_Progress of Invention.—Public Roads.—Steam.—Duke of
Bridgewater.—Canals.—Railroads.—Thomas Gray, their
Pioneer.—His Difficulties.—Proposals for the Liverpool and
Manchester Railway.—Monopoly of the Canals.—Parliamentary
Inquiry.—Extraordinary Opinions of Witnesses.—The Claims of Thomas
Gray.—Value of Canal Property._
It is not unworthy of remark, that many of the greatest efforts of
intellect are within the scope of the writer; as most of those works
which have from time to time benefited the world, both socially and
physically, have been assisted by the money power of England. Nor
will the inquirer be backward in comparing the singular difficulties
with which all inventions requiring great capital contended in the
last century, with the remarkable facility which marks their progress
in the present, if they fairly promise, as most grand inventions do,
to interest the entire community, and pay ten per cent.
The annals of invention have ever been those of opposition; and the
history of locomotion has been singularly illustrative of this.
The journey from city to city, and from county to county, was once
painfully slow. It is a subject of ridicule in the present day. A
great feature with novelists, a few years ago, was to represent the
incidents of a long inland journey. The memory of the reader will at
once recur to “Tom Jones,” to “Humphrey Clinker,” and to the humorous
scene drawn by the modern master of fiction in the opening chapter
of “The Antiquary,” as some illustration of the liabilities of the
traveller.
It is easier to ridicule than to reason, and safer to prophesy defeat
than to predict success. The minds of the mass generally depreciate
that which is beyond them; some fancy that they elevate themselves
by lowering others; while the many, who bigotedly view all change
as evil, doggedly refuse to acknowledge the good till they reap
the fruit; and it is probable that the loudest grumbler in the
railway-carriage of the present day was the loudest declaimer against
locomotives a quarter of a century ago.
When the turnpikes were extended from the metropolis to the country,
many of the counties petitioned Parliament against so heinous an
attempt upon vested rights. The rustic gentleman grew eloquent
upon the subject of rendering London accessible, and drew pictures
of desolation, in which the grass was to grow in the streets, in
which rents were to be reduced, cultivation was to be lowered,
and the producer ruined. The toll-bars of the newly-made roads in
the eighteenth century were torn to the ground, and the blood of
a prejudiced people was shed in their defence. The first “flying
coaches,” though six days were employed to do that which is now
done in six hours, were met with invectives. It was said that they
would be fatal to the breed of horses and the art of horsemanship;
that saddlers and spurriers would be ruined; that the inns would be
abandoned; and, above all, the Thames, as the great nursery of our
seamen, would be destroyed. The post, that grand social benefit,
was denounced, in Charles II.’s reign, as a Popish contrivance; and
the first attempt to light the streets—an attempt which only made
darkness visible—was vehemently attacked.
When the Margate steamboat, with its six hours’ journey, superseded
the Margate hoy, which occupied almost as many days, the coach
proprietors, under the idea that Margate was their peculiar property,
and its visitors their particular prey, petitioned Parliament to
support the coaches, at the expense of the steamers. A century and
a half since, it was thought a great effort to run a coach between
Edinburgh and Glasgow in three days; it is now done in one hour;
and, only a century since, it occupied thirty-six hours in doing
that which is now accomplished in four. Although this tediousness of
transit was partially owing to what were by courtesy called roads,
it must be remembered that then, as now, there were the prejudices
of the people with which to contend; and, perfectly content with the
existing state of things, the country gentlemen were most strenuous
in their objections to the introduction of stage-coaches, on the plea
that their wives would lose their domestic habits through travelling
too frequently, and cease to be worthy housewives to the squirarchy
of England.[5]
The floor of the House of Commons was covered with memorials from
inkeepers and petitions from postboys. They merely indicated the
selfishness of the memorialists, tired the patience of the senators,
and wasted the time of the nation. But petitions in favor of “no
progress” were not the only mode of opposition. When the Lea was made
navigable, the farmers became furious, broke down the banks, and
injured the river. Still, with the progress of the nation, the roads
continued to improve. Transit became easier, more rapid, and cheaper;
and just as the world was congratulating itself on the perfection of
its highways, a new plan was proposed.
