the threats of the road trustees and others, the Stockton and
Darlington line was opened for travel on September 27, 1825. A great
concourse of people had gathered to see the opening of this first
public railway. Everything went well. Stephenson himself drove the
engine, and the train consisted of six wagons, loaded with coal and
flour, then a special passenger coach, filled with the directors and
their friends, then twenty-one wagons temporarily fitted with seats
for passengers, and then six wagons of coal, making thirty-four
carriages in all. A contemporary writer says, “The signal being given
the engine started off with this immense train of carriages; and such
was its velocity, that in some parts the speed was frequently twelve
miles an hour; and at that time the number of passengers was counted
to be four hundred and fifty, which, together with the coals,
merchandise, and carriages, would amount to near ninety tons. The
engine, with its load, arrived at Darlington, a distance of eight and
three-quarter miles, in sixty-five minutes. The six wagons loaded with
coals, intended for Darlington, were then left behind; and, obtaining
a fresh supply of water and arranging the procession to accommodate a
band of music, and numerous passengers from Darlington, the engine set
off again, and arrived at Stockton in three hours and seven minutes,
including stoppages, the distance being nearly twelve miles.” By the
time the train reached Stockton there were about six hundred people
riding in the cars or hanging on to them, and the train traveled on a
steady average of four to six miles an hour from Darlington.
This road was primarily built to transport freight, and passengers
were in reality an afterthought. But the directors decided to try a
passenger coach, and accordingly Stephenson built one. It was an
uncouth carriage, looking something like a caravan used at a country
fair. The doors were at the ends, a row of seats ran along each side
of the interior, and a long deal table extended down the centre.
Stephenson called this coach the “Experiment,” and in a short time it
had become the most popular means of travel between Stockton and
Darlington.
With the Stockton and Darlington Railway an assured and successful
fact, the men who had been interested in building a line between
Liverpool and Manchester earlier took up the subject again. Some
improvement in the means of communication between the two cities was
more needed than ever. The three canals and the turnpike road were
often so crowded that traffic was held up for days and even weeks. In
addition the canal charges were excessive. On the other hand the
railway builders had to meet the opposition of the powerful canal
companies and landowners along the line they wished to open, and it
took time and ingenuity to accomplish working adjustments.
The Liverpool and Manchester Railway bill came up for consideration in
the House of Commons early in 1825. A determined stand was made
against it, and the promoters and their engineers, chief among whom
was Stephenson, had to be very modest in their claims. Stephenson had
said to friends that he was confident that locomotives could be built
that would carry a train of cars at the rate of twenty miles an hour,
but such a claim would have been received by the public as ridiculous,
and the engineer laughed to scorn. His opponents tried to badger him
in every way they could, and ridicule even his modest statements.
“Suppose now,” said one of the members of Parliament in questioning
him, “one of these engines to be going along a railroad at the rate of
nine or ten miles an hour, and that a cow were to stray upon the line
and get in the way of the engine; would not that be a very awkward
circumstance?” “Yes,” answered Stephenson, with a twinkling eye, “very
awkward--_for the coo_!”
In fact very few of the members understood Stephenson’s invention at
all. A distinguished barrister represented about the general level of
ignorance when he said in a speech, “Any gale of wind which would
affect the traffic on the Mersey would render it _impossible_ to set
off a locomotive engine, either by poking the fire, or keeping up the
pressure of the steam till the boiler was ready to burst.” Against
such opposition it was not surprising that the bill failed of passage
that year.
