Ever wonder how some of these beautiful Mordan writing implements were made "back in the day"? Well, wonder no more... I recently stumbled upon a mid-Victorian era periodical online, called "Hogg's Instructor", dating to 1853, and digitized by Google. Among the myriad of articles, essays, poetry, etc. in this particular issue, was the following article, describing a tour of the Mordan & Co. factory in London. The article provides such a fascinating glimpse into the mid-19th century Mordan workplace that I decided to reproduce it in its entirety here.
The footnotes are mine, added where additional information/clarification is available. The gold Mordan pencil pictured was made between 1845 & 1852, and the Mordan leads pictured are from the latter half of the century.
“If there be any one art the possession of which more than any other
distinguishes the civilized nation from the savage, it is surely the art of
writing. The savage can talk, it may be, with as great volubility as ourselves,
but he cannot write. He cannot communicate the thoughts of his own mind to his
fellow-men, except by actual converse with him. The possession of the power to
write in any manner whatever, is a sure sign that some degree of civilization
has been attained.
Thus, we are told that the
Mexicans, even when first visited by the Spaniards, were accustomed to
delineate events by pictures, and that in this way the Mexican king was made
acquainted with everything of importance that transpired in his dominions. For,
even at this early time, the Mexicans were in many respects a cultivated and
civilized people. But nations as they advance invent other ways of writing –
more artificially it may be, in structure, but easier in practice. By degrees the
cumbrous mode of communicating with one another by representation gives way to
the more simple art of communicating by arbitrary signs. Wondrous, indeed, is
the progress that has been made in the materials for writing. Once the sandy
ground served for paper and ink, and the finger for a pen. Once the block of
stone or the bare rock was graven with the iron style. Once the bark of a tree
or a piece of reed was made to answer for a book. Even the Greeks and Romans,
in spite of their high civilization, must, cogente
causa, be satisfied with waxed tablets or skins, upon which they slowly
traced the symbols of thought.
But writing materials such as these could never be endured in the
present age of electricity and steam. They would never keep pace with the progress
of thought. Hence the skill of man has found out other contrivances. Paper has
taken the place of skin. The quill has taken the place of the style. But now
even the quill is too slow in its operation. We cannot bear the waste of time
in mending it. Hence we have invented the pencil and the steel-pen. Still, even
the pencil can scarcely satisfy our wishes, for that requires occasional
pointing. This difficulty, however, has at length been overcome, and we may now
write to our heart’s content. The only limit to the power of writing is the
limit to the fertility of the brain, or to the strength of the hand; and how
little these are limited, this book-making age evinces.
Such were the thoughts that, a few weeks back, obtruded themselves
upon us, as we were walking down the City Road. The subject of a bill in a
shop-window had attracted our attention; and, in obedience of the exhortation
of Captain Cuttle[1], we
took out our pencil case to make a note of it. What an easy and simple thing,
thought we, by the aid of this little instrument, to make a note of whatever we
may see. No longer can we feel the annoyance – so often experienced before we
purchased it – of finding the point of our lead broken off in our pocket, just
at the moment we wanted to use it. So, being in rather an idle mood, we found
ourselves, before we were aware of it, in the train of thought we have outlined
above. The convenience of our writing materials engaged our attention.
And now, as we walked along, and happened to cast our eyes upwards,
the name of Mordan & Co. met our gaze. We had seen it hundreds of times
before, but it had never attracted us as it did now. We at once called to mind,
what our readers will call to mind also, that this name is intimately
associated with pencils and pencilcases. So our eyes once more reverted to the
convenient little instrument we still held in our hand, and we felt a large
amount of gratitude to Mr. Mordan[2],
as we reflected upon the comfort derived from his invention. Then we thought we
should like to know more about pencilcases; how these little handy things are
manufactured; how the leads are so nicely rounded. In short, we then and there
determined, on the first opportunity, to visit Messrs. Mordan’s factory, for
the purpose of being duly initiated into the art and mystery of pencil and
pencilcase-making. This mystery we purpose now to unfold for the benefit of the
world, i.e. our readers.
