GEORGE STEPHENSON'S CLOSING YEARS--ILLNESS AND DEATH.
In describing the completion of the series of great works detailed in the
preceding chapter, we have somewhat anticipated the closing years of
George Stephenson's life. He could not fail to take an anxious interest
in the success of his son's designs, and he accordingly paid many visits
to Conway and to Menai, during the progress of the works. He was present
on the occasion of the floating and raising of the first Conway tube, and
there witnessed a clear proof of the soundness of Robert's judgment as to
the efficiency and strength of the tubular bridge, of which he had at
first expressed some doubts; but before the like test could be applied at
the Britannia Bridge, George Stephenson's mortal anxieties were at an
end, for he had then ceased from all his labours.
Towards the close of his life, George Stephenson almost entirely withdrew
from the active pursuit of his profession; he devoted himself chiefly to
his extensive collieries and lime-works, taking a local interest only in
such projected railways as were calculated to open up new markets for
their products.
At home he lived the life of a country gentleman, enjoying his garden and
grounds, and indulging his love of nature, which, through all his busy
life, had never left him. It was not until the year 1845 that he took an
active interest in horticultural pursuits. Then he began to build new
melon-houses, pineries, and vineries, of great extent; and he now seemed
as eager to excel all other growers of exotic plants in his
neighbourhood, as he had been to surpass the villagers of Killingworth in
the production of gigantic cabbages and cauliflowers some thirty years
before. He had a pine-house built 68 feet in length and a pinery 140
feet. Workmen were constantly employed in enlarging them, until at
length he had no fewer than ten glass forcing-houses, heated with hot
water, which he was one of the first in that neighbourhood to make use of
for such a purpose. He did not take so much pleasure in flowers as in
fruits. At one of the county agricultural meetings, he said that he
intended yet to grow pineapples at Tapton as big as pumpkins. The only
man to whom he would "knock under" was his friend Paxton, the gardener to
the Duke of Devonshire; and he was so old in the service, and so skilful,
that he could scarcely hope to beat him. Yet his "Queen" pines did take
the first prize at a competition with the Duke,--though this was not
until shortly after his death, when the plants had become more fully
grown. His grapes also took the first prize at Rotherham, at a
competition open to all England. He was extremely successful in
producing melons, having invented a method of suspending them in baskets
of wire gauze, which, by relieving the stalk from tension, allowed
nutrition to proceed more freely, and better enabled the fruit to grow
and ripen.
He took much pride also in his growth of cucumbers. He raised them very
fine and large, but he could not make them grow straight. Place them as
he would, notwithstanding all his propping of them, and humouring them by
modifying the application of heat and the admission of light for the
purpose of effecting his object, they would still insist on growing
crooked in their own way. At last he had a number of glass cylinders
made at Newcastle, for the purpose of an experiment; into these the
growing cucumbers were inserted, and then he succeeded in growing them
perfectly straight. Carrying one of the new products into his house one
day, and exhibiting it to a party of visitors, he told them of the
expedient he had adopted, and added gleefully, "I think I have bothered
them noo!"
Mr. Stephenson also carried on farming operations with some success. He
experimented on manure, and fed cattle after methods of his own. He was
very particular as to breed and build in stock-breeding. "You see, sir,"
he said to one gentleman, "I like to see the _coo's_ back at a gradient
something like this" (drawing an imaginary line with his hand), "and then
the ribs or girders will carry more flesh than if they were so--or so."
When he attended the county agricultural meetings, which he frequently
did, he was accustomed to take part in the discussions, and he brought
the same vigorous practical mind to bear upon questions of tillage,
drainage, and farm economy, which he had been accustomed to exercise on
mechanical and engineering matters.
All his early affection for birds and animals revived. He had favourite
dogs, and cows, and horses; and again he began to keep rabbits, and to
pride himself on the beauty of his breed. There was not a bird's nest
upon the grounds that he did not know of; and from day to day he went
round watching the progress which the birds made with their building,
carefully guarding them from injury. No one was more minutely acquainted
with the habits of British birds, the result of a long, loving, and close
observation of nature.
