WYLAM AND DEWLEY BURN--GEORGE STEPHENSON'S EARLY YEARS.
The colliery village of Wylam is situated on the north bank of the Tyne,
about eight miles west of Newcastle. The Newcastle and Carlisle railway
runs along the opposite bank; and the traveller by that line sees the
usual signs of a colliery in the unsightly pumping-engines surrounded by
heaps of ashes, coal-dust, and slag; whilst a neighbouring iron-furnace
in full blast throws out dense smoke and loud jets of steam by day and
lurid flames at night. These works form the nucleus of the village,
which is almost entirely occupied by coal-miners and iron-furnacemen.
The place is remarkable for its large population, but not for its
cleanness or neatness as a village; the houses, as in most colliery
villages, being the property of the owners or lessees, who employ them in
temporarily accommodating the workpeople, against whose earnings there is
a weekly set-off for house and coals. About the end of last century the
estate of which Wylam forms part, belonged to Mr. Blackett, a gentleman
of considerable celebrity in coal-mining, then more generally known as
the proprietor of the 'Globe' newspaper.
There is nothing to interest one in the village itself. But a few
hundred yards from its eastern extremity stands a humble detached
dwelling, which will be interesting to many as the birthplace of one of
the most remarkable men of our times--George Stephenson, the Railway
Engineer. It is a common two-storied, red-tiled, rubble house, portioned
off into four labourers' apartments. It is known by the name of High
Street House, and was originally so called because it stands by the side
of what used to be the old riding post road or street between Newcastle
and Hexham, along which the post was carried on horseback within the
memory of persons living.
The lower room in the west end of this house was the home of the
Stephenson family; and there George Stephenson was born, the second of a
family of six children, on the 9th of June, 1781. The apartment is now,
what it was then, an ordinary labourer's dwelling,--its walls are
unplastered, its floor is of clay, and the bare rafters are exposed
overhead.
Robert Stephenson, or "Old Bob," as the neighbours familiarly called him,
and his wife Mabel, were a respectable couple, careful and hard-working.
It is said that Robert Stephenson's father was a Scotchman, and came into
England as a gentleman's servant. Mabel, his wife, was the daughter of
Robert Carr, a dyer at Ovingham. When first married, they lived at
Walbottle, a village situated between Wylam and Newcastle, afterwards
removing to Wylam, where Robert was employed as fireman of the old
pumping engine at that colliery.
[Picture: High-street House, Wylam, the Birthplace of George Stephenson]
An old Wylam collier, who remembered George Stephenson's father, thus
described him:--"Geordie's fayther war like a peer o' deals nailed
thegither, an' a bit o' flesh i' th' inside; he war as queer as Dick's
hatband--went thrice aboot, an' wudn't tie. His wife Mabel war a
delicat' boddie, an' varry flighty. Thay war an honest family, but sair
hadden doon i' th' world." Indeed, the earnings of old Robert did not
amount to more than twelve shillings a week; and, as there were six
children to maintain, the family, during their stay at Wylam, were
necessarily in very straitened circumstances. The father's wages being
barely sufficient, even with the most rigid economy, for the sustenance
of the household, there was little to spare for clothing, and nothing for
education, so none of the children were sent to school.
Old Robert was a general favourite in the village, especially amongst the
children, whom he was accustomed to draw about him whilst tending the
engine-fire, and feast their young imaginations with tales of Sinbad the
Sailor and Robinson Crusoe, besides others of his own invention; so that
"Bob's engine-fire" came to be the most popular resort in the village.
Another feature in his character, by which he was long remembered, was
his affection for birds and animals; and he had many tame favourites of
both sorts, which were as fond of resorting to his engine-fire as the
boys and girls themselves. In the winter time he had usually a flock of
tame robins about him; and they would come hopping familiarly to his feet
to pick up the crumbs which he had saved for them out of his humble
dinner. At his cottage he was rarely without one or more tame
blackbirds, which flew about the house, or in and out at the door. In
summer-time he would go a-birdnesting with his children; and one day he
took his little son George to see a blackbird's nest for the first time.
