Mr. C. F. Adams, jun., remarks:—“It was this element of spontaneity,
therefore,—the instant and dramatic recognition of success, which gave a
peculiar interest to everything connected with the Manchester and
Liverpool railroad. The whole world was looking at it, with a full
realizing sense that something great and momentous was impending. Every
day people watched the gradual development of the thing, and actually
took part in it. In doing so they had sensations and those sensations
they have described. There is consequently an element of human nature
surrounding it. To their descriptions time has only lent a new
freshness. They are full of honest wonder. They are much better and
more valuable and more interesting now than they were fifty years ago,
and for that reason are well worth exhuming.
“To introduce the contemporaneous story of the day, however, it is not
necessary even to briefly review the long series of events which had
slowly led up to it. The world is tolerably familiar with the early life
of George Stephenson, and with the vexatious obstacles he had to overcome
before he could even secure a trial for his invention. The man himself,
however, is an object of a good deal more curiosity to us, than he was to
those among whom he lived and moved. A living glimpse at him now is
worth dwelling upon, and is the best possible preface to any account of
his great day of life triumph. Just such a glimpse of the man has been
given to us at the moment when at last all difficulties had been
overcome—when the Manchester and Liverpool railroad was completed; and,
literally, not only the eyes of Great Britain but those of all civilized
countries were directed to it and to him who had originated it. At just
that time it chanced that the celebrated actor, John Kemble, was
fulfilling an engagement at Liverpool with his daughter, since known as
Mrs. Frances Kemble Butler. The extraordinary social advantages the
Kemble family enjoyed gave both father and daughter opportunities such as
seldom come in the way of ordinary mortals. For the time being they
were, in fact, the lions of the stage, just as George Stephenson was the
lion of the new railroad. As was most natural the three lions were
brought together. The young actress has since published her impressions,
jotted down at the time, of the old engineer. Her account of a ride side
by side with George Stephenson, on the seat of his locomotive, over the
as yet unopened road, is one of the most interesting and life-like
records we have of the man and the enterprise. Perhaps it is the most
interesting. The introduction is Mrs. Kemble’s own, and written
forty-six years after the experience:—
“While we were acting at Liverpool, an experimental trip was proposed
upon the line of railway which was being constructed between Liverpool
and Manchester, the first mesh of that amazing iron net which now covers
the whole surface of England, and all civilized portions of the earth.
The Liverpool merchants, whose far-sighted self-interest prompted to wise
liberality, had accepted the risk of George Stephenson’s magnificent
experiment, which the committee of inquiry of the House of Commons had
rejected for the Government. These men, of less intellectual culture
than the Parliament members, had the adventurous imagination proper to
great speculators, which is the poetry of the counting house and wharf,
and were better able to receive the enthusiastic infection of the great
projector’s sanguine hope than the Westminster committee. They were
exultant and triumphant at the near completion of the work, though, of
course, not without some misgivings as to the eventual success of the
stupendous enterprise. My father knew several of the gentlemen most
deeply interested in the undertaking, and Stephenson having proposed a
trial trip as far as the fifteen-mile viaduct, they, with infinite
kindness, invited him and permitted me to accompany them: allowing me,
moreover, the place which I felt to be one of supreme honour, by the side
of Stephenson. All that wonderful history, as much more interesting than
a romance as truth is stranger than fiction, which Mr. Smiles’s biography
of the projector has given in so attractive a form to the world, I then
heard from his own lips. He was rather a stern-featured man, with a dark
and deeply marked countenance: his speech was strongly inflected with his
native Northumbrian accent, but the fascination of that story told by
himself, while his tame dragon flew panting along his iron pathway with
us, passed the first reading of the Arabian Nights, the incidents of
which it almost seemed to recall. He was wonderfully condescending and
kind, in answering all the questions of my eager ignorance, and I
listened to him with eyes brimful of warm tears of sympathy and
enthusiasm, as he told me of all his alternations of hope and fear, of
his many trials and disappointments, related with fine scorn, how the
“Parliament men” had badgered and baffled him with their book-knowledge,
and how, when at last they had smothered the irrepressible prophecy of
his genius in the quaking depths of Chat Moss, he had exclaimed, ‘Did ye
ever see a boat float on water? I will make my road float upon Chat
Moss!’ The well-read Parliament men (some of whom, perhaps, wished for
no railways near their parks and pleasure-grounds) could not believe the
miracle, but the shrewd Liverpool merchants, helped to their faith by a
great vision of immense gain, did; and so the railroad was made, and I
took this memorable ride by the side of its maker, and would not have
exchanged the honour and pleasure of it for one of the shares in the
speculation.”
“LIVERPOOL, August 26th, 1830.
