent to the Leeds grammar-school, where
he received, it is supposed, the largest part of his school
instruction.  In geometry and arithmetic he made very rapid progress;
but, as is the case with most clever and industrious boys, he learned
more at home than at school.  Every leisure moment was occupied by
his tools and machines.  He acquired, in time, a mechanical dexterity
and ingenuity which were really surprising, and availed him in the
performance of some amusing surprises.  Thus, it happened that some
mechanics came into the neighbourhood to erect a "fire-engine," as
the steam-engine was then called, for the purpose of pumping water
from the Garforth coal-mines, and day after day Smeaton visited the
spot for the purpose of watching their operations.

Carefully examining their methods, he made use of the knowledge so
acquired to construct a miniature engine at home, appropriately
equipped with pumps and other apparatus; and he even succeeded in
setting it in motion before the colliery engine was completed.  He
first tried its powers upon one of the fish-ponds in front of the
house at Austhorpe, which he quickly contrived to pump dry, and so
killed all the fish in it, greatly to the surprise as well as the
annoyance of his father.

Working on in this way, with assiduous application, young Smeaton, by
the time he had arrived at his fifteenth year, had made a
turning-lathe, on which he turned wood and ivory; and it was his
delight to make presents of little boxes and other articles of his
own manufacture to his friends.  He also learned to work in metals,
which he fused and forged without any assistance; and by the age of
eighteen he handled his tools as dexterously as any regular smith or
joiner.

[Sidenote: Always at work.]

"In the year 1742," says Mr. Holmes, his biographer and friend, "I
spent a month at his father's house; and being intended myself for a
mechanical employment, and a few years younger than he was, I could
not but view his works with astonishment.  He forged his iron and
steel, and melted his metal.  He had tools of every sort for working
in wood, ivory, and metals.  He had made a lathe, by which he cut a
perpetual screw in brass--a thing little known at that day, and
which, I believe, was the invention of Mr. Henry Hindley of York,
with whom I served my apprenticeship.  Mr. Smeaton soon became
acquainted with him, and spent many a night at Mr. Hindley's house
till daylight, conversing on these subjects."

[Sidenote: Removal to London.]

In his sixteenth year, our hero--for every biographer must have a
hero--was removed from school to his father's office, where he was
engaged in the uncongenial task of copying dreary legal folios, and
acquiring as much knowledge of law as might fit him for an attorney's
profession.  As Mr. Smeaton had a good connection in Leeds, he not
unnaturally wished his son to profit by it; but the future engineer
revolted from "Blackstone's Commentaries" and "Coke upon Littleton;"
and though, like a good son, he attended assiduously to his office
duties, every day he found the burden of a detested occupation
heavier to bear.  Towards the end of 1742, partly with the view of
furthering his professional duties, and partly for the sake of taking
him away from his all-engrossing mechanical pursuits, Mr. Smeaton
sent him to London.  Here he made a vigorous attempt to subdue his
tastes to his father's wishes; but utterly failing, he wrote to him
an earnest appeal for permission to follow what was clearly an
unconquerable bias.

With equal kindness and wisdom, his father consented, and young
Smeaton immediately entered the service of a philosophical
instrument-maker.  He applied himself to his new vocation with such
admirable energy, and it was so entirely fitted to the measure of his
talents, that in a very short time he was able to relieve his father
from all expenses connected with his maintenance.

[Sidenote: Rising in life.]

It is not to be supposed that a young man with so much strength of
purpose and clearness of intellect would devote himself only to the
mechanical part of his profession.  He read industriously and
methodically, so as to obtain a knowledge of the principles of
theoretical science; he sought the society of educated men; he
regularly attended the meetings and lectures of the Royal Society.
He started in business on his own account in 1750, when he was only
twenty-six; and in the same year he read a paper before the Royal
Society on certain improvements effected by himself and Dr. Knight in
the mariner's compass.  In 1751 he invented a machine to measure a
ship's way at sea, and experimented with it in a voyage down the
Thames, and in a short cruise on board the _Fortune_ sloop-of-war.

[Sidenote: Work and method.]

The activity and fertility of his mind are abundantly demonstrated by
the nature of the work which occupied him in the following year.  In
April we read of a paper from his pen detailing certain improvements
which he had contrived in the air-pump; in June he describes an
ingenious modification in ship-tackle by means of pulleys, so
arranged that one man might easily raise a ton weight; in November he
describes certain experiments which had been made with Captain
Savary's steam-engine, the precursor of James Watt's.  Meantime he
was engaged in researches into "the Natural Powers of Water and Wind
to Turn Mills and other Machines depending on a Circular Motion;"
which afterwards gained him the Royal Society's gold medal--almost
the highest honour a man of science can receive in England.  Now, it
is obvious that to accomplish so much honest and valuable work, and
at the same time to carry on his business, required great
application, great energy, great method.  And it must be conceded
that throughout life Smeaton was an unwearied seeker after knowledge;
that his two main objects were, self-improvement and the public
welfare; self-improvement being necessary that he might render the
gifts he possessed of the highest possible usefulness to society.
"One of his maxims," says Smiles, "was, that 'the abilities of the
individual are a debt due to the common stock of public happiness;'
and the steadfastness with which he devoted himself to useful work,
in which he at the same time found his own true happiness, shows that
the maxim was no mere lip-utterance on his part, but formed the very
mainspring of his life.  From an early period he carefully laid out
his time with a view to getting the most good out of it: so much for
study, so much for practical experiments, so much for business, and
so much for rest and relaxation."

[Sidenote: The value of order.]

Let the young reader take note of this, and in like manner find for
everything its fitting and sufficient time.  There is much wisdom in
the adage, "A place for everything, and everything in its place;" but
it is equally necessary that there should be "an hour for everything,
and everything in its hour."  The best talents, the best
opportunities, will be wholly wasted, unless their possessor can
recognize the value of method.  The man who does not systematize his
time, who does not economize it so as to accomplish in each day the
largest possible amount of work, without haste or unhealthy pressure,
will make but an indifferent use of his gifts, and will assuredly
lose many precious hours.  He will be always too late; always
endeavouring to overtake the lost moments, and never succeeding in
doing so; until at length such a weight will accumulate upon him of
work undone and opportunities neglected, that, in his exhaustion and
discontent, he will lose all hope, and sink into the idleness of
apathy.  Method is the secret of success: the methodical student will
get out of the twenty-four hours all that it is possible to get out
of them; while the irregular and disorderly will lose a more or less
considerable portion of them, according to the degree of his want of
system.

[Sidenote: Smeaton abroad.]

Smeaton devoted a portion of his time to the study of French, in
order that he might be able to read the valuable scientific treatises
contained in that language, and also that he might be able to take a
journey which he contemplated into the Low Countries, for the purpose
of inspecting the great canal works of the Dutch engineers.

[Sidenote: Smeaton in Holland.]

He carried out his intention in 1754, when he traversed Holland and
Belgium--mostly on foot, or in the _truckschuyts_ or canal boats,
which form the national conveyance of those countries--and carefully
inspected the most remarkable achievements of mechanical science in
the districts through which he passed.

It was with no little interest he found himself in a land which has
been literally rescued from the sea by the efforts of human skill and
industry; a great portion of which, even in comparatively modern
times, was buried deep beneath the waters of ocean; a land to which
nature has been so unkindly, and for which man has done so much.  In
a certain sense, Holland is the creation, as well as the trophy, of
the engineer; and wherever Smeaton went, he found himself in the
engineer's track.  From Rotterdam he travelled by Delft, famous for
its pottery, and the Hague, to the great commercial emporium of
Amsterdam, and thence, as far north as Holder, examining with
critical attention the huge dikes and embankments raised by the
labour of man to prevent the sea from recovering its own.

At Amsterdam he saw with delight and surprise its admirable harbour
and spacious docks.  In Smeaton's time, London had no accommodation
of this description, and the numerous fleets which flocked to the
British metropolis dropped anchor in the Thames, and loaded and
unloaded at the river quays.

Passing round the country by Utrecht, he proceeded to inspect the
great sea-sluices at Brill and Helvoetsluys, through which the inland
waters found a channel of egress, while the billows of ocean were
prevented from forcing an entrance.  During this journey he made
copious notes of all he saw, and the information thus acquired was of
great use to him in his after-labours as a canal and harbour engineer.

[Sidenote: The Eddystone lighthouse.]

He returned to England in 1755; and shortly afterwards the
opportunity came to him which, we believe, comes to every man of
industrious habits and steadfast purpose--the opportunity, by a
prudent employment of which, we may place ourselves in a position to
turn our gifts to good account, and do something for the advantage of
our fellows.  The lighthouse erected by Rudyerd on the Eddystone
Rock, of which we have already given a description, was swept away by
a destructive fire on the 2nd of December, and it became necessary to
replace it by a new one.  The proprietors applied to the President of
the Royal Society to recommend to them an engineer who might be
safely intrusted with a work so important.  The then President, the
Earl of Macclesfield, replied "that there was one of their own body
whom he could venture to recommend for the work; yet that the most
material part of what he knew of him was his having, within the
compass of the last seven years, recommended himself to the Society
by the communication of several mechanical contrivances and
improvements; and though he had at first made it his business to
execute things in the instrument way (without ever having been bred
to the trade), yet, on account of the merit of his performances, he
had been chosen a member of the Society; and that, for about three
years past, having found the business of a philosophical
instrument-maker not likely to afford an adequate recompense, he had
wholly applied himself to various branches of mechanics."