At Tapton he remembered the failure of his early experiment in hatching
birds' eggs by heat, and he now performed it successfully, being able to
secure a proper apparatus for maintaining a uniform temperature. He was
also curious about the breeding and fattening of fowls; and when his
friend Edward Pease of Darlington visited him at Tapton, he explained a
method which he had invented for fattening chickens in half the usual
time.
Mrs. Stephenson tried to keep bees, but found they would not thrive at
Tapton. Many hives perished, and there was no case of success. The
cause of failure was a puzzle to the engineer; but one day his acute
powers of observation enabled him to unravel it. At the foot of the hill
on which Tapton House stands, he saw some bees trying to rise up from
amongst the grass, laden with honey and wax. They were already
exhausted, as if with long flying; and then it occurred to him that the
height at which the house stood above the bees' feeding-ground rendered
it difficult for them to reach their hives when heavy laden, and hence
they sank exhausted. He afterwards incidentally mentioned the
circumstance to Mr. Jesse the naturalist, who concurred in his view as to
the cause of failure, and was much struck by the keen observation which
had led to its solution.
Mr. Stephenson had none of the in-door habits of the student. He read
very little; for reading is a habit which is generally acquired in youth;
and his youth and manhood had been for the most part spent in hard work.
Books wearied him, and sent him to sleep. Novels excited his feelings
too much, and he avoided them, though he would occasionally read through
a philosophical book on a subject in which he felt particularly
interested. He wrote very few letters with his own hand; nearly all his
letters were dictated, and he avoided even dictation when he could. His
greatest pleasure was in conversation, from which he gathered most of his
imparted information.
It was his practice, when about to set out on a journey by railway, to
walk along the train before it started, and look into the carriages to
see if he could find "a conversable face." On one of these occasions, at
the Euston Station, he discovered in a carriage a very handsome, manly,
and intelligent face, which he afterwards found was that of the late Lord
Denman. He was on his way down to his seat at Stony Middleton, in
Derbyshire. Mr. Stephenson entered the carriage, and the two were
shortly engaged in interesting conversation. It turned upon chronometry
and horology, and the engineer amazed his lordship by the extent of his
knowledge on the subject, in which he displayed as much minute
information, even down to the latest improvements in watchmaking, as if
he had been bred a watchmaker and lived by the trade. Lord Denman was
curious to know how a man whose time must have been mainly engrossed by
engineering, had gathered so much knowledge on a subject quite out of his
own line, and he asked the question. "I learnt clockmaking and
watchmaking," was the answer, "while a working man at Killingworth, when
I made a little money in my spare hours, by cleaning the pitmen's clocks
and watches; and since then I have kept up my information on the
subject." This led to further questions, and then Mr. Stephenson told
Lord Denman the interesting story of his life, which held him entranced
during the remainder of the journey.
Many of his friends readily accepted invitations to Tapton House to enjoy
his hospitality, which never failed. With them he would "fight his
battles o'er again," reverting to his battle for the locomotive; and he
was never tired of telling, nor were his auditors of listening to, the
lively anecdotes with which he was accustomed to illustrate the struggles
of his early career. Whilst walking in the woods or through the grounds,
he would arrest his friend's attention by allusion to some simple
object,--such as a leaf, a blade of grass, a bit of bark, a nest of
birds, or an ant carrying its eggs across the path,--and descant in
glowing terms upon the creative power of the Divine Mechanician, whose
contrivances were so exhaustless and so wonderful. This was a theme upon
which he was often accustomed to dwell in reverential admiration, when in
the society of his more intimate friends.
One night, when walking under the stars, and gazing up into the field of
suns, each the probable centre of a system, forming the Milky Way, a
friend said to him, "What an insignificant creature is man in sight of so
immense a creation as that!" "Yes!" was his reply; "but how wonderful a
creature also is man, to be able to think and reason, and even in some
measure to comprehend works so infinite!"
