THE STORY OF THE FIRST RAILROAD
The new tire went on with unexpected ease and early afternoon saw the
Tolmans once more bowling along the highway toward Northampton. The
valley of the Connecticut was decked with harvest products as for an
autumnal pageant. Stacks of corn dotted the fields and pyramids of
golden pumpkins and scarlet apples made gay the verandas of the old
homesteads or brightened the doorways of the great red barns flanking
them.
"All that is needed to transform the scene into a giant Hallowe'en
festival is to have a witch whisk by on a broomstick, or a ghost bob up
from behind a tombstone," declared Mrs. Tolman. "Just think! If we had
come by train we would have missed all this beauty."
"I see plainly that you do not appreciate the railroads, my dear,"
returned her husband mischievously. "This is the second time to-day that
you have slandered them. You sound like the early American traveler who
asserted that it was ridiculous to build railroads which did very
uncomfortably in two days what could be done delightfully by coach in
eight or ten."
"Why, I should have thought people who had never heard of motor-cars
would have welcomed the quicker transportation the railroads offered,"
was Mrs. Tolman's reply.
"One would have thought so," answered Mr. Tolman. "Still, when we recall
how primitive the first railroads were, the prejudice against them is
not to be wondered at."
"How did they differ from those we have now, Dad?" Doris asked.
"In almost every way," answered her father, with a smile. "You see at
the time Stephenson invented his steam locomotive nothing was known of
this novel method of travel. As I told you, persons were accustomed to
make journeys either by coach or canal. Then the steam engine was
invented and immediately the notion that this power might be applied to
transportation took possession of the minds of people in different parts
of England. As a result, first one and then another made a crude
locomotive and tried it out without scruple on the public highway, where
it not only frightened horses but terrified the passers-by. Many an
amusing story is told of the adventures of these amateur locomotives. A
machinist named Murdock, who was one of James Watt's assistants, built a
sort of grasshopper engine with very long piston rods and with legs at
the back to help push it along; with this odd contrivance he ventured
out into the road one night just at twilight. Unfortunately, however,
his restless toy started off before he was ready to have it, and
turning down an unfrequented lane encountered a timid clergyman who was
taking a peaceful stroll and frightened the old gentleman almost out of
his wits. The poor man had never seen a locomotive before and when the
steaming object with its glowing furnace and its host of moving arms and
legs came puffing toward him through the dusk he was overwhelmed with
terror and screamed loudly for help."
A laugh arose from the listeners.
"And that is but one of the many droll experiences of the first
locomotive makers," continued Mr. Tolman. "For example Trevithick,
another pioneer in the field, also built a small steam locomotive which
he took out on the road for a trial trip. It chanced that during the
experimental journey he and his fireman came to a tollgate and puffing
up to the keeper with the baby steam engine, they asked what the fee
would be for it to pass. Now the gate keeper, like the minister, had had
no acquaintance with locomotives, and on seeing the panting red object
looming like a specter out of the darkness and hearing a man's voice
intermingled with its gasps and snorts, he shouted with chattering
teeth:
"There is nothing to pay, my dear Mr. Devil! Just d-r-i-v-e along as
f-a-s-t--as--ever--you--can."
His hearers applauded the story.
"Who did finally invent the railroad?" inquired Doris after the
merriment had subsided.
"George Stephenson, an Englishman," replied her father. "For some time
he had been experimenting with steam locomotives at the Newcastle coal
mines where some agency stronger than mules or horses was needed to
carry the products from one place to another. He had no idea of
transporting people when he began to work out the suggestion. All he
thought of was a coal train which would run on short lengths of track
from mine to mine. But the notion assumed unexpected proportions until
the Darlington road, the most ambitious of his projects, reached the
astonishing distance of thirty-seven miles. When the rails for it were
laid the engineer intended it should be used merely for coal
transportation, as its predecessors had been; but some of the miners who
lived along the route and were daily obliged to go back and forth to
work begged that some sort of a conveyance be made that could also run
along the track and enable them to ride to work instead of walking. So a
little log house not unlike a log cabin, with a table in the middle and
some chairs around it, was mounted on a cart that fitted the rails, and
a horse was harnessed to the unique vehicle."
"And it was this log cabin on wheels that gave Stephenson his
inspiration for a railroad train!" gasped Doris.
"Yes," nodded her father. "When the engineer saw the crude object the
first question that came to him was why could not a steam locomotive
propel cars filled with people as well as cars filled with coal.