Upon this recommendation the proprietors acted, and Smeaton was
engaged to erect the Eddystone lighthouse.

[Sidenote: Preparing for the work.]

The subject was wholly new to him, and therefore, as was his custom,
he began to investigate it in all its bearings before he took any
decisive step.  One of the earliest conclusions at which he arrived
was, that the new lighthouse ought to be built of stone, as the most
durable and the safest material.  He came to this decision from a
careful examination of the plans and models of the two former
lighthouses, which showed him that their leading defect was want of
weight; of weight sufficient not only to resist the sea, but to
compel the sea to yield to the building, so that it might neither
rock in the winds nor tremble before the waves.

[Sidenote: A visit to the rock.]

As soon as he had made up his mind as to the principles on which the
lighthouse should be constructed, he paid a visit to its intended
site.  He arrived at Plymouth about the end of March, but it was the
2nd of April before he could embark for the Eddystone, owing to the
violence of the wind and the heavy sea that was running in the
Channel.  On reaching the rock, the billows beat upon it with so much
fury that it was impossible to land.  All that Smeaton could do was
to view the rocky cone--"the mere crest of the mountain whose base
was laid so far down in the sea-deeps beneath--over which the waves
were lashing, and to form a more adequate idea of the very narrow as
well as turbulent site on which he was expected to erect his
building."

Three days later, however, he ventured on a second trip, when he
succeeded in landing on the rock, and thoroughly examining it.  The
only traces he could find of the lighthouses erected by his
predecessors were the iron branches fixed by Rudyerd, and remains of
those fixed by Winstanley.

On a third voyage to the rock, Smeaton was baffled by the wind, which
compelled him to return to harbour without even obtaining a sight of
it.  After five more days, during which the engineer was employed in
looking out a proper site for a work-yard, and examining the granite
in the neighbourhood for the purposes of the building, he made a
fourth voyage, and although the vessel reached the rock, the wind
blew so freshly and the breakers dashed so furiously that it was
again found impossible to land.  He could only direct the boat to lie
off and on, while he watched the breaking of the sea and its action
on the reef.  A fifth trial, after the lapse of a week, proved
equally unsuccessful.  After rowing about all day with the wind
ahead, the party found themselves at night about four miles from the
Eddystone, near which they anchored until morning; but a storm of
wind and rain arising, they were compelled to return to Plymouth
without succeeding in their object.

[Sidenote: Try, try, and try again.]

The sixth attempt--we record these minute particulars because they
give such a vivid illustration of Smeaton's persevering energy--was
successful, and on the 22nd of April, after the lapse of seventeen
days, Mr. Smeaton landed a second time.

After a careful inspection, the party retired to their sloop, which
lay off until the tide had fallen, when Smeaton again landed, and the
night being very calm, he continued on the rock until nine in the
evening.

On the 23rd he again landed, and pursued his operations; but this
time he was interrupted by the ground-swell, which dashed the waves
upon the reef, and, the wind rising, the sloop was forced to put back
to Plymouth.  During this visit, however, our engineer had secured
some fifteen hours' occupation on the rock, and taken the dimensions
of all its parts, to enable him to construct an accurate model of the
foundation of the proposed structure.  To correct the drawing,
however, and to insure the utmost exactness, he determined upon
attempting an eighth and final voyage of inspection on the 28th of
April.

[Sidenote: The eighth attempt.]

Again the violence of the sea foiled him in his design.

Another fortnight passed, a fortnight of unfavourable weather; but
the time was not wasted.  The engineer elaborated his design, and
made all the preliminary arrangements to proceed with the work.  He
also drew up a careful code of regulations for the instruction and
government of the artificers and others who were to be employed upon
it.  And this being done, he arranged for a journey to London, but
not until he had paid three more visits to the rock for the purpose
of correcting his measurements.

In August 1756, as we have already related, the erection of the
lighthouse was begun, and operations were continued until the end of
November, in spite of the obstacles offered by a violent sea and
unfavourable winds.

The return of the workmen to port, in their store-vessel the
_Neptune_, was safely accomplished, though the voyage was not
unattended with danger.

[Sidenote: A storm at sea.]

Unable, in consequence of the violence of the gale, to make Plymouth
harbour, the _Neptune_ was steered for Fowey, on the coast of
Cornwall.  Higher and higher rose the wind, until it blew quite a
storm; and in the night Mr. Smeaton, hearing a sudden alarm and
outcry amongst the crew overhead, ran upon deck half-dressed to learn
the cause.  It was raining heavily, and the hurricane lashed the
waters into a whirlpool of spray and foam.  "It being very dark,"
says Smeaton, "the first thing I saw was the horrible appearance of
breakers almost surrounding us; John Bowden, one of the seamen,
crying out, 'For God's sake, heave hard at that rope, if you mean to
save your lives!'  I immediately laid hold of the rope, at which he
himself was hauling as well as the other seamen, though he was also
managing the helm.  I not only hauled with all my strength, but
called to and encouraged the workmen to do the same thing."  The sea
was dashing with terrible fury, and with a roar which drowned all
other sounds, upon the rocks.  The _Neptune's_ jib-sail was all at
once rent into a thousand shreds; and to save the main-sail, it was
lowered, when, happily, the vessel obeyed her helm, swung round, and
put out to sea.  At daybreak her crew found themselves out of sight
of land, and driving towards the Bay of Biscay.  But as the gale had
abated, they soon got the vessel's head round again, and stood for
the coast.  Before night they sighted the Land's End, but could not
then make the shore.  For another night and day they were tossed to
and fro, almost helplessly.  A vessel coming in sight, they exhibited
signals of distress; she bore down, and directed them how to steer
for the Scilly Islands.  The wind veering round, however, they bore
up again for the Land's End, passed the Lizard and Rame Head, and,
finally, after being blown about at sea for four days, dropped anchor
in Plymouth Sound, much to their own contentment and to the
satisfaction of their friends, who were despairing of their
reappearance.

[Sidenote: Smeaton's activity.]

Having fully described the gradual erection of the Eddystone
lighthouse in a previous chapter, we will not weary the reader with a
repetition of details with which he is already acquainted.  But
reference may appropriately be made to the energy and restless
activity with which Smeaton watched the progress of the enterprise.
If there was any position of danger his men hesitated to occupy, he
immediately stepped forward and took the foremost place.  One
morning, in the summer of 1757, when heaving up the moorings of the
store-ship, preparatory to starting for the rock, the links of the
buoy chain were exposed to a considerable strain upon the davit-roll,
which was of cast-iron, and began to bend upon its convex surface.
To remedy this, Smeaton ordered the carpenter to cut some trenails
into small pieces, and split each length into two, with the view of
applying them between the chain and the roll at the flexure of each
link, so as to relieve the strain.  One of the men remarked that if
the chain should break anywhere between the roll and the tackle, the
person engaged in inserting the wooden wedges might be cut in two by
the chain, or carried overboard along with it.  Smeaton, who never
required others to undertake what he would not do himself,
immediately put aside his men, took the "post of honour," as he
called it, and superintended the getting in of the chain, link by
link, until it was all on board.

We borrow the following interesting sketch from Mr Smiles:--

While living at Plymouth, he says, the restless, enthusiastic
engineer was accustomed every morning to take his post on the grassy
summit of the Hoe, and with his telescope to survey the famous rock.

[Sidenote: The Plymouth Hoe.]

The Hoe is an elevated promenade, occupying a high ridge of land
between Mill Bay and the entrance to the harbour, with the citadel at
its eastern extremity.  It forms the seaport of Plymouth, and
commands the beautiful and varied scenery of the Sound.  In front of
it lies St. Nicholas's Island, bristling with fortifications; beyond,
rising in verdurous slopes and terraces from the water's edge, is
Mount Edgcumbe Park, with its masses of luxuriant foliage backed by
green hills.  The land juts out on either side the bay in rocky
points, which are crowned with forts and batteries; while in the
distance now, though not in Smeaton's time, extends the nobly massive
rampart of the breakwater, midway between the bluffs of Redding and
Staddon Points, so as to arrest the long roll of the Atlantic waves,
and protect the placid expanse of the great harbour.  It was from the
Hoe that our ancestors first descried the immense array of the
Spanish Armada advancing threateningly toward the English coast.  It
was the favourite watch-tower, so to speak, of Sir Francis Drake in
those times of difficulty and peril, as it was now of Smeaton in less
critical circumstances: and it may be added, that these two men, each
so illustrious in his special vocation, possessed many characteristic
qualities in common; perseverance, patience, heroic endurance,
indomitable resolution; the qualities, in fact, by which great deeds
are accomplished.

[Sidenote: A famous hill.]