A microscope, which he had brought down to Tapton, was a source of
immense enjoyment to him; and he was never tired of contemplating the
minute wonders which it revealed. One evening, when some friends were
visiting him, he induced them each to puncture their skin so as to draw
blood, in order that he might examine the globules through the
microscope. One of the gentlemen present was a teetotaller, and Mr.
Stephenson pronounced his blood to be the most lively of the whole. He
had a theory of his own about the movement of the globules in the blood,
which has since become familiar. It was, that they were respectively
charged with electricity, positive at one end and negative at the other,
and that thus they attracted and repelled each other, causing a
circulation. No sooner did he observe anything new, than he immediately
set about devising a reason for it. His training in mechanics, his
practical familiarity with matter in all its forms, and the strong bent
of his mind, led him first of all to seek for a mechanical explanation.
And yet he was ready to admit that there was a something in the principle
of _life_--so mysterious and inexplicable--which baffled mechanics, and
seemed to dominate over and control them. He did not care much, either,
for abstruse mechanics, but only for the experimental and practical, as
is usually the case with those whose knowledge has been self-acquired.
Even at his advanced age, the spirit of frolic had not left him. When
proceeding from Chesterfield station to Tapton House with his friends, he
would almost invariably challenge them to a race up the steep path,
partly formed of stone steps, along the hill side. And he would
struggle, as of old, to keep the front place, though by this time his
"wind" had greatly failed. He would occasionally invite an old friend to
take a quiet wrestle with him on the lawn, to keep up his skill, and
perhaps to try some new "knack" of throwing. In the evening, he would
sometimes indulge his visitors by reciting the old pastoral of "Damon and
Phyllis," or singing his favourite song of "John Anderson my Joe." But
his greatest glory amongst those with whom he was most intimate, was a
"crowdie!" "Let's have a crowdie night," he would say; and forthwith a
kettle of boiling water was ordered in, with a basin of oatmeal. Taking
a large bowl, containing a sufficiency of hot water, and placing it
between his knees, he poured in oatmeal with one hand, and stirred the
mixture vigorously with the other. When enough meal had been added, and
the stirring was completed, the crowdie was made. It was then supped
with new milk, and Stephenson generally pronounced it "capital!" It was
the diet to which he had been accustomed when a working man, and all the
dainties with which he had become familiar in recent years had not
spoiled his simple tastes. To enjoy crowdie at his age, besides,
indicated that he still possessed that quality on which no doubt much of
his practical success in life had depended,--a strong and healthy
digestion.
He would also frequently invite to his house the humbler companions of
his early life, and take pleasure in talking over old times with them.
He never assumed any of the bearings of a great man on such occasions,
but treated the visitors with the same friendliness and respect as if
they had been his equals, sending them away pleased with themselves and
delighted with him. At other times, needy men who had known him in youth
would knock at his door, and they were never refused access. But if he
had heard of any misconduct on their part he would rate them soundly.
One who knew him intimately in private life has seen him exhorting such
backsliders, and denouncing their misconduct and imprudence with the
tears streaming down his cheeks. And he would generally conclude by
opening his purse, and giving them the help which they needed "to make a
fresh start in the world."
Mr. Stephenson's life at Tapton during his latter years was occasionally
diversified with a visit to London. His engineering business having
become limited, he generally went there for the purpose of visiting
friends, or "to see what there was fresh going on." He found a new race
of engineers springing up on all hands--men who knew him not; and his
London journeys gradually ceased to yield him pleasure. A friend used to
take him to the opera, but by the end of the first act, he was generally
in a profound slumber. Yet on one occasion he enjoyed a visit to the
Haymarket with a party of friends on his birthday, to see T. P. Cooke, in
"Black-eyed Susan;"--if that can be called enjoyment which kept him in a
state of tears during half the performance. At other times he visited
Newcastle, which always gave him great pleasure. He would, on such
occasions, go out to Killingworth and seek up old friends, and if the
people whom he knew were too retiring, and shrunk into their cottages, he
went and sought them there. Striking the floor with his stick, and
holding his noble person upright, he would say, in his own kind way,
"Well, and how's all here to-day?" To the last he had always a warm
heart for Newcastle and its neighbourhood.
