When the canal companies found that the Liverpool merchants were determined to proceed with their scheme—that they had completed their survey, and were ready to apply to Parliament for an Act to enable them to form the railway—they at last reluctantly, and with a bad grace, made overtures of conciliation. They promised to employ steam-vessels both on the Mersey and on the Canal. One of the companies offered to reduce its length by three miles, at a considerable outlay. At the same time they made a show of lowering their rates. But it was too late; for the project of the railway had now gone so far that the promoters (who might have been conciliated by such overtures at an earlier period) felt they were fully committed to it, and that now they could not well draw back. Besides, the remedies offered by the canal companies could only have had the effect of staving off the difficulty for a brief season,—the absolute necessity of forming a new line of communication between Liverpool and Manchester becoming more urgent from year to year. Arrangements were therefore made for proceeding with the bill in the parliamentary session of 1825.
On this becoming known, the canal companies prepared to resist the measure tooth and nail. The public wereappealed to on the subject; pamphlets were written and newspapers were hired to revile the railway. It was declared that its formation would prevent cows grazing and hens laying. The poisoned air from the locomotives would kill birds as they flew over them, and render the preservation of pheasants and foxes no longer possible. Householders adjoining the projected line were told that their houses would be burnt up by the fire thrown from the engine-chimneys; while the air around would be polluted by clouds of smoke. There would no longer be any use for horses; and if railways extended, the species would become extinguished, and oats and hay be rendered unsaleable commodities. Travelling by rail would be highly dangerous, and country inns would be ruined. Boilers would burst and blow passengers to atoms. But there was always this consolation to wind up with—that the weight of the locomotive would completely prevent its moving, and that railways, even if made, couldneverbe worked by steam-power.
Indeed, when Mr. Stephenson, at the interviews with counsel, held previous to the Liverpool and Manchester bill going into Committee of the House of Commons, confidently stated his expectation of being able to impel his locomotive at the rate of 20 miles an hour, Mr. William Brougham, who was retained by the promoters to conduct their case, frankly told him that if he did not moderate his views, and bring his engine within areasonablespeed, he would “inevitably damn the whole thing, and be himself regarded as a maniac fit only for Bedlam.”
The idea thrown out by Stephenson, of travelling at a rate of speed double that of the fastest mail-coach, appeared at the time so preposterous that he was unable to find any engineer who would risk his reputation in supporting such “absurd views.” Speaking of his isolation at the time, he subsequently observed, at a public meeting of railway men in Manchester: “He remembered the time when he had very few supporters in bringing out the railway system—when he sought England over for an engineer to support him in his evidence before Parliament, and could find only one man, James Walker, but was afraid to call that gentleman, because he knew nothing about railways. He had then no one to tell his tale to but Mr. Sandars, of Liverpool, who did listen to him, and kept his spirits up; and his schemes had at length been carried out only by dint of sheer perseverance.”
George Stephenson’s idea was at that time regarded as but the dream of a chimerical projector. It stood before the public friendless, struggling hard to gain a footing, scarcely daring to lift itself into notice for fear of ridicule. The civil engineers generally rejected the notion of a Locomotive Railway; and when no leading man of the day could be found to stand forward in support of the Killingworth mechanic, its chances of success must indeed have been pronounced but small.
When such was the hostility of the civil engineers, no wonder the reviewers were puzzled. The ‘Quarterly,’ in an able article in support of the projected Liverpool and Manchester Railway,—while admitting its absolute necessity, and insisting that there was no choice left but a railroad, on which the journey between Liverpool and Manchester, whether performed by horses or engines, would always be accomplished “within the day,”—nevertheless scouted the idea of travelling at a greater speed than eight or nine miles an hour. Adverting to a project for forming a railway to Woolwich, by which passengers were to be drawn by locomotive engines, moving with twice the velocity of ordinary coaches, the reviewer observed:—“What can be more palpably absurd and ridiculous than the prospect held out of locomotives travellingtwice as fastas stagecoaches! We would as soon expect the people of Woolwich to suffer themselves to be fired off upon one of Congreve’s ricochet rockets, as trust themselves to the mercy of such a machine going at such a rate. We will back old Father Thames against the Woolwich Railway for any sum. Wetrust that Parliament will, in all railways it may sanction, limit the speed toeight or nine miles an hour, which we entirely agree with Mr. Sylvester is as great as can be ventured on with safety.”
At length the survey was completed, the plans were deposited, the requisite preliminary arrangements were made, and the promoters of the scheme applied to Parliament for the necessary powers to construct the railway. The Bill went into Committee of the Commons on the 21st of March, 1825. There was an extraordinary array of legal talent on the occasion, but especially on the side of the opponents to the measure; their counsel including Mr. (afterwards Baron) Alderson, Mr. (afterwards Baron) Parke, Mr. Harrison, and Mr. Erle. The counsel for the bill were Mr. Adam, Mr. Serjeant Spankie, Mr. William Brougham, and Mr. Joy.
Evidence was taken at great length as to the difficulties and delays in forwarding raw material of all kinds from Liverpool to Manchester, as also in the conveyance of manufactured goods from Manchester to Liverpool. The evidence adduced in support of the bill on these grounds was overwhelming. The utter inadequacy of the existing modes of conveyance to carry on satisfactorily the large and rapidly-growing trade between the two towns was fully proved. But then came the gist of the promoter’s case—the evidence to prove the practicability of a railroad to be worked by locomotive power. Mr. Adam, in his opening speech, referred to the cases of the Hetton and the Killingworth railroads, where heavy goods were safely and economically transported by means of locomotive engines. “None of the tremendous consequences,” he observed, “have ensued from the use of steam in land carriage that have been stated. The horses have not started, nor the cows ceased to give their milk, nor have ladies miscarried at the sight of these things going forward at the rate of four miles and a half an hour.” Notwithstanding the petition of two ladies alleging the great danger to be apprehendedfrom the bursting of the locomotive boilers, he urged the safety of the high-pressure engine when the boilers were constructed of wrought-iron; and as to the rate at which they could travel, he expressed his full conviction that such engines “could supply force to drive a carriage at the rate of five or six miles an hour.”
The taking of the evidence as to the impediments thrown in the way of trade and commerce by the existing system extended over a month, and it was the 21st of April before the Committee went into the engineering evidence, which was the vital part of the question.