Holding him up in his arms, he let the wondering boy peep down, through
the branches held aside for the purpose, into a nest full of young
birds--a sight which the boy never forgot, but used to speak of with
delight to his intimate friends when he himself had grown an old man.
The boy George led the ordinary life of working-people's children. He
played about the doors; went birdnesting when he could; and ran errands
to the village. He was also an eager listener, with the other children,
to his father's curious tales; and he early imbibed from him that
affection for birds and animals which continued throughout his life. In
course of time he was promoted to the office of carrying his father's
dinner to him while at work, and it was on such occasions his great
delight to see the robins fed. At home he helped to nurse, and that with
a careful hand, his younger brothers and sisters. One of his duties was
to see that the other children were kept out of the way of the chaldron
waggons, which were then dragged by horses along the wooden tramroad
immediately in front of the cottage-door. This waggon-way was the first
in the northern district on which the experiment of a locomotive engine
was tried. But at the time of which we speak, the locomotive had
scarcely been dreamt of in England as a practicable working power; horses
only were used to haul the coal; and one of the first sights with which
the boy was familiar was the coal-waggons dragged by them along the
wooden railway at Wylam.
Thus eight years passed; after which, the coal having been worked out,
the old engine, which had grown "dismal to look at," as one of the
workmen described it, was pulled down; and then Robert, having obtained
employment as a fireman at the Dewley Burn Colliery, removed with his
family to that place. Dewley Burn, at this day, consists of a few
old-fashioned low-roofed cottages standing on either side of a babbling
little stream. They are connected by a rustic wooden bridge, which spans
the rift in front of the doors. In the central one-roomed cottage of
this group, on the right bank, Robert Stephenson lived for a time with
his family; the pit at which he worked standing in the rear of the
cottages.
Young though he was, George was now of an age to be able to contribute
something towards the family maintenance; for in a poor man's house,
every child is a burden until his little hands can be turned to
profitable account. That the boy was shrewd and active, and possessed of
a ready mother wit, will be evident enough from the following incident.
One day his sister Nell went into Newcastle to buy a bonnet; and Geordie
went with her "for company." At a draper's shop in the Bigg Market, Nell
found a "chip" quite to her mind, but on pricing it, alas! it was found
to be fifteen pence beyond her means, and she left the shop very much
disappointed. But Geordie said, "Never heed, Nell; see if I canna win
siller enough to buy the bonnet; stand ye there, till I come back." Away
ran the boy and disappeared amidst the throng of the market, leaving the
girl to wait his return. Long and long she waited, until it grew dusk,
and the market people had nearly all left. She had begun to despair, and
fears crossed her mind that Geordie must have been run over and killed;
when at last up he came running, almost breathless. "I've gotten the
siller for the bonnet, Nell!" cried he. "Eh Geordie!" she said, "but hoo
hae ye gotten it?" "Haudin the gentlemen's horses!" was the exultant
reply. The bonnet was forthwith bought, and the two returned to Dewley
happy.
George's first regular employment was of a very humble sort. A widow,
named Grace Ainslie, then occupied the neighbouring farmhouse of Dewley.
She kept a number of cows, and had the privilege of grazing them along
the waggon-road. She needed a boy to herd the cows, to keep them out of
the way of the waggons, and prevent their straying or trespassing on the
neighbours' "liberties;" the boy's duty was also to bar the gates at
night after all the waggons had passed. George petitioned for this post,
and, to his great joy, he was appointed at the wage of twopence a day.
It was light employment, and he had plenty of spare time on his hands,
which he spent in birdnesting, making whistles out of reeds and scrannel
straws, and erecting Lilliputian mills in the little water-streams that
ran into the Dewley bog. But his favourite amusement at this early age
was erecting clay engines in conjunction with his chosen playmate, Bill
Thirlwall. The place is still pointed out where the future engineers
made their first essays in modelling. The boys found the clay for their
engines in the adjoining bog, and the hemlocks which grew about supplied
them with imaginary steam-pipes. They even proceeded to make a miniature
winding-machine in connexion with their engine, and the apparatus was
erected upon a bench in front of the Thirlwalls' cottage. The corves
were made out of hollowed corks; the ropes were supplied by twine; and a
few bits of wood gleaned from the refuse of the carpenter's shop
completed their materials. With this apparatus the boys made a show of
sending the corves down the pit and drawing them up again, much to the
marvel of the pitmen. But some mischievous person about the place seized
the opportunity early one morning of smashing the fragile machinery, much
to the grief of the young engineers.