Sir Robert Peel, on more than one occasion, invited George Stephenson to
his mansion at Drayton, where he was accustomed to assemble round him men
of the highest distinction in art, science, and legislation, during the
intervals of his parliamentary life. The first invitation was
respectfully declined. Sir Robert invited him a second time, and a
second time he declined: "I have no great ambition," he said, "to mix in
fine company, and perhaps should feel out of my element amongst such high
folks." But Sir Robert a third time pressed him to come down to Tamworth
early in January, 1845, when he would meet Buckland, Follett, and others
well known to both. "Well, Sir Robert," said he, "I feel your kindness
very much, and can no longer refuse: I will come down and join your
party."
Mr. Stephenson's strong powers of observation, together with his native
humour and shrewdness, imparted to his conversation at all times much
vigour and originality, and made him, to young and old, a delightful
companion. Though mainly an engineer, he was also a profound thinker on
many scientific questions: and there was scarcely a subject of
speculation, or a department of recondite science, on which he had not
employed his faculties in such a way as to have formed large and original
views. At Drayton, the conversation usually turned upon such topics, and
Mr. Stephenson freely joined in it. On one occasion, an animated
discussion took place between himself and Dr. Buckland on one of his
favourite theories as to the formation of coal. But the result was, that
Dr. Buckland, a much greater master of tongue-fence than Mr. Stephenson,
completely silenced him. Next morning, before breakfast, when he was
walking in the grounds, deeply pondering, Sir William Follett came up and
asked what he was thinking about? "Why, Sir William, I am thinking over
that argument I had with Buckland last night; I know I am right, and that
if I had only the command of words which he has, I'd have beaten him."
"Let me know all about it," said Sir William, "and I'll see what I can do
for you." The two sat down in an arbour, and the astute lawyer made
himself thoroughly acquainted with the points of the case; entering into
it with all the zeal of an advocate about to plead the dearest interests
of his client. After he had mastered the subject, Sir William rose up,
rubbing his hands with glee, and said, "Now I am ready for him." Sir
Robert Peel was made acquainted with the plot, and adroitly introduced
the subject of the controversy after dinner. The result was, that in the
argument which followed, the man of science was overcome by the man of
law; and Sir William Follett had at all points the mastery over Dr.
Buckland. "What do _you_ say, Mr. Stephenson?" asked Sir Robert,
laughing. "Why," said he, "I will only say this, that of all the powers
above and under the earth, there seems to me to be no power so great as
the gift of the gab." {350}
One Sunday, when the party had just returned from church, they were
standing together on the terrace near the Hall, and observed in the
distance a railway-train flashing along, tossing behind its long white
plume of steam. "Now, Buckland," said Stephenson, "I have a poser for
you. Can you tell me what is the power that is driving that train?"
"Well," said the other, "I suppose it is one of your big engines." "But
what drives the engine?" "Oh, very likely a canny Newcastle driver."
"What do you say to the light of the sun?" "How can that be?" asked the
doctor. "It is nothing else," said the engineer, "it is light bottled up
in the earth for tens of thousands of years,--light, absorbed by plants
and vegetables, being necessary for the condensation of carbon during the
process of their growth, if it be not carbon in another form,--and now,
after being buried in the earth for long ages in fields of coal, that
latent light is again brought forth and liberated, made to work as in
that locomotive, for great human purposes."
During the same visit, Mr. Stephenson, one evening repeated his
experiment with blood drawn from the finger, submitting it to the
microscope in order to show the curious circulation of the globules. He
set the example by pricking his own thumb; and the other guests, by
turns, in like manner, gave up a small portion of their blood for the
purpose of ascertaining the comparative livelinesss of their circulation.