On the 25th George Stephenson was called into the witness-box. It was his first appearance before a Committee of the House of Commons, and he well knew what he had to expect. He was aware that the whole force of the opposition was to be directed against him; and if they could break down his evidence, the canal monopoly might yet be upheld for a time. Many years afterwards, when looking back at his position on this trying occasion, he said:—“When I went to Liverpool to plan a line from thence to Manchester, I pledged myself to the directors to attain a speed of 10 miles an hour. I said I had no doubt the locomotive might be made to go much faster, but that we had better be moderate at the beginning. The directors said I was quite right; for that if, when they went to Parliament, I talked of going at a greater rate than 10 miles an hour, I should put a cross upon the concern. It was not an easy task for me to keep the engine down to 10 miles an hour, but it must be done, and I did my best. I had to place myself in that most unpleasant of all positions—the witness-box of a Parliamentary Committee. I was not long in it, before I began to wish for a hole to creep out at! I could not find words to satisfy either the Committee or myself. I was subjected to the cross-examination of eight or ten barristers, purposely, as far as possible, to bewilder me. Some member of the Committee asked if I was a foreigner, and another hinted that I was mad. But I put up with every rebuff, andwent on with my plans, determined not to be put down.”
Mr. Stephenson stood before the Committee to prove what the public opinion of that day held to be impossible. The self-taught mechanic had to demonstrate the practicability of accomplishing that which the most distinguished engineers of the time regarded as impracticable. Clear though the subject was to himself, and familiar as he was with the powers of the locomotive, it was no easy task for him to bring home his convictions, or even to convey his meaning, to the less informed minds of his hearers. In his strong Northumbrian dialect, he struggled for utterance, in the face of the sneers, interruptions, and ridicule of the opponents of the measure, and even of the Committee, some of whom shook their heads and whispered doubts as to his sanity, when he energetically avowed that he could make the locomotive go at the rate of 12 miles an hour! It was so grossly in the teeth of all the experience of honourable members, that the man “must certainly be labouring under a delusion!”
And yet his large experience of railways and locomotives, as described by himself to the Committee, entitled this “untaught, inarticulate genius,” as he has so well been styled, to speak with confidence on such a subject. Beginning with his experience as a brakesman at Killingworth in 1803, he went on to state that he was appointed to take the entire charge of the steam-engines in 1813, and had superintended the railroads connected with the numerous collieries of the Grand Allies from that time downwards. He had laid down or superintended the railways at Burradon, Mount Moor, Springwell, Bedlington, Hetton, and Darlington, besides improving those at Killingworth, South Moor, and Derwent Crook. He had constructed fifty-five steam-engines, of which sixteen were locomotives. Some of these had been sent to France. The engines constructed by him for the working of the Killingworth Railroad, eleven years before, had continued steadily at work ever since,and fulfilled his most sanguine expectations. He was prepared to prove the safety of working high-pressure locomotives on a railroad, and the superiority of this mode of transporting goods over all others. As to speed, he said he had recommended 8 miles an hour with 20 tons, and 4 miles an hour with 40 tons; but he was quite confident that much more might be done. Indeed, he had no doubt they might go at the rate of 12 miles. As to the charge that locomotives on a railroad would so terrify the horses in the neighbourhood, that to travel on horseback or to plough the adjoining fields would be rendered highly dangerous, the witness said that horses learnt to take no notice of them, though therewerehorses that would shy at a wheelbarrow. A mail-coach was likely to be more shied at by horses than a locomotive. In the neighbourhood of Killingworth, the cattle in the fields went on grazing while the engines passed them, and the farmers made no complaints.
Mr. Alderson, who had carefully studied the subject, and was well skilled in practical science, subjected the witness to a protracted and severe cross-examination as to the speed and power of the locomotive, the stroke of the piston, the slipping of the wheels upon the rails, and various other points of detail. Mr. Stephenson insisted that no slipping took place, as attempted to be extorted from him by the counsel. He said, “It is impossible for slipping to take place so long as the adhesive weight of the wheel upon the rail is greater than the weight to be dragged after it.” As to accidents, Stephenson said he knew of none that had occurred with his engines. There had been one, he was told, at the Middleton Colliery, near Leeds, with a Blenkinsop engine. The driver had been in liquor, and put a considerable load on the safety-valve, so that upon going forward the engine blew up and the man was killed. But he added, if proper precautions had been used with that boiler, the accident could not have happened. The following cross-examination occurred in reference to the question of speed:—
“Of course,” he was asked, “when a body is moving upon a road, the greater the velocity the greater the momentum that is generated?” “Certainly.”—“What would be the momentum of 40 tons moving at the rate of 12 miles an hour?” “It would be very great.”—“Have you seen a railroad that would stand that?” “Yes.”—“Where?” “Any railroad that would bear going 4 miles an hour: I mean to say, that if it would bear the weight at 4 miles an hour, it would bear it at 12.”—“Taking it at 4 miles an hour, do you mean to say that it would not require a stronger railway to carry the same weight 12 miles an hour?” “I will give an answer to that. I dare say every person has been over ice when skating, or seen persons go over, and they know that it would bear them better at a greater velocity than it would if they went slower; when they go quick, the weight in a measure ceases.”—“Is not that upon the hypothesis that the railroad is perfect?” “It is; and I mean to make it perfect.”
It is not necessary to state that to have passed the ordeal of so severe a cross-examination scatheless, needed no small amount of courage, intelligence, and ready shrewdness on the part of the witness. Nicholas Wood, who was present on the occasion, has since stated that the point on which Stephenson was hardest pressed was that of speed. “I believe,” he says, “that it would have lost the Company their bill if he had gone beyond 8 or 9 miles an hour. If he had stated his intention of going 12 or 15 miles an hour, not a single person would have believed it to be practicable.”
The Committee also seem to have entertained considerable alarm as to the high rate of speed which had been spoken of, and proceeded to examine the witness further on the subject. They supposed the case of the engine being upset when going at 9 miles an hour, and asked what, in such a case, would become of the cargo astern. To which the witness replied that it would not be upset. One of the members of the Committee pressed the witness a littlefurther. He put the following case:—“Suppose, now, one of these engines to be going along a railroad at the rate of 9 or 10 miles an hour, and that a cow were to stray upon the line and get in the way of the engine; would not that, think you, be a very awkward circumstance?” “Yes,” replied the witness, with a twinkle in his eye, “very awkward—for the coo!” The honourable member did not proceed further with his cross-examination; to use a railway phrase, he was “shunted.” Another asked if animals would not be very much frightened by the engine passing them, especially by the glare of the red-hot chimney? “But how would they know that it wasn’t painted?” said the witness.
On the following day, the engineer was subjected to a very severe examination. On that part of the scheme with which he was most practically conversant, his evidence was clear and conclusive. Now, he had to give evidence on the plans made by his surveyors, and the estimates which had been founded on such plans. So long as he was confined to locomotive engines and iron railroads, with the minutest details of which he was more familiar than any man living, he felt at home, and in his element. But when the designs of bridges and the cost of constructing them had to be gone into, the subject being in a great measure new to him, his evidence was much less satisfactory.