Smeaton, when he ascended the Hoe after a stormy night at sea, had
neither eye nor thought for the picturesque beauties or historical
associations of the scene before him.  All he could think of was his
lighthouse on the rock.  He knew that he had brought the fullest
resources of skill, and care, and prevision to bear upon its
erection, yet he could not avoid a feeling of anxiety as to the
security of the foundation.  Many there were who still went about
asserting that no fabric of stone could possibly stand upon the
wave-worn, wind-beaten rock; and again and again the engineer, in the
first dim light of morning, came to see if their ill-omened
predictions had been fulfilled.  Sometimes he had to wait long, until
he could see a tall white column of spray rise aloft into the morning
air.  _Then_ he breathed freely, and shut up his telescope, and
thanked God that his labour had not been undone.  And as the morning
advanced, and the light grew fuller and stronger, he was able to
discern his shapely light-tower, standing, erect and firm, above the
whirl of waters.


[Sidenote: The Eddystone lighthouse.]

The Eddystone lighthouse, as Mr. Smiles remarks, has now withstood
the storms of a century, and at the moment we write it still occupies
its advanced position, in front of the dangerous south-western coast,
a remarkable monument to the genius and perseverance of its
architect.  At times, when the swell of the Atlantic rushes up the
Channel with more than ordinary violence, impelled by a south-west
wind, its tall pillar is shrouded in thick wreaths of spray, and its
keen light-star for a moment is obscured.  But the cloud passes, and
again the welcome radiance streams across the waters, at once a guide
and a warning to the homeward-bound.  Occasionally a strong wave will
strike full upon it, and its central portion, swiftly gliding up the
perpendicular shaft, leaps, with one tremendous bound, over the
lantern.  At other times, a billow will break against it with a fury
which seems to menace the security of its foundation.  To those
within, the report is like that of heavy artillery, and the windows
rattle, and the whole building quivers from top to base.  But the
shudder which then runs throughout the lighthouse, instead of being a
sign of weakness, is the "strongest proof of the unity and close
connection of the fabric in all its parts."


[Sidenote: "The Eddystone in sight!"]

"Many a heart has leapt with gladness at the cry of 'The Eddystone in
sight!' sung out from the main-top.  Homeward-bound ships, from
far-off ports, no longer avoid the dreaded rock, but eagerly run for
its light as the harbinger of safety.  It might even seem as if
Providence had placed the reef so far out at sea as the foundation
for a beacon such as this, leaving it to man's skill and labour to
finish His work.  On entering the English Channel from the west and
south, the cautious navigator feels his way by careful soundings on
the great bank which extends from the Channel into the Atlantic; and
these are repeated at fixed intervals until land is in sight.  Every
fathom nearer shore increases a ship's risks, especially in nights
when, to use the seaman's phrase, it is 'as dark as a pocket.'  The
men are on the lookout, peering anxiously into the dark, straining
the eye to catch the glimmer of a light; and when it is known that
'the Eddystone is in sight,' a thrill runs through the ship, which
can only be appreciated by those who have felt or witnessed it after
long months of weary voyaging.  Its gleam across the waters has thus
been a source of joy, and given a sense of relief to thousands; for
the beaming of a clear light from one known and fixed spot is
infallible in its truthfulness, and a safer guide for the seaman than
the bearings of many hazy and ill-defined headlands."


[Sidenote: Usefulness of the lighthouse.]

We find little record of Smeaton's engagements between 1759, when he
completed his great undertaking, and 1764, when he applied for and
obtained the appointment of receiver for the Derwentwater Estates.*
It may be, as one of his biographers remarks, that, as yet, there was
little demand in England for the constructive skill of so bold and
able an engineer.  Not but that there was work enough: for the
highways were in a deplorable condition; in many districts
intercommunication was rendered difficult by the want of sufficient
bridges; in the commercial ports of the country dock accommodation
was almost unknown; but England was then too poor, or her energies
were too exclusively concentrated upon maritime enterprise and
colonial extension, for her to undertake to supply these deficiencies
on any extensive scale.


* These estates were confiscated by the Crown, on the death of the
last Earl of Derwentwater,--executed for high treason,--and conferred
by Parliament on Greenwich Hospital.


[Sidenote: His engineering works.]

His reputation, however, was gradually extending throughout the
kingdom, and in 1760 we find him consulted by the magistrates of
Dumfries respecting the improvement of the Nith.  He was similarly
consulted as to the lockage of the river Wear, the opening up of the
navigation of the Chelmer to Chelmsford, of the Don above Doncaster,
of the Devon in Clackmannanshire, of the Tetney Haven navigation near
Louth, and the improvement of the river Lea; but the improvements he
recommended do not seem to have been carried out, through want of
funds.  In truth, his first great engineering enterprise was
undertaken in his own county, where he was employed in extensive
repairs of the dams and locks on the river Calder; and he effected
many important improvements in that navigation, which confirmed the
general belief in his skill and judgment.  At the same time he
carried out extensive works on the river Aire from Leeds to its
junction with the Ouse.

To Smeaton also is mainly due the recovery of the inundated lands in
the Lincoln Fens, and in the low levels between Doncaster and Hull.
The river Witham, between Lincoln and Boston, was still, it is said,
a source of constant grief and loss to the farmers along its banks.
It had become choked up by neglect, so that "not only had the
navigation of the river become almost lost, but a large extent of
otherwise valuable land was constantly laid under water."

At a still later period he undertook to improve the drainage of the
North Level of the Fens, and the outfall of the Nene at Wisbeach.
For this purpose he recommended the construction of a powerful
outfall-sluice at the mouth of the Nene.

Other works in which he was consulted, and in which his engineering
ability was signally manifested, may here be mentioned: the drainage
of the lands adjacent to the river Went, in Yorkshire; of the Earl of
Kinnoul's lands lying along the Almond and the Tay, in Perthshire;
the Adling Fleet Level, at the junction of the Ouse and the Trent;
Hotham Carrs, near Market-Weighton; the Lewes Laughton Level, in
Sussex; the Potterick Carr Fen, near Doncaster; the Torksey Bridge
Fen, near Gainsborough; and the Holderness Level, near Hull.

[Sidenote: Old London Bridge.]

In 1763, he was called upon by the Corporation of London to advise
them as to the best means of improving, widening, and enlarging Old
London Bridge.  In order to accommodate the increased traffic on the
river, two arches of the bridge had been thrown into one, but with
the effect of so augmenting the rush of the water as to loosen the
adjoining piers, by washing away the bed of the river under their
foundations.  The alarm was so great that few persons would pass
either over or under the bridge; and the Corporation hastily summoned
Smeaton, who was then in Yorkshire, to their assistance.  On his
arrival, he proceeded immediately to examine the bridge, and to sound
about the foundations of the piers as minutely as possible.  He then
advised the Corporation to repurchase the stones of the city gates,
which had recently been taken down and their material sold, and cast
them into the river outside the startings, or buttresses of the
piers, to protect them from the action of the tide.  His advice was
adopted; and simple as were the means suggested, they proved entirely
efficacious.

[Sidenote: Works on the Calder.]

This method of checking the impetuous ravages of water, says Holmes,
he had practised before with success on the river Calder.  "On my
calling on him in the neighbourhood of Wakefield, he showed me the
effects of a great flood, which had made a considerable passage over
the land; this he stopped at the bank of the river, by throwing in a
quantity of large, rough stones, which, with the sand and other
materials washed down by the river, filling up their interstices, had
become a barrier to keep the river in its usual course."


Smeaton next appears in the character of a bridge-builder.  The
handsome bridges at Perth, Coldstream, and Banff were erected by him.
With reference to the first of these, it should be explained that the
Tay being subject to frequent inundations, it was requisite that
great care should be taken with the foundations, which were laid down
by means of coffer-dams.  That is, a row of piles was driven into the
river-bed, and round about and between them was thrown a quantity of
gravel and earth mixed together, so as to render the enclosed space
impervious to water.  Pumping power was then applied, and the bed of
the river within the coffer-dam was laid completely dry; after which
the soil was excavated to a proper depth, and a firm foundation
obtained for the piles.  Piles were driven into the earth underneath
the intended foundation-frame, and then the building was carried
upwards in the usual way.

[Sidenote: The Perth bridge.]

The Perth bridge is a handsome structure, consisting of seven
principal arches, and measures about nine hundred feet in length.  It
was completed and opened for traffic in 1772.

His success in this notable undertaking secured him a very
considerable amount of engineering business in the North.  At
Edinburgh he found employment in improving the water-supply for that
city; at Glasgow, in strengthening and securing the old bridge.  Far
more important were the works he executed in designing and
constructing the Forth and Clyde Canal, which links together the east
and west coasts of Scotland, the North Sea and the Irish Sea.

[Sidenote: The Forth and Clyde Canal.]

After a careful examination of the various lines which had been
proposed for the canal, Smeaton strongly recommended the adoption of
the most direct route possible, and suggested that the depth of the
canal should be sufficient to accommodate vessels of large burden.
Lord Dundas, the principal promoter of the scheme, adopted Smeaton's
ideas, and took the necessary steps for obtaining an Act to authorize
the construction of the Forth and Clyde Canal, which was accordingly
commenced in 1768.