Accordingly he set to work and had several coach bodies mounted on
trucks, installing a lever brake at the front of each one beside the
coachman's box. In front of the grotesque procession he placed a steam
locomotive and when he had fastened the coaches together he had the
first passenger train ever seen."
"It must have been a funny looking thing!" Steve exclaimed, smiling with
amusement at the picture the words suggested.
"It certainly was," agreed his father. "If you really wish to know how
funny, some time look up the prints of this great-great-grandfather of
our present-day Pullman and you will be well repaid for your trouble;
the contrast is laughable."
"But was this absurd venture a success?" queried Mrs. Tolman
incredulously.
"Indeed it was!" returned her husband. "In fact, Stephenson, like Watt,
was one of the few world benefactors whose gift to humanity was
instantly hailed with appreciation. The railroad was, to be sure, a
wretched little affair when viewed from our modern standpoint, for there
were no gates at the crossings, no signals, springless cars, and every
imaginable discomfort. Fortunately, however, our ancestors had not grown
up amid the luxuries of this era, and being of rugged stock that was
well accustomed to hardships of every variety they pronounced the
invention a marvel, which in truth it was.
"You've said it!" chuckled Steve in the slang of the day.
"In the meantime," went on Mr. Tolman, "conditions all over England were
becoming more and more congested, and from every direction a clamor
arose for a remedy. You see the invention of steam spinning machinery
had greatly increased the output of the Manchester cotton mills until
there was no such thing as getting such a vast bulk of merchandise to
those who were eager to have it. Bales of goods waiting to be
transported to Liverpool not only overflowed the warehouses but were
even stacked in the open streets where they were at the mercy of robbers
and storms. The canals had all the business they could handle, and as is
always the result in such cases their owners became arrogant under their
prosperity and raised their prices, making not the slightest attempt to
help the public out of its dilemma. Undoubtedly something had to be done
and in desperation a committee from Parliament sent for Stephenson that
they might discuss with him the feasibility of building a railroad from
Manchester to Liverpool. The committee had no great faith in the
enterprise. Most of its members did not believe that a railroad of any
sort was practical or that it could ever attain speed enough to be of
service. However, it was a possibility, and as they did not know which
way to turn to quiet the exasperated populace they felt they might as
well investigate this remedy. It could do no harm."
Mr. Tolman paused as he stooped to change the gear of the car.
"So Stephenson came before the board, and one question after another was
hurled at him. When, however, he was asked, half in ridicule, whether or
not his locomotive could make thirty miles an hour and he answered in
the affirmative, a shout of derision arose from the Parliament members.
Nobody believed such a miracle possible. Nevertheless, in spite of their
sceptical attitude, it was finally decided to build the
Liverpool-Manchester road and about a year before its opening a date was
set for a contest of locomotives to compete for the five-hundred-pound
prize offered by the directors of the road."
"I suppose ever so many engines entered the lists," ventured Steve with
interest.
"There were four," returned his father.
"And Stephenson drove one of them?"
"Yes."
"Oh, I hope it got the prize!" put in Doris eagerly.
Her father smiled at her earnestness.
"It did," was his reply. "Stephenson's engine was called the 'Rocket'
and was a great improvement over the locomotive he had used at the
mines, for this one had not only a steam blast but a multi-tubular
boiler, a tremendous advance in engine building."
"I suppose that the winner of the prize not only got the money the road
offered but his engine was the one chosen as a pattern for those to be
used on the new railroad," ventured Stephen.
"Precisely. So you see a great deal depended on the showing each
locomotive made. Unluckily in the excitement a tinder box had been
forgotten, and when it came time to start, the spark to light the fires
had to be obtained from a reading glass borrowed from one of the
spectators. This, of course, caused some delay. But once the fires were
blazing and steam up, the engines puffed away to the delight of those
looking on."
"I am glad Stephenson was the winner," put in Doris.
"Yes," agreed her father. "He had worked hard and deserved success. It
would not have seemed fair for some one else to have stolen the fruit of
his toil and brain. Yet notwithstanding this, his path to fame was not
entirely smooth. Few persons win out without surmounting obstacles and
Stephenson certainly had his share. Not only was he forced to fight
continual opposition, but the opening of the Manchester and Liverpool
road, which one might naturally have supposed would be a day of great
triumph, was, in spite of its success, attended by a series of
catastrophes. It was on September 15, 1830, that the ceremonies took
place, and long before the hour set for the gaily decorated trains to
pass the route was lined with excited spectators. The cities of
Liverpool and Manchester also were thronged with those eager to see the
engines start or reach their destination. There were, however, mingled
with the crowd many persons who were opposed to the new venture."
