Man is evidently formed for society; the intercourse of one with
another, like two blocks of marble in friction, reduces the rough
prominences of behaviour, and gives a polish to the manners.
Whatever tends to promote social connection, improve commerce, or stamp
an additional value upon property, is worthy of attention.
Perhaps, there is not a circumstance that points more favourably towards
these great designs, than commodious roads.
According as a country is improved in her roads, so will she stand in
the scale of civilization. It is a characteristic by which we may
pronounce with safety. The manners and the roads of the English, have
been refining together for about 1700 years. If any period of time is
distinguished with a more rapid improvement in one, it is also in
the other.
Our Saxons ancestors, of dusky memory, seldom stepped from under the
smoke of Birmingham. We have a common observation among us, that even so
late as William the Third, the roads were in so dangerous a state, that
a man usually made his will, and took a formal fare-well of his friends,
before he durst venture upon a journey to London; which, perhaps, was
thought then, of as much consequence as a voyage to America now.
A dangerous road is unfavourable both to commerce and to friendship; a
man is unwilling to venture his neck to sell his productions, or even
visit his friend: if a dreadful road lies between them, it will be apt
to annihilate friendship.
Landed property in particular, improves with the road. If a farmer
cannot bring his produce to market, he cannot give much for his land,
neither can that land well be improved, or the market properly supplied.
Upon a well formed road, therefore, might, with propriety, be placed the
figures of commerce, of friendship, and of agriculture, as
presiding over it.
There are but very few observations necessary in forming a road, and
those few are very simple; to expel whatever is hurtful, and invite
whatever is beneficial.
The breaking up of a long frost, by loosening the foundations, is
injurious, and very heavy carriages ought to be prevented, 'till the
weather unites the disjointed particles, which will soon happen.
But the grand enemy is water; and as this will inevitably fall, every
means should be used to discharge it: drains ought to be frequent, that
the water may not lie upon the road.
The great benefits are _the sun_ and the _wind:_ the surveyor should use
every method for the admission of these friendly aids, that they may
dispel the moisture which cannot run off.
For this purpose, all public roads ought to be sixty feet wide; all
trees and hedges within thirty feet of the centre, be under the
controul of the commissioners, with full liberty of drawing off the
water in what manner they judge necessary.
The Romans were the most accomplished masters we know of in this useful
art; yet even they seem to have forgot the under drain, for it is
evident at this day, where their road runs along the declivity of a
hill, the water dams up, flows over, and injures the road.
Care should be taken, in properly forming a road at first, otherwise you
may botch it for a whole century, and at the end of that long period, it
will be only a botch itself.
A wide road will put the innocent traveller out of fear of the
waggoners; not the most civilized of the human race.
From Birmingham, as from a grand centre, issues twelve roads, that point
to as many towns; some of these, within memory, have scarcely been
passable; all are mended, but though much is done, more is wanted. In an
upland country, like that about Birmingham, where there is no river of
size, and where the heads only of the streams show themselves: the
stranger would be surprised to hear, that through most of these twelve
roads he cannot travel in a flood with safety. For want of causeways
and bridges, the water is suffered to flow over the road, higher than
the stirrup: every stream, though only the size of a tobacco-pipe, ought
to be carried through an under drain, never to run over the road.
At Saltley, in the way to Coleshill, which is ten miles, for want of a
causeway, with an arch or two, every flood annoys the passenger and the
road: at Coleshill-hall, 'till the year 1779, he had to pass a
dangerous river.
One mile from Birmingham, upon the Lichfield road, sixteen miles, to the
disgrace of the community, is yet a river without a bridge. In 1777, the
country was inclined to solicit Parliament for a turnpike-act, but the
matter fell to the ground through private views: one would think, that
the penny can never be ill laid out, which carries a man ten miles with
pleasure and safety. The hand of nature hath been more beneficent, both
to this, and to the Stafford road, which is twenty-eight miles, than
that of art.
The road to Walfall, ten miles, is rather _below indifferent_.
That to Wolverhampton, thirteen miles, is much improved since the
coal-teams left it.
The road to Dudley, ten miles, is despicable beyond description. The
unwilling traveller is obliged to go two miles about, through a bad
road, to avoid a worse.
That to Hales-Owen, eight miles, like the life of man, is checkered with
good and evil; chiefly the latter.
To Bromsgrove, thirteen miles, made extremely commodious for the first
four, under the patronage of John Kettle, Esq; in 1772, at the expence
of near 5000_l_. but afterwards is so confined, that two horses cannot
pass without danger; the sun and the winds are excluded, the rivers lie
open to the stranger, and he travels through dirt 'till Midsummer.
To Alcester, about twenty, formed in 1767, upon a tolerable plan, but is
rather too narrow, through a desolate country, which at present scarcely
defrays the expence; but that country seems to improve with the road.
Those to Stratford and Warwick, about twenty miles each, are much used
and much neglected.
That to Coventry, about the same distance, can only be equalled by the
Dudley road. The genius of the age has forgot, in some of these roads to
accommodate the foot passenger with a causeway.
The surveyor will be inclined to ask, How can a capital be raised to
defray this enormous expence? Suffer me to reply with an expression in
the life of Oliver Cromwell, "He that lays out money when necessary, and
only then, will accomplish matters beyond the reach of imagination."
Government long practised the impolitic mode of transporting vast
numbers of her people to America, under the character of felons; these,
who are generally in the prime of life, might be made extremely useful
to that country which they formerly robbed, and against which, they are
at this moment carrying arms. It would be easy to reduce this ferocious
race under a kind of martial discipline; to badge them with a mark only
removeable by the governors, for hope should ever be left for
repentance, and to employ them in the rougher arts of life, according to
the nature of the crime, and the ability of body; such as working the
coal mines in Northumberland, the lead mines in Derbyshire, the tin
mines in Cornwall, cultivating waste lands, banking after inundations,
forming canals, cleansing the beds of rivers, assisting in harvest, and
in FORMING and MENDING the ROADS: _these hewers of wood and drawers of
water_ would be a corps of reserve against any emergency. From this
magazine of villiany, the British navy might be equipped with,
considerable advantage.