“MY DEAR H—: A common sheet of paper is enough for love, but a foolscap
extra can only contain a railroad and my ecstasies. There was once a man
born at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, who was a common coal-digger; this man had
an immense constructiveness, which displayed itself in pulling his watch
to pieces and putting it together again; in making a pair of shoes when
he happened to be some days without occupation; finally—here there is a
great gap in my story—it brought him in the capacity of an engineer
before a Committee of the House of Commons, with his head full of plans
for constructing a railroad from Liverpool to Manchester. It so happened
that to the quickest and most powerful perceptions and conceptions, to
the most indefatigable industry and perseverance, and the most accurate
knowledge of the phenomena of nature as they affect his peculiar labours,
this man joined an utter want of the ‘gift of gab;’ he could no more
explain to others what he meant to do and how he meant to do it, than he
could fly, and therefore the members of the House of Commons, after
saying ‘There is a rock to be excavated to a depth of more than sixty
feet, there are embankments to be made nearly to the same height, there
is a swamp of five miles in length to be traversed, in which if you drop
an iron rod it sinks and disappears; how will you do all this?’ and
receiving no answer but a broad Northumbrian, ‘I can’t tell you how I’ll
do it, but I can tell you I _will_ do it,’ dismissed Stephenson as a
visionary. Having prevailed upon a company of Liverpool gentlemen to be
less incredulous, and having raised funds for his great undertaking, in
December of 1826 the first spade was struck in the ground. And now I
will give you an account of my yesterday’s excursion. A party of sixteen
persons was ushered into a large court-yard, where, under cover, stood
several carriages of a peculiar construction, one of which was prepared
for our reception. It was a long-bodied vehicle with seats placed across
it back to back; the one we were in had six of these benches, and was a
sort of uncovered _char à banc_. The wheels were placed upon two iron
bands, which formed the road, and to which they are fitted, being so
constructed as to slide along without any danger of hitching or becoming
displaced, on the same principle as a thing sliding on a concave groove.
The carriage was set in motion by a mere push, and, having received this
impetus, rolled with us down an inclined plane into a tunnel, which forms
the entrance to the railroad. This tunnel is four hundred yards long (I
believe), and will be lighted by gas. At the end of it we emerged from
darkness, and, the ground becoming level, we stopped. There is another
tunnel parallel with this, only much wider and longer, for it extends
from the place we had now reached, and where the steam carriages start,
and which is quite out of Liverpool, the whole way under the town, to the
docks. This tunnel is for wagons and other heavy carriages; and as the
engines which are to draw the trains along the railroad do not enter
these tunnels, there is a large building at this entrance which is to be
inhabited by steam engines of a stationary turn of mind, and different
constitution from the travelling ones, which are to propel the trains
through the tunnels to the terminus in the town, without going out of
their houses themselves. The length of the tunnel parallel to the one we
passed through is (I believe) two thousand two hundred yards. I wonder
if you are understanding one word I am saying all this while? We were
introduced to the little engine which was to drag us along the rails.
She (for they make these curious little fire horses all mares) consisted
of a boiler, a stove, a platform, a bench, and behind the bench a barrel
containing enough water to prevent her being thirsty for fifteen
miles,—the whole machine not bigger than a common fire engine. She goes
upon two wheels, which are her feet, and are moved by bright steel legs
called pistons; these are propelled by steam, and in proportion as more
steam is applied to the upper extremities (the hip-joints, I suppose) of
these pistons, the faster they move the wheels; and when it is desirable
to diminish the speed, the steam, which unless suffered to escape would
burst the boiler, evaporates through a safety valve into the air. The
reins, bit, and bridle of this wonderful beast, is a small steel handle,
which applies or withdraws the steam from its legs or pistons, so that a
child might manage it.
“The coals, which are its oats, were under the bench, and there was a
small glass tube affixed to the boiler, with water in it, which indicates
by its fullness or emptiness when the creature wants water, which is
immediately conveyed to it from its reservoirs. There is a chimney to
the stove, but as they burn coke there is none of the dreadful black
smoke which accompanies the progress of a steam vessel. This snorting
little animal, which I felt rather inclined to pat, was then harnessed to
our carriage, and Mr. Stephenson having taken me on the bench of the
engine with him, we started at about ten miles an hour. The steam horse
being ill adapted for going up and down hill, the road was kept at a
certain level, and appeared sometimes to sink below the surface of the
earth and sometimes to rise above it. Almost at starting it was cut
through the solid rock, which formed a wall on either side of it, about
sixty feet high. You can’t imagine how strange it seemed to be
journeying on thus, without any visible cause of progress other than the
magical machine, with its flying white breath and rhythmical, unvarying
pace, between these rocky walls, which are already clothed with moss and
ferns and grasses; and when I reflected that these great masses of stone
had been cut asunder to allow our passage thus far below the surface of
the earth, I felt as if no fairy tale was ever half so wonderful as what
I saw. Bridges were thrown from side to side across the top of these
cliffs, and the people looking down upon us from them seemed like pigmies
standing in the sky. I must be more concise, though, or I shall want
room. We were to go only fifteen miles, that distance being sufficient
to show the speed of the engine, and to take us to the most beautiful and
wonderful object on the road. After proceeding through this rocky
defile, we presently found ourselves raised upon embankments ten or
twelve feet high; we then came to a moss or swamp, of considerable
extent, on which no human foot could tread without sinking, and yet it
bore the road which bore us. This had been the great stumbling-block in
the minds of the committee of the House of Commons; but Mr. Stephenson
has succeeded in overcoming it. A foundation of hurdles, or, as he
called it, basket-work, was thrown over the morass, and the interstices
were filled with moss and other elastic matter.