"Opposed to it?" Steve repeated with surprise.
"Yes. It seems odd, doesn't it?"
"But why didn't they want a railroad?" persisted the boy. "I thought
that was the very thing they were all demanding."
"You must not forget the condition of affairs at the time," said his
father. "Remember the advent of steam machinery had deprived many of the
cotton spinners of their jobs and in consequence they felt bitterly
toward all steam inventions. Then in addition there were the stagecoach
drivers who foresaw that if the railroads supplanted coaches they would
no longer be needed. Moreover innkeepers were afraid that a termination
of stage travel would lessen their trade."
"Each man had his own axe to grind, eh?" smiled Steve.
"I'm afraid so," his father answered. "Human nature is very selfish, and
then as now men who worked for the general welfare regardless of their
own petty preferences were rare. To the side of the enemies of the
infant invention flocked every one with a grievance. The gentry argued
that the installation of locomotives would frighten the game out of the
country and ruin the shooting. Other opposers contended that the smoke
from the engines would not only kill the birds but in time kill the
patrons of the railroads as well. Still others protested that the
sparks from the funnels might set fire to the fields of grain or to the
forests. A swarm of added opponents dwelt on the fact that the
passengers would be made ill by the lurching of the trains; that the
rapid inrush of air would prevent their breathing; and that every sort
of people would be herded together without regard to class,--the latter
a very terrible calamity in a land where democracy was unknown. Even
such intelligent men as the poet Wordsworth and the famous writer Ruskin
came out hotly against the innovation, seeing in it nothing but evil."
"Didn't the opening of the Manchester and Liverpool Railroad convince
the kickers they were wrong?" asked Steve.
"Unfortunately not," was Mr. Tolman's reply. "You see several unlucky
incidents marred the complete success of the occasion. As the trains
trimmed with bunting and flowers started out the scene seemed gay
enough. On one car was a band of music; on another the directors of the
road; and on still another rode the Duke of Wellington, who at that time
was Prime Minister of England and had come down from London with various
other dignitaries to honor the enterprise. Church bells rang, cannon
boomed, and horns and whistles raised a din of rejoicing. But everywhere
among the throng moved a large group of unemployed laborers who had
returned from the Napoleonic wars in a discontented frame of mind and
resented the use of steam machinery. They were on edge for trouble and
if there were none they were ready to make it. So strong was the
resentment of this element against the government that it seemed
tempting Providence for the Prime Minister to venture into the
manufacturing district of Manchester. At first it was decided that he
would better omit the trip altogether; but on second thought it seemed
wiser for him not to add fuel to the flames by disappointing the mill
workers. The audience was in too ugly a mood to be angered. Therefore
Wellington bravely resolved to carry out the program and ride in one of
the open cars."
"I hope nothing happened to him, Dad!" gasped Doris breathlessly.
"Nothing beyond a good many minor insults and indignities," responded
her father. "He was, however, in constant peril, and to those who bore
the responsibility of the function he was a source of unceasing anxiety.
But in spite of the jeers of the mob, their crowding and pushing about
his car, he kept a smiling face like the true gentleman he was. Some of
the rougher element even went so far as to hurl missiles at him. You can
imagine how worried his friends were for his safety and how the
directors who had invited him fidgeted. And as if this worry were not
enough, by and by a fine rain began to fall and those persons riding in
the open coaches, as well as the decorations and the spectators, got
well drenched. Then there were delays on the turnouts while one train
passed another; and as a climax to these discouragements, Mr. Hickson,
a member of Parliament from Liverpool, got in the path of an approaching
engine, became confused and was run over; and although Stephenson
himself carried him by train to Liverpool he died that evening."
"I should call the fete to introduce the steam engine into England a
most disastrous and forlorn one," remarked Mrs. Tolman.
"Well, in reality it was not such a failure as it sounds," replied her
husband, "for only those most closely connected with it sensed the
misfortunes that attended it. The greater part of the people along the
route were good-humored and pleased; they marveled at the trains as they
passed, cheered the Duke and the authorities with him, listened with
delight to the band, and made a jest of the rain. A holiday crowd, you
know, is usually quite patient. Hence the delays that fretted the guests
and the officials of the road did not annoy the multitudes so vitally."
"Poor Stephenson really got some satisfaction out of the day then,"
sighed Mrs. Tolman.