This canal runs nearly parallel with the famous wall of Antoninus,
erected by the Romans to protect the southern Lowlands from the
predatory attacks of the wild tribes of Caledonia.  It begins at a
point near Grangemouth, on the Forth, and ends at Bowling, on the
Clyde, a few miles below Glasgow.  Its length is about 38 miles, and
it includes 39 locks, with an elevation of 156 feet from the sea to
the summit-level.

It was one of the most difficult works, we are told, which, up to
that time, had been constructed in Great Britain.  The engineer's
resources were severely tested by the occurrence of rocks and
quicksands: in some places the canal was carried over deep rivers, in
others along embankments exceeding twenty feet in height.  It
traverses numerous roads and scores of rivulets; besides the streams
of the Luggie (celebrated by the peasant-poet David Gray), and the
Kelvin (immortalized by Burns).  The bridge over the latter is 275
feet long and 68 feet high.  The depth of the canal averages 8 feet.
The total cost of the undertaking did not amount to £200,000.


[Sidenote: The bridge at Coldstream.]

Smeaton's next engagement was to construct a bridge across the Tweed
at Coldstream.  It consists of five principal arches, of which the
central has a span of 60 feet 8 inches; the two lateral, of 60 feet 5
inches each; and the two land or side arches, 58 feet.  It was
completed at a total cost of about £6000; and opened in October 1766,
having been upwards of three years in building.  It will serve to
show the great advance that has been made in engineering science
since the days of Smeaton, when we state that a similar bridge could
now be erected in nine months; though, owing to the rise in wages and
in the price of materials, at a much greater cost.

Smeaton also furnished the design for the bridge over the river
Deveron, near Banff, in Scotland.  It consists of seven arches,
segments of circles, and measures 410 feet in length, and 20 feet in
width.  It resembles, in its leading features, the bridge at Perth;
and its simple yet graceful aspect, added to the exceeding beauty of
its position, renders it a much-admired object, and one of great
pictorial interest.

[Sidenote: The bridge at Hexham.]

Smeaton built only one bridge in England, and, strange to say, it was
his only failure.  He was requested, in 1777, to furnish a design for
a bridge to be erected across the Tyne at Hexham; and a very handsome
structure, of nine arches, it proved to be.  But it had scarcely been
finished before a subsidence took place in the foundation of one of
the piers; and an attempt was made to remedy the defect by
"sheet-piling," and by filling up the cavities in the river's bed
with rough rubble-stones.

[Sidenote: A great misfortune.]

In the spring of 1782, however, a violent spate swept down the river,
and in the course of a few hours the beautiful Hexham Bridge lay in
ruin at the bottom of the Tyne.  Writing to his engineer, he
said:--"All our honours are now in the dust!  It cannot now be said
that in the course of thirty years' practice, and [after being]
engaged in some of the most difficult enterprises, not one of
Smeaton's works has failed!  Hexham Bridge is a melancholy instance
to the contrary...... The news came to me like a thunderbolt, as it
was a stroke I least expected, and even yet can scarcely form a
practical belief as to its reality.  There is, however, one
consolation that attends this great misfortune; and that is, that I
cannot see that anybody is really to blame, or that anybody is
blamed, as we all did our best, according to what appeared; and all
the experience I have gained is, not to attempt to build a bridge
upon a gravel bottom in a river subject to such violent rapidity."


[Sidenote: Harbour-building.]

Among his various engineering enterprises, Smeaton was employed in
the improvement and construction of various harbours.

His first work of this kind was at St. Ives, in Cornwall.  Here he
received much help from nature, which had provided a well-sheltered
bay enclosed between two elevated headlands, known as the Island and
Penower Point, respectively.  Thus it was protected from the winds of
the north, west, and south, and from the prevalent storms from the
south-west, which beat with so much violence on the iron-bound
Cornish coast.  All that Smeaton, therefore, had to do, was to afford
security for shipping from gales rising in the east and north-east;
and this he effected by constructing a pier running nearly south from
the southern angle of the Island.  The port thus formed has proved of
great advantage to the town, which is now one of the principal seats
of the pilchard fishery, and the emporium of a busy mining district.

Smeaton's skill was also called into requisition for many other
harbours: Whitehaven, Workington, and Bristol, on the west coast; ye,
Christchurch, and Dover, on the south; and Yarmouth, Lynn,
Scarborough, and Sunderland, on the east.

[Sidenote: A harbour of refuge.]

His principal work in harbour-construction, however, was that which
he accomplished at Ramsgate.

"The proximity of this harbour to the Downs," says Mr. Smiles, "and
to the mouth of the Thames, rendered it of considerable importance;
and its improvement for purposes of trade, as well as for the shelter
of distressed vessels in stormy weather, was long regarded as a
matter of almost national importance.  The neighbourhood of Sandwich
was first proposed for a harbour of refuge as early as the reign of
Queen Elizabeth, and the subject was revived in succeeding reigns.
In 1737, Labelye, the architect of [old] Westminster Bridge, was
called upon to investigate the subject; and ten years later, a
committee of the House of Commons, after taking full evidence and
obtaining every information, reported that 'a safe and commodious
harbour may be made into the Downs near Sandown Castle, fit for the
reception and security of large merchantmen and ships of war, which
would also be of great advantage to the naval power of Great
Britain.'  The estimated cost of the proposed harbour was, however,
considered too formidable, although it was under half a million; and
the project lay dormant until a violent storm occurred in the Downs
in 1748, by which a great number of ships were forced from their
anchors and driven on shore.  Several vessels, however, found safety
in the little haven at Ramsgate, which was then only used by
fishermen, the whole extent of its harbour accommodation consisting
merely of a rough rubble-pier."

It would seem that this circumstance once more directed the attention
of the public to Ramsgate as a suitable site for a harbour of refuge
for vessels caught in a gale in the Downs.

[Sidenote: Proceedings at Ramsgate.]

Petitions on the subject were addressed to the House of Commons, and
the Government taking it up, an Act was passed in 1749 authorizing
the construction of a harbour at Ramsgate.

The trustees invited plans from various individuals, and from these
selected a curious combination; adopting the west pier of one of the
amateur engineers, and the east pier of another, the former to be of
stone, and the latter of timber.  The east pier was designed by a
trustee; the west, by a ship-captain resident at Margate.

While the works, thus strangely designed, were in progress, the
Harbour Trustees proposed to reduce their area, and consequently the
accommodation to be afforded to shipping.  As soon as their intention
became known, the shipping interest memorialized Parliament against
it.  In 1755 an inspection of the works was ordered, and led to their
suspension, nor were they again resumed for a period of fully six
years, during which the Government officials and the Harbour Trustees
carried on a war of words.  When they were once more set on foot,
they proved eminently unsatisfactory, so far as their object was
concerned, the protection of shipping; large quantities of sand and
silt rapidly collecting in the harbour, and threatening to choke it
up altogether.

[Sidenote: Smeaton's proposal.]

This awkward circumstance induced the Harbour Board, in 1770, to call
Mr. Smeaton to their councils.  After a careful examination, he
ascertained that no fewer than 268,700 cubic yards of sand and mud
had already silted up, every tide bringing in a fresh quantity and
depositing it in the tranquil water of the harbour, which possessed
no natural scour to carry it away.  In order to create such a scour,
Smeaton proposed the construction of an adequate number of sluices,
fed by an artificial backwater.  He showed that Ramsgate harbour,
having a sound bottom of chalk, was excellently adapted to insure the
success of such a scheme; and pointed out that if the silt could thus
be set in motion, the tide, running diagonally upon the harbour
mouth, would easily carry it away.

The proposition of our engineer, in detail, was as follows:--

To enclose two spaces of four acres each, provided with nine
draw-gates: namely, four upon the westernmost, and five upon the
easternmost basin, the whole pointing in three different directions;
two towards the curve of the west pier, four towards the harbour
mouth, and three towards the curve in the east pier.

To give the sluices all possible effect, he recommended the
construction of a caisson, shaped somewhat like the pier of a bridge,
which, being floated to its place, and then sunk, might serve to
direct the current right or left, according to circumstances.

After some discussion, the trustees resolved to adopt Smeaton's plan;
but as it was not carried out in strict accordance with his
intentions, another failure occurred, necessitating a recourse for
the second time to his advice.

Among the improvements which he now recommended was the construction
of a new dock, the first stone of which was laid in July 1784.

In the course of the excavations numerous springs were tapped, and
these breaking through the pavement with which the dock had been
laid, Portland stone was substituted, in blocks of considerable size.
These, too, proved of no avail, and Smeaton was again sent for, with
the result that the execution of all further works connected with the
harbour was put into his hands.  The dock was rebuilt; a timber floor
was laid throughout in the most complete manner possible; an
additional thickness was given to the walls; the east pier was
rebuilt of stone, and carried out into deep water to a further extent
of 350 feet.  In constructing this extension, Smeaton first employed
the diving-bell in building the foundations, employing a square iron
chest, weighing about half a ton.  It measured four feet six inches
in height and length, and three feet in width.  Two men could work
together in its interior, and these were supplied with a constant
current of fresh air by means of a forcing-pump placed in a boat
which floated above them.