It soon became public, that a strange, eccentric nobleman, known as
the Duke of Bridgewater, had a queer crotchet in his head to create
a water-carriage, by cutting canals. It began also to be rumored,
that this same eccentric Duke, seriously determined to finish what he
had commenced, had reduced his personal expenses to £400 per annum,
and given up the remainder of his rental to carry out his project.
The many had no hesitation in declaring him insane; but his Grace
scarcely thought of their opinions as he proceeded with his task;
and the remarkable firmness of the Duke of Bridgewater, aided by
the great mind of John Brindley, his architect, produced an effect
which has already survived the pecuniary results at which he aimed.
It is impossible in the present volume to do justice to the resolute
character of the Duke, or to the obstacles overcome by the skill of
Mr. Brindley. Stupendous mounds of earth were removed, which seemed
to demand Titanic power; supplies of water were procured sufficient
to exhaust mountain springs and mountain rivulets; aqueducts were
built far above the surface of the river, rivalling those which
conveyed water to the Eternal City from the mountain recesses.
At last the prejudices of the ignorant multitude were uprooted, and
the scientific few delighted. They who had gone to scoff remained to
praise; and an engineer, who had sneeringly said they had heard of
castles in the air, but now they were to see them realized, began to
wonder as much at his own opposition as at the simple grandeur of the
work he had derided. The chief business of the Duke’s agent was to
ride about the country, borrowing money on the promissory notes of
his Grace, whose bond for £500 was refused in the city, where great
purposes are little regarded unless they promise a great percentage.
In five years the attempt was crowned with success, and the effect
upon commerce became manifest. Liverpool received the manufactures of
Manchester at a cheaper rate, and Manchester was supplied with goods
from places hitherto comparatively inaccessible. The neighbouring
woods and vales were visited by the pale denizen of the factory on
the day of rest; and passengers were enabled to travel along that
canal which they owed to the patient endurance and undeviating
firmness of Francis, Duke of Bridgewater, and to the singular ability
of his unrivalled architect, to both of whom personal comfort and
public praise were nothing in comparison with the achievement of a
great idea.
But a new power was in progress, which was to realize all the visions
of a day-dreamer, and almost to annihilate both time and space. The
progress and development of railways is one of the most interesting
features in locomotion. About 1646, a Mr. Beaumont was ruined in
attempting to convey coals in carriages of a novel construction. The
necessity of some improvement in the conveyance of this article was,
therefore, thus early recognized. Thirty years afterwards, a saving
of thirty per cent. was effected by some tram-roads near Newcastle;
and as information spread, and the great dogma that _time is money_
began to be appreciated, further improvements were made. The wooden
roller of the wagon was changed for an iron wheel with cast-iron
rails. Plenty of claimants were found for this imperfect alteration,
although soon after it was necessary to adopt a rail fixed a few
inches above the ground. The next improvement was that which detached
the horse, and made him follow the wagon; and when the road was
constructed with two inclines, so that a descending train of loaded
coal might draw up an empty one, it was thought that all which human
ingenuity could effect had been achieved; and at this point it is
probable the rail would have remained, but for the great discovery of
steam-power, and its application to practical purposes. About 1760,
coeval with the introduction of iron rails, Watt entertained the idea
of employing steam as a moving power; but the design was abandoned;
nor was it till 1802 that the attention of engineers was devoted to
locomotive engines on railroads; when a patent was taken out, and
the principle tested with success at Merthyr Tydvil.[6]
The name of Thomas Gray in connection with railroads ranks at
present among the many whose ideas were derided by the very men who
afterwards adopted them. From an early period he formed the opinion
that railways would become the principal mode of transit. It was his
thought by day; it was his dream by night. He talked of it until
his friends voted him an intolerable bore. He wrote of it until the
reviewers deemed him mad. Coaches, canals, and steamboats were, in
his mind, useless. His wisdom and far ken shadowed forth the path
which the purse of others consummated; and, while the projector
died steeped to the lips in poverty, the speculators realized great
profits. His conversation was of a world which his companions could
not comprehend. To appropriate the idea of Mr. Macaulay, there were
fools then as there are fools now; fools who laughed at the railway
as they had laughed at the canals; fools who thought they evinced
their wisdom by doubting what they could not understand. For years
his mind was absorbed by these dreams; and there was something
magnificent in all his projects. He talked of enormous fortunes
realized; of coaches annihilated; of one great general line;—and he
was laughed at. He went to Brussels; and when a canal was proposed,
he again advocated railways. At last he put his thoughts into form;
wrote “Observations on a Railroad for the Whole of Europe”; and was
ridiculed; the work being suppressed, lest men should call him mad.
