THE TWO CITIES TRYING AGAIN--BUGBEARS.
One, two, three years passed by, and the Liverpool and Manchester
project started up again. It was not dead, it had only slept; and the
three years had almost worn out the patience of both merchants and
manufacturers. Trade between the two cities must have speedier and
easier transit. Trade is one of the great progressive elements in the
world. It goes ahead. It will have the right of way. It will have the
right way--the best, safest, cheapest way--of doing its business. Yet
it is not selfish: its object is the comfort and well-being of men. To
do this it breaks down many a wall which selfishness has built up. It
cuts through prejudices. It rides over a thousand "can't bes" of timid
and learned men. For learned men are not always practical. They
sometimes say things cannot be done when it only needs a little stout
trying to overcome difficulties and do them.
A learned man once said crossing the Atlantic by steam was impossible.
"For the good of the race we must have something truer than wind and
tougher than sails," said trade. And it was not many years before
ships steamed into every port.
"Carriages travelling at twelve, sixteen, eighteen, twenty miles an
hour! Such gross exaggerations of the power of a locomotive we
scout--it can never be!" cries a sober Quarterly.
"You may scout it as much as you please," rejoins trade; "but just as
soon as people need cheaper, pleasanter, swifter modes of travel, it
will be _done_;" and now the railroad threads the land in its arrowy
flight.
"The Magnetic Telegraph!--a miserable chimera," cries a knowing member
of parliament. "Nobody who does not read outlandish jargon can
understand what a telegraph means."
"You will soon find out," answers trade; and now it buys flour by the
hundred barrels, and sells grain by the thousand bushels, while fleets
sail at its bidding, treaties are signed at its word, and the
telegraph girdles the world.
You see trade is a civilizer, and Christian civilization makes all the
difference in the world between Arabs and Englishmen.
Liverpool merchants were now fairly awake. "What is to be done?" was
the question. Something. Could there be a _third_ water-line between
the two cities? No; there was not water enough for that.
Would the Bridgewater Canal increase its power, and reduce its
charges? No.
A tramroad or railroad, then; there was no other alternative.
Mr. James, who was so much interested before, had failed and left the
country. When he left he said to his friends, "When you build a road,
build a railroad, and get George Stephenson to do it."
The Darlington and Stockton enterprise could not fail to be known at
Liverpool, and a drift of opinion gradually began to set strongly in
favour of the railway. People talked about it in good earnest.
"A railway!" cried the canal owners, "it is absurd--it is only got up
to frighten us; it will fall through as it did before." They were
easy.
"Let us go to Darlington and Killingworth, and see for ourselves,"
said the merchants; and four gentlemen were sent on a visit of
inquiry. They went first to Darlington, where the works were in
vigorous progress, though not done. It was in 1824, the year before
they were finished. Here they met Stephenson. He took them to
Killingworth to see "Puffing Billy."
Seeing was believing. "Billy's" astonishing feats won them completely
over, and they went back to Liverpool warm for a railroad. Their clear
and candid report convinced merchants, bankers, and manufacturers, who
gave a verdict in its favour. Public opinion was now coming over.
Books were opened for funds. There was no lack of subscribers. Money
was ready. To be sure of the _safety_ of locomotive power, a second
deputation was sent to Killingworth, taking with them a practical
mechanic, better able to judge about it than themselves. The man had
sense enough to see and to own that while he could not ensure safety
over nine or ten miles an hour, there was nothing to be afraid of
slower than that. Then a third body went. The enterprise required
caution, they thought.
Yes, it did.
Having decided upon steam power, the next thing was to secure the
right sort of man to carry on the work. Stephenson was that man. His
energy and ability were indispensable. Before trying to get an act of
parliament, the route needed to be surveyed again, and a careful
estimate of expenses made.
The Stockton road done, Stephenson was free to engage in this new
enterprise, his success in that proving his principles true on a
larger scale.
The canal owners now took alarm. They saw there was a dangerous rival,
and they came forward in the most civil and conciliatory manner,
professing a wish to oblige, and offering to put steam power on their
canals. It was too late. Their day had gone by.
You know the violent opposition made to a former survey. How would it
be again? Did three years scatter the ignorance out of which it grew?