As Stephenson grew older and abler to work, he was set to lead the horses
when ploughing, though scarce big enough to stride across the furrows;
and he used afterwards to say that he rode to his work in the mornings at
an hour when most other children of his age were asleep in their beds.
He was also employed to hoe turnips, and do similar farm-work, for which
he was paid the advanced wage of fourpence a day. But his highest
ambition was to be taken on at the colliery where his father worked; and
he shortly joined his elder brother James there as a "corf-bitter," or
"picker," to clear the coal of stones, bats, and dross. His wages were
then advanced to sixpence a day, and afterwards to eightpence when he was
set to drive the gin-horse.
Shortly after, George went to Black Callerton to drive the gin there; and
as that colliery lies about two miles across the fields from Dewley Burn,
he walked that distance early in the morning to his work, returning home
late in the evening. One of the old residents at Black Callerton, who
remembered him at that time, described him to the author as "a grit
growing lad, with bare legs an' feet;" adding that he was "very
quick-witted and full of fun and tricks: indeed, there was nothing under
the sun but he tried to imitate." He was usually foremost also in the
sports and pastimes of youth.
Among his first strongly-developed tastes was the love of birds and
animals, which he inherited from his father. Blackbirds were his special
favourites. The hedges between Dewley and Black Callerton were capital
bird-nesting places; and there was not a nest there that he did not know
of. When the young birds were old enough, he would bring them home with
him, feed them, and teach them to fly about the cottage unconfined by
cages. One of his blackbirds became so tame, that, after flying about
the doors all day, and in and out of the cottage, it would take up its
roost upon the bed-head at night. And most singular of all, the bird
would disappear in the spring and summer months, when it was supposed to
go into the woods to pair and rear its young, after which it would
reappear at the cottage, and resume its social habits during the winter.
This went on for several years. George had also a stock of tame rabbits,
for which he built a little house behind the cottage, and for many years
he continued to pride himself upon the superiority of his breed.
After he had driven the gin for some time at Dewley and Black Callerton,
he was taken on as an assistant to his father in firing the engine at
Dewley. This was a step of promotion which he had anxiously desired, his
only fear being lest he should be found too young for the work. Indeed,
he used afterwards to relate how he was wont to hide himself when the
owner of the colliery went round, in case he should be thought too little
a boy to earn the wages paid him. Since he had modelled his clay engines
in the bog, his young ambition was to be an engineman; and to be an
assistant fireman was the first step towards this position. Great
therefore was his joy when, at about fourteen years of age, he was
appointed assistant-fireman, at the wage of a shilling a day.
But the coal at Dewley Burn being at length worked out, the pit was
ordered to be "laid in," and old Robert and his family were again under
the necessity of shifting their home; for, to use the common phrase, they
must "follow the wark." They removed accordingly to a place called
Jolly's Close, a few miles to the south, close behind the village of
Newburn, where another coal-mine belonging to the Duke of Northumberland,
called "the Duke's Winnin," had recently been opened out.
[Picture: Newburn on the Tyne]
One of the old persons in the neighbourhood, who knew the family well,
describes the dwelling in which they lived as a poor cottage of only one
room, in which the father, mother, four sons, and two daughters, lived
and slept. It was crowded with three low-poled beds. The one apartment
served for parlour, kitchen, sleeping-room, and all.
The children of the Stephenson family were now growing apace, and several
of them were old enough to be able to earn money at various kinds of
colliery work. James and George, the two eldest sons, worked as
assistant-firemen; and the younger boys worked as wheelers or pickers on
the bank-tops. The two girls helped their mother with the household
work.