“Upon this the clay and soil were laid down, and the road does float, for
we passed over it at the rate of five and twenty miles an hour, and saw
the stagnant swamp water trembling on the surface of the soil on either
side of us. I hope you understand me. The embankment had gradually been
rising higher and higher, and in one place where the soil was not settled
enough to form banks, Stephenson had constructed artificial ones of
woodwork, over which the mounds of earth were heaped, for he said that
though the woodwork would rot, before it did so the banks of earth which
covered it would have been sufficiently consolidated to support the road.
We had now come fifteen miles, and stopped where the road traversed a
wide and deep valley. Stephenson made me alight and led me down to the
bottom of this ravine, over which, in order to keep his road level, he
has thrown a magnificent viaduct of nine arches, the middle one of which
is seventy feet high, through which we saw the whole of this beautiful
little valley. It was lovely and wonderful beyond all words. He here
told me many curious things respecting this ravine; how he believed the
Mersey had once rolled through it; how the soil had proved so unfavorable
for the foundation of his bridge that it was built upon piles, which had
been driven into the earth to an enormous depth; how while digging for a
foundation he had come to a tree bedded in the earth, fourteen feet below
the surface of the ground; how tides are caused, and how another flood
might be caused; all of which I have remembered and noted down at much
greater length than I can enter upon here. He explained to me the whole
construction of the steam engine, and said he could soon make a famous
engineer of me, which, considering the wonderful things he has achieved,
I dare not say is impossible. His way of explaining himself is peculiar,
but very striking, and I understood, without difficulty, all that he said
to me. We then rejoined the rest of the party, and the engine having
received its supply of water, the carriage was placed behind it, for it
cannot turn, and was set off at its utmost speed, thirty-five miles an
hour, swifter than a bird flies (for they tried the experiment with a
snipe). You cannot conceive what that sensation of cutting the air was;
the motion is as smooth as possible, too. I could either have read or
written; and as it was, I stood up, and with my bonnet off ‘drank the air
before me.’ The wind, which was strong, or perhaps the force of our own
thrusting against it, absolutely weighed my eyelids down.
“When I closed my eyes this sensation of flying was quite delightful, and
strange beyond description; yet strange as it was, I had a perfect sense
of security, and not the slightest fear. At one time, to exhibit the
power of the engine, having met another steam-carriage which was
unsupplied with water, Mr. Stephenson caused it to be fastened in front
of ours; moreover, a wagon laden with timber was also chained to us, and
thus propelling the idle steam-engine, and dragging the loaded wagon
which was beside it and our own carriage full of people behind, this
brave little she-dragon of ours flew on. Farther on she met three carts,
which, being fastened in front of her, she pushed on before her without
the slightest delay or difficulty; when I add that this pretty little
creature can run with equal facility either backwards or forwards, I
believe I have given you an account of all her capacities. Now for a
word or two about the master of all these marvels, with whom I am most
horribly in love. He is a man from fifty to fifty-five years of age; his
face is fine, though careworn, and bears an expression of deep
thoughtfulness; his mode of explaining his ideas is peculiar and very
original, striking, and forcible; and although his accents indicates
strongly his north country birth, his language has not the slightest
touch of vulgarity or coarseness. He has certainly turned my head. Four
years have sufficed to bring this great undertaking to an end. The
railroad will be opened upon the fifteenth of next month. The Duke of
Wellington is coming down to be present on the occasion, and, I suppose,
what with the thousands of spectators and the novelty of the spectacle,
there will never have been a scene of more striking interest. The whole
cost of the work (including the engines and carriages) will have been
eight hundred and thirty thousand pounds; and it is already worth double
that sum. The directors have kindly offered us three places for the
opening, which is a great favour, for people are bidding almost anything
for a place, I understand.”