Mr. Alderson cross-examined him at great length on the plans of the bridges, the tunnels, the crossings of the roads and streets, and the details of the survey, which, it soon clearly appeared, were in some respects seriously at fault. It seems that, after the plans had been deposited, Stephenson found that a much more favourable line might be made; and he made his estimates accordingly, supposing that Parliament would not confine the Company to the precise plan which had been deposited. This was felt to be a serious blot in the parliamentary case, and one very difficult to be got over.
For three entire days was our engineer subjected tothis cross-examination. He held his ground bravely, and defended the plans and estimates with remarkable ability and skill; but it was clear they were imperfect, and the result was on the whole damaging to the measure.
The case of the opponents was next gone into, in the course of which the counsel indulged in strong vituperation against the witnesses for the bill. One of them spoke of the utter impossiblity of making a railway upon so treacherous a material as Chat Moss, which was declared to be an immense mass of pulp, and nothing else. “It actually,” said Mr. Harrison, “rises in height, from the rain swelling it like a sponge, and sinks again in dry weather; and if a boring instrument is put into it, it sinks immediately by its own weight. The making of an embankment out of this pulpy, wet moss, is no very easy task. Who but Mr. Stephenson would have thought of entering into Chat Moss, carrying it out almost like wet dung? It is ignorance almost inconceivable. It is perfect madness, in a person called upon to speak on a scientific subject, to propose such a plan. Every part of this scheme shows that this man has applied himself to a subject of which he has no knowledge, and to which he has no science to apply.” Then adverting to the proposal to work the intended line by means of locomotives, the learned gentleman proceeded: “When we set out with the original prospectus, we were to gallop, I know not at what rate; I believe it was at the rate of 12 miles an hour. My learned friend, Mr. Adam, contemplated—possibly alluding to Ireland—that some of the Irish members would arrive in the waggons to a division. My learned friend says that they would go at the rate of 12 miles an hour with the aid of the devil in the form of a locomotive, sitting as postilion on the fore horse, and an honourable member sitting behind him to stir up the fire, and keep it at full speed. But the speed at which these locomotive engines are to go has slackened: Mr. Adam does not go faster now than 5 miles an hour. The learned serjeant (Spankie) says he should like to have 7, but hewould be content to go 6. I will show he cannot go 6; and probably, for any practical purposes, I may be able to show that I can keep up with himby the canal. . . . Locomotive engines are liable to be operated upon by the weather. You are told they are affected by rain, and an attempt has been made to cover them; but the wind will affect them; and any gale of wind which would affect the traffic on the Mersey would render itimpossibleto set off a locomotive engine, either by poking of the fire, or keeping up the pressure of the steam till the boiler was ready to burst.” How amusing it now is to read these extraordinary views as to the formation of a railway over Chat Moss, and the impossibility of starting a locomotive engine in the face of a gale of wind!
Evidence was called to show that the house property passed by the proposed railway would be greatly deteriorated—in some places almost destroyed; that the locomotive engines would be terrible nuisances, in consequence of the fire and smoke vomited forth by them; and that the value of land in the neighbourhood of Manchester alone would be deteriorated by no less than £20,000! Evidence was also given at great length showing the utter impossibility of forming a road of any kind upon Chat Moss. A Manchester builder, who was examined, could not imagine the feat possible, unless by arching it across in the manner of a viaduct from one side to the other. It was the old story of “nothing like leather.” But the opposition mainly relied upon the evidence of the leading engineers—not like Stephenson, self-taught men, but regular professionals. One of these, Mr. Francis Giles, C.E., had been twenty-two years an engineer, and could speak with some authority. His testimony was mainly directed to the utter impossibility of forming a railway over Chat Moss. “No engineer in his senses,” said he, “would go through Chat Moss if he wanted to make a railroad from Liverpool to Manchester. . . . In my judgmenta railroad certainly cannot be safely made over Chat Moss without going to the bottomof the Moss. The soil ought all to be taken out, undoubtedly; in doing which, it will not be practicable to approach each end of the cutting, as you make it, with the carriages. No carriages would stand upon the Moss short of the bottom. My estimate for the whole cutting and embankment over Chat Moss is £270,000 nearly, at those quantities and those prices which are decidedly correct . . . It will be necessary to take this Moss completely out at the bottom, in order to make a solid road.”
When the engineers had given their evidence, Mr. Alderson summed up in a speech which extended over two days. He declared Mr. Stephenson’s plan to be “the most absurd scheme that ever entered into the head of man to conceive. My learned friends,” said he, “almost endeavoured to stop my examination; they wished me to put in the plan, but I had rather have the exhibition of Mr. Stephenson in that box. I say he never had a plan—I believe he never had one—I do not believe he is capable of making one. His is a mind perpetually fluctuating between opposite difficulties: he neither knows whether he is to make bridges over roads or rivers, of one size or of another; or to make embankments, or cuttings, or inclined planes, or in what way the thing is to be carried into effect. Whenever a difficulty is pressed, as in the case of a tunnel, he gets out of it at one end, and when you try to catch him at that, he gets out at the other.” Mr. Alderson proceeded to declaim against the gross ignorance of this so-called engineer, who proposed to make “impossible ditches by the side of an impossible railway” upon Chat Moss; “I care not,” he said, “whether Mr. Giles is right or wrong in his estimate, for whether it be effected by means of piers raised up all the way for four miles through Chat Moss, whether they are to support it on beams of wood or by erecting masonry, or whether Mr. Giles shall put a solid bank of earth through it,—in all these schemes there is not one found like that of Mr. Stephenson’s, namely, to cut impossible drains on the side of this road; and it is sufficient for meto suggest and to show, that this scheme of Mr. Stephenson’s is impossible or impracticable, and that no other scheme, if they proceed upon this line, can be suggested which will not produce enormous expense. I think that has been irrefragably made out. Every one knows Chat Moss—every one knows that the iron sinks immediately on its being put upon the surface. I have heard of culverts, which have been put upon the Moss, which, after having been surveyed the day before, have the next morning disappeared; and that a house (a poet’s house, who may be supposed in the habit of building castles even in the air), story after story, as fast as one is added, the lower one sinks! There is nothing, it appears, except long sedgy grass, and a little soil to prevent its sinking into the shades of eternal night. I have now done, sir, with Chat Moss, and there I leave this railroad.”
The case of the principal petitioners against the bill occupied many more days, and on its conclusion the committee proceeded to divide on the preamble, which was carried by a majority of onlyone—37 voting for it, and 36 against it. The clauses were next considered, and on a division the first clause, empowering the Company to make the railway, was lost by a majority of 19 to 13. In like manner, the next clause, empowering the Company to take land, was lost; on which the bill was withdrawn.