But, first, a brief historical notice of pencils will be expected of
us. Pieces of lead are known to have been used as pencils more than a thousand
years ago, for lines drawn by such means are still visible on manuscripts of
that early period. But Professor Beckman[3]
tells us, in his 'History of Inventions’, that the first authentic account we
have of the use of pencils at all like our own is the year 1565. 'The pencil,' he says, 'consisted of a piece of lead, or perhaps plumbago, in a sheath of
wood.' It appears probable, too, that during the same century plumbago was
introduced into the drawing-schools of Italy. But the method of erasing marks
by the use of India-rubber was only discovered 20 or 30 years ago : previous to
that time the crumb of bread was made use of. A mixture of lead and tin was
also used as a pencil by the Italians in early times; in later, black and red
chalk also.
The ever-pointed pencilcase was invented by the late Mr. Mordan[4],
and patented by him in the year 1822. The patent was taken out for the
application of plumbago, in very small cylindrical pieces, projecting from
conical cylinders. It is familiarly known that the cases are so contrived that
the leads can be continually replenished, and that they may always preserve a
point sufficiently sharp for writing.
Mr. Mordan readily gave us permission to inspect his factory. Accordingly,
on a Thursday morning, we directed our steps towards the desired spot. We
entered the gateway, and walked up the yard, which, although surrounded by
workshops, gave us no adequate idea of the number of workmen employed, or of
the extent and variety of the operations that were going on within; for its
contents were simply a truck, a pile or two of old boards, and a few other odds
and ends we did not care to examine. We soon found ourselves under the able
guidance of the foreman, entering one of the doors, ascending a few stairs, and
looking down into a kind of pit, some eight feet square. This is the chamber in
which the first operation in pencilcase-making is performed. It is the melting
room. In it is the furnace by whose aid the precious metals are melted down. By
what we afterwards saw, we should judge that its operations in the course of
the year are of very considerable extent. But into it, as there was no work
going on, we had no wish to descend.
We were now, therefore, conducted into the shop in which the
pencilcases are manufactured. Almost every process they undergo in their
transition from the state of rough gold and silver to that of the beautiful and
highly finished articles which they are when they are sent out by the firm, is
here carried on. Only some special kinds of ornamentation are performed in
another room. One may, therefore, well-nigh see at a glance the entire
manufacture of pencilcases. At the period of our visit, there were about 30 men
at work in this room. The principle of division of labour seems to be carried
on to a considerable extent, for we could scarcely observe any two engaged on
the same part of the work. The precious metals are first rolled out to thin
sheets, varying from the thickness of a card to that of a half-crown. The
sheets are then cut into strips, about ¾” in breadth, not after the old plan,
by shears, but by a very simple and efficacious machine. Its construction is
similar to that of the common lathe, worked by a treadle. This causes the
rotation of two small wheels of steel, about for inches in diameter, and the
quarter of an inch in thickness, which work so that the edge of one slightly
overlaps the other. As they thus turn, the action is precisely that of a pair
of scissors. A stop can be fixed at any required distance from the wheels, and
this regulates the breadth of the slip of metal. The metal is pushed forwards
against the wheels, and the cutting is effected with surprising rapidity, and
with very little expenditure of labour on the part of the workman. By this
machine hudredweights of metal may be cut up in the same time and with far less
labour, than pounds can be by shears. The strips of metal are next bent round
an iron rod, and soldered together, so as to form tubes. After this they are
annealed, by being heated in a fire, and then allowed to cool gradually. By
this means they are rendered softer, and capable of being drawn out without
breaking. In this state, the tubes look very rough, unsightly things, varying
in length from one foot to eighteen inches.
The next process is that of drawing.
The rough tubes are conveyed to a workman, who superintends a strange-looking
machine, consisting of a wooden wheel with a number of long spokes. In
appearance it is very much like a large star-fish, with about twice the
orthodox number of arms, and these, being very long, afford great leverage to
the hand. There are also several pieces of connecting machinery, and an
enormous metal chain, big enough for a ship of 120 guns, and having a pair of
vice chaps at the end. The workman now took one of the silver tubes, and,
having forced an iron rod into it, proceeded to put one end through a hole in a
thick metal plate, similar to those used by wire-drawers; and then, having
rested the plate against a strong iron support, and placed the end of the tube
that had been pushed through it in the vice, his assistant turned the wheel,
and it was soon drawn through. We now took up the silver tube, and found that
it has not only been forced into a circular shape, but also had something of a
pattern impressed upon its surface. After being pulled in this manner through
two more holes, each smaller than the one before, the drawing process was
complete, and the tube which forms the outer casing is made. Of course tubes
are drawn of a great variety of patterns and sizes, while some of them are left
quite plain. The rough tubes do not appear to be made with much reference to
the size of the case for which they are intended, for, by the drawing process,
they can be rendered as small on the outside as may be required, while the size
of the interior can be regulated by the rod that is inserted. Thus the tubes
used for making the pointed extremity are as large as those for the outer case,
but are of much thicker material; for otherwise the drawing process, while it
lengthens them out, would make them too thin. Some of these tubes, of only a
foot in length, are, when drawn out, at least twelve feet. In drawing them,
since the process is necessarily often repeated, and the metal in consequence
rendered hard and brittle, the annealing process must be performed several
times during the operation. The tube we had previously watched was now stamped
with the manufacturer’s name, at intervals of three or four inches, so that
each case might be marked. This was done before the iron rod was withdrawn from
the inside, that the case might not be bent in. It was then divided into pieces
of the required length – in this case three and a half inches – by a circular
saw, which cut it up with great rapidity. The external case, the inner case,
the little cylinder to form the tapering point, and the slides, are all
produced in a similar manner, and then cut into the proper length for each.