Other workings of the coal were opened out in the neighbourhood; and to
one of these George was removed as fireman on his own account. This was
called the "Mid Mill Winnin," where he had for his mate a young man named
Coe. They worked together there for about two years, by twelve-hour
shifts, George firing the engine at the wage of a shilling a day. He was
now fifteen years old. His ambition was as yet limited to attaining the
standing of a full workman, at a man's wages; and with that view he
endeavoured to attain such a knowledge of his engine as would eventually
lead to his employment as an engineman, with its accompanying advantage
of higher pay. He was a steady, sober, hard-working young man, but
nothing more in the estimation of his fellow-workmen.
One of his favourite pastimes in by-hours was trying feats of strength
with his companions. Although in frame he was not particularly robust,
yet he was big and bony, and considered very strong for his age. At
throwing the hammer George had no compeer. At lifting heavy weights off
the ground from between his feet, by means of a bar of iron passed
through them--placing the bar against his knees as a fulcrum, and then
straightening his spine and lifting them sheer up--he was also very
successful. On one occasion he lifted as much as sixty stones weight--a
striking indication of his strength of bone and muscle.
When the pit at Mid Mill was closed, George and his companion Coe were
sent to work another pumping-engine erected near Throckley Bridge, where
they continued for some months. It was while working at this place that
his wages were raised to 12s. a week--an event to him of great
importance. On coming out of the foreman's office that Saturday evening
on which he received the advance, he announced the fact to his
fellow-workmen, adding triumphantly "I am now a made man for life!"
The pit opened at Newburn, at which old Robert Stephenson worked, proving
a failure, it was closed; and a new pit was sunk at Water-row, on a strip
of land lying between the Wylam waggon-way and the river Tyne, about half
a mile west of Newburn Church. A pumping engine was erected there by
Robert Hawthorn, the Duke's engineer; and old Stephenson went to work it
as fireman, his son George acting as the engineman or plugman. At that
time he was about seventeen years old--a very youthful age at which to
fill so responsible a post. He had thus already got ahead of his father
in his station as a workman; for the plugman holds a higher grade than
the fireman, requiring more practical knowledge and skill, and usually
receiving higher wages.
George's duty as plugman was to watch the engine, to see that it kept
well in work, and that the pumps were efficient in drawing the water.
When the water-level in the pit was lowered, and the suction became
incomplete through the exposure of the suction-holes, it was then his
duty to proceed to the bottom of the shaft and plug the tube so that the
pump should draw: hence the designation of "plugman." If a stoppage in
the engine took place through any defect which he was incapable of
remedying, it was for him to call in the aid of the chief engineer to set
it to rights.
But from the time when George Stephenson was appointed fireman, and more
particularly afterwards as engineman, he applied himself so assiduously
and so successfully to the study of the engine and its gearing--taking
the machine to pieces in his leisure hours for the purpose of cleaning
and understanding its various parts--that he soon acquired a thorough
practical knowledge of its construction and mode of working, and very
rarely needed to call the engineer of the colliery to his aid. His
engine became a sort of pet with him, and he was never wearied of
watching and inspecting it with admiration.
Though eighteen years old, like many of his fellow-workmen, Stephenson
had not yet learnt to read. All that he could do was to get some one to
read for him by his engine fire, out of any book or stray newspaper which
found its way into the neighbourhood. Buonaparte was then overrunning
Italy, and astounding Europe by his brilliant succession of victories;
and there was no more eager auditor of his exploits, as read from the
newspaper accounts, than the young engineman at the Water-row Pit.
There were also numerous stray bits of information and intelligence
contained in these papers, which excited Stephenson's interest. One of
these related to the Egyptian method of hatching birds' eggs by means of
artificial heat. Curious about everything relating to birds, he
determined to test it by experiment. It was spring time, and he
forthwith went a birdnesting in the adjoining woods and hedges. He
gathered a collection of eggs of various sorts, set them in flour in a
warm place in the engine-house, covering the whole with wool, and then
waited the issue. The heat was kept as steady as possible, and the eggs
were carefully turned every twelve hours, but though they chipped, and
some of them exhibited well-grown chicks, they never hatched. The
experiment failed, but the incident shows that the inquiring mind of the
youth was fairly at work.