Thus ended this memorable contest, which had extended over two months—carried on throughout with great pertinacity and skill, especially on the part of the opposition, who left no stone unturned to defeat the measure. The want of a third line of communication between Liverpool and Manchester had been clearly proved; but the engineering evidence in support of the proposed railway having been thrown almost entirely upon Stephenson, who fought this, the most important part of the battle, single-handed, was not brought out so clearly as it would have been, had he secured more efficient engineering assistance—which he was not able to do, as the principal engineers of that daywere against the locomotive railway. The obstacles thrown in the way of the survey by the landowners and canal companies, by which the plans were rendered exceedingly imperfect, also tended in a great measure to defeat the bill.
The rejection of the bill was probably the most severe trial George Stephenson underwent in the whole course of his life. The circumstances connected with the defeat of the measure, the errors in the levels, his rigid cross-examination, followed by the fact of his being superseded by another engineer, all told fearfully upon him, and for some time he was as much weighed down as if a personal calamity of the most serious kind had befallen him.
Stephenson had been so terribly abused by the leading counsel for the opposition in the course of the proceedings before the Committee—stigmatised by them as an ignoramus, a fool, and a maniac—that even his friends seem for a time to have lost faith in him and in the locomotive system, whose efficiency he nevertheless continued to uphold. Things never looked blacker for the success of the railway system than at the close of this great parliamentary struggle. And yet it was on the very eve of its triumph.
The Committee of Directors appointed to watch the measure in Parliament were so determined to press on the project of a railway, even though it should have to be worked merely by horse-power, that the bill had scarcely been thrown out ere they met in London to consider their next step. They called their parliamentary friends together to consult as to future proceedings; and the result was that they went back to Liverpool determined to renew their application to Parliament in the ensuing session.
It was not considered desirable to employ Mr. Stephenson in making the new survey. He had not as yet established his reputation as an engineer beyond the boundaries of his own district; and the promoters of the bill had doubtless felt the disadvantages of this in the course of their parliamentary struggle. They therefore resolved now to employengineers of the highest established reputation, as well as the best surveyors that could be obtained. In accordance with these views they engaged Messrs. George and John Rennie to be the engineers of the railway; and Mr. Charles Vignolles was appointed to prepare the plans and sections. The line which was eventually adopted differed somewhat from that surveyed by Mr. Stephenson. The principal parks and game-preserves of the district were carefully avoided. The promoters thus hoped to get rid of the opposition of the most influential of the resident landowners. The crossing of certain of the streets of Liverpool was also avoided, and the entrance contrived by means of a tunnel and an inclined plane. The new line stopped short of the river Irwell at the Manchester end, by which the objections grounded on an illegal interruption to the canal or river traffic were in some measure removed. The opposition of the Duke of Bridgewater’s trustees was also got rid of, and the Marquis of Stafford became a subscriber for a thousand shares. With reference to the use of the locomotive engine, the promoters, remembering with what effect the objections to it had been urged by the opponents of the bill, intimated, in their second prospectus, that “as a guarantee of their good faith towards the public they will not require any clause empowering them to use it; or they will submit to such restrictions in the employment of it as Parliament may impose.”
The survey of the new line having been completed, the plans were deposited, the standing orders duly complied with, and the bill went before Parliament. The same counsel appeared for the promoters, but the examination of witnesses was not nearly so protracted as on the previous occasion. The preamble was declared proved by a majority of 43 to 18. On the third reading in the House of Commons, an animated, and what now appears a very amusing discussion took place. The Hon. Edward Stanley moved that the bill be read that day six months; and in his speech he undertook to prove that the railway trains would taketen hourson the journey, and that they could only be worked by horses. Sir Isaac Coffin seconded the motion, and in doing so denounced the project as a most flagrant imposition. He would not consent to see widows’ premises invaded; and “What, he would like to know, was to be done with all those who had advanced money in making and repairing turnpike-roads? What was to become of coach-makers and harness-makers, coach-masters and coachmen, inn-keepers, horse-breeders, and horse-dealers? Was the house aware of the smoke and the noise, the hiss and the whirl, which locomotive engines, passing at the rate of 10 or 12 miles an hour, would occasion? Neither the cattle ploughing in the fields or grazing in the meadows could behold them without dismay. Iron would be raised in price 100 per cent., or more probably exhausted altogether! It would be the greatest nuisance, the most complete disturbance of quiet and comfort in all parts of the kingdom, that the ingenuity of man could invent!”
Mr. Huskisson and other speakers, though unable to reply to such arguments as these, strongly supported the bill; and it was carried on the third reading by a majority of 88 to 41. The bill passed the House of Lords almost unanimously, its only opponents being the Earl of Derby and his relative the Earl of Wilton.
Surveying on Chat Moss
The appointment of principal engineer to the railway was taken into consideration at the first meeting of the directors held at Liverpool subsequent to the passing of the Act. The magnitude of the proposed works, and the vast consequences involved in their experiment, were deeply impressed upon their minds; and they resolved to secure the services of a resident engineer of proved experience and ability. Their attention was naturally directed to Mr. Stephenson; at the same time they desired to have the benefit of the Messrs. Rennie’s professional assistance in superintending the works. Mr. George Rennie had an interview with the Board on the subject, at which he proposed to undertake the chief superintendence, making six visits in each year, and stipulating that he should have the appointment of the resident engineer. But the responsibility attaching to the direction in the matter of the efficient carrying on of the works, would not admit of their being influenced by ordinary punctilios on the occasion; and they accordingly declined this proposal, and proceeded to appoint Mr. Stephenson their principal engineer at a salary of £1000 per annum.
He at once removed his residence to Liverpool, and made arrangements to commence the works. He began with the “impossible thing”—to do that which the most distinguished engineers of the day had declared that “no man in his senses would undertake to do”—namely, to make the road over Chat Moss! It was indeed a most formidable undertaking; and the project of carrying a railway along, under, or over such a material as that of which it consisted,would certainly never have occurred to an ordinary mind. Michael Drayton supposed the Moss to have had its origin at the Deluge. Nothing more impassable could have been imagined than that dreary waste; and Mr. Giles only spoke the popular feeling of the day when he declared that no carriage could stand on it “short of the bottom.” In this bog, singular to say, Mr. Roscoe, the accomplished historian of the Medicis, buried his fortune in the hopeless attempt to cultivate a portion of it which he had bought.
