Recycling, Victorian Style: Sweetheart Brooches by Barbara Henderson

Remember that time when we…? We often share precious memories, don’t we? We love to look back on times, people and places which are special to us, or which meant something at the time. Why else would there be such a thriving souvenir trade in tourist hotspots, for example? And photographs fulfil the same purpose – they help us hold on to things and events in the past which we may otherwise forget. The Victorian construction workers who built the first significant steel bridge across the waters of the Firt of Forth were no different – only, they rarely had photography at their disposal. If they wanted a memento of their time spent working on the bridge, they had to be ingenious and thrifty – and they came up with a fantastic solution.

The Forth Bridge is constructed from shaped and cut steel, riveted together by at least 6.5 million rivets. But this sort of construction effort did not come about without waste – there would have been many steel offcuts lying around in the famous workshops on the hillside. The workers found a good use for some of this waste material: jewellery for their loved ones.

Yes, I know it sounds a little strange: taking bits of a bridge and turning the waste material into something to be admired and stared at? The resulting brooches and pendants were often simple in shape, cut using the tools of the steel trade, and polished until they resembled the more precious silver. In addition to cutting, there were skilled engravers on site who knew how to add words and decoration to such jewellery. Imagine your delight if you were a girl, courted by such a bridge worker (“brigger” was the word used for the workforce)! You may find your own name engraved on the brooch, or perhaps the name of your admirer who gave you the piece. Many of the men took great pride in being involved in such important work, and they wanted to shout about it!

Occasionally, the offcuts were worked on by a skilled jeweller instead of the workmen themselves, resulting in a more ornamental, detailed design.

I love that there are still items of jewellery made from bridge offcuts in drawers and attics around the country. If only we knew their stories!

Writing challenge: Think of a person who is special to you: a parent, a friend, a relative… Now think of a place that means something to both of you. Design a brooch or pendant, containing words – what would it say? Now write a card which would accompany such a beautiful and meaningful gift. Barbara Henderson is a Time Tunneller. Her latest historical adventure is Rivet Boy, set during the construction of the Forth Bridge.

#NationalTechnologyDay: Sir William Arrol

For National Technology day, I thought I would give you all an insight into the life of Forth Bridge Engineer William Arrol, one of the most innovative and respected bridge builders of the Victorian era. His name deserves to be much better known than it is, considering his huge contribution to engineering and technology. I was lucky enough to visit an exhibition about him and his legacy earlier this spring, to do a couple of author events to accompany the exhibition, but the best bit, surely, was to see the exhibits for myself. This is William Arrol:

It's a fair hike from my home in the Highlands to the exhibition at Ayr's Rozelle House - to my great shame, I had only passed through the town so far, so I jumped at the chance to visit, courtesy of the Scottish Book Trust's Live Literature funding. I was picked up by Kirsty Menzies, the researcher behind the Arrol exhibition and part of Friends of Seafield House, William Arrol's residence currently undergoing ambitious refurbishment. With a personal family connection to the Arrols, she is a fountain of knowledge and was the ideal companion for my visit.

My workshops were fun, and I loved reading some of the Arrol sections from Rivet Boy in the place where he had lived. However, most memorable of all was the time spent browsing the handful of rooms devoted to the great Victorian engineer. Not only did he build iconic landmarks like the Forth Bridge, the replacement Tay Bridge (following the Tay Bridge disaster), Tower Bridge in London and even a bridge across the River Nile in Cairo. No, he also invented tools and practices to make metal work more efficient, such as the hydraulic riveting machine. In addition, his company built gantries, cranes and workshops, including the one on which the Titanic and her sister ship the Olympia were built in Belfast.

Workmen using the Arrol riveting machine on a construction site

It is clear that Arrol was a workaholic. However, isn't it surprising that a man of his achievements didn't go to university? Imagine: he didn't even attend secondary school!

I was particularly struck by his demeanour in this photograph where he is on the right, pictured alongside Forth Bridge designer Sir John Fowler and Fowler's wife. Look at the contrast! The Fowlers are wealthy and self-assured, well-dressed and comfortable. Perhaps they are used to having their photograph taken. Arrol, on the other hand, retains the slightly awkward air of an imposter. Born in Houston near Paisley, Arrol left school before the age of 10 to become a piecer in a cotton mill - he was a working man, and remained a working man all his life, despite his considerable wealth and success. Look at the size of those hands! Arrol's personal life, like our own lives, was far from straightforward. In the exhibition, the ups and downs of complicated family dynamics are hinted at, but here was clearly a man who appreciated the beauty of a job well done or a thing well made.