In 1820, however, he published a book which he called, “A general
Iron Railway, or Land Steam Conveyance,” which attracted great
notice. There was something so pertinacious in the man, and something
so simple in his scheme, that, though it became the custom to laugh
at him, his book went through many editions. When from Belgium he
came to England, true to his theme, he went among the Manchester
capitalists. The men who passed their lives among, and owed their
fortunes to the marvels of machinery, were not yet equal to this.
They listened graciously, and with a smile, something akin to pity,
dismissed him as an incorrigible visionary. But opposition was vain;
nor was Thomas Gray the man to be easily laughed down. He continued
his labors, he continued to talk, to memorialize, to petition, to
fill the pages of magazines, until the public mind was wearied and
worried.
The first result of Gray’s great scheme was with the capital of
those men who had previously derided him. The men of Manchester
found they were paying too much for the cost of conveyance, and
availed themselves of the idea they formerly denounced. A railway
was projected between Liverpool and Manchester, and then commenced
that ignorant opposition, of which one of the blue books contains
such pregnant proof. By this it appears clearly that the transit
between Liverpool and Manchester had long been insufficient. It
was stated in evidence, that places were bespoke for goods, like
places at a theatre. “It is not your turn yet,” was a common
reply, if extraordinary energy were required; and it was clearly
proved that the monopolizers would only send as much cotton as
they chose, arbitrarily fixing the quantity at thirty bags a week.
The fifty-five miles by canal occupied as long as the distance to
New York. The boats were too few to convey the goods; and on one
canal the proprietors received for their yearly dividend the amount
of their original investment. In vain were the agents importuned
to render conveyance more rapid and less expensive. The monopoly
remained with the owner of the canal, who, blinded by a long course
of success, could not see that, with the increase of business, an
increased communication must be opened; and it is singular that,
when the railroad was first contemplated, and its promoters applied
to the agent to take some shares, an answer worthy of an autocratic
government rather than a commercial age was given, of “all or none.”
The shrewd merchants of the North chose the latter alternative.
The difficulties, therefore, with which the new invention had to
contend, were legion; and the Parliamentary inquiry, already alluded
to, produced one of the most remarkable blue books ever published.
A few extracts from the folio will evince the extraordinary ideas
entertained on the subject, the extraordinary ignorance evinced by
men regarded as scientific, and the yet more extraordinary prejudice
which marked the progress of opinion on railway transit. It is,
however, right to say, that the friends and foes of the proposed
scheme were equally unscrupulous in their endeavours to forward their
interests, as levels were taken without permission, strawberry-beds
destroyed, cornfields trodden down, and surveys taken by night, at
the risk of life and limb. On the other hand, guns were discharged at
the intruders; the land was watched incessantly; and the enthusiasm
of the great engineer of the line narrowly escaped being cooled in a
horsepond.