Even while Miss Kemble was writing this letter, certainly before it had
reached her correspondent, the official programme of that opening to
which she was so eagerly looking forward was thus referred to in the
Liverpool papers:
“The day of opening still remains fixed for Wednesday the fifteenth
instant. The company by whom the ceremony is to be performed, is
expected to amount to eight or nine hundred persons, including the Duke
of Wellington and several others of the nobility. They will leave
Liverpool at an early hour in the forenoon, probably ten o’clock, in
carriages drawn by eight or nine engines, including the new engine of
Messrs. Braithwaite and Ericsson, if it be ready in time. The other
engines will be those constructed by Mr. Stephenson, and each of them
will draw about a hundred persons. On their arrival at Manchester, the
company will enter the upper stories of the warehouses by means of a
spacious outside wooden staircase, which is in course of erection for the
purpose by Mr. Bellhouse. The upper storey of the range of warehouses is
divided into five apartments, each measuring sixty-six feet by fifty-six.
In four of these a number of tables (which Mr. Bellhouse is also
preparing) will be placed, and the company will partake of a splendid
cold collation which is to be provided by Mr. Lynn, of the Waterloo
Hotel, Liverpool. A large apartment at the east end of the warehouses
will be reserved as a withdrawing room for the ladies, and is partitioned
off for that purpose. After partaking of the hospitality of the
directors, the company will return to Liverpool in the same order in
which they arrive. We understand that each shareholder in the railway
will be entitled to a seat (transferable) in one of the carriages, on
this interesting and important occasion. It may be proper to state, for
the information of the public, that no one will be permitted to go upon
the railway between Ordsall lane and the warehouses, and parties of the
military and police will be placed to preserve order, and prevent
intrusion. Beyond Ordsall lane, however, the public will be freely
admitted to view the procession as it passes: and no restriction will be
laid upon them farther than may be requisite to prevent them from
approaching too close to the rails, lest accidents should occur. By
extending themselves along either side of the road towards Eccles any
number of people, however great, may be easily accommodated.”
Of the carrying out on the 15th the programme thus carefully laid down, a
contemporaneous reporter has left the following account:—
“The town itself [Liverpool] was never so full of strangers; they poured
in during the last and the beginning of the present week from almost all
parts of the three kingdoms, and we believe that through Chester alone,
which is by no means a principal road to Liverpool, four hundred extra
passengers were forwarded on Tuesday. All the inns in the town were
crowded to overflowing, and carriages stood in the streets at night, for
want of room in the stable yards.
“On the morning of Wednesday the population of the town and of the
country began very early to assemble near the railway. The weather was
favourable, and the Company’s station at the boundary of the town was the
rendezvous of the nobility and gentry who attended, to form the
procession at Manchester. Never was there such an assemblage of rank,
wealth, beauty, and fashion in this neighbourhood. From before nine
o’clock until ten the entrance in Crown street was thronged by the
splendid equipages from which the company was alighting, and the area in
which the railway carriages were placed was gradually filling with gay
groups eagerly searching for their respective places, as indicated by
numbers corresponding with those on their tickets. The large and elegant
car constructed for the nobility, and the accompanying cars for the
Directors and the musicians were seen through the lesser tunnel, where
persons moving about at the far end appeared as diminutive as if viewed
through a concave glass. The effect was singular and striking. In a
short time all those cars were brought along the tunnel into the yard
which then contained all the carriages, which were to be attached to the
eight locomotive engines which were in readiness beyond the tunnel in the
great excavation at Edge-hill. By this time the area presented a
beautiful spectacle, thirty-three carriages being filled by elegantly
dressed persons, each train of carriages being distinguished by silk
flags of different colours; the band of the fourth King’s Own Regiment,
stationed in the adjoining area, playing military airs, the Wellington
Harmonic Band, in a Grecian car for the procession, performing many
beautiful miscellaneous pieces; and a third band occupying a stage above
Mr. Harding’s Grand Stand, at William the Fourth’s Hotel, spiritedly
adding to the liveliness of the hour whenever the other bands ceased.
“A few minutes before ten, the discharge of a gun and the cheers of the
assembly announced the arrival of the Duke of Wellington, who entered the
area with the Marquis and Marchioness of Salisbury and a number of
friends, the band playing ‘See the conquering hero comes.’ He returned
the congratulations of the company, and in a few moments the grand car,
which he and the nobility and the principal gentry occupied, and the cars
attached to it, were permitted to proceed; we say permitted, because no
applied power, except a slight impulse at first, is requisite to propel
carriages along the tunnel, the slope being just sufficient to call into
effect the principle of gravitation. The tunnel was lighted with gas,
and the motion in passing through it must have been as pleasing as it was
novel to all the party. On arriving at the engine station, the cars were
attached to the _Northumbrian_ locomotive engine, on the southern of the
two lines of rail; and immediately the other trains of carriages started
through the tunnel and were attached to their respective engines on the
northern of the lines.
“We had the good fortune to have a place in the first train after the
grand cars, which train, drawn by the _Phoenix_, consisted of three open
and two close carriages, each carrying twenty-six ladies and gentlemen.