The outer cases were now submitted to the skillful manipulation of
another workman, who, by the aid of files and other instruments, touched up the
grooves and flutings in those parts that were not quite sharp and perfect. The
points were made tapering, and brought to the right size by means of the chisel
and the lathe. In the same manner the slides, and the cap that screws on top of
the case, were reduced to shape and ornamented. The screws were made in the
usual way by means of the screw plate, the worm in the inside of the cap being
cut by turning into it a steel screw of proper size. In a wonderfully expert
manner were all these operations performed. It seemed to us, unsophisticated as
we were in such matters, to be an easy thing to make pencilcases. We fancied we
could almost accomplish the task ourself. But such is ever the case when one
witnesses the ingenious contrivances and skillful manipulations to be found in
large factories.
We saw so many men about us engaged in the various operations of
turning, filing, scratching, rubbing, and polishing little cylinders, or
strange-looking lumps of gold and silver of every size and form, that we felt
not a little puzzled to understand what they were all about; but, since our
readers understand quite as we the nature of these common operations, we shall
not inflict upon them a tedious explanation, which, perhaps, in lexicographic
style, might only serve to make that which is simple obscure. We noticed,
however, that all these men were sitting down at their work, and had leather
aprons fastened just under their work-tables, in order to catch the scraps,
that nothing might be lost. As we were leaving this room, we caught sight of a
youth with a heap of strange-looking articles before him. Each consisted of a
little bit of iron wire, with a small flat piece of brass soldered to the end
of it. The idea that suggested itself to our mind was, that they were very like
the drawing-shovels one might imagine the bakers of Lilliput to have used. But,
not satisfied with this as an explanation, we applied to our guide, and his
intelligence soon put us right. We learnt that they were the little instruments
by which the leads are made to protrude from the point. By means of the flat
piece of brass they are connected with a screw in the inner case, which is
provided with a top, so that it can only move backwards and forwards within a
certain range. When the case is turned round, as is well known, the wire may be
made to advance, and push out the lead for use.
One more process now arrested our attention – the setting of the
gems in the top. This is done upon the lathe. The workman took up one of the
little silver caps, which, though turned into its proper shape externally, was
yet solid; having fixed it to the lathe, he proceeded dexterously to scoop out
with a chisel a conical hole in the top to receive the gem. When the little bit
of cornelian was accurately fitted, he placed some powdered chalk in the
cavity, to bed the stone, and at the same time to improve its whiteness; he
then quickly turned a little edge of silver over its margin, and in half a
minute the whole process of setting was performed.
We were now escorted to another room, where we found some dozen men
engaged in putting the last touch to some of the more highly-finished cases.
Here was one engaged in chasing a number of gold caps and slides. We observed
that these were embedded in lumps of a pitchy-looking substance, in order to
keep them steady. The chasing is entirely effected by the use of punches. None
of the gold is cut away, as it would be if engraved. Beside our friend lay a
large assortment of punches – sufficient, one might imagine, to form an
ironmonger’s stock of the article. We could not help admiring the dexterity
with which he discovered in the heap the particular punch he wanted, and how,
after a few seemingly light taps, the ornament was brought out.
Here, too, was a machine for imparting various kinds of figuring to
the case, such as cannot be effected by the drawing process. We noticed that
the case was fixed perpendicularly upon a small steel rod, attached to an
odd-looking machine, which was made to revolve by means of a wheel, which at
the same time raised and lowered the pencilcase. The case was also made to
vibrate slightly from side to side; and being at the same time pressed against
a sharp cutting-point of steel, that zig-zag cutting was produced which is so
often seen on these cases.