But the necessities of commerce could not be denied, and the following
year the bill came up again, and was passed. Stephenson, as principal
engineer of the railway, at once began its building. This in itself
was a unique and very remarkable feat. An immense bog, called Chat
Moss, had to be crossed, and Stephenson was the only one of the
engineers concerned who did not doubt whether such a crossing were
really possible. Ditches that were dug to drain the bog immediately
filled up; as soon as one part was dug out the bog flowed in again; it
swelled rapidly in rainy weather, and piles driven into it would sink
down into the mire. But Stephenson finally built his road across it. A
matting of heath and the branches of trees was laid on the bog’s
surface, and in some places hurdles interwoven with heather; this
floating bed was covered over with a few inches of gravel, and on this
the road proper was constructed. In addition to the crossing of Chat
Moss a tunnel of a mile and a half had to be cut under part of
Liverpool, and in several places hills had to be leveled or cut
through. The old post-roads had never had to solve such problems, and
George Stephenson deserves to rank as high as a pioneer of railroad
construction as he does as builder of the working locomotive.
The directors of the railway were anxious to secure the best engine
possible, and opened a general competition, naming certain conditions
the engine must fulfil. Stephenson and Henry Booth built the “Rocket,”
and, as this was the only engine that fulfilled all the conditions,
took the prize. The “Rocket” was by far the most perfect locomotive
yet built, having many new improvements that Stephenson had recently
worked out.
The “Rocket” would make thirty miles an hour, a wonderful achievement,
and was put to work drawing the gravel that was used in building the
permanent road across Chat Moss. With the aid of such a powerful
engine the work went on more rapidly, and in June, 1830, a trial trip
was made from Liverpool to Manchester and back. There was a huge
gathering at the stations at each end of the line. The train was made
up of two carriages, filled with about forty passengers, and seven
wagons loaded with stores. The “Rocket” drew this train from Liverpool
to Manchester in two hours and one minute, and made the return trip in
an hour and a half. It crossed Chat Moss at the rate of about
twenty-seven miles an hour.
The public opening of the new road occurred on September 15, 1830. By
that time Stephenson had built eight locomotives, and they were all
ready for service. Much of the opposition of the general public had
been overcome, and the opening was considered a great national event.
The Duke of Wellington, then Prime Minister, Sir Robert Peel, and many
other prominent men were present. George Stephenson drove the first
engine, the “Northumbrian,” and was followed by seven other
locomotives and trains, carrying about 600 passengers. Stephenson’s
son drove the second engine, and his brother the third. They started
from Liverpool, and the people massed along the line cheered and
cheered again as they saw the eight trains speed along at the rate of
twenty-four miles an hour.
[Illustration: ONE OF THE FIRST LOCOMOTIVES]
Unfortunately an accident occurred about seventeen miles out of
Liverpool. The first engine, with the carriage containing the Duke of
Wellington, had been stopped on a siding so that the Duke might review
the other trains. Mr. Huskisson, one of the members of Parliament for
Liverpool, and a warm friend and supporter of Stephenson and the
railroad, had stepped from his coach, and was standing on the railway.
The Duke called to him, and he crossed over to shake hands. As they
grasped hands the bystanders began to cry, “Get in, get in!” Confused,
Mr. Huskisson tried to go around the open door of the carriage, which
projected over the opposite rail. As he did so he was hit by the
“Rocket,” an engine coming up on the other track, was knocked down,
and had one leg crushed. That same night he died in the near-by
parsonage of Eccles. This first serious railway accident, occurring at
the very opening of the line, cast a gloom over the event. It revealed
something of the danger coincident with the new invention. The Duke of
Wellington and Sir Robert Peel both expressed a wish that the trains
should return to Liverpool, but when it was pointed out that a great
many people had gathered from all the neighboring country at
Manchester, and that to abandon the opening would jeopardize the whole
future success of the road, they agreed to go on. The journey was
completed without any further mishap, and the people of Manchester
gave the eight trains a warm welcome.
With the opening of this line the success of the railroad as a
practical means of conveyance became assured. Singularly enough the
builders of the railroad had based their estimates almost entirely on
merchandise traffic, and had stated to the committee of the House of
Commons that they did not expect their passenger coaches to be more
than half filled. The carriages they planned to use would have carried
400 to 500 persons if full, but the road was hardly open before the
company had to provide accommodations to carry 1,200 passengers daily,
and the receipts from passenger travel immediately far exceeded the
receipts from carrying freight.