Modelling of engines in clay continued to be another of his favourite
occupations. He made models of engines which he had seen, and of others
which were described to him. These attempts were an improvement upon his
first trials at Dewley Burn bog, when occupied there as a herd-boy. He
was, however, anxious to know something of the wonderful engines of
Boulton and Watt, and was told that they were to be found fully described
in books, which he must search for information as to their construction,
action and uses. But, alas! Stephenson could not read; he had not yet
learnt even his letters.
Thus he shortly found, when gazing wistfully in the direction of
knowledge, that to advance further as a skilled workman, he must master
this wonderful art of reading--the key to so many other arts. Only thus
could he gain an access to books, the depositories of the wisdom and
experience of the past. Although a grown man, and doing the work of a
man, he was not ashamed to confess his ignorance, and go to school, big
as he was, to learn his letters. Perhaps, too, he foresaw that, in
laying out a little of his spare earnings for this purpose, he was
investing money judiciously, and that, in every hour he spent at school,
he was really working for better wages.
His first schoolmaster was Robin Cowens, a poor teacher in the village of
Walbottle. He kept a night-school, which was attended by a few of the
colliers and labourers' sons in the neighbourhood. George took lessons
in spelling and reading three nights in the week. Robin Cowen's teaching
cost threepence a week; and though it was not very good, yet George,
being hungry for knowledge and eager to acquire it, soon learnt to read.
He also practised "pothooks," and at the age of nineteen he was proud to
be able to write his own name.
A Scotch dominie, named Andrew Robertson, set up a night-school in the
village of Newburn, in the winter of 1799. It was more convenient for
George to attend this school, as it was nearer to his work, and only a
few minutes' walk from Jolly's Close. Besides, Andrew had the reputation
of being a skilled arithmetician; and this branch of knowledge Stephenson
was very desirous of acquiring. He accordingly began taking lessons from
him, paying fourpence a week. Robert Gray, the junior fireman at the
Water-row Pit, began arithmetic at the same time; and Gray afterwards
told the author that George learnt "figuring" so much faster than he did,
that he could not make out how it was--"he took to figures so wonderful."
Although the two started together from the same point, at the end of the
winter George had mastered "reduction," while Robert Gray was still
struggling with the difficulties of simple division. But George's secret
was his perseverance. He worked out the sums in his bye-hours, improving
every minute of his spare time by the engine-fire, and studying there the
arithmetical problems set for him upon his slate by the master. In the
evenings he took to Robertson the sums which he had "worked," and new
ones were "set" for him to study out the following day. Thus his
progress was rapid, and, with a willing heart and mind, he soon became
well advanced in arithmetic. Indeed, Andrew Robertson became very proud
of his scholar; and shortly after, when the Water-row Pit was closed, and
George removed to Black Callerton to work there, the poor schoolmaster,
not having a very extensive connexion in Newburn, went with his pupils,
and set up his night-school at Black Callerton, where he continued his
lessons.
George still found time to attend to his favourite animals while working
at the Water-row Pit. Like his father, he used to tempt the
robin-redbreasts to hop and fly about him at the engine-fire, by the bait
of bread-crumbs saved from his dinner. But his chief favourite was his
dog--so sagacious that he almost daily carried George's dinner to him at
the pit. The tin containing the meal was suspended from the dog's neck,
and, thus laden, he proceeded faithfully from Jolly's Close to Water-row
Pit, quite through the village of Newburn. He turned neither to left nor
right, nor heeded the barking of curs at his heels. But his course was
not unattended with perils. One day the big strange dog of a passing
butcher espying the engineman's messenger with the tin can about his
neck, ran after and fell upon him. There was a terrible tussle and
worrying, which lasted for a brief while, and, shortly after, the dog's
master, anxious for his dinner, saw his faithful servant approaching,
bleeding but triumphant. The tin can was still round his neck, but the
dinner had been spilt in the struggle. Though George went without his
dinner that day, he was prouder of his dog than ever when the
circumstances of the combat were related to him by the villagers who had
seen it.