The lofty banks of the engine station were crowded with thousands of
spectators, whose enthusiastic cheering seemed to rend the air. From
this point to Wavertree-lane, while the procession was forming, the grand
cars passed and repassed the other trains of carriages several times,
running as they did in the same direction on the two parallel tracks,
which gave the assembled thousands and tens of thousands the opportunity
of seeing distinctly the illustrious strangers, whose presence gave
extraordinary interest to the scene. Some soldiers of the 4th Regiment
assisted the railway police in keeping the way clear and preserving
order, and they discharged their duty in a very proper manner. A few
minutes before eleven all was ready for the journey, and certainly a
journey upon a railway is one of the most delightful that can be
imagined. Our first thoughts it might be supposed, from the road being
so level, were that it must be monotonous and uninteresting. It is
precisely the contrary; for as the road does not rise and fall like the
ground over which we pass, but proceeds nearly at a level, whether the
land be high or low, we are at one moment drawn through a hill, and find
ourselves seventy feet below the surface, in an Alpine chasm, and at
another we are as many feet above the green fields, traversing a raised
path, from which we look down upon the roofs of farm houses, and see the
distant hills and woods. These variations give an interest to such a
journey which cannot be appreciated until they are witnessed. The signal
gun being fired, we started in beautiful style, amidst the deafening
plaudits of the well dressed people who thronged the numerous booths, and
all the walls and eminences on both sides the line. Our speed was
gradually increased till, entering the Olive Mountain excavation, we
rushed into the awful chasm at the rate of twenty-four miles an hour.
The banks, the bridges over our heads, and the rude projecting corners
along the sides, were covered with masses of human beings past whom we
glided as if upon the wings of the wind. We soon came into the open
country of Broad Green, having fine views of Huyton and Prescot on the
left, and the hilly grounds of Cheshire on the right. Vehicles of every
description stood in the fields on both sides, and thousands of
spectators still lined the margin of the road; some horses seemed
alarmed, but after trotting with their carriages to the farther hedges,
they stood still as if their fears had subsided. After passing Whiston,
sometimes going slowly, sometimes swiftly, we observed that a vista
formed by several bridges crossing the road gave a pleasing effect to the
view. Under Rainhill Bridge, which, like all the others, was crowded
with spectators, the Duke’s car stopped until we passed, and on this, as
on similar occasions, we had excellent opportunities of seeing the whole
of the noble party, distinguishing the Marquis and Marchioness of
Salisbury, the Earl and Countess of Wilton, Lord Stanley, and others, in
the fore part of the car; alongside of the latter part was Mr. Huskisson,
standing with his face always toward us; and further behind was Lord
Hill, and others, among whom the Mayor of Liverpool took his station. At
this place Mr. Bretherton had a large party of friends in a field,
overlooking the road. As we approached the Sutton inclined plane the
Duke’s car passed us again at a most rapid rate—it appeared rapid even to
us who were travelling then at, probably, fifteen miles an hour. We had
a fine view of Billings Hill from this neighbourhood, and of a thousand
various coloured fields. A grand stand was here erected, beautifully
decorated, and crowded with ladies and gentlemen from St. Helen’s and the
neighbourhood. Entering upon Parr Moss we had a good view of Newton Race
Course and the stands, and at this time the Duke was far ahead of us; the
grand cars appeared actually of diminutive dimensions, and in a short
time we saw them gliding beautifully over the Sankey Viaduct, from which
a scene truly magnificent lay before us.
“The fields below us were occupied by thousands who cheered us as we
passed over the stupendous edifice; carriages filled the narrow lanes,
and vessels in the water had been detained in order that their crews
might gaze up at the gorgeous pageant passing far above their masts
heads. Here again was a grand stand, and here again enthusiastic
plaudits almost deafened us. Shortly, we passed the borough of Newton,
crossing a fine bridge over the Warrington road, and reached Parkside,
seventeen miles from Liverpool, in about four minutes under the hour. At
this place the engines were ranged under different watering stations to
receive fresh water, the whole extending along nearly half a mile of
road. Our train and two others passed the Duke’s car, and we in the
first train had had our engine supplied with water, and were ready to
start, some time before we were aware of the melancholy cause of our
apparently great delay. We had most of us, alighted, and were walking
about, congratulating each other generally, and the ladies particularly,
on the truly delightful treat we were enjoying, all hearts bounding with
joyous excitement, and every tongue eloquent in the praise of the
gigantic work now completed, and the advantages and pleasures it
afforded. A murmur and an agitation at a little distance betokened
something alarming and we too soon learned the nature of that lamentable
event, which we cannot record without the most agonized feelings. On
inquiring, we learnt the dreadful particulars. After three of the
engines with their trains had passed the Duke’s carriage, although the
others had to follow, the company began to alight from all the carriages
which had arrived. The Duke of Wellington and Mr. Huskisson had just
shaken hands, and Mr. Huskisson, Prince Esterhazy, Mr. Birch, Mr. H.