Ah, no. There was little if any improvement. The surveyors were
watched and dogged by night and by day. Boys hooted at them, and gangs
of roughs threatened them with violence. Mr. Stephenson barely escaped
duckings, and his unfortunate instruments capture and destruction.
Indeed, he had to take with him a body-guard to defend them. Much of
the surveying had to be done by stealth, when people were at dinner,
or with a dark lantern at night.
When dukes and lords headed the hostility, you cannot wonder that
their dependents carried it on. One gentleman declared he would rather
meet a highwayman or see a burglar on his premises than an engineer;
and of the two classes, he thought the former the most respectable!
Widows complained of damaged corn-fields, and gardeners of their
violated strawberry beds; and though Stephenson well knew that in many
cases not a whit of damage had been done, he paid them for fancied
injuries in hope of stopping their tongues.
A survey made under such circumstances must needs have been imperfect,
but it was as good as could be made. And no time was lost in taking
measures to get a bill before parliament.
A storm of opposition against railways suddenly arose, and spread over
every corner of the kingdom. Newspapers and pamphlets swarmed with
articles crying them down. Canal and turnpike owners spared no pains
to crush them. The most extraordinary stories were set afloat
concerning their dangers. Boilers would burst, and passengers be
blown to atoms. Houses along the way would be burnt; the air would
become black with smoke and poisoned with cinders, and property on the
road be stripped of its value.
The Liverpool and Manchester bill, however, got into parliament, and
went before a committee of the House of Commons to decide upon it, in
March, 1825.
First its friends had to show the _necessity_ of some new mode of
travel between the two cities, and that it was not difficult to do.
But when it came to asking for liberty to build a railway and run a
locomotive, the matter was more difficult to manage. And to face the
tremendous opposition leagued against it, the courage of its friends
was severely tried.
The battle had to be fought inch by inch.
Stephenson of course was the chief witness for locomotives. But what
headway could he, an uneducated Northumbrian mechanic, make against
members of parliament, backed by all the chief engineers of the
kingdom. For very few had faith in him; but those few had strong
faith. He was examined and cross-examined. They tried to bully him, to
puzzle him, to frighten him. On the subject of locomotives his answers
were clear. He declared he could drive an engine, and drive it safely,
at the rate of twelve miles an hour!
"Who can believe what is so notoriously in the teeth of all
experience?" cried the opposition; "the witness is a madman!"
Famous engineers were called as witnesses. What had _they_ to say? One
declared the scheme a most wild one. He had no confidence in
locomotives. They were affected by the wind, the weather; with
difficulty were kept on the track, and were liable to constant
accidents; indeed, a gale of wind would render it impossible to start
a locomotive, either by poking the fire or keeping up the steam till
the boiler should burst: they could never be relied on.
The proposed route had to cross an ugly quagmire, several miles in
extent, called Chat Moss, a very shaky piece of land, no doubt; and
here the opposition took a strong stand. "No engineer in his senses,"
cried one, "would think of going through Chat Moss. No carriage could
stand on the Moss short of the bottom."
"It is absurd to hold out the notion that locomotives can travel twice
as fast as stage-coaches," says another; "one might as soon trust
himself to a rocket as to the mercy of a machine going at that rate."
"Carriages cannot go at anything like that speed," added another; "if
driven to it, the wheels would only spin on their axles like a top,
and the carriages would stand stock-still!"
So much for learned arguments against it.
Then came the dangers of it. The dumb animals would never recover
from the sight of a locomotive; cows would not give their milk; cattle
could not graze, or horses be driven along the track, cried the
opposition.
"As to that," said Stephenson, "come to Killingworth and see. More
quiet and sensible beasts cannot be found in the kingdom. The farmers
_there_ never complain."
"Well," asked one of them, "suppose, now, one of those 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_, think you, be a very awkward circumstance?"
"Yes," answered Stephenson, with a droll twinkle in his eye, "very
awkward indeed--_for the coo_!"
The inquirer, as you may suppose, was silent.
The danger in other respects was thus dwelt on: "In addition to the
smoke and the noise, the hiss and the whirl, which locomotive engines
make going at the rate of ten or twelve miles an hour, and filling the
cattle with dismay, what," asked an honourable member, "is to be done
with all those who have advanced money in making and mending
turnpikes? What with those who may still wish to travel in their own
or hired carriages, after the fashion of their forefathers? What is to
become of coach-makers and harness-makers, coach-masters and workmen,
innkeepers, horse-breeders, and horse-dealers? Iron would be raised
one hundred per cent., or more probably exhausted altogether. The
price of coal would be ruinous. Why, a railroad would be the greatest
nuisance, the biggest disturbance of quiet and comfort, in all parts
of the kingdom, that the ingenuity of man could invent."