"Oh, yes, indeed," said her husband. "Although I fancy the death of Mr.
Hickson must have overshadowed his rejoicings. Notwithstanding this,
however, the railroad proved itself a practical venture, which was the
main thing. Such slight obstacles as the terror of the horses and the
fact that the tunnels into Liverpool were so low that the engines had to
be detached and the trains hauled into the yards by mules could be
remedied."
A flicker of humor danced in Mr. Tolman's eyes.
"And did England begin to build railroads right away?" Steve inquired.
"Yes, and not only England but France also. Frenchmen who crossed the
Channel took home glowing accounts of the novel invention and
immediately the French Government realized that that country must also
have railroads. But just as the conservative element in England had been
sceptical and blocked Stephenson's progress--or tried to--so a
corresponding faction in France did all it could to cry down the
enterprise. Even those who upheld the introduction of the roads
advocated them for only short distances out of Paris; a long trunk route
they labeled as an absurdity. Iron was too expensive, they argued;
furthermore the mountains of the country rendered extensive railroading
impossible. France did not need railroads anyway. Nevertheless the
little group of seers who favored the invention persisted and there was
no stopping the march of which they were the heralds. Railroads had come
to stay and they stayed."
"It was a fortunate thing they did, wasn't it?" murmured Doris.
"A very fortunate thing," returned Mr. Tolman heartily. "Every great
invention is usually suggested by a great need and so it was with this
one. By 1836 the craze for railroad building swept both hemispheres. In
England the construction of lines to most out-of-the-way and
undesirable places were proposed, and the wildest schemes for propelling
trains suggested; some visionaries even tried sails as a medium of
locomotion instead of steam. Rich and poor rushed to invest their
savings in railroads and alas, in many cases the misguided enthusiasts
lost every shilling of their money in the project. Great business firms
failed, banking houses were ruined, and thousands of workmen were thrown
out of employment. In consequence a reaction followed and it was years
before wary investors could again be induced to finance a railroad. In
the interim both engines and coaches underwent improvement, especially
the third-class carriage which in the early days was nothing more than
an open freight car and exposed its unhappy patrons to snow, rain, and
freezing weather."
"Great Scott!" cried Steve. "I should say there was room for improvement
if that was the case."
"There was indeed," echoed his father. "In fact, it was a long time
before travel by train became a pleasure. Most of the engines used pitch
pine or soft coal as a fuel and as there were no guards on the
smokestacks to prevent it, the smoke, soot, and cinders used to blow
back from the funnels and shower the passengers. On the first railroad
trip from New York to Albany those sitting outside the coaches were
compelled to put up umbrellas to protect themselves from these
annoyances."
"Imagine it!" burst out Doris, with a rippling laugh.
"Nor were the umbrellas of any service for long," continued Mr. Tolman,
"for the sparks soon burned their coverings until nothing but the steel
ribs remained."
"I don't wonder the trip was not a pleasure," smiled Mrs. Tolman.
"Yet, in spite of its discomfort, it was a novelty and you must not
forget that, as I said before, the public of that period was a simple
and less exacting one than is the public of to-day. We make a frightful
fuss if we are jolted, chilled, crowded, delayed, or made uncomfortable;
but our forefathers were a hale and hearty lot--less overworked perhaps,
less nervous certainly, less indulged. They had never known anything
better than cold houses, draughty and crowded stagecoaches, and stony
highways--plenty of obstacles, you see, and few luxuries. Therefore with
naive delight they welcomed one new invention after another, overlooking
its defects and considering themselves greatly blessed to have anything
as fine. Probably we, who are a thousand per cent better off than they,
do more grumbling over the tiny flaws in the mechanism of our lives than
they did over the mammoth ones."
"Oh, come, Dad!" protested Stephen. "Aren't you putting it rather
strong?"
"Not a whit too strong, Steve," Mrs. Tolman interrupted. "I believe we
are a fussy, pampered, ungrateful generation. It is rather pathetic,
too, to think it is we who now reap the benefits of all those perfected
ideas which our ancestors enjoyed only in their most primitive
beginnings. It seems hardly fair that Stephenson, for example, should
never have seen a modern Pullman.
"He was spared something, wasn't he, Dad?" chuckled Steve mischievously.
But Mr. Tolman did not heed the remark.
"He had the vision," returned he softly, "the joy of seeing the marvel
for the first time, imperfect as it was. Perhaps that was compensation
enough. It is the reward of every inventor. Remember it is no mean
privilege to stand upon the peak in Darien which Keats pictures."