Chat Moss is an immense peat bog of about twelve square miles in extent. Unlike the bogs or swamps of Cambridge and Lincolnshire, which consist principally of soft mud or silt, this bog is a vast mass of spongy vegetable pulp, the result of the growth and decay of ages. The spagni, or bog-mosses, cover the entire area; one year’s growth rising over another,—the older growths not entirely decaying, but remaining partially preserved by the antiseptic properties peculiar to peat. Hence the remarkable fact that, although a semifluid mass, the surface of Chat Moss rises above the level of the surrounding country. Like a turtle’s back, it declines from the summit in every direction, having from thirty to forty feet gradual slope to the solid land on all sides. From the remains of trees, chiefly alder and birch, which have been dug out of it, and which must have previously flourished upon the surface of soil now deeply submerged, it is probable that the sand and clay base on which the bog rests is saucer-shaped, and so retains the entire mass in position. In rainy weather, such is its capacity for water that it sensibly swells, and rises in those parts where the moss is the deepest. This occurs through the capillary attraction of the fibres of the submerged moss, which is from 20 to 30 feet in depth, whilst the growing plants effectually check evaporation from the surface. This peculiar character of the Moss has presented an insuperable difficulty in the way of reclaiming it by any system of extensive drainage—such as by sinking shafts, and pumping up the water by steam power, as has been proposed.Supposing a shaft of 30 feet deep to be sunk, it has been calculated that this would only be effectual for draining a circle of about 100 yards, the water running down an incline of about 5 to 1; for it was found in the course of draining the bog, that a ditch 3 feet deep only served to drain a space of less than 5 yards on each side, and two ditches of this depth, 10 yards apart, left a portion of the Moss between them scarcely affected by the drains.
The three resident engineers selected by Mr. Stephenson to superintend the construction of the line, were Joseph Locke, William Allcard, and John Dixon. The last was appointed to that portion which lay across the Moss, neither of the other two envying his lot. On Mr. Dixon’s arrival, about July, 1826, Mr. Locke proceeded to show him over the length he was to take charge of, and to instal him in office. When they reached Chat Moss, Mr. Dixon found that the line had already been staked out and the levels taken in detail by the aid of planks laid upon the bog. The cutting of the drains along each side of the proposed road had also been commenced; but the soft pulpy stuff had up to this time flowed into the drains and filled them up as fast as they were cut. Proceeding across the Moss, on the first day’s inspection, the new resident, when about halfway over, slipped off the plank on which he walked, and sank to his knees in the bog. Struggling only sent him the deeper, and he might have disappeared altogether, but for the workmen, who hastened to his assistance upon planks, and rescued him from his perilous position. Much disheartened, he desired to return, and even thought of giving up the job; but Mr. Locke assured him that the worst part was now past; so the new resident plucked up heart again, and both floundered on until they reached the further edge of the Moss, wet and plastered over with bog-sludge. Mr. Dixon’s companions endeavoured to comfort him by the assurance that he might avoid similar perils, by walking upon “pattens,” or boards fastened to the soles of his feet, as they had done when taking the levels, and asthe workmen did when engaged in making drains in the softest parts of the Moss. The resident engineer was sorely puzzled in the outset by the problem of constructing a road for heavy locomotives, with trains of passengers and goods, upon a bog which he had found incapable of supporting his own weight!
Mr. Stephenson’s idea was, that such a road might be made tofloatupon the bog, simply by means of a sufficient extension of the bearing surface. As a ship, or a raft, capable of sustaining heavy loads floated in water, so in his opinion, might a light road be floated upon a bog, which was of considerably greater consistency than water. Long before the railway was thought of, Mr. Roscoe had adopted the remarkable expedient of fitting his plough-horses with flat wooden soles or pattens, to enable them to walk upon the Moss land which he had brought into cultivation. These pattens were fitted on by means of a screw apparatus, which met in front of the foot and was easily fastened. The mode by which these pattens served to sustain the horse is capable of easy explanation, and it will be observed that therationalelikewise explains the floating of a railway train. The foot of an ordinary farm-horse presents a base of about five inches diameter, but if this base be enlarged to seven inches—the circles being to each other as the squares of the diameters—it will be found that, by this slight enlargement of the base, a circle of nearly double the area has been secured; and consequently the pressure of the foot upon every unit of ground upon which the horse stands has been reduced one half. In fact, this contrivance has an effect tantamount to setting the horse upon eight feet instead of four.
Apply the same reasoning to the ponderous locomotive, and it will be found, that even such a machine may be made to stand upon a bog, by means of a similar extension of the bearing surface. Suppose the engine to be 20 feet long and 5 feet wide, thus covering a surface of 100 square feet, and, provided the bearing has been extended by means ofcross sleepers supported on a matting of heath and branches of trees covered with a few inches of gravel, the pressure of an engine of 20 tons will be only equal to about 3 pounds per inch over the whole surface on which it stands. Such was George Stephenson’s idea in contriving his floating road—something like an elongated raft across the Moss; and we shall see that he steadily kept it in view in carrying the work into execution.
The first thing done was to form a footpath of ling or heather along the proposed road, on which a man might walk without risk of sinking. A single line of temporary railway was then laid down, formed of ordinary cross-bars about 3 feet long and an inch square, with holes punched through them at the ends and nailed down to temporary sleepers. Along this way ran the waggons in which were conveyed the materials requisite to form the permanent road. These waggons carried about a ton each, and they were propelled by boys running behind them along the narrow iron rails. The boys became so expert that they would run the 4 miles across at the rate of 7 or 8 miles an hour without missing a step; if they had done so, they would have sunk in many places up to their middle. A comparatively slight extension of the bearing surface being found sufficient to enable the bog to bear this temporary line, the circumstance was a source of increased confidence and hope to our engineer in proceeding with the formation of the permanent roadway alongside.
The digging of drains had been proceeding for some time along each side of the intended line; but they filled up almost as soon as dug, the sides flowing in, and the bottom rising up. It was only in some of the drier parts of the bog that a depth of three or four feet could be reached. The surface-ground between the drains, containing the intertwined roots of heather and long grass, was left untouched, and upon this was spread branches of trees and hedge-cuttings. In the softest places, rude gates or hurdles, some 8 or 9 feet long by 4 feet wide, interwoven withheather, were laid in double thicknesses, their ends overlapping each other; and upon this floating bed was spread a thin layer of gravel, on which the sleepers, chairs, and rails were laid in the usual manner. Such was the mode in which the road was formed upon the Moss.
It was found, however, after the permanent way had been thus laid, that there was a tendency to sinking at those parts where the bog was softest. In ordinary cases, where a bank subsides, the sleepers are packed up with ballast or gravel; but in this case the ballast was dug away and removed in order to lighten the road, and the sleepers were packed instead with cakes of dry turf or bundles of heath. By these expedients the subsided parts were again floated up to the level, and an approach was made towards a satisfactory road. But the most formidable difficulties were encountered at the centre and towards the edges of the Moss; and it required no small degree of ingenuity and perseverance on the part of the engineer successfully to overcome them.