Similarly the directors had expected that the average speed of the
locomotives would be about nine or ten miles an hour, but very soon
the trains were carrying passengers the entire thirty miles between
Liverpool and Manchester in a little more than an hour. Travel by
stage-coach had taken at least four hours, so that the railroad
reduced the time nearly one-fourth. Engineers who came from a distance
to examine the railroad were amazed at the smoothness of travel over
it. Two experts from Edinburgh declared that traveling on it was
smoother and easier than any they had known over the best turnpikes of
Mr. Macadam. They said that even when the train was going at the very
high speed of twenty-five miles an hour they “could observe the
passengers, among whom were a good many ladies, talking to gentlemen
with the utmost _sang froid_.”
Business men were delighted at being able to leave Liverpool in the
morning, travel to Manchester, do business there, and return home the
same afternoon. The price of coal, and the cost of carrying all
classes of goods, was tremendously reduced. Another result, which was
the opposite of what had been expected, was that the price of land
along the line and near the stations at once rose. Instead of the
noise and smoke of the trains frightening people away it seemed to
charm them. The very landlords who had driven the surveyors off their
property and done everything they could to hinder the builders now
complained if the railroad did not pass directly through their
domains, and begged for stations close at hand. Even the land about
Chat Moss was bought up and improved, and all along the line what had
been waste stretches began to blossom into towns and villages.
Stephenson continued to make improvements to his locomotives. He had
already added the multitubular boiler, the idea of which was to
increase the evaporative power of the boiler by adding to its heating
surface by means of many small tubes filled with water. This increase
of evaporative power increased the speed the engine could attain. In
his new engine, the “Samson,” he adopted the plan of coupling the fore
and rear wheels of the engine. This more effectually secured the
adhesion of the wheels to the rails, and allowed the carrying of
heavier loads. He improved the springs of the carriages, and built
buffers to prevent the bumping of the carriage ends, which had been
very unpleasant for the earliest passengers. He also found a new
method of lubricating his carriage axles, his spring frames, the
buffers, and the brakes he had built for the trains.
The Liverpool and Manchester Railway was to be followed rapidly by
other lines. George Stephenson was a good man of business as well as a
good engineer. He suggested a number of lucrative opportunities to his
Liverpool friends, and he took a financial share in some of them
himself. He thought there should be a line between Swannington and
Leicester, in order to increase the coal supply of the latter town,
which was quite a manufacturing centre. A company was formed, and his
son Robert was appointed engineer. In the course of the work Robert
learned that an estate near the road was to be sold, and decided that
there was considerable coal there. George Stephenson and two other
friends bought the place, and he took up his residence there, at Alton
Grange, in order to supervise the mining operations. The mine was very
successful, and the railroad proved of the greatest value to the
people of Leicester. Stephenson now changed his position from that of
an employee of coal-owners to that of employer of many miners himself.
The first railroads to be built were principally branches of the
Liverpool and Manchester one, and chiefly located in the mining and
manufacturing county of Lancaster. But before long the great
metropolis of London required railroad communication with the
Midlands, and the London and Birmingham road was projected. Here again
the promoters had to overcome gigantic obstacles, the opposition of
the great landed proprietors who owned vast estates in the
neighborhood of London, the opposition of the old posting companies,
and of the conservative element who were afraid of the great changes
such a method of transportation would bring about. The natural
difficulties of the first lines were increased a hundredfold, greater
marshes had to be crossed, greater streams to be bridged, greater
hills to be tunneled. But the greater the obstacles the greater
Stephenson’s resources proved. When some of his tunnels were flooded,
because the workmen had cut into an unexpected bed of quicksand, he
immediately designed and built a vast system of powerful pumps, and
drew off enough water to fill the Thames from London Bridge to
Woolwich, so that his workmen might continue the tunnels and line them
with masonry sufficiently solid to withstand any future inrush of
water.