Earle, Mr. William Holmes, M.P., and others were standing in the road,
when the other carriages were approaching. An alarm being given, most of
the gentlemen sprang into the carriage, but Mr. Huskisson seemed
flurried, and from some cause, not clearly ascertained, he fell under the
engine of the approaching carriages, the wheel of which shattered his leg
in the most dreadful manner. On being raised from the ground by the Earl
of Wilton, Mr. Holmes, and other gentlemen, his only exclamations
were:—“Where is Mrs. Huskisson? I have met my death. God forgive me.”
Immediately after he swooned. Dr. Brandreth, and Dr. Southey, of London,
immediately applied bandages to the limb. In a short time the engine was
detached from the Duke’s carriage, and the musician’s car being prepared
for the purpose, the Right Honourable gentleman was placed in it,
accompanied by his afflicted lady, with Dr. Brandreth, Dr. Southey, Earl
of Wilton, and Mr. Stephenson, who set off in the direction of
Manchester.
“The whole of the procession remained at least another hour uncertain
what course to adopt. A consultation was held on the open part of the
road, and the Duke of Wellington was soon surrounded by the Directors,
and a mournful group of gentlemen. At first it was thought advisable to
return to Liverpool, merely despatching one engine and a set of
carriages, to convey home Lady Wilton, and others who did not wish to
return to Liverpool. The Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel seemed
to favour this course; others thought it best to proceed as originally
intended: but no decision was made till the Boroughreeve of Manchester
stated, that if the procession did not reach Manchester, where an
unprecedented concourse of people would be assembled, and would wait for
it, he should be fearful of the consequences to the peace of the town.
This turned the scale, and his Grace then proposed that the whole party
should proceed, and return as soon as possible, all festivity at
Manchester being avoided. The _Phœnix_, with its train, was then
attached to the _North Star_ and its train, and from the two united a
long chain was affixed to his Grace’s car, and although it was on the
other line of rail, it was found to draw the whole along exceedingly
well. About half-past one, we resumed our journey; and we should here
mention that the Wigan Branch Railway Company had erected near Parkside
bridge a grand stand, which they and their friends occupied, and from
which they enthusiastically cheered the procession. On reaching the
twentieth mile post we had a beautiful view of Rivington Pike and
Blackstone Edge, and at the twenty-first the smoke of Manchester appeared
to be directly at the termination of our view. Groups of people
continued to cheer us, but we could not reply; our enjoyment was over.
Tyldesley Church, and a vast region of smiling fields here met the eye,
as we traversed the flat surface of Chat Moss, in the midst of which a
vast crowd was assembled to greet us with their plaudits; and from the
twenty-fourth mile post we began to find ourselves flanked on both sides
by spectators extending in a continuous and thickening body all the way
to Manchester. At the twenty-fifth mile post we met Mr. Stephenson
returning with the _Northumbrian_ engine. In answer to innumerable and
eager inquiries, Mr. Stephenson said he had left Mr. Huskisson at the
house of the Rev. Mr. Blackburne, Vicar of Eccles, and had then proceeded
to Manchester, whence he brought back medical assistance, and that the
surgeons, after seeing Mr. Huskisson, had expressed a hope that there was
no danger. Mr. Stephenson’s speed had been at the rate of thirty-four
miles an hour during this painful errand. The engine being then again
attached to the Duke’s car, the procession dashed forward, passing
countless thousands of people upon house tops, booths, high ground,
bridges, etc., and our readers must imagine, for we cannot describe, such
a movement through an avenue of living beings, and extending six miles in
length. Upon one bridge a tri-colored flag was displayed; near another
the motto of “Vote by ballot” was seen; in a field near Eccles, a poor
and wretchedly dressed man had his loom close to the roadside, and was
weaving with all his might; cries of “No Corn Laws,” were occasionally
heard, and for about two miles the cheerings of the crowd were
interspersed with a continual hissing and hooting from the minority. On
approaching the bridge which crosses the Irwell, the 59th regiment was
drawn up, flanking the road on each side, and presenting arms as his
Grace passed along. We reached the warehouses at a quarter before three,
and those who alighted were shown into the large upper rooms where a most
elegant cold collation had been prepared by Mr. Lynn, for more than one
thousand persons. The greater portion of the company, as the carriages
continued to arrive, visited the rooms and partook in silence of some
refreshment. They then returned to their carriages which had been
properly placed for returning. His Grace and the principal party did not
alight; but he went through a most fatiguing office for more than an hour
and a half, in shaking hands with thousands of people, to whom he stooped
over the hand rail of the carriage, and who seemed insatiable in their
desire to join hands with him. Many women brought their children to him,
lifting them up that he might bless them, which he did, and during the
whole time he had scarcely a minute’s respite. At half-past four the
Duke’s car began to move away for Liverpool.