The Moss, as already observed, was highest in the centre, and it there presented a sort of hunchback with a rising and falling gradient. At that point it was found necessary to cut deeper drains in order to consolidate the ground between them on which the road was to be formed. But, as at other places, the deeper the cutting the more rapid was the flow of fluid bog into the drain, the bottom rising up almost as fast as it was removed. To meet this emergency, numbers of empty tar-barrels were brought from Liverpool; and as soon as a few yards of drain were dug, the barrels were laid down end to end, firmly fixed to each other by strong slabs laid over the joints, and nailed. They were then covered over with clay, and thus formed an underground sewer of wood instead of bricks. This expedient was found to answer the purpose intended, and the road across the centre of the Moss having been so prepared, it was then laid with the permanent materials.
The greatest difficulty was, however, experienced in formingan embankment upon the edge of the bog at the Manchester end. Moss as dry as it could be cut, was brought up in small waggons, by men and boys, and emptied so as to form an embankment; but the bank had scarcely been raised three or four feet in height, when the stuff broke through the heathery surface of the bog and sank out of sight. More moss was brought up and emptied with no better result; and for weeks the filling was continued without any visible embankment having been made. It was the duty of the resident engineer to proceed to Liverpool every fortnight to obtain the wages for the workmen employed under him; and on these occasions he was required to colour up, on a section drawn to a working scale suspended against the wall of the directors’ room, the amount of excavation and embankment from time to time executed. But on many of these occasions, Mr. Dixon had no progress whatever to show for the money expended on the Chat Moss embankment. Sometimes, indeed, the visible work done waslessthan it had appeared a fortnight or a month before!
The directors now became seriously alarmed, and feared that the evil prognostications of the eminent engineers were about to be fulfilled. The resident engineer was even called upon to supply an estimate of the cost of forming an embankment of solid stuff throughout, as also of the cost of piling the roadway, and in effect constructing a four mile viaduct of timber across the Moss, from twenty to thirty feet high from the foundation. The expense appalled the directors, and the question arose, whether the work was to be proceeded with orabandoned!
Mr. Stephenson afterwards described the alarming position of affairs at a public dinner at Birmingham (23rd December, 1837), on the occasion of a piece of plate being presented to his son, upon the completion of the London and Birmingham Railway. He related the anecdote, he said, for the purpose of impressing upon the minds of those who heard him the necessity of perseverance.
“After working for weeks and weeks,” said he, “in fillingin materials to form the road, there did not yet appear to be the least sign of our being able to raise the solid embankment one single inch; in short we went on filling in without the slightest apparent effect. Even my assistants began to feel uneasy, and to doubt of the success of the scheme. The directors, too, spoke of it as a hopeless task: and at length they became seriously alarmed, so much so, indeed, that a board meeting was held on Chat Moss to decide whether I should proceed any further. They had previously taken the opinion of other engineers, who reported unfavourably. There was no help for it, however, but to go on. An immense outlay had been incurred; and great loss would have been occasioned had the scheme been then abandoned, and the line taken by another route. So the directors werecompelledto allow me to go on with my plans, of the ultimate success of which I myself never for one moment doubted.”
During the progress of this part of the works, the Worsley and Trafford men, who lived near the Moss, and plumed themselves upon their practical knowledge of bog-work, declared the completion of the road to be utterly impracticable. “If you knew as much about Chat Moss as we do,” they said, “you would never have entered on so rash an undertaking; and depend upon it, all you have done and are doing will prove abortive. You must give up the idea of a floating railway, and either fill the Moss hard from the bottom, or deviate so as to avoid it altogether.” Such were the conclusions of science and experience.
In the midst of all these alarms and prophecies of failure, Stephenson never lost heart, but held to his purpose. His motto was “Persevere!” “You must go on filling in,” he said; “there is no other help for it. The stuff emptied in is doing its work out of sight, and if you will but have patience, it will soon begin to show.” And so the filling in went on; several hundreds of men and boys were employed to skin the Moss all round for many thousand yards, by means of sharp spades, called by the turf cutters “tommy-spades;”and the dried cakes of turf were afterwards used to form the embankment, until at length as the stuff sank and rested upon the bottom, the bank gradually rose above the surface, and slowly advanced onwards, declining in height and consequently in weight, until it became joined to the floating road already laid upon the Moss. In the course of forming the embankment, the pressure of the bog turf tipped out of the waggons caused a copious stream of bog-water to flow from the end of it, in colour resembling Barclay’s double stout; and when completed, the bank looked like a long ridge of tightly pressed tobacco-leaf. The compression of the turf may be imagined from the fact that 670,000 cubic yards of raw moss formed only 277,000 cubic yards of embankment at the completion of the work.
At the western, or Liverpool end of the Chat Moss, there was a like embankment; but, as the ground there was solid, little difficulty was experienced in forming it, beyond the loss of substance caused by the oozing out of the water held by the moss-earth.
At another part of the Liverpool and Manchester line, Parr Moss was crossed by an embankment about 1½ mile in extent. In the immediate neighbourhood was found a large excess of cutting, which it would have been necessary to “put out in spoil-banks” (according to the technical phrase); but the surplus clay, stone, and shale, were tipped, waggon after waggon, into Parr Moss, until a solid but concealed embankment, from fifteen to twenty-five feet high, was formed, although to the eye it appears to be laid upon the level of the adjoining surface, as at Chat Moss.
The road across Chat Moss was finished by the 1st January, 1830, when the first experimental train of passengers passed over it, drawn by the “Rocket;” and it turned out that, instead of being the most expensive part of the line, it was about the cheapest. The total cost of forming the line over the Moss was £28,000, whereas Mr. Giles’s estimate was £270,000! It also proved to be one of the best portionsof the railway. Being a floating road, it was smooth and easy to run upon, just as Dr. Arnott’s water-bed is soft and easy to lie upon—the pressure being equal at all points. There was, and still is, a sort of springiness in the road over the Moss, such as is felt in passing along a suspended bridge; and those who looked along the line as a train passed over it, said they could observe a waviness, such as precedes and follows a skater upon ice.
During the progress of these works the most ridiculous rumours were set afloat. The drivers of the stage-coaches who feared for their calling, brought the alarming intelligence into Manchester from time to time, that “Chat Moss was blown up!” “Hundreds of men and horses had sunk; and the works were completely abandoned!” The engineer himself was declared to have been swallowed up in the Serbonian bog; and “railways were at an end for ever!”