[Sidenote: Works at Ramsgate.]

The works, when finished, proved successful, and Ramsgate harbour
still remains the best upon the south-east coast, affording a refuge
in stormy weather to vessels of considerable draught of water.  It
includes an area of forty-two acres, the piers extending 310 feet
into the sea, with an opening between the pier-heads of 200 feet in
width.  The inner basin serves the purpose of a wet dock, and there
is also a dry dock in which ships can be repaired.  A lighthouse has
been erected on the east pier.  In the season, when Ramsgate is
crowded with visitors, the two piers afford ample opportunities for
promenading, and present a scene of much liveliness and interest,
which is enhanced by the numerous vessels at anchor in the basin, and
by a picturesque background of chalky cliffs and grassy hills and
shining sands.


[Sidenote: Smeaton in the North.]

In addition to his numerous works on the English coast, Smeaton was
largely employed in Scotland, in inspecting the harbours there, and
devising schemes for increasing their security and amount of
accommodation.

[Sidenote: Eyemouth Harbour.]

We learn from Mr. Smiles that in 1770 the harbour at Aberdeen was
altered in accordance with his suggestions; and a great depth of
water was obtained over the bar at its mouth, as well as in the
channel of the river Dee, by the erection of a north pier, and other
additions.  Improvements were also carried out at Dundee and Dunbar
under his superintendence.  He constructed the small harbours at
Portpatrick on the west, and Eyemouth on the east coast.  "Both of
these," says our authority, "were in a great measure formed by
nature, and the improvement of them demanded comparatively small
skill on the part of the engineer.  He had merely to follow the
direction of the rocks, which provided a natural foundation for his
piers at both places.  Of his little harbour at Eyemouth he was
somewhat proud, as it was one of the first he constructed, and very
effectually answered its purpose at a comparatively small outlay of
money.  It lies at the corner of a bay, opposite St. Abb's Head, on
the coast of Berwickshire, and is almost landlocked, excepting from
the north.  Smeaton accordingly carried his north pier into deep
water, for the purpose of protecting the harbour's mouth from that
quarter, as well as enlarging the accommodation of the haven.  The
harbour was thus rendered perfectly safe in all winds, and proved of
great convenience and safety to the fishing-craft by which it is
chiefly frequented."

It is to be observed that Smeaton, unlike some of our modern
engineers, was very solicitous to do his work economically, and that
he always contented himself with recommending such improvements or
modifications as would answer the desired purpose, without seeking to
gain a brilliant reputation by ambitious and costly schemes.


[Sidenote: Smeaton's activity.]

These details, of bridges and harbours, and piers and sluice-gates,
may not be interesting to the reader, but they are valuable as
illustrations of the credit which Smeaton enjoyed as a successful and
capable engineer, and of his restless industry and indefatigable
perseverance.  He crowded an extraordinary amount of good and useful
achievement into his active life, and whatever he did was done so
carefully and conscientiously as never to require patching or
re-doing.  In the course of his engineering labours he traversed
Great Britain from north to south, and east to west; and there was
scarcely a bridge or a canal in the kingdom which he did not restore,
enlarge, or in some way improve.  As might be expected, he remained,
throughout his life, the great authority on all questions connected
with lighthouses.  He erected those which on Spurn Head still guard
the mouth of the Humber, and at other parts of the coast his services
were called into requisition to secure their improved lightage.  He
was also consulted by Government respecting the national dockyards at
Portsmouth and Plymouth.  When a new water company was started to
supply some hitherto unprovided town or district, or when an old
company found it necessary to afford increased accommodation,
recourse was had to the inexhaustible skill and ingenuity of Smeaton,
who for a considerable period was really consulting engineer to the
nation.  He was called upon to advise the landowner who wished to
drain his estates, and the coal-owner who desired to work his mines
more safely and efficiently.  There seems to have been no department
of engineering science in which he was not largely and successfully
employed.

[Sidenote: A water-pumping engine.]

It is said of him, and without exaggeration, that he was ready to
supply a design of any new machine, from a fire-bucket or a ship's
pump to a turning-lathe or a steam-engine.  His genius was equally at
home with small things as with great.  Whatever he designed was
remarkable for the finish and neatness of its execution.  "The
water-pumping engine which he erected for Lord Irwin, at
Temple-Newsham, near his own house at Austhorpe, to pump the water
for the supply of the mansion, is an admirable piece of workmanship,
and continues at this day in good working condition.  His advice was
especially sought on subjects connected with mill-work,
water-pumping, and engineering of every description,--flour-mills and
powder-mills, wind-mills and water-mills, fulling-mills and
flint-mills, blade-mills and forge-hammer mills.  From a list left by
him in his own handwriting, it appears that he designed and erected
forty-three water-mills of various kinds, besides numerous
wind-mills.  [Sidenote: Smeaton and the steam-engine.] Water-power
was then used for nearly all purposes for which steam is now applied,
such as grinding flour, sawing wood, boring and hammering iron,
fulling cloth, rolling copper, and driving all kinds of machinery."
Smeaton also bestowed much attention on the development of the
wonderful powers of the steam-engine, then only in its infancy.  In
order to experimentalize upon it, he erected a model engine, on
Newcomen's principle, near his house at Austhorpe; and his fertile
genius soon devised a variety of improvements which added to its
utility.  His Chacewater engine of 150 horsepower was looked upon as
the finest and most powerful of its kind which had until then been
erected.  In this field of invention, however, it must be owned that
he was completely surpassed by James Watt, the superior merit of
whose condensing engine--notwithstanding the time and labour Smeaton
had bestowed on the development of Newcomen's--he frankly
acknowledged.  After inspecting Watt's engine, he said at once: "That
the old engine, even when made to do its best, was now driven from
every place where fuel could be considered of any value."


[Sidenote: A lesson for the reader.]

During many years the opinion of Smeaton was considered of so much
authority, that no engineering works of any importance were
undertaken throughout the kingdom except on his advice, or under his
superintendence.  He was constantly consulted in Parliament, and was
regarded as an arbiter or ultimate referee on all difficult questions
connected with his profession.

And it should be added, for the benefit of the young reader, that he
was never in a hurry to give his opinion; and that he never gave it
until he had made himself thoroughly acquainted with the subject on
which it was sought.  He was above all petty artifices, and never
laid claim to the possession of universal knowledge.  He did not
pretend to be able to decide off-hand on a question he had not
considered, but studied it thoroughly and patiently before he
ventured on offering an opinion.  Hence it was always received with
the utmost deference, and the most implicit confidence was placed in
his proved integrity.

[Sidenote: Always "thorough."]

Smeaton possessed the gift of fluent and clear description.  He could
make difficult points of engineering science intelligible even to
non-professional readers or hearers; and in the courts of law he was
frequently complimented by Lord Mansfield and the other judges for
the light he so ingeniously threw upon abstruse and very difficult
subjects.  His secret was, his thorough knowledge of what he wrote or
spoke about.  He was always _thorough_, and hence he always spoke
with the decision and confidence of a master.  It is only imperfect
knowledge which ever blunders into obscurity.




CHAPTER IV.

SMEATON IN PRIVATE LIFE--HIS LAST YEARS AND CHARACTER.

While Smeaton was thus reaping the reward of his diligent life and
conscientious industry, he continued to make his home and
resting-place at Austhorpe, near Leeds, where he had been born.
There he carried on the mechanical experiments in which he had ever
felt so intense a delight.  His father had allowed him the privilege
of a workshop in an outhouse, and he occupied it for many years;
afterwards, when the house had become his settled residence, he
erected an atelier, a study, and an observatory, all in one, for his
own use.  This building assumed the form of a square tower, four
stories high.  It stood apart from the house, on the opposite side of
the court or green, and on the bank of a pleasant pool.  Shrouded in
ivy, and embowered among trees, it now forms a picturesque feature in
the landscape.  The ground-floor was devoted to his forge; the first
floor contained his lathe; the second, his models; the third, his
study; while the fourth was a sort of lumber-room and attic.  From
the little turreted staircase on the top a door opened upon the
leads.  A vane was fixed on the summit, and so arranged that it set
in motion the hands of a dial on the ceiling of his drawing-room, and
showed at any moment the precise direction in which the wind blew.

[Sidenote: Smeaton in his study.]

As soon as the engineer retired to his study, strict orders were
issued that he was not to be disturbed on any account.  No person was
suffered to ascend the circular staircase which led to his retreat.
If he heard a step below, he would immediately raise his voice to
know the intruder's business.  Even his smith, Waddington, was
prohibited from trespassing on the sanctuary, and required, on such
occasions, to wait in the lower apartment until Mr. Smeaton came down.

When he was neither evolving plans nor drawing up reports, Smeaton
delighted to occupy his leisure with astronomical studies and
observations; and this scientific pastime he continued to indulge in
even in the flush of his prosperous professional career, when he was
the consulting engineer of all England.  For many years he regularly
contributed papers on astronomical subjects to the Royal Society, of
which he was a Fellow.  The instruments he used in making his
observations were all of his own workmanship, and remarkable for
their accuracy and finish.

[Sidenote: Ingenious designs for tools.]