The objections urged by the opponents of the railway were worthy
their cause. It was contended by them that canal conveyance was
quicker; that the smoke of the engines would injure the plantations
of gentlemen’s houses; and one witness, more imaginative than
perceptive, described the locomotives as “terrible things,” although,
on further questioning, he admitted he had never seen one. It was
boldly declared, that a gale of wind would stop the progress of
the carriage; that there would be no more practical advantage in a
railway than in a canal; that Mr. Stephenson was totally devoid of
common sense; that the plan was erroneous, impracticable, and unjust;
and that the tendency of the railway would be to increase the price
of carriage. It was declared to be based on fraud and folly; that
balloons and rockets were as feasible, and that the whole line would
be under water for two and three weeks in succession.
“It is quite idle and absurd,” said one, “to say the present scheme
can ever be carried into execution, under any circumstances, or
in any way.” “Whenever,” said another, with the authority of an
oracle, “Providence in Lancashire is pleased to send rain or a little
mizzling weather, expeditious it cannot be.” A third gave it as his
opinion, that no engine could go in the night-time, “because,” he
added, more Scripturally than soundly, “the night-time is a period
when no man can work!”
It was said that no one would live near a spot passed by the engines,
that no houses would let near a station; and that all property on the
line would be frightfully deteriorated. Not content, however, with
proving the impracticability of the plan, the most frivolous causes
were adduced to show why this, the grandest national project ever
brought forward, a project which has changed the face and features of
the land, the commerce of the country, and the social habits of the
rural population, should not be allowed to pass.
The public services of a railroad were put in competition with the
annoyance which an individual would receive from the smoke of the
engines coming within 250 yards of his house; and it was pathetically
asked, “Can any thing compensate for this?” Gentlemen objected
because it would injure their prospects, and land-owners because it
would injure their pockets! Pictures of ancient family residences
destroyed by the smoke were vividly drawn. The claims of unprotected
females and reverend gentlemen were strongly urged; and pathetic
representations were given of families, who had lived for centuries
in their ancestral home, leaving the dwelling-place of their youth,
and going to another part of the town.
“Mr. Stephenson,” it was boldly declared, “is totally devoid of
common sense. He makes schemes without seeing the difficulties.”
“Upon this shuffling evidence, we are called to pass the bill.” “It
is impossible to hold this changing Proteus in any knot whatsoever.”
“It is the greatest draught upon human credulity ever heard of.”
“There is nothing,” said one, “but long sedgy grass to prevent the
train from sinking into the shades of eternal night.” “They cannot go
so fast as the canal,” said another. A third appealed to the pocket.
“If this bill succeeds, by the time railroads are set going, the
poor, gulled subscribers will have lost all their money; and, instead
of locomotive engines, they must have recourse to horses or asses,
not meaning to say which.” Those whose interests would be affected
decided that “locomotives could not succeed”; and numberless were
the sneers at the idea of engines galloping as fast as five miles an
hour. One sapient gentleman thought the trains might go at four miles
and a half in fine weather, but not more than two and a half in wet.
“When we set out with the original prospectus,” was the remark of the
counsel, “we were to gallop I know not at what rate. I believe it
was twelve miles an hour, with the aid of a devil in the form of a
locomotive sitting as postilion on the fore-horse, and an honorable
member sitting behind him to stir up the fire, and keep it up at full
speed. I will show they cannot go six. I may be able to show we shall
keep up with him by the canal.” “Thus, Sir, I prove that locomotive
engines cannot move at more than four miles and a quarter an hour;
and I show the scheme is bottomed on deception and fallacy.”
Turnpike trusts were to be ruined, and therefore railroads were not
to be forwarded; and it was deemed unanswerable to say that the
canal interests would be hurt by the rail. Though it was proved by
others that more money had been offered for land if the line passed
through than if it did not, it was of no importance in the eyes of
those who, blinded by selfishness, refused to be convinced. The
war-cry on one side was the venerable “vested rights”; on the other,
“progress.”
Men prosily and pathetically talked of tempting Providence by
travelling at the rate of twelve miles an hour. The fine breed of
English horses would be deteriorated, and our cavalry be worsted at
the first onset. The prosperity of a great community was said to be
involved in the contest; and the question whether a few miles of
railway would peril the welfare of the kingdom, was openly discussed.