We were curious to know how this vibratory motion was effected, and,
upon inquiry, learnt that it was caused by a massive-looking solid cylinder of
gun-metal, which had a number of indentations in rings around its circumference.
This cylinder, by means of a powerful spring, is kept tightly pressed against a
steel point, fixed at the side to the framework of the machine. Now, when this
presses against the hollows and projections in succession, as the cylinder
turns, it causes the cylinder itself to vibrate horizontally in a slight
degree. A variety is obtained in the vibrations by rings of greater or less indentations
upon different parts of the cylinder, to which the fixed point can be applied.
Thus variety of pattern can be obtained. We conjectured that these little
projections would soon wear off by contact with the steel point, but were
informed that the machine had been in use more than twenty years, without this
having taken place.
The last process that the cases undergo is that of cleaning and
polishing. This is effected by means of wheels, with leather round the rim for
plain cases; but, for the others, the wheel is armed with hog’s bristles,
forming a circular brush. They are used with whiting and other substances, and
by this means every crevice in the case is reached by the cleaning and
polishing process.
The pencilcases are now complete; and beautiful articles they seem,
as we stand and gaze upon a case containing at least five hundred of them, of
every size and price. In the course of their manufacture, they have passed
through the hands of nearly forty workmen, and the more interesting of the
operations performed by them we have endeavoured to describe.
We could not help noting how clean and neat all the pencil-case
makers in Messrs. Mordan’s factory appeared. The greatest order prevailed
around. There was no bustling and driving; the workmen were seated at their
benches, and went about their work as if it were an easy and gentlemanly
occupation of their leisure hours. It almost justified what we have sometimes
heard said of them by London workmen – ‘that the laws of their shop required
every man to wear at least two clean shirts a week, and imposed a fine of half
a crown upon any unhappy individual who should show himself so fond of work as
to be seen with perspiration on his brow.’ Just outside the door of the
workshop we noticed a trough with water in it, looking like a horse-trough
before the door of a roadside inn. Our indefatigable guide enlightened us upon
its object. Every man is bound by the rules of the factory to wash before he
leaves the building. By this means, every particle of the precious metal that
clings to his hands is rescued. It of course sinks to the bottom of the water,
and is afterwards collected. The produce of this trough, we were informed,
averages £50 a year.
Finding so much realized from this apparently trifling source of revenue, we
were not surprised to hear that the sweepings of the shop are carefully
preserved, and the metal therein as carefully gathered.
We are now
conducted to that part of the factory where the manufacture of the ordinary
lead pencils is carried on. Here we saw the cedar cut up into pieces of the
appropriate length, and, by the aid of a lathe and circular saw, reduced to
strips of the appropriate breadth. Those of them which are to receive the lead
are then taken to another lathe, to which is attached a horizontal brass plate,
with a guard running along one side and one end. Through this plate the sharp
teeth of a small circular saw are seen to project about the twelfth of an inch.
The slips are rapidly run along close to the guard at the side, and the groove
is instantly formed; the guard at the end preventing its being cut more that
two-thirds along the pencil. They are now ready to receive the lead.
The best
pencil black-lead, or, more properly, graphite, has for an unknown period been
procured from the celebrated mine at Borrowdale, in Cumberland. It is a
peculiar form of carbon, containing iron and other mineral substances. This,
being the only mine in the world where plumbago could be obtained pure, has
been a very lucrative concern. The value of the material formerly caused the
folks around to plunder the mine to a vast extent. But now it is guarded by a
strong building erected over the entrance which leads to the mine. The miners
change their dress, under surveillance of the steward, before they begin their
work, and again when they leave it. Securely locked up in one of the rooms,
several men are at work sorting and dressing the plumbago, while the steward
sits on guard, armed with two blunderbusses.
The mine is
the property of a company, who, till within the last few years, only allowed it
to be worked during six weeks of the
year. Its produce, in this time, has frequently amounted to £30,000 or £40,000. Once a month the plumbago from this
mine is sold at auction at a house in Essex Street, Strand. The price varies
greatly, but may be taken at an average of 30s. per lb. The cost of plumbago
from other places is scarcely more than that per cwt. Hence the deceptions
which are so often practiced in black-lead pencils, and hence, also, the great
variety in their price.