When Sir Robert Peel's turn came, Mr. Stephenson said he was curious to
know "how the blood globules of a great politician would conduct
themselves." Sir Robert held forth his finger for the purpose of being
pricked; but once, and again, he sensitively shrunk back, and at length
the experiment, so far as he was concerned, was abandoned. Sir Robert
Peel's sensitiveness to pain was extreme, and yet he was destined, a few
years after, to die a death of the most distressing agony.
In 1847, the year before his death, Mr. Stephenson was again invited to
join a distinguished party at Drayton Manor, and to assist in the
ceremony of formally opening the Trent Valley Railway, which had been
originally designed and laid out by himself many years before. The first
sod of the railway had been cut by the Prime Minister, in November, 1845,
during the time when Mr. Stephenson was abroad on the business of the
Spanish railway. The formal opening took place on the 26th June, 1847,
the line having thus been constructed in less than two years.
What a change had come over the spirit of the landed gentry since the
time when George Stephenson had first projected a railway through that
district! Then they were up in arms against him, characterising him as
the devastator and spoiler of their estates; now he was hailed as one of
the greatest benefactors of the age. Sir Robert Peel, the chief
political personage in England, welcomed him as a guest and friend, and
spoke of him as the chief among practical philosophers. A dozen members
of Parliament, seven baronets, with all the landed magnates of the
district, assembled to celebrate the opening of the railway. The clergy
were there to bless the enterprise, and to bid all hail to railway
progress, as "enabling them to carry on with greater facility those
operations in connexion with religion which were calculated to be so
beneficial to the country." The army, speaking through the mouth of
General A'Court, acknowledged the vast importance of railways, as tending
to improve the military defences of the country. And representatives
from eight corporations were there to acknowledge the great benefits
which railways had conferred upon the merchants, tradesmen, and working
classes of their respective towns and cities.
In the spring of 1848 Mr. Stephenson was invited to Whittington House,
near Chesterfield, the residence of his friend and former pupil, Mr.
Swanwick, to meet the distinguished American, Emerson. Upon being
introduced, they did not immediately engage in conversation; but
presently Stephenson jumped up, took Emerson by the collar, and giving
him one of his friendly shakes, asked how it was that in England we could
always tell an American? This led to an interesting conversation, in the
course of which Emerson said how much he had been everywhere struck by
the haleness and comeliness of the English men and women; and then they
diverged into a further discussion of the influences which air, climate,
moisture, soil, and other conditions exercised upon the physical and
moral development of a people. The conversation was next directed to the
subject of electricity, upon which Stephenson launched out
enthusiastically, explaining his views by several simple and striking
illustrations. From thence it gradually turned to the events of his own
life, which he related in so graphic a manner as completely to rivet the
attention of the American. Afterwards Emerson said, "that it was worth
crossing the Atlantic to have seen Stephenson alone; he had such native
force of character and vigour of intellect."
The rest of Mr. Stephenson's days were spent quietly at Tapton, amongst
his dogs, his rabbits, and his birds. When not engaged about the works
connected with his collieries, he was occupied in horticulture and
farming. He continued proud of his flowers, his fruits, and his crops;
and the old spirit of competition was still strong within him. Although
he had for some time been in delicate health, and his hand shook from
nervous affection, he appeared to possess a sound constitution. Emerson
had observed of him that he had the lives of many men in him. But
perhaps the American spoke figuratively, in reference to his vast stores
of experience. It appeared that he had never completely recovered from
the attack of pleurisy which seized him during his return from Spain. As
late, however, as the 26th July, 1848, he felt himself sufficiently well
to be able to attend a meeting of the Institute of Mechanical Engineers
at Birmingham, and to read to the members his paper "On the Fallacies of
the Rotatory Engine." It was his last appearance before them. Shortly
after his return to Tapton, he had an attack of intermittent fever, from
which he seemed to be recovering, when a sudden effusion of blood from
the lungs carried him off, on the 12th August, 1848, in the sixty-seventh
year of his age. When all was over, Robert wrote to Edward Pease, "With
deep pain I inform you, as one of his oldest friends, of the death of my
dear father this morning at 12 o'clock, after about ten days' illness
from severe fever." Mr. Starbuck, who was also present, wrote, "The
favourable symptoms of yesterday morning were towards evening followed by
a serious change for the worse. This continued during the night, and
early this morning it became evident that he was sinking. At a few
minutes before 12 to-day he breathed his last. All that the most devoted
and unremitting care of Mrs. Stephenson {354} and the skill of medicine
could accomplish, has been done, but in vain."