His contrivances of tools, we are told, were endless, and he was
constantly employed in inventing and making new ones.  Of these
interesting relics large quantities are still, says Smiles, in the
possession of the son of his blacksmith, who lives in the
neighbourhood of Austhorpe.  When Mr. Smiles made inquiry after them,
they were found lying in a heap in an open shed, begrimed and rusty.
One mysterious article, after it had been thoroughly scrubbed and
cleansed, proved to be a jack-plane, and the tool which Smeaton
himself had handled.  His drill was also found, the bow being formed
of a thick piece of cane; his brace, his T square, his augers, his
gouges, and his engraving tools.

"There was no end of curiously arranged dividers; pulleys in large
numbers, and of various sizes; cog-wheels, brass hemispheres, and all
manner of measured, drilled, framed, and jointed brass-work.  These
remains of the great engineer are worthy of preservation.  To
mechanics, there is a meaning in every one of them.  They do not
resemble existing tools, but you can see at once that each was made
for a reason; and one can almost detect what the contriver was
thinking about when he made them so different from those we are
accustomed to see.  Even in the most trifling matters, such as the
kind of wood or metal used, and the direction of the fibre of the
wood, each detail has been carefully studied.  Much even of the
household furniture seems to have been employed in their fabrication,
possibly to the occasional amazement of the ladies in Smeaton's house
over the way.  We are informed that so much 'rubbish,' as it was
termed, was found in that square tower at his death, that a fire was
kindled in the yard, and a vast quantity of papers, letters, books,
plans, tools, and scraps of all kinds, were remorselessly burnt."

[Sidenote: "A born mechanic."]

There can be no question that Smeaton was "a born mechanic;" and to
the end of his days a mechanic he remained, finding his greatest
pleasure in mechanical pursuits.  It is told of him that when new
gates were erected at the entrances to Temple-Newsham Park, near his
house at Austhorpe, he offered to supply the design; and they were
accordingly constructed and hung after his plans.  In the popular
opinion, however, his noblest work, surpassing even the Eddystone
lighthouse, is the ingenious hydraulic ram, by means of which the
water is still raised in the beautiful grounds of Temple-Newsham.
Occasionally he diversified his occupations in his atelier, and at
his desk, by visits to his smithy.  Here he was wont to experiment
upon a boiler, the lower part of copper and the upper of lead, which
he had fitted up in an adjacent building, for the purpose of
ascertaining the evaporative power of different kinds of fuel, and of
settling other questions connected with the all-absorbing subject of
steam-power.  [Sidenote: File _versus_ hammer.] He was on the best of
terms with his smith, and if he thought him not very dexterous in the
execution of any particular piece of work, he would take the tools
himself, and show him how it ought to be done.  He was fond of
repeating the maxim, "Never let a file come where a hammer can go."

[Sidenote: "Queer-fangled things."]

When superintending the various works on which he was successively
employed, if any workman showed a lack of skill, or seemed unable to
proceed, he would at once take his tools and finish the task himself.
"You know, sir," said the son of Smeaton's blacksmith to an inquirer,
"workmen didn't know much about drawings at that time a-day, and so
when Mr. Smeaton wanted any queer-fangled thing making, he'd cut one
piece out of wood, and say to my father, 'Now, lad, go make me
this,'--and so on for ever so many pieces; and then he'd stick all
those pieces o' wood together, and say, 'Now, lad, thou knows how
thou made each part, go make it now all in a piece.'  And I've heard
my father say 'at he's often been cap't to know how he could tell so
soon when owt ailed it; for before ever he set his foot at t' bottom
of his twisting steps, or before my father could get sight of his
face, if t' iron had been wrong, thear'd been an angry word o' some
sort, but t' varry next words were, 'Why, my lad, thou o'ud a' made
it so and so: now go make another.'"


It is related by his daughter, Mrs. Dickson, that early in life
Smeaton attracted the notice of the eccentric Duke and Duchess of
Queensberry, owing to the remarkable personal likeness between him
and their favourite Gay, the poet.

Their first acquaintance was made under sufficiently singular
circumstances.

When the engineer, one night, was walking in Ranelagh Gardens, then a
fashionable place of resort, with Mrs. Smeaton, he observed an
elderly lady and gentleman fixing their eyes upon him with a
persistent gaze.  At last they stopped, and the Duchess said, "Sir, I
don't know who you are, or what you are, but so strongly do you
resemble my poor dear Gay that we _must_ be acquainted; you shall go
home and sup with us; and if the minds of the two men accord as do
the countenances, you will find two cheerful old folks who can love
you well; and I think (or you are a hypocrite), you can as well
deserve it."

[Sidenote: A guest at the Duke's.]

The invitation thus frankly given was as frankly accepted, and proved
the beginning of a friendship which continued cordial and
uninterrupted so long as the Duke and Duchess lived.

During Smeaton's visits a game at cards was sometimes proposed.
Smeaton, however, disliked cards, and could never devote his
attention to the game.  On one occasion the stakes were already high,
and it fell to Smeaton's lot to double them, when, neglecting to deal
the cards, he appeared to be busily engaged in making some abstruse
calculations on paper, which he placed upon the table.  The Duchess
asked eagerly what they referred to.  Smeaton calmly replied, "You
will recollect that the field in which my house stands measures about
five acres three roods and seven perches, which, at thirty years'
purchase, will be just my stake; and if your grace will make a duke
of me, I presume the winner will not dislike my mortgage."  The
jesting lesson had its effect, and they never played again, except
for the veriest trifle.


[Sidenote: A benevolent character.]

Smeaton, on one occasion, obtained a public appointment for a clerk
in whom he placed the greatest confidence, and, conjointly with a
friend, became security for him to a considerable amount.  Not long
afterwards this man committed the crime of forgery, was detected, and
given up to justice.  "The same post," says Mrs. Dickson, "brought
news of the melancholy transaction, of the man's compunction and
danger, of the claim of the bond forfeited, and of the refusal of the
other person to pay the moiety.  Being present when he read his
letters, which arrived at a period of Mrs. Smeaton's declining
health, so entirely did the command of himself second his anxious
attention to her, that no emotion was visible on their perusal, nor,
till all was put into the best train possible, did a word or look
betray the exquisite distress it occasioned him.  In the interim all
which could soothe the remorse of a prisoner, every means which could
save (which did, at least, from public execution), were exerted for
him, with a characteristic benevolence, active and unobtrusive."


[Sidenote: Not to be bought.]

Smeaton was a man of blameless character; his integrity was as pure
as his energy was unresting.  Though his opportunities of amassing
wealth were numerous, he cared but little for them.  Profit was
always, with Smeaton, a secondary consideration; his first aim being
to execute the task intrusted to him with all the skill at his
command.  He never slighted his work, but attended to its minutest
details.  Many lucrative appointments were placed at his disposal.
The Empress Catherine of Russia endeavoured, by the most splendid
offers, to secure his services for her own country; but Smeaton was
too sincere a patriot to be dazzled by any bribe.  "The disinterested
moderation of his ambition," says his daughter,--and says so
truly,--"every transaction in private life evinced; his public ones
bore the same stamp; and after his health had withdrawn him from the
labours of his profession, many instances may be given by those whose
concerns induced them to press importunately for a resumption of it;
and when some of them seemed disposed to enforce their entreaties by
further prospects of lucrative recompense, his reply was strongly
characteristic of his simple manners and moderation.  He introduced
the old woman who took care of his chambers in Gray's Inn, and
showing her, asserted that 'her attendance sufficed for all his
wants.'  The inference was indisputable, for money could not tempt
that man to forego his ease, leisure, or independence, whose
requisites of accommodation were compressed within such limits!"

[Sidenote: The value of integrity.]

A very high opinion of his probity and independence was formed by all
who had transactions with him.  The Princess Daschkaw, on behalf of
the Empress of Russia, used every persuasion and offered every
inducement to accept the superintendence of the vast projects she had
conceived for the development of the resources of her empire.  When
all her negotiations failed, she remarked: "Sir, you are a great man,
and I honour you!  You may have an equal in ability, perhaps, but in
character you stand alone.  The English premier, Sir Robert Walpole,
was mistaken, and my sovereign has the misfortune to find one man who
has not his price."

In all the social duties of life Smeaton was above praise; and he was
quick to recognize and encourage real merit wherever he found it.  To
strangers his mode of expression might at times appear too warm and
harsh; but this may be accounted for, perhaps, as Mr. Holmes accounts
for it, by the intense application of his mind, which was always
absorbed in the pursuit of truth, or engaged in extending the domains
of human knowledge.  Hence, if interrupted by anything not in
accordance with the general current of his thoughts, he was apt to
speak hastily.  As a friend, he was sincere, earnest, generous; as a
companion, interesting and entertaining, and his conversation was
always fresh, happy, and suggestive.

[Sidenote: Smeaton at home.]

In his own home, and by his family and dependants, he was equally
beloved and revered.  After his wife's death in 1784, his two
daughters managed his household until his own departure.  The elder
has left on record many graphic particulars of his mode of life, and
has drawn his character in terms dictated by affection, yet, as
unquestionable evidence shows, without undue exaggeration.