It was while working at the Water-row Pit that Stephenson learnt the art
of brakeing an engine. This being one of the higher departments of
colliery labour, and among the best paid, George was very anxious to
learn it. A small winding-engine having been put up for the purpose of
drawing the coals from the pit, Bill Coe, his friend and fellow-workman,
was appointed the brakesman. He frequently allowed George to try his
hand at the machine, and instructed him how to proceed. Coe was,
however, opposed in this by several of the other workmen--one of whom, a
banksman named William Locke, {26} went so far as to stop the working of
the pit because Stephenson had been called in to the brake. But one day
as Mr. Charles Nixon, the manager of the pit, was observed approaching,
Coe adopted an expedient which put a stop to the opposition. He called
upon Stephenson to "come into the brake-house, and take hold of the
machine." Locke, as usual, sat down, and the working of the pit was
stopped. When requested by the manager to give an explanation, he said
that "young Stephenson couldn't brake, and, what was more, never would
learn, he was so clumsy." Mr. Nixon, however, ordered Locke to go on
with the work, which he did; and Stephenson, after some further practice,
acquired the art of brakeing.
After working at the Water-row Pit and at other engines near Newburn for
about three years, George and Coe went to Black Callerton early in 1801.
Though only twenty years of age, his employers thought so well of him
that they appointed him to the responsible office of brakesman at the
Dolly Pit. For convenience' sake, he took lodgings at a small farmer's
in the village, finding his own victuals, and paying so much a week for
lodging and attendance. In the locality this was called "picklin in his
awn poke neuk." It not unfrequently happens that the young workman about
the collieries, when selecting a lodging, contrives to pitch his tent
where the daughter of the house ultimately becomes his wife. This is
often the real attraction that draws the youth from home, though a very
different one may be pretended.
George Stephenson's duties as brakesman may be briefly described. The
work was somewhat monotonous, and consisted in superintending the working
of the engine and machinery by means of which the coals were drawn out of
the pit. Brakesman are almost invariably selected from those who have
had considerable experience as engine-firemen, and borne a good character
for steadiness, punctuality, watchfulness, and "mother wit." In George
Stephenson's day the coals were drawn out of the pit in corves, or large
baskets made of hazel rods. The corves were placed together in a cage,
between which and the pit-ropes there was usually from fifteen to twenty
feet of chain. The approach of the corves towards the pit mouth was
signalled by a bell, brought into action by a piece of mechanism worked
from the shaft of the engine. When the bell sounded, the brakesman
checked the speed, by taking hold of the hand-gear connected with the
steam-valves, which were so arranged that by their means he could
regulate the speed of the engine, and stop or set it in motion when
required. Connected with the fly-wheel was a powerful wooden brake,
acting by pressure against its rim, something like the brake of a
railway-carriage against its wheels. On catching sight of the chain
attached to the ascending corve-cage, the brakesman, by pressing his foot
upon a foot-step near him, was enabled, with great precision, to stop the
revolutions of the wheel, and arrest the ascent of the corves at the pit
mouth, when they were forthwith landed on the "settle board." On the
full corves being replaced by empty ones, it was then the duty of the
brakesman to reverse the engine, and send the corves down the pit to be
filled again.
The monotony of George Stephenson's occupation as a brakesman was
somewhat varied by the change which he made, in his turn, from the day to
the night shift. His duty, on the latter occasions, consisted chiefly in
sending men and materials into the mine, and in drawing other men and
materials out. Most of the workmen enter the pit during the night shift,
and leave it in the latter part of the day, whilst coal-drawing is
proceeding. The requirements of the work at night are such, that the
brakesman has a good deal of spare time on his hands, which he is at
liberty to employ in his own way. From an early period, George was
accustomed to employ those vacant night hours in working the sums set for
him by Andrew Robertson upon his slate, practising writing in his
copy-book, and mending the shoes of his fellow-workmen. His wages while
working at the Dolly Pit amounted to from 1 pounds 15s. to 2 pounds in
the fortnight; but he gradually added to them as he became more expert at
shoe-mending, and afterwards at shoe-making.