The men who were back of this railroad would very probably never have
projected it had they realized that the building of it would cost five
million pounds. But when the road was opened for use the excess in
traffic beyond the estimates was much greater than the excess in cost
had been. The company was able to pay large dividends, and the
builders found that they could have made no better investment. This
London and Birmingham road, 112 miles long, was opened September 17,
1838. The receipts from passenger traffic alone for the first year
were £608,564. Evidently travel by coach had not been as popular in
reality as the conservatives had ardently maintained.
It is curious to note the many kinds of opposition these first
railways encountered. Said Mr. Berkeley, a member of Parliament for
Cheltenham, “Nothing is more distasteful to me than to hear the echo
of our hills reverberating with the noise of hissing railroad engines
running through the heart of our hunting country, and destroying that
noble sport to which I have been accustomed from my childhood.” One
Colonel Sibthorpe declared that he “would rather meet a highwayman, or
see a burglar on his premises, than an engineer; he should be much
more safe, and of the two classes he thought the former more
respectable!” Sir Astley Cooper, the eminent surgeon, said to Robert
Stephenson, when the latter called to see him about a new road, “Your
scheme is preposterous in the extreme. It is of so extravagant a
character as to be positively absurd. Then look at the recklessness of
your proceedings! You are proposing to cut up our estates in all
directions for the purpose of making an unnecessary road. Do you think
for one moment of the destruction of property involved in it? Why,
gentlemen, if this sort of thing is allowed to go on, you will in a
very few years _destroy the noblesse_!” Physicians maintained that
travel through tunnels would be most prejudicial to health. Dr.
Lardner protested against passengers being compelled to put up with
what he called “the destruction of the atmospheric air,” and Sir
Anthony Carlisle insisted that “tunnels would expose healthy people to
colds, catarrhs, and consumption.” Many critics expected the boilers
of the locomotives to explode at any and all times. Others were sure
that the railways would throw so many workmen out of employment that
revolution must follow, and still others declared that England was
being delivered utterly into the power of a small group of
manufacturers and mine-owners. But in spite of all this the people
took to riding on the railways and England prospered.
The aristocracy held out the longest. Noblemen did not relish the
thought of traveling in the same carriages with workmen. The private
coach had for long been a badge of station. For a time, therefore, the
old families and country gentility sent their servants and their
luggage by train, but themselves jogged along the old post-roads in
the family chariots. But there were more accidents and more delays in
travel by coach than by train, and so, one by one, they pocketed their
pride and capitulated. The Duke of Wellington, who had seen the
accident to Mr. Huskisson near Liverpool, held out against such travel
for a long time. But when Queen Victoria, in 1842, used the railway to
go from London to Windsor, the last resistance ended, and the Iron
Duke, together with the rest of his order, followed the Queen’s
example. Said the famous Dr. Arnold of Rugby, as he watched a train
speeding through the country, “I rejoice to see it, and think that
feudality is gone forever. It is so great a blessing to think that any
one evil is really extinct.”
Stephenson himself was one of the busiest men in the kingdom. He was
engineer of half a dozen lines that were building, and he traveled
incessantly. Many nights the only sleep he had was while sitting in
his chaise riding over country roads. At dawn he would be at work,
surveying, planning, directing, until nightfall. In three years he
surveyed and directed the construction of the North Midland line,
running from Derby to Leeds, the York and North Midland, from
Normanton to York, the Manchester and Leeds, the Birmingham and Derby,
and the Sheffield and Rotherham. And in addition to this he traveled
far and wide to give advice about distant lines, to the south of
England, to Scotland, and to the north of Ireland to inspect the
proposed Ulster Railway. He took an office in London, in order that he
might take part in the railway discussions that were continually
coming before Parliament. His knowledge of every detail relating to
the subject was enormous. He knew both the engineering and the
business sides most intimately. “In fact,” he said to a committee of
the House of Commons in 1841, “there is hardly a railway in England
that I have not had to do with.” Yet in spite of all this work he
found time to look after his coal mines near Chesterfield, to
establish lime-works at Ambergate, on the Midland Railway, and to
superintend his flourishing locomotive factory at Newcastle.