We visitors could inspect the cranes and tools he invented, but I was most impressed by the traces of the man himself - for example, I was moved to see his actual signature, and to spot his initials in the metalwork around his personal home. Most contemporary accounts seem to agree that as well as a technological pioneer, he was a genuine, considerate and immensely talented man who commanded respect from all sections of the Victorian society he inhabited. I am honoured to have met him here. Well, sort of anyway! If you want, do check out the video I made for the Time Tunnellers' YouTube channel:

Writing Challenge: When Sir William Arrol spotted a problem, he often used technology to solve it. Your turn! Think of a problem. Then invent a fictional machine which could solve that problem and write a ten-step instruction leaflet to use your invention. You can have fun illustrating it too!

Barbara with her book Rivet Boy, in front of the Arrol-built Forth Bridge. William Arrol is a character in the novel which is set during the Bridge's construction in 1888-1890 Buy the book here. Find out more about Barbara on her website.

The Victorian Can-Do Spirit

 

What a can-do bunch the Victorians were!

Queen Victoria

I decided to return to the Victorian age in my latest book Rivet Boy for a whole lot of reasons. It was the age of reason, of invention, of engineering, of science and arguably, the age of the novel, too. Imagine a world without Dickens or Darwin, Stevenson, Lewis Carroll, John Ruskin, Isambard Kingdom Brunel, Gustave Eiffel, The Bronte sisters, Florence Nightingale, Ada Lovelace, Alexander Graham Bell…. And that’s just off the top off my head.

I have been privileged to indulge my love of all things Victorian in my latest book, Rivet Boy. As the daughter of an engineer, I have been around machinery all my life. While my father never worked in construction, I am well used to asking myself the questions: how does that work? How did they do that? We visited the iconic Forth Bridge when I was a child in the early eighties.

Barbara with her sister, brother-in-law and mother, visiting the Forth Bridge as a child. 

While browsing through a photography book of Victorian Scotland, I came across a chapter on the building of the iconic Forth Bridge. I was staggered by the images. How did that work? How did they do that? I was interested in the architects and engineers who built the structure, yes – but I was even more interested in the blurred faces of the people who worked on the site, day in and day out. I looked for a book on the subject (my usual go-to next step if something captures my interest) and bingo! The Briggers, written by Elspeth Wills with a team of South Queensferry-based researchers features details and often even images of the long-forgotten workers who helped to achieve one of the greatest engineering feats in history. These jobs were dangerous!

 For many years the figure of deaths quoted was 57 nameless casualties. However, more recent research has revealed the figure to be considerably greater: 73 confirmed – with more than 30 other related deaths. Not exactly a cheering basis for a children’s book. And then I struck gold: A newspaper article:

Here was a 12-year-old boy who survived.

He was to form the basis for my main character. With the help of local researchers I was able to find out where he lived – around the corner of the brand-new Carnegie Library in Dunfermline – the very first in the world. How could I not include it as a setting to contrast with the noise and danger of the building site. In my book, John is a rivet boy, heating and throwing rivets which his team will insert and hammer into place on the giant steel structure. It was skilled and dangerous work, often at great height and without much safety equipment.

A Forth Bridge rivet, with my hand for scale. It's HEAVY!

John may have been one of thousands of ‘Briggers’, but in my book he takes centre stage, alongside his friend Cora, who longs to become an engineer herself. John is at best ambivalent, and often terrified of the structure, but when the Crown Prince’s life is in danger he does not hesitate: knowing the structure like the back of his hand enables him to overcome his fear at the very moment when courage is needed most.

The Victorians loved engineering, and they were exceedingly good at it. William Arrol, in charge of the Forth Bridge construction, went on to build Tower Bridge in London – as far as they were concerned, the sky was the limit. In my opinion, there are not nearly enough books celebrating science and engineering.

We’d do well to channel our inner Victorians, don’t you think?

You can buy Rivet Boy at https://www.cranachanpublishing.co.uk/product/rivet-boy-by-barbara-henderson/