SCENE FROM A NEW AFTER-PIECE,
CALLED
“_Politics and Poetry_;” _or_, “_The Decline of Science_.”
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
_PEOPLE OF FASHION_:—
TURNSTILE, _a retired Philosopher, M.P. for Shoreditch_.
LORD FLUMM, _a Tory nobleman of ancient family_.
COUNTESS OF FLUMM, _his wife_.
LADY SELINA, _their daughter_.
HON. MRS. FUBSEY, _sister of the Countess_.
_WHIGS_:—
LORD A., _Prime Minister_.
CLOSEWIND, _First Lord of the Admiralty_.
SHIFT, _Secretary at War_.
SMOOTH, _Secretary for the Colonies; also M.P. for Shoreditch_.
_TORIES_ (_Members of the Conservative Club_):—
LORD GEORGE,
LORD CHARLES,
MARQUIS OF FLAMBOROUGH,
DICK TRIM, _a former Whipper-in_,
_SHOREDITCH ELECTORS_:—
HIGHWAY, _a Radical_.
GRISKIN, _Colonel of the Lumber Troop_.
TRIPES, _his Lieutenant_.
_PHILOSOPHERS_:—
SIR ORLANDO WINDFALL, Knt. R. Han. Guelph. Order, _an Astronomical
Observer_.
SIR SIMON SMUGG, Knt. R. Han. Guelph. Order, _Professor of Botanism_.
ATALL, _an Episcopizing Mathematician, Dean of Canterbury_.
BYEWAYS, _a Calculating Officer_.
_Other Lords—Conservative and Whig._
* * * * *
The Scene is laid in London; principally at the West-end of the Town.
The time is near the end of May, 1835. {277}
SCENES, &c., EXTRACTED.
ACT I.
SCENE I.—_Committee-room of the Conservatives, Charles-street_; LORD
FLUMM; MARQUIS OF FLAMBOROUGH; LORD GEORGE; LORD CHARLES; _other Tory
Lords, and_ TRIM. _A table covered with papers_; LORD CHARLES _smoking
a cigar_; LORD GEORGE _half asleep in an arm-chair_; TRIM _busy in
looking over a list of the House of Commons_.
_Trim._ It will be a devilish close run I see!—yet I think we might
manage some of them (_Pause_). Does anybody know _Turnstile_?
_Marquis._ Never heard of him!
_Lord George._ (_Mumbling_). The reform Member for Puddledock, isn’t
he?—the author of a book on Pinmaking, and things of that kind. An
ironmonger in Newgate-street!
_Trim._ No, no! Member for Shoreditch;—with Smooth, the Colonial
Secretary!
_Lord Charles._ (_Taking the cigar from his mouth._) I think I’ve heard
something of him at Cambridge: he was Newtonian Professor of Chemistry
when I was at College.
_Trim._ Can’t we talk him over?
_Lord Charles._ No, no! he is too sharp for that.
_Trim._ Will anybody speak to him?—and if he won’t vote with us, keep
him out of the way.
_Marquis._ Perhaps a hint at an appointment!—
_Lord Charles._ Nor that either; he is a fellow of some spirit; and
devilish proud. {278}
_Lord Flumm._ But what are his tastes?—how does he employ himself?—who
are his friends?
_Trim._ Why he’s—a sort of a—philosopher,—that wants to be a man of the
world!
_Lord Flumm._ Oh!—now I begin to recollect;—I must have seen him at
Sir Phillip’s. Leave him to me;—I think Lady Flumm and my daughter can
manage to keep him quiet on Thursday night.
_Trim._ But for Tuesday,—my Lord?
_Lord Flumm._ Two nights!—Then I must try what I can do for you,
myself. [_Exit._
SCENE IV.—_Grosvenor-square._
_Enter_ TURNSTILE, _musing_.
_Turnstile