Though communicative on most subjects, she says, and stored with
ample and liberal observations on others, of himself he never spoke.
In nothing does he seem to have stood more single than in being
devoid of that egotism which more or less affects the world.  It
required some address, even in his family, to draw him into
conversation directly relating to himself, his pursuits, or his
success.  Self-opinion, self-interest, and self-indulgence, seemed
alike tempered in him by a modesty inseparable from merit; and by a
moderation in pecuniary ambition, a habit of intense application, and
a rigid temperance, which, however laudable, are certainly uncommon.

[Sidenote: Father and master.]

Devoted to his family with an affection so profound, a manner at once
so cheerful and serene, that it is impossible to say whether the
charm of conversation, the simplicity of instruction, or the
gentleness with which it was conveyed, most endeared his home; a home
in which, from their earliest years, his children could not recollect
to have seen in him a sign of dissatisfaction, or to have heard a
word of asperity.  Yet with all this he ruled his household, not his
household him.  He was the loving and generous father, but he was
also the firm and resolved master.  But it is for "casuistry, or
education, or rule, to explain his authority; it was an authority as
impossible to dispute as it is to define."


[Sidenote: Personal characteristics.]

In person our engineer was of middle stature, broadly and strongly
made, like most Yorkshiremen, and endowed with a constitution of
great natural vigour.  The expression of his countenance was marked
by much gentleness and shrewdness.  In his ordinary address he was
plain, unpretending, simple, but never rude or awkward.  He had the
characteristic straightforwardness of speech of the north-countryman,
and never hesitated to call a lie a lie, or to stigmatize an act of
dishonesty or deception in the plainest possible terms.  He spoke in
the dialect of his native county, and had the good sense not to be
ashamed of it.  His incessant avocations prevented him from acquiring
that polish and superficial refinement so much valued by little
minds;--excellent things in themselves, but dearly purchased at the
cost of sterling qualities of head or heart.  He was born an
engineer, a son of toil; and such he remained to the last.

[Sidenote: Smeaton on literary work.]

Towards the close of his life, Smeaton became an author; not,
however, with a view to literary reputation, but in the hope he might
do some service to those coming after him by an accurate account of
the various important works in which he had been engaged as an
engineer.  He meditated several compilations of this character, but
lived to complete only his "Narrative of the Construction of the
Eddystone Lighthouse."  He frankly tells us that he found the task of
describing this structure far more difficult than that of raising it;
and hence, like most unaccustomed writers, he became singularly
impressed with a sense of the importance of literary composition.

"I am convinced," he says in his preface, "that to write a book
tolerably well is not a light or an easy matter; for, as I have
proceeded in this task, I have been less and less satisfied with the
execution.  In truth, I have found much more difficulty in writing
than I did in building, as well as a greater length of time and
application of mind to be employed.  I am indeed now older by
thirty-five years than I was when I first entered on that enterprise,
and therefore my faculties are less active and vigorous; but when I
consider that I have been employed full seven years, at every
opportunity, in forwarding this book, having all the original
draughts and materials to go upon, and that the production of these
original materials, as well as the building itself, were despatched
in half that time, I am almost tempted to subscribe to the sentiment
adopted by Mr. Pope, that

  'Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.'

It is true that I have not been bred to literature, but it is equally
true that I was no more bred to mechanics: we must therefore conclude
that the same mind has in reality a much greater facility in some
subjects than in others."

[Sidenote: The great engineer.]

We agree with Mr. Smiles, however, in thinking that Smeaton's story
of the Eddystone Lighthouse is very effectively told.  It is
distinguished by its intense dramatic interest; an interest arising
from the contest it depicts between the colossal forces of nature and
human resolution, energy, and skill.  It has been well observed by
the Earl of Ellesmere, in his "Essays on Engineering," that bloody
battles have been won, and campaigns conducted to a successful issue,
with less of personal exposure to physical danger on the part of the
commander-in-chief, than was constantly encountered by Smeaton during
the greater part of those years in which the lighthouse was in course
of erection.  "In all works of danger he himself led the way; was the
first to spring upon the rock, and the last to leave it; and by his
own example he inspired with courage the humble workmen engaged in
carrying out his plans, who, like himself, were unaccustomed to the
special terrors of the scene."


[Sidenote: "Suum cuique."]

We have next to speak of Smeaton's intellectual powers.  That they
were equal to work of the highest character we have already shown.
He was abundantly fertile in resources; no difficulties or obstacles
ever embarrassed him; his capacious mind seemed stored with an
inexhaustible supply of ingenious expedients.  He was the first of
the great school of English engineers whose triumphs over nature are
recorded in every part of the world.  No undertaking ever perplexed
that prompt, quick, and massive intellect.  Hence his fame has gone
on increasing.  James Watt, who always spoke of him in language of
warm admiration, calls him "_father_ Smeaton."  In justice to him, he
writes, "we should observe that he lived before Rennie, and before
there were one-tenth of the artists there are now."  _Suum cuique_;
his example and precepts have made us all engineers.  Robert
Stephenson, half a century later, declared him to be the engineer of
the highest intellectual eminence that had yet appeared in England.
He pronounced him to be "the greatest philosopher in our [the
engineering] profession this country has yet produced.  He was indeed
a great man, possessing a truly Baconian mind, for he was an
incessant experimenter.  The principles of mechanics were never so
clearly exhibited as in his writings, more especially with respect to
resistance, gravity, the power of water and wind to turn mills, and
so on.  His mind was as clear as crystal, and his demonstrations will
be found mathematically conclusive.  To this day there are no
writings so valuable as his in the highest walks of scientific
engineering; and when young men ask me, as they frequently do, what
they should read, I invariably say, Go to Smeaton's philosophical
papers; read them, master them thoroughly, and nothing will be of
greater service to you.  Smeaton was indeed a very great man."


[Sidenote: "Clear as crystal."]

We have said enough to prove that Smeaton was gifted with the most
earnest industry, and we have dwelt at some length on his patience,
resolution, and perseverance.  He was a hard worker throughout his
life, from six years old to sixty.  And like all hard workers, like
all men who have won renown or accomplished great things, he knew how
to economize his time; how to utilize every moment; how to employ it
in such a manner as to obtain from its use the most advantageous
results.  When at home, his forenoons were occupied in writing
reports, and in the various transactions connected with his
professional engagements; while his afternoons were devoted to the
mechanical and scientific pursuits which formed his principal
relaxation, working at his forge or in his workshop, making
mechanical experiments, or preparing papers on scientific subjects
for the Royal Society.

[Sidenote: Numbering the hours.]

He was endowed by nature with a strong constitution and a robust
frame, but there is reason to apprehend that he tasked his mental
powers too laboriously by his intense and continuous application to
study during his long periods of seclusion at Austhorpe.  As he
advanced in years his sturdy strength of limb departed, and his
physical powers gave way, while he was yet in his mature manhood.
They were further impaired by the abstemious regimen which he was
subsequently compelled to adopt.  [Sidenote: The dreaded enemy.]
Cerebral disease, moreover, was hereditary in his family, and he long
dreaded the attack of paralysis, which eventually terminated his
life.  But, as Mr. Smiles says, this only made him the more eager to
employ to the greatest advantage the time which it might yet be
permitted him to live: and he dreaded above all things the blight of
his mental powers--to use his own words, "lingering over the dregs
after the spirit had evaporated"--chiefly as depriving him of the
means of doing further good.

The last public measure on which he was professionally engaged in
London was the passing of a Bill through Parliament for the
construction of the Birmingham and Worcester Canal.  The opposition
to it was fierce and protracted, and his support of the measure in
committee entailed upon him great application, anxiety, and thought,
His friends saw with much concern that the labour was too great for
him, and were in constant alarm lest the powers of his vigorous mind
should suddenly give way.  The Bill, however, passed by a small
majority, and Smeaton retired to his house at Austhorpe to enjoy the
rest he so greatly needed.

[Sidenote: Smeaton's last days.]

On the 16th of September the blow fell.  He was seized with an attack
of paralysis while walking in the garden.  Happily he regained the
use of his mental faculties, and was able to thank the Almighty that
his intellect was spared.

During his illness he dictated several letters to his old friend, Mr.
Holmes, in which he minutely described his health and feelings.  In
one of them he says pathetically, "I conclude myself nine-tenths
dead, and the greatest favour the Almighty can do (as I think), will
be to complete the other part; but as it is likely to be a lingering
illness, it is only in his power to say when that is likely to
happen."