In the construction of the railway, Mr. Stephenson’s capacity for organising and directing the labours of a large number of workmen of all kinds eminently displayed itself. A vast quantity of ballast-waggons had to be constructed, and implements and materials collected, before the army of necessary labourers could be efficiently employed at the various points of the line. There were not at that time, as there are now, large contractors possessed of railway plant, capable of executing earth-works on a large scale. The first railway engineer had not only to contrive the plant, but to organise and direct the labour. The labourers themselves had to be trained to their work; and it was on the Liverpool and Manchester line that Mr. Stephenson organised the staff of that mighty band of railway navvies, whose handiworks will be the wonder and admiration of succeeding generations. Looking at their gigantic traces, the men of some future age may be found to declare of the engineer and of his workmen, that “there were giants in those days.”
Although the works of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway are of a much less formidable character than thoseof many lines that have since been constructed, they were then regarded as of the most stupendous description. In deed, the like of them had not before been executed in England. It had been our engineer’s original intention carry the railway from the north end of Liverpool, round the red-sandstone ridge on which the upper part of the town is built, and also round the higher rise of the coal formation at Rainhill, by following the natural levels. But the opposition of the landowners having forced the line more to the south, it was rendered necessary to cut through the hills, and go over the high grounds instead of round them. The first consequence of this alteration in the plans was the necessity for constructing a tunnel under the town of Liverpool 1½ mile in length; the second, a long and deep cutting through the red-sandstone rock at Olive Mount; and the third and most serious of all, was the necessity for surmounting the Whiston and Sutton hills by inclined planes of 1 in 96. The line was also, by the same forced deviation, prevented passing through the Lancashire coal-field, and the engineer was compelled to carry it across the Sankey valley, at a point where the waters of the brook had dug out an excessively deep channel through the marl-beds of the district.
The principal difficulty was experienced in pushing on the works connected with the formation of the tunnel under Liverpool, 2200 yards in length. The blasting and hewing of the rock were vigorously carried on night and day; and the engineer’s practical experience in the collieries here proved of great use to him. Many obstacles had to be encountered and overcome in the formation of the tunnel, the rock varying in hardness and texture at different parts. In some places the miners were deluged by water, which surged from the soft blue shale found at the lowest level of the tunnel. In other places, beds of wet sand were cut through; and there careful propping and pinning were necessary to prevent the roof from tumbling in, until the masonry to support it could be erected. On one occasion,while the engineer was absent from Liverpool, a mass of loose moss-earth and sand fell from the roof, which had been insufficiently propped. The miners withdrew from the work; and on Stephenson’s return, he found them in a refractory state, refusing to re-enter the tunnel. He induced them, however, by his example, to return to their labours; and when the roof had been secured, the work went on again as before. When there was danger, he wasalways ready to share it with the men; and gathering confidence from his fearlessness, they proceeded vigorously with the undertaking, boring and mining their way towards the light.
Olive Mount Cutting
The Olive Mount cutting was the first extensive stone cutting executed on any railway, and to this day it is one of the most formidable. It is about two miles long, and in some parts 80 feet deep. It is a narrow ravine or defile cut out of the solid rock; and not less than 480,000 cubic yards of stone were removed from it. Mr. Vignolles, afterwards describing it, said it looked as if it had been dug out by giants.
The crossing of so many roads and streams involved the necessity for constructing an unusual number of bridges. There were not fewer than 63, under or over the railway, on the 30 miles between Liverpool and Manchester. Up to this time, bridges had been applied generally to high roads where inclined approaches were of comparatively small importance, and in determining the rise of his arch the engineer selected any headway he thought proper. Every consideration was indeed made subsidiary to constructing the bridge itself, and the completion of one large structure of this sort was regarded as an epoch in engineering history. Yet here, in the course of a few years, no fewer than 63 bridges were constructed on one line of railway! Mr. Stephenson early found that the ordinary arch was inapplicable in certain cases, where the headway was limited, and yet the level of the railway must be preserved. In such cases he employed simple cast-iron beams, by which he safely bridged gaps of moderate width, economizing headway, and introducing the use of a new material of the greatest possible value to the railway engineer. The bridges of masonry upon the line were of many kinds; several of them askew bridges, and others, such as those at Newton and over the Irwell at Manchester, straight and of considerable dimensions; but the principal piece of masonry was the Sankey viaduct.
Sankey Viaduct
This fine work is principally of brick, with stone facings. It consists of nine arches of fifty feet span each. The massive piers are supported on two hundred piles driven deep into the soil; and they rise to a great height,—the coping of the parapet being seventy feet above the level of the valley, in which flow the Sankey brook and canal. Its total cost was about £45,000.
By the end of 1828 the directors found they had expended £460,000 on the works, and that they were still far from completion. They looked at the loss of interest on thislarge investment, and began to grumble at the delay. They desired to see their capital becoming productive; and in the spring of 1829 they urged the engineer to push on the works with increased vigour. Mr. Cropper, one of the directors, who took an active interest in their progress, said to Stephenson one day, “Now, George, thou must get on with the railway, and have it finished without further delay; thou must really have it ready for opening by the first day of January next.” “Consider the heavy character of the works, sir, and how much we have been delayed by the want of money, not to speak of the wetness of the weather: it is impossible.” “Impossible!” rejoined Cropper; “I wish I could get Napoleon to thee—he would tell thee there is no such word as ‘impossible’ in the vocabulary.” “Tush!” exclaimed Stephenson, with warmth; “don’t speak to me about Napoleon! Give me men, money, and materials, and I will do what Napoleon couldn’t do—drive a railway from Liverpool to Manchester over Chat Moss!”
The works made rapid progress in the course of the year 1829. Double sets of labourers were employed on Chat Moss and at other points, by night and day, the night shifts working by torch and fire light; and at length, the work advancing at all points, the directors saw their way to the satisfactory completion of the undertaking.
It may well be supposed that Mr. Stephenson’s time was fully occupied in superintending the extensive, and for the most part novel works, connected with the railway, and that even his extraordinary powers of labour and endurance were taxed to the utmost during the four years that they were in progress. Almost every detail in the plans was directed and arranged by himself. Every bridge, from the simplest to the most complicated, including the then novel structure of the “skew bridge,” iron girders, siphons, fixed engines, and the machinery for working the tunnel at the Liverpool end, had to be thought out by his own head, and reduced to definite plans under his own eyes. Besides allthis, he had to design the working plant in anticipation of the opening of the railway. He must be prepared with waggons, trucks, and carriages, himself superintending their manufacture. The permanent road, turntables, switches, and crossings,—in short, the entire structure and machinery of the line, from the turning of the first sod to the running of the first train of carriages upon the railway,—were executed under his immediate supervision. And it was in the midst of this vast accumulation of work and responsibility that the battle of the locomotive engine had to be fought,—a battle, not merely against material difficulties, but against the still more trying obstructions of deeply-rooted mistrust and prejudice on the part of a considerable minority of the directors.