King Leopold of Belgium invited him to Brussels, and there discussed
with him his plans for a railway from Brussels to Ghent. The King made
him a Knight of his Order of Leopold, and when the railway was
finished George Stephenson was one of the chief guests of honor at the
opening. Later he went to France, where he was consulted in regard to
the new line that was building between Orleans and Tours. From there
he went to Spain to look into the possible construction of a road
between Madrid and the Bay of Biscay. He found the government of
Spain indifferent to the railway, and there were many doubts as to
whether there would be sufficient traffic to pay the cost of
construction. His report to the shareholders in this proposed “Royal
North of Spain Railway” was therefore unfavorable, and the idea was
shortly after abandoned.
Stephenson had moved his home from Alton Grange to Tapton House in
1838. The latter place was a large, comfortable dwelling, beautifully
situated among woods about a mile to the northeast of Chesterfield.
Here he lived the life of a country gentleman, free to indulge the
strong love of nature that had always been one of his leading
characteristics. He began to grow fine fruits and vegetables and
flowers, and his farm and gardens and hothouses became celebrated all
over England. He was continually sought out by inventors and
scientific men, who wanted his views on their particular work. He also
spent some time at Tapton in devising improvements for the locomotive.
One of these was a three-cylinder locomotive, and such an engine was
later used successfully on the North Eastern Railway. It was, however,
found to be too expensive an engine for general railroad use. He also
invented a new self-acting brake. He sent a model of this to the
Institute of Mechanical Engineers at Birmingham, of which he was
president, together with a report describing it in full. “Any
effectual plan,” he wrote, “for increasing the safety of railway
traveling is, in my mind, of such vital importance, that I prefer
laying my scheme open to the world to taking out a patent for it; and
it will be a source of great pleasure to me to know that it has been
the means of saving even one human life from destruction, or that it
has prevented one serious concussion.”
He also gave great assistance to his son Robert, who was rapidly
becoming a railway engineer second only to his father in fame. George
Stephenson began the line from Chester to Holyhead, which was
completed by Robert. Robert designed the tubular bridge across the
Menai Straits on this line, which was considered a most remarkable
feat. Permission could not be obtained to interfere with the
navigation of the Straits in the slightest degree during the building,
and so piers and arches could not be used. It occurred to Robert
Stephenson that the train might be run through a hollow iron beam. Two
tubes, which were to form the bridge, were made of wrought iron,
floated out into the stream, and raised into position. This new and
original railway bridge proved a success, and convinced England that
Robert had inherited his father’s genius for surmounting what seemed
impossible natural difficulties. George Stephenson did not live to see
this line completed. He died August 12, 1848.
In many respects Stephenson was like Watt. He came from the working
classes, inheriting no special gift for science, and little leisure to
follow his own bent. What he learned he got at first hand, in the coal
mines and the engine shops. What he accomplished was due largely to
indomitable perseverance. Others had built steam-engines that were
almost successful as locomotives, but for one reason or another had
never pushed their invention to that point where the world could
actually use it. When Stephenson had built his locomotive he fought
for it, he made men take an interest in it, and the world accept it.
He always spoke of his career as a battle. “I have fought,” said he,
“for the locomotive single-handed for nearly twenty years, having no
engineer to help me until I had reared engineers under my own care.”
And again he said, “I put up with every rebuff, _determined_ not to be
put down.”
Stephenson did for the locomotive what Watt did for the condensing
engine. He took the primitive devices of other men, and by the rare
powers of selection, combination, and invention produced a finished
product of wonderful power and efficiency. True it is that neither
Watt nor Stephenson were the first men to conceive of a steam-engine
or a locomotive, nor even the first to build working models, but they
were the first to finish what they began, and add the steam-engine and
the locomotive to the other servants of men.
Dr. Arnold was doubtless right when he looked upon the railway as
presaging the end of the feudal system. Its value is beyond any
estimate. It has widened man’s horizon, and given him all the lands
instead of only the limits of his homestead.
X
MORSE AND THE TELEGRAPH
1791-1872