Probably he was stimulated to take in hand this extra work by the
attachment he had by this time formed for a young woman named Fanny
Henderson, who officiated as servant in the small farmer's house in which
he lodged. We have been informed that the personal attractions of Fanny,
though these were considerable, were the least of her charms. Mr.
William Fairbairn, who afterwards saw her in her home at Willington Quay,
describes her as a very comely woman. But her temper was one of the
sweetest; and those who knew her were accustomed to speak of the charming
modesty of her demeanour, her kindness of disposition, and withal her
sound good sense.
Amongst his various mendings of old shoes at Callerton. George was on
one occasion favoured with the shoes of his sweetheart to sole. One can
imagine the pleasure with which he would linger over such a piece of
work, and the pride with which he would execute it. A friend of his,
still living, relates that, after he had finished the shoes, he carried
them about with him in his pocket on the Sunday afternoon, and that from
time to time he would pull them out and hold them up, exclaiming, "what a
capital job he had made of them!"
Out of his earnings by shoe-mending at Callerton, George contrived to
save his first guinea. The first guinea saved by a working man is no
trivial thing. If, as in Stephenson's case, it has been the result of
prudent self-denial, of extra labour at bye-hours, and of the honest
resolution to save and economise for worthy purposes, the first guinea
saved is an earnest of better things. When Stephenson had saved this
guinea he was not a little elated at the achievement, and expressed the
opinion to a friend, who many years after reminded him of it, that he was
"now a rich man."
Not long after he began to work at Black Callerton as brakesman, he had a
quarrel with a pitman named Ned Nelson, a roistering bully, who was the
terror of the village. Nelson was a great fighter; and it was therefore
considered dangerous to quarrel with him. Stephenson was so unfortunate
as not to be able to please this pitman by the way in which he drew him
out of the pit; and Nelson swore at him grossly because of the alleged
clumsiness of his brakeing. George defended himself, and appealed to the
testimony of the other workmen. But Nelson had not been accustomed to
George's style of self-assertion; and, after a great deal of abuse, he
threatened to kick the brakesman, who defied him to do so. Nelson ended
by challenging Stephenson to a pitched battle; and the latter accepted
the challenge, when a day was fixed on which the fight was to come off.
Great was the excitement at Black Callerton when it was known that George
Stephenson had accepted Nelson's challenge. Everybody said he would be
killed. The villagers, the young men, and especially the boys of the
place, with whom George was a great favourite, all wished that he might
beat Nelson, but they scarcely dared to say so. They came about him
while he was at work in the engine-house to inquire if it was really true
that he was "goin to fight Nelson?" "Ay; never fear for me; I'll fight
him." And fight him he did. For some days previous to the appointed day
of battle, Nelson went entirely off work for the purpose of keeping
himself fresh and strong, whereas Stephenson went on doing his daily work
as usual, and appeared not in the least disconcerted by the prospect of
the affair. So, on the evening appointed, after George had done his
day's labour, he went into the Dolly Pit Field, where his already
exulting rival was ready to meet him. George stripped, and "went in"
like a practised pugilist--though it was his first and last fight. After
a few rounds, George's wiry muscles and practised strength enabled him
severely to punish his adversary, and to secure an easy victory.
This circumstance is related in illustration of Stephenson's personal
pluck and courage; and it was thoroughly characteristic of the man. He
was no pugilist, and the very reverse of quarrelsome. But he would not
be put down by the bully of the colliery, and he fought him. There his
pugilism ended; they afterwards shook hands, and continued good friends.
In after life, Stephenson's mettle was often as hardly tried, though in a
different way; and he did not fail to exhibit the same resolute courage
in contending with the bullies of the railway world, as he showed in his
encounter with Ned Nelson, the fighting pitman of Callerton.
[Picture: Colliery Whimsey]
[Picture: Stephenson's Cottage at Wallington Quay]