“They would have been detained a little longer, in order that three of
the engines, which had been to Eccles for water, might have dropped into
the rear to take their places; but Mr. Lavender represented that the
crowd was so thickening in upon all sides, and becoming so clamorous for
admission into the area, that he would not answer for the peace of the
town, if further delay took place. The three engines were on the same
line of rail as the Duke, and they could not cross to the other line
without getting to a turning place, and as the Duke could not be delayed
on account of his keeping the crowd together, there was no alternative
but to send the engines forward. One of the other engines was then
attached to our train, and we followed the Duke rapidly, while the six
trains behind had only three engines left to bring them back. Of course,
we kept pace with the Duke, who stopped at Eccles to inquire after Mr.
Huskisson. The answer received was that there was now no hope of his
life being saved; and this intelligence plunged the whole party into
still deeper distress. We proceeded without meeting any fresh incident
until we passed Prescot, where we found two of the three engines at the
6½ mile post, where a turning had been effected, but the third had gone
on to Liverpool; we then detached the one we had borrowed, and the three
set out to meet the six remaining trains of carriages. Our carriages
were then connected with the grand cars, the engine of which now drew the
whole number of nine carriages, containing nearly three hundred persons,
at a very smart rate. We were now getting into vast crowds of people,
most of them ignorant of the dreadful event which had taken place, and
all of them giving us enthusiastic cheers which we could not return.
“At Roby, his Grace and the Childwalls alighted and proceeded home; our
carriages then moved forward to Liverpool, where we arrived about seven
o’clock, and went down the great tunnel, under the town, a part of the
work which, more than any other, astonished the numerous strangers
present. It is, indeed, a wonderful work, and makes an impression never
to be effaced from the memory. The Company’s yard, from St. James’s
Street to Wapping, was filled with carriages waiting for the returning
parties, who separated with feelings of mingled gratification and
distress, to which we shall not attempt to give utterance. We afterwards
learnt that the parties we left at Manchester placed the three remaining
engines together, and all the carriages together, so as to form one grand
procession, including twenty-four carriages, and were coming home at a
steady pace, when they were met near Newton, by the other three engines,
which were then attached to the rest, and they arrived in Liverpool about
ten o’clock.
“Thus ended a pageant which, for importance as to its object and grandeur
in its details, is admitted to have exceeded anything ever witnessed. We
conversed with many gentlemen of great experience in public life, who
spoke of the scene as surpassing anything they had ever beheld, and who
computed, upon data which they considered to be satisfactory, that not
fewer than 500,000 persons must have been spectators of the procession.”
So far from being a success, the occasion was, after the accident to Mr.
Huskisson, such a series of mortifying disappointments and the Duke of
Wellington’s experience at Manchester had been so very far removed from
gratifying that the directors of the company felt moved to exonerate
themselves from the load of censure by an official explanation. This
they did in the following language:—
“On the subject of delay which took place in the starting from
Manchester, and consequently in the arrival at Liverpool, of the last
three engines, with twenty-four carriages and six hundred passengers,
being the train allotted to six of the engines, we are authorized to
state that the directors think it due to the proprietors and others
constituting the large assemblage of company in the above trains to make
known the following particulars:
“Three out of the six locomotive engines which belonged to the above
trains had proceeded on the south road from Manchester to Eccles, to take
in water, with the intention of returning to Manchester, and so getting
out of that line of road before any of the trains should start on their
return home. Before this, however, was accomplished, the following
circumstances seemed to render it imperative for the train of carriages
containing the Duke of Wellington and a great many of the distinguished
visitors to leave Manchester. The eagerness on the part of the crowd to
see the Duke, and to shake hands with him, was very great, so much so
that his Grace held out both his hands to the pressing multitude at the
same time; the assembling crowd becoming more dense every minute, closely
surrounded the carriages, as the principal attraction was this particular
train. The difficulty of proceeding at all increased every moment and
consequently the danger of accident upon the attempt being made to force
a way through the throng also increased. At this juncture Mr. Lavender,
the head of the police establishment of Manchester, interfered, and
entreated that the Duke’s train should move on, or he could not answer
for the consequences. Under these circumstances, and the day being well
advanced, it was thought expedient at all events to move forward while it
was still practicable to do so. The order was accordingly given, and the
train passed along out of the immediate neighbourhood of Manchester
without accident to anyone. When they had proceeded a few miles they
fell in with the engines belonging to the trains left at Manchester, and
these engines being on the same line as the carriages of the procession,
there was no alternative but bringing the Duke’s train back through the
dense multitude to Manchester, or proceeding with three extra engines to
the neighbourhood of Liverpool (all passing places from one road to the
other being removed, with a view to safety, on the occasion), and
afterwards sending them back to the assistance of the trains
unfortunately left behind. It was determined to proceed towards
Liverpool, as being decidedly the most advisable course under the
circumstances of the case; and it may be mentioned for the satisfaction
of any party who may have considered that he was in some measure left in
the lurch, that Mr. Moss, the Deputy Chairman, had left Mrs. Moss and
several of his family to come with the trains which had been so left
behind. Three engines having to draw a load calculated for six, their
progress was of course much retarded, besides a considerable delay which
took place before the starting of the last trains, owing to the
uncertainty which existed as to what had become of the three missing
engines. These engines, after proceeding to within a few miles of
Liverpool, were enabled to return to Park-side, in the neighbourhood of
Newton, where they were attached to the other three and the whole
proceeding safely to Liverpool, where they arrived at ten in the
evening.”