Not content with decrying his engine, they could not stop short of
abusing Stephenson himself. "He is more fit for Bedlam than anywhere
else," they cried; "he never had a plan, he is not capable of making
one. Whenever a difficulty is pressed, as in the case of a tunnel, he
gets out of it at one end; and when you try to catch him at that, he
gets out at the other."
"We protest," they said, "against a measure supported by such evidence
and founded upon such calculations. We protest against the Exchange of
Liverpool striding across the land of this country. It is despotism
itself."
What had the friends of steam-power to say?
"We beseech you," they pleaded to the committee, "not to crush it in
its infancy. Let not this country have the disgrace of putting a stop
to that which, if cherished, may in the end prove of the greatest
advantage to our trade and commerce. We appeal to you in the name of
the two largest towns in England--we appeal to you in the name of the
country at large--and we implore you not to blast the hopes that this
powerful agent, steam, may be called in aid for the purpose of land
communication; only let it have a fair trial, and these little
objections will be done away."
Flaws were picked in the surveys, and the estimate of costs based on
them. The surveys, quite likely, were imperfect; indeed, how could
they be otherwise, when every mile of the line had to be done at the
risk of their necks?
The battle lasted two months, and a very exciting one it was. It was
skilfully and powerfully carried on. Who beat?
_The opposition._ The bill was lost.
Matters looked dark enough. Judging from appearances the enterprise
was laid on the shelf, and the day of railways long put off. As for
poor Stephenson, his short day of favour seemed about gone. His being
called a madman and regarded as a fool, as he had been by the
opposition, was not without its effect upon his newly-made friends.
Their faith in him sensibly cooled. But he did not lose faith in
himself, not he. He had waited long for the triumph of his engine, and
he could wait longer. A great blessing to the nation was locked up in
it he well knew, and the nation would have it some time, in spite of
everything.
Was the enterprise a second time to be abandoned? No, no. Taking
breath, its friends again started on their feet. Never give up, was
their motto, for they were in earnest. They rallied, and met in London
to consult what to do next.
Mr. Huskisson, a member of parliament for Liverpool, came into the
meeting and urged them to try again--to try at the next session of
parliament.
"Parliament must in the end grant you an act," he said, "if you are
determined to have it." And try they determined to, for a horse
railroad at least.
For this purpose another and more careful survey had to be made.
Stephenson was left out. A _known_ man must be had. They meant to get
surveyors and engineers with well-established reputations to back them
up, Stephenson was too little known. He had no fame beyond a little
circle in one corner of the kingdom. How did he feel to be thus thrown
in the background? George was not a man to grumble; he was too noble
to complain. In fact, you see, he was ahead of the times--too far
ahead to be understood and appreciated. He could afford to wait.
Two brothers by the name of Rennie were appointed in his stead. In
time the new survey was finished, the plans drawn, and the expense
reckoned up. Changes were made in the route. Ill-tempered land-owners
were left on one side, and every ground of complaint avoided that
could be.
The new bill was then carried to parliament, and went before the
committee in March the next year. The opposition was strong indeed,
but less furious. Much of its bitterness was gone. It made a great
show of fears, which the advocates of the bill felt it was not worth
while to waste words in answering. They left it to the road to answer
them. Build it, and see.
Mr. Huskisson and others supported it in a strong and manly tone, and
after a third reading the bill passed in the House of Commons. So far
so good. It then had to go to the House of Lords. What would befall it
there? The same array of evidence on both sides was put forward. The
poor locomotive engine, which had proved such a bugbear in the House
of Commons, was regarded as quite a harmless affair by most of the
lords; and the opposition made such poor work in showing off its
dangers that no plea in its behalf was called for. They were
satisfied, they said, and the bill passed almost unanimously, Victory!
Victory!
The victory cost more than four thousand five pound bank-notes! For a
first cost it looked large. But nothing worth doing can be done
without effort, and effort made _on faith_. Nothing done, nothing
have.