George Stephenson's remains were followed to the grave by a large body of
his workpeople, by whom he was greatly admired and beloved. They
remembered him as a kind master, who was ever ready actively to promote
all measures for their moral, physical, and mental improvement. The
inhabitants of Chesterfield evinced their respect for the deceased by
suspending business, closing their shops, and joining in the funeral
procession, which was headed by the corporation of the town. Many of the
surrounding gentry also attended. The body was interred in Trinity
Church, Chesterfield, where a simple tablet marks the great engineer's
last resting-place.
The statue of George Stephenson, which the Liverpool and Manchester and
Grand Junction Companies had commissioned, was on its way to England when
his death occurred; and it served for a monument, though his best
monument will always be his works. The statue referred to was placed in
St. George's Hall, Liverpool. A full-length statue of him, by Bailey,
was also erected a few years later, in the noble vestibule of the London
and North-Western Station, in Euston Square. A subscription for the
purpose was set on foot by the Society of Mechanical Engineers, of which
he had been the founder and president. A few advertisements were
inserted in the newspapers, inviting subscriptions; and it is a notable
fact that the voluntary offerings included an average of two shillings
each from 3150 working men, who embraced this opportunity of doing honour
to their distinguished fellow workman.
[Picture: Trinity Church, Chesterfield]
But unquestionably the finest and most appropriate statue to the memory
of George Stephenson is that erected in 1862, after the design of John
Lough, at Newcastle-upon Tyne. It is in the immediate neighbourhood of
the Literary and Philosophical Institute, to which both George and his
son Robert were so much indebted in their early years; close to the great
Stephenson locomotive foundry established by the shrewdness of the
father; and in the vicinity of the High Level Bridge, one of the grandest
products of the genius of the son. The head of Stephenson, as expressed
in this noble work, is massive, characteristic, and faithful; and the
attitude of the figure is simple yet manly and energetic. It stands on a
pedestal, at the respective corners of which are sculptured the recumbent
figures of a pitman, a mechanic, an engine-driver, and a plate-layer.
The statue appropriately stands in a very thoroughfare of working-men,
thousands of whom see it daily as they pass to and from their work; and
we can imagine them, as they look up to Stephenson's manly figure,
applying to it the words addressed by Robert Nicoll to Robert Burns, with
perhaps still greater appropriateness:--
"Before the proudest of the earth
We stand, with an uplifted brow;
Like us, thou wast a toiling man,--
And we are noble, now!"
The portrait prefixed to this volume gives a good indication of George
Stephenson's shrewd, kind, honest, manly face. His fair, clear
countenance was ruddy, and seemingly glowed with health. The forehead
was large and high, projecting over the eyes, and there was that massive
breadth across the lower part which is usually observed in men of eminent
constructive skill. The mouth was firmly marked, and shrewdness and
humour lurked there as well as in the keen grey eye. His frame was
compact, well-knit, and rather spare. His hair became grey at an early
age, and towards the close of his life it was of a pure silky whiteness.
He dressed neatly in black, wearing a white neckcloth; and his face, his
person, and his deportment at once arrested attention, and marked the
Gentleman.
[Picture: Tablet in Trinity Church, Chesterfield]
[Picture: Victoria Bridge, Montreal]