The case was, however, here stated, to say the least, in the mildest
possible manner. The fact was that the authorities at Manchester had,
and not without reason, passed a very panic-stricken hour on account of
the Duke of Wellington. That personage had been in a position of no
inconsiderable peril. Though the reporter preserved a decorous silence
on that point, the ministerial car had on the way been pelted, as well as
hooted; and at Manchester a vast mass of not particularly well disposed
persons had fairly overwhelmed both police and soldiery, and had taken
complete possession of the tracks. They were not riotous but they were
very rough; and they insisted on climbing upon the carriages and pressing
their attentions on the distinguished inmates in a manner somewhat at
variance with English ideas of propriety. The Duke’s efforts at
conciliatory manners, as evinced through much hand-shaking, were not
without significance. It was small matter for wonder, therefore, that
the terrified authorities, before they got him out of their town,
heartily regretted that they had not allowed him to have his own way
after the accident to Mr. Huskisson, when he proposed to turn back
without coming to it. Having once got him safely started back to
Liverpool, therefore, they preferred to leave the other guests to take
care of themselves, rather than have the Duke face the crowd again. As
there were no sidings on that early road, and the connections between the
tracks had, as a measure of safety, been temporarily removed, the
ministerial train in moving towards Liverpool had necessarily pushed
before it the engines belonging to the other trains. The unfortunate
guests on those other trains, thus left to their fate, had for the rest
of the day a very dreary time of it. To avoid accidents, the six trains
abandoned at Manchester were united into one, to which were attached the
three locomotives remaining. In this form they started. Presently the
strain broke the couplings. Pieces of rope were then put in requisition,
and again they got in motion. In due time the three other engines came
along, but they could only be used by putting them on in front of the
three already attached to the train. Two of them were used in that way,
and the eleven cars thus drawn by five locomotives, and preceded at a
short distance by one other, went on towards Liverpool. It was dark, and
to meet the exigencies of the occasion the first germ of the present
elaborate system of railroad night signals was improvised on the spot.
From the foremost and pioneer locomotive obstacles were signalled to the
train locomotives by the very primitive expedient of swinging the lighted
end of a tar-rope. At Rainhill the weight of the train proved too much
for the combined motive-power, and the thoroughly wearied passengers had
to leave their carriages and walk up the incline. When they got to the
summit and, resuming their seats, were again in motion, fresh delay was
occasioned by the leading locomotive running into a wheel-barrow,
maliciously placed on the track to obstruct it. Not until ten o’clock
did they enter the tunnel at Liverpool. Meanwhile all sorts of rumours
of general disaster had for hours been circulating among the vast
concourse of spectators who were assembled waiting for their friends, and
whose relief expressed itself in hearty cheers as the train at last
rolled safely into the station.
We have also Miss Kemble’s story of this day, to which in her letter of
August 25th she had looked forward with such eager interest. With her
father and mother she had been staying at a country place in Lancashire,
and in her account of the affair, written in 1876, she says:—
“The whole gay party assembled at Heaton, my mother and myself included,
went to Liverpool for the opening of the railroad. The throng of
strangers gathered there for the same purpose made it almost impossible
to obtain a night’s lodging for love or money; and glad and thankful were
we to put up with and be put up in a tiny garret by an old friend, Mr.
Radley, of the Adelphi, which many would have given twice what we paid to
obtain. The day opened gloriously, and never was an innumerable
concourse of sight-seers in better humour than the surging, swaying crowd
that lined the railroad with living faces. . . After this disastrous
event [the accident to Mr. Huskisson] the day became overcast, and as we
neared Manchester the sky grew cloudy and dark, and it began to rain.
The vast concourse of people who had assembled to witness the triumphant
arrival of the successful travellers was of the lowest order of mechanics
and artisans, among whom great distress and a dangerous spirit of
discontent with the government at that time prevailed. Groans and hisses
greeted the carriage, full of influential personages, in which the Duke
of Wellington sat. High above the grim and grimy crowd of scowling faces
a loom had been erected, at which sat a tattered, starved-looking weaver,
evidently set there as a _representative man_, to protest against this
triumph of machinery, and the gain and glory which the wealthy Liverpool
and Manchester men were likely to derive from it. The contrast between
our departure from Liverpool and our arrival at Manchester was one of the
most striking things I ever witnessed.
MANCHESTER, _September_ 20_th_, 1830.