Stable-boys joined in the contest, and urged the greatness of their
claim; the porters proved how important a class would be sacrificed
to so unimportant an end; and the clergy, alarmed lest the rustic
should neglect the Sunday sermon to see the passing train, added
to the number of petitions. A million horses were to be thrown
out of service, and eight millions of oat-growing acres to be
abandoned. Gentlemen with neither sense nor science wrote treatises
to demonstrate the danger of travelling more than ten miles an hour,
and, at the same time, left on record their want of sympathy with
crack-brained speculators.
But if the opponents were thus bitter in their attack upon the new
scheme, they were equally ingenious in their defence of the canal.
It was described as never subject to drought; the frost never
stopped it; the sun never lowered it; accidents never happened on
it. Its friends were also hardy enough to contend, that a saving of
nine miles an hour was not sufficient to justify the attempt; and
“therefore,” added one who supported this argument, “I do protest
against the despotism of the Exchange at Liverpool striding across
the land of this country.” The reply to all these objections is in
the fact that some thousands of miles are now open to the public.
The Manchester and Liverpool Railway succeeded; but no reward was
conferred upon Thomas Gray. Other railways followed, and were
successful; but no notice was taken of Thomas Gray. The great railway
mania came; but Thomas Gray was nothing in the eyes of excited
speculators, greedy of gain. An endeavour was made by some of the
friends of Gray to win for him the public sympathy; and the poor,
old, broken-hearted man, when he respectfully begged for a situation
on one of those railways which he had so greatly forwarded, was
refused.
“The claim of Gray,” said the _Westminster Review_, “is, that he
found the railway and the locomotive in the condition of mere miners’
tools, dragged them to light, and proclaimed them as the means of
universal progress. He published a practical plan, in 1820, which
was scoffed at on all hands; but in 1830 was made a fact by George
Stephenson, though in 1829 it was almost considered a certain thing
that the haulage on the Liverpool and Manchester would either be
performed by horse-power or by stationary engines.”
The truth of these assertions has never been called in question.
The railway press has generally recognized it. Public subscriptions
for the public benefactor were proposed. A petition in his favor
was forwarded to the House of Commons. But Thomas Gray was poor,
and without influence; and has added another name to those who have
benefited and been buffeted by mankind. Neglected by the directors
of the great works he had pioneered into existence; neglected by
the state, whose profits from railway stamps and railway duties are
mainly owing to him; neglected by the great mass of men, who avail
themselves of the conveyance which once they derided; the “railway
pioneer,” that title which to the last he so dearly loved, died
steeped to his lips in poverty, while the speculators reaped large
gains.
It is a curious circumstance in financial history, that Lord Francis
Egerton, the representative of the great canal projector, received
shares which produced a clear profit of more than £100,000, to
prevent his opposition in the House of Peers; although it is a most
suggestive fact, that, with the increase of railway travelling, canal
property has absolutely improved. The following is the price of
shares in 1824:—
OLD BIRMINGHAM CANAL.
Original Cost. Value in 1824. Annual Dividend.
£140 £2,840 £100
STAFFORD AND WORCESTER.
£140 £960 £40
TRENT AND MERSEY.
£200 £4,600 £150 and bonus.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] The road to Paddington, now known as the New Road, was hotly
contested by the Duke of Bedford, on account of the dust it would
create, and the view it would abridge. Walpole wrote, that the Duke
was never in town to feel the dust, and was too short-sighted to see
the prospect.
[6] The attempt of Mr. Ogle to run locomotives on the public roads
must have cost him many thousands; and nothing but the same popular
prejudice which attempted to prove that engines on railroads would
send horses mad with fright, prevented this great attempt from
becoming general. The reader must remember the grave shaking of heads
which met Mr. Ogle’s cherished design, as similar heads have always
been shaking at novel propositions.