Smeaton bore his trial, however, with the equanimity of a Christian,
and was very cheerful and resigned.  Sometimes he would complain that
he had lost his old quickness of apprehension; but recovering himself
quickly, he would excuse the momentary impatience, and remark, with a
smile, "It could not be otherwise; the shadow must lengthen as the
sun goes down."  He expressed particular pleasure in seeing the
customary occupations of his family resumed, and took the same
interest as ever in reading, drawing, music, and conversation.  Nor
were his remarks less apt or instructive or entertaining than when he
was in the flush of health.  One evening he was asked to explain some
phenomena respecting the moon, which, from the window of his
apartment, could be seen shining in full-orbed splendour.  He replied
to the questions addressed to him very fully and clearly.  Then,
fixing his gaze on the beautiful sphere, he contemplated it
steadfastly for some time, observing, "How often have I looked up to
it with inquiry and wonder; and how often have I looked forward to
the period when I shall have the vast and privileged views of an
hereafter, and all will be comprehension and pleasure!"  Smeaton was
thus consoled in his last days by the only consolation which, under
such circumstances, ever proves effectual,--that which flows from a
reverent trust in the constant presence of a Divine Father.  Though
not ostentatious in his religious professions, he had learned the
value of religious truth, and he knew that in passing through the
valley of the shadow his sole help and support was the mercy of a
Redeemer.  And hence he listened with delight to the promises of Holy
Writ, and joined with fervour in the ministrations of religion.

[Sidenote: The engineer's death.]

The great engineer's illness was not of long duration.  He passed
away on the 28th of October 1792, in the sixty-eighth year of his
age.  He was interred with his forefathers in the old parish church
of Whitkirk, where a tablet was erected to his memory, bearing the
following quaint inscription:--

[Sidenote: Smeaton's monument.]

  Sacred to the Memory

  of

  JOHN SMEATON, F.R.S.

A man whom God had endowed with the most extraordinary abilities,
which he indefatigably exerted for the benefit of mankind in works of

  SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHICAL RESEARCH;

More especially as an Engineer and Mechanic.  His principal work, the
Eddystone Lighthouse, erected on a rock in the open sea (where one
had been washed away by the violence of a storm, and another had been
consumed by the rage of fire), secure in its own stability, and the
wise precautions for its safety, seems not unlikely to convey to
distant ages, as it does to every nation of the Globe, the name of
its constructor.

  _He was born at Austhorpe, June 8, 1724;
  And departed this life, October 28, 1792._

  ------------

  Also Sacred to the Memory of

  ANN,

  THE WIFE OF THE SAID JOHN SMEATON, F.R.S.,

  Who died January 17, 1784.

  THEIR TWO SURVIVING DAUGHTERS,

  Duly impressed with sentiments of Love and Respect
  for the kindest and tenderest of Parents,
  Pay this Tribute to their Memory.


Genius, or originality, is, for the most part, says Hazlitt, some
strong quality in the mind, answering to and bringing out some new
and striking quality in nature.

According to this definition, Smeaton must be considered a man of
genius.  But Hazlitt goes on to say that capacity is not the same
thing as genius.  And he describes capacity as relating to the
_quantity_ of knowledge, however acquired; while genius relates to
its _quality_, and the mode of acquiring it.  Capacity is the power
over given ideas or combinations of ideas; genius is the power over
those which are not given, and for which no obvious or precise rule
can be laid down.

[Sidenote: A man of capacity.]

Smeaton, then, we should prefer to call a man of _capacity_; a man
with a great power over given ideas or combinations of ideas.  And
along with this capacity he possessed a remarkable steadfastness of
purpose, a determined will, an unconquerable perseverance.  Without
these adjuncts, indeed, capacity will avail but little.  The only
motto which it can take up and act upon is that expressed so pithily
by the old poet:--

  "See first that the design is wise and just;
  That ascertained, pursue it resolutely.
  Do not for one repulse forego the purpose
  That you resolved to effect."


Smeaton, in his childhood, making turning-lathes and designing pumps;
Ferguson, the boy-astronomer, learning the positions of the stars
with the help of a string of beads; Murray, afterwards the eminent
Orientalist, teaching himself to write with a blackened brand on the
whitewashed wall,--these are examples the youthful student should
ever set before him.  They are examples of what can be done by
capacity, directing and controlling diligence, and zeal, and
application.

[Sidenote: What diligence can do.]

A distinguished Italian author has put forward the theory that all
men may become great men, may become poets, painters, and
orators;--as if the sole difference between genius and mediocrity
were the power of application.  We think it impossible for any calm
and sober judgment to accept such a hypothesis.  We do not believe
that any amount of diligence or perseverance, however continuous and
well-directed, could convert a versifier into a Milton, or a
blacksmith into a Smeaton.  But then we may all take to ourselves the
consolation that it is neither desirable nor necessary that we should
all be Smeatons and Miltons; that what we have mainly to consider is
this,--the doing our best in whatever position the will of Providence
may have assigned to us, since, by so doing, we may reasonably hope
to swell the sum of human happiness and human good.  And the benefit
we may derive from a study of the career and character of Smeaton is
to be found in the encouragement it gives us to lead a life of
patient and assiduous labour.  For the reader, as for Smeaton, God
has provided a vocation, if he will but earnestly seek to discover
it; and when he once sees the path of duty before him, he will
assuredly gain his reward if he perseveres in it with singleness of
aim and loftiness of purpose.


[Sidenote: Lessons from great lives.]

If it is not necessary for every man to become a Watt or a Smeaton,
and if it is not given to every man to win the success which a Watt
or a Smeaton achieved, yet it is possible for each one of us to
attain to a certain standard of character and capacity, and to
acquire a reasonable measure of prosperity.  As we have elsewhere
written, biography is full of examples of what may be accomplished by
a resolute will; what may be done by the industry that never wearies
and the energy that never flags.  Long and brilliant is the record of
men who have attained greatness under the most unfavourable
conditions.  The great voyager who opened up a New World to the
enterprise of the West was in early life a weaver.  The able German
historian of the Roman Republic began as a peasant.  Sextus V., one
of the most capable of the many capable men who have sat in the chair
of St. Peter, commenced his career as a swine-herd.  Every school-boy
knows that Æsop, the most successful of all fabulists, was a slave;
Homer,

  "The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle,"

a beggar; and Demosthenes, the orator, whose eloquence controlled the
fierce democracy of Athens, the son of a sword-maker.  What was
Daniel Defoe, the author of the enchanting story of the Solitary in
the far-off desert isle, but a hosier's apprentice?  Or Gay, the poet
and wit, but the drudge of a silk-mercer?  James Watt sold
spectacles, and invented the present steam-engine; George Stephenson,
who began life as a miner's-boy at two shillings per week, founded
the railway system of Great Britain; "Rare Ben Jonson," as his
epitaph aptly designates him, second among our British dramatists to
none but Shakspeare, handled the bricklayer's trowel; and Prideaux,
the divine and scholar and critic, was employed to sweep the halls
and galleries of Exeter College.  Telford, the architect of the Menai
Bridge, was a stone-mason's labourer; Rennie, the designer of London
Bridge and the Bell-Rock Lighthouse, the son of a small farmer;
Burns, the poet, who walked

                  "In glory and in joy,
  Behind his plough upon the mountain-side,"

was a poor cotter's son; Sir Richard Arkwright, the inventor of the
power-loom, started in life as a barber; Gifford, the reviewer and
critic, as a cobbler.  [Sidenote: The moral of our book.] We see,
then, that neither poverty, nor obscure birth, nor unfavourable
circumstances in early life, nor lack of friends, nor all the
obstacles and difficulties which seem so formidable in the eyes of an
ease-loving world, can hold out against the steadfast purpose,
against the presence of a clear brain and a courageous heart,
determined to work and live and succeed.  This is the lesson the
preceding pages are intended to enforce; this is the encouragement
the story of Smeaton's life should convey to the reader; this is the
moral of all Biography, and one which the young should never
forget,--a moral full

  "Of courage, hope, and faith!"




  The Lighthouse

  The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
    And on its outer point, some miles away,
  The lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,--
    A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.

  Even at this distance I can see the tides,
    Upheaving, break unheard along its base;--
  A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides
    In the white lip and tremor of the face.

  And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,
    Through the deep purple of the twilight air,
  Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light,
    With strange, unearthly splendour in its glare.

  Not one alone;--from each projecting cape
    And perilous reef along the ocean's verge,
  Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,
    Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge.

  Like the great giant Christopher, it stands
    Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave,
  Wading far out among the rocks and sands,
    The night-o'ertaken mariner to save.

  And the great ships sail outward and return,
    Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells;
  And ever joyful, as they see it burn,
    They wave their silent welcomes and farewells.

  They come forth from the darkness, and their sails
    Gleam for a moment only on the blaze;
  And eager faces, as the light unveils,
    Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.

  The mariner remembers when a child,
    On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink;
  And, when returning from adventures wild,
    He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink.

  Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same
    Year after year, through all the silent night,
  Burns on for evermore that quenchless flame,
    Shines on that unextinguishable light!

  It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp
    The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace;--
  It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,
    And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.

  The startled waves leap over it; the storm
    Smites it with all the scourges of the rain;
  And steadily against its solid form
    Press the great shoulders of the hurricane.

  The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din
    Of wings and winds and solitary cries,
  Blinded and maddened by the light within,
    Dashes himself against the glare, and dies.

  A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,
    Still grasping in his hand the fire of Jove,
  It does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock,
    But hails the mariner with words of love.

  "Sail on!" it says, "sail on, ye stately ships!
    And with your floating bridge the ocean span;
  Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse,--
    Be yours to bring man nearer unto man!"

                                              LONGFELLOW









*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76767 ***