About fifty
years ago, an enormous mass of plumbago was suddenly met with in the Borrowdale
mine, which produced 70,000 lbs. of the material. Since that time, the mine has
almost failed, and manufacturers have had recourse to purifying the impure
Cumberland lead; also the varieties obtained from Ceylon, Bohemia, Greenland,
and elsewhere. This consists in reducing the material to powder, and then
freeing it from grit. It is afterwards, by a secret process, discovered by Mr.
Brockedon[5],
compressed in a dry state under atmospheric exhaustion, at the enormous
pressure of 5000 tons, which renders it as compact as it was in its natural
state.
We saw a
number of these blocks 2 ¼ inches long, 2 inches broad, and 1 ¼ thick. They
looked so firm, that we could scarcely conceive that they had once been in a
powdered state. By means of a small saw, they are cut into thin slices, and are
then ready for the workman, who puts them into the cedar. This operation is
very neatly performed. A small quantity of glue is laid upon the edge of the
lead, which is then passed into the groove and immediately cut off by a sharp
steel point (very like a shoemaker’s awl) being drawn along it on both sides.
Thus there is no danger of breaking the lead, which there would be, if it were
cut off before being fixed in the groove. Two of these insertions complete the
work; and the workman then hands it to his fellow, who cleans off any
superfluous lead and glue. The upper piece of cedar is then glued on, and, in
four-and-twenty hours, it is ready for rounding.
In this
state, of course, the pencils are square; they are next passed through a small
machine, by which they are completely rounded and polished off in a single
operation. This machine consists of three or four crooked knives, which are
made to revolve by means of a larger wheel. The pencil is placed upon and flat
plate, and gently pushed forwards between guards on either side. It then comes
into contact with these knives, and is shaved away and polished with great
rapidity. When it is nearly through, the workman, to save his fingers, pushes
it on with a piece of metal; at the same time, he takes hold of the pencil, as
it emerges at the back, with a pair of wooden pincers. The knives, we were
told, make 3200 revolutions per minute; and thus, in a second or two, they
produce the smooth and polished pencil, which then only requires to be stamped
with the maker’s name. This last process is performed in the same way that the
bookbinder puts his lines and figures on our library volumes, by running along
them a metal wheel, upon whose edge is cut the name of ‘Mordan & Co.’
The
ever-pointed leads, we observed, were cut out of the same material as that
employed for the cedar pencils. Thin slices of the like kind are used; only, in
this case, they are cut up into little parallelepipeds of lead, by the edge
being inserted in a small groove in a piece of brass, and then cut off is the
same manner as they are by the pencil-maker. The little pieces are then passed
one by one through a small machine, being put in on one side, and taken out at
the other. After they have been pushed through in three different places, they
come out a beautifully rounded form. This process looked so much like wire-drawing,
though we well knew that plumbago would not bear drawing out, that we begged to
be enlightened as to the precise means by which rounding was effected.
Accordingly a brass plate was taken out of the machine, and we were shown three
rubies set in it, with small holes in the centre. Through these the leads
passed, and by them they were cut. This cutting by rubies is found to be the
most effectual method that can be adopted, so as not to break the leads. It was
curious to see the dexterity of the manipulator, who, with hands like those of
a counterfeit Othello, handled these delicate little articles with a rapidity
that seemed to threaten their destruction, yet never caused it. The leads are
now ready to be separated into three pieces, and then placed in little glass
bottles, and packed up for sale. Since the process of compressing plumbago has
been invented, the dust from sawing, etc., is no longer wasted. It can again be
manufactured into blocks, equal in purity to those to which it formerly
belonged."
[1] Captain Cuttle was
a character in Charles Dickens’ book Dombey
and Son, and at one point states "When found, make a note of”.
[2] Sampson Mordan had
died in 1843 and the company was then taken over by his sons Sampson (junior),
and Augustus.
[3] Professor Johann
Beckman was a professor of economics at the University of Gottingen (Germany)
and the English translation of his book was published in 1846.
[4] Sampson Mordan and
John Isaac Hawkins are jointly credited with the first patented propelling
pencil, in 1822.
[5] William Brockedon
(1787-1854) was known as a painter, writer, and inventor. Among his inventions
and patents were the oblique pen (jointly with S. Mordan, 1831), a machine to
compress graphite powder to produce pencil lead (1843), and shortly thereafter
this technology was adapted by the pharmaceutical industry to produce pills.