He had no staff of experienced assistants,—not even a staff of draughtsmen in his office,—but only a few pupils learning their business; and he was frequently without even their help. The time of his engineering inspectors was fully occupied in the actual superintendence of the works at different parts of the line; and he took care to direct all their more important operations in person. The principal draughtsman was Mr. Thomas Gooch, a pupil he had brought with him from Newcastle. “I may say,” writes Mr. Gooch, “that nearly the whole of the working and other drawings, as well as the various land-plans for the railway, were drawn by my own hand. They were done at the Company’s office in Clayton Square during the day, from instructions supplied in the evenings by Mr. Stephenson, either by word of mouth, or by little rough hand-sketches on letter-paper. The evenings were also generally devoted to my duties as secretary, in writing (mostly from his own dictation) his letters and reports, or in making calculations and estimates. The mornings before breakfast were not unfrequently spent by me in visiting and lending a helping hand in the tunnel and other works near Liverpool,—the untiring zeal and perseverance of George Stephenson never for an instant flaggingand inspiring with a like enthusiasm all who were engaged under him in carrying forward the works.”[189]
The usual routine of his life at this time—if routine it might be called—was, to rise early, by sunrise in summer and before it in winter, and thus “break the back of the day’s work” by mid-day. While the tunnel under Liverpool was in progress, one of his first duties in a morning before breakfast was to go over the various shafts, clothed in a suitable dress, and inspect their progress at different points; on other days he would visit the extensive workshops at Edgehill, where most of the “plant” for the line was in course of manufacture. Then, returning to his house, in Upper Parliament Street, Windsor, after a hurried breakfast, he would ride along the works to inspect their progress, and push them on with greater energy where needful. On other days he would prepare for the much less congenial engagement of meeting the Board, which was often a cause of great anxiety and pain to him; for it was difficult to satisfy men of all tempers, and some of these not of the most generous sort. On such occasions he might be seen with his right-hand thumb thrust through the topmost button-hole of his coat-breast, vehemently hitching his right shoulder, as was his habit when labouring under any considerable excitement. Occasionally he would take an early ride before breakfast, to inspect the progress of the Sankey viaduct. He had a favourite horse, brought by him from Newcastle, called “Bobby,”—so tractable that, with hisrider on his back, he would walk up to a locomotive with the steam blowing off, and put his nose against it without shying. “Bobby,” saddled and bridled, was brought to Mr. Stephenson’s door betimes in the morning; and mounting him, he would ride the fifteen miles to Sankey, putting up at a little public house which then stood upon the banks of the canal. There he had his breakfast of “crowdie,” which he made with his own hands. It consisted of oatmeal stirred into a basin of hot water,—a sort of porridge,—which was supped with cold sweet milk. After this frugal breakfast, he would go upon the works, and remain there, riding from point to point for the greater part of the day. When he returned before mid-day, he examined the pay-sheets in the different departments, sent in by the assistant engineers, or by the foremen of the workshops. To all these he gave his most careful personal attention, requiring when necessary a full explanation of the items.
After a late dinner, which occupied very short time and was always of a plain and frugal description, he disposed of his correspondence, or prepared sketches of drawings, and gave instructions as to their completion. He would occasionally refresh himself for this evening work by a short doze, which, however, he would never admit had exceeded the limits of “winking,” to use his own term. Mr. Frederick Swanwick, who officiated as his secretary, after the appointment of Mr. Gooch as Resident Engineer to the Bolton and Leigh Railway, has informed us that he then remarked—what in after years he could better appreciate—the clear, terse, and vigorous style of Mr. Stephenson’s dictation. There was nothing superfluous in it; but it was close, direct, and to the point,—in short, thoroughly businesslike. And if, in passing through the pen of the amanuensis, his meaning happened in any way to be distorted or modified, it did not fail to escape his detection, though he was always tolerant of any liberties taken with his own form of expression, so long as the words written down conveyed his real meaning.
His letters and reports written, and his sketches of drawings made and explained, the remainder of the evening was usually devoted to conversation with his wife and those of his pupils who lived under his roof, and constituted, as it were, part of the family. He then delighted to test the knowledge of his young companions, and to question them upon the principles of mechanics. If they were not quite “up to the mark” on any point, there was no escaping detection by evasive or specious explanations. These always brought out the verdict, “Ah! you know nought about it now; but think it over again, and tell me when you understand it.” If there were even partial success in the reply, it was at once acknowledged, and a full explanation given, to which the master would add illustrative examples for the purpose of impressing the principle more deeply upon the pupil’s mind.
It was not so much his object and purpose to “cram” the minds of the young men committed to his charge with theresultsof knowledge, as to stimulate them to educate themselves—to induce them to develop their mental and moral powers by the exercise of their own free energies, and thus acquire that habit of self-thinking and self-reliance which is the spring of all true manly action. In a word, he sought to bring out and invigorate thecharacterof his pupils. He felt that he himself had been made stronger and better through his encounters with difficulty; and he would not have the road of knowledge made too smooth and easy for them. “Learn for yourselves,—think for yourselves,” he would say:—“make yourselves masters of principles,—persevere,—be industrious,—and there is then no fear of you.” And not the least emphatic proof of the soundness of this system of education, as conducted by Mr. Stephenson, was afforded by the after history of these pupils themselves. There was not one of those trained under his eye who did not rise to eminent usefulness and distinction as an engineer. He sent them forth into the world braced with the spirit of manly self-help—inspired by his own noble example; andthey repeated in their after career the lessons of earnest effort and persistent industry which his daily life had taught them.
Stephenson’s evenings at home were not, however, exclusively devoted either to business or to the graver exercises above referred to. He would often indulge in cheerful conversation and anecdote, falling back from time to time upon the struggles and difficulties of his early life. The not unfrequent winding up of his story addressed to the young men about him, was, “Ah! ye young fellows don’t know whatwarkis in these days!” Mr. Swanwick takes pleasure in recalling to mind how seldom, if ever, a cross or captious word, or an angry look, marred the enjoyment of those evenings. The presence of Mrs. Stephenson gave them an additional charm: amiable, kind-hearted, and intelligent, she shared quietly in the pleasure of the party; and the atmosphere of comfort which always pervaded her home contributed in no small degree to render it a centre of cheerful, hopeful intercourse, and of earnest, honest industry. She was a wife who well deserved, what she through life retained, the strong and unremitting affection of her husband.
When Mr. Stephenson retired for the night, it was not always that he permitted himself to sink into slumber. Like Brindley, he worked out many a difficult problem in bed; and for hours he would turn over in his mind and study how to overcome some obstacle, or to mature some project, on which his thoughts were bent. Some remark inadvertently dropped by him at the breakfast-table in the morning, served to show that he had been stealing some hours from the past night in reflection and study. Yet he would rise at his accustomed early hour, and there was no abatement of his usual energy in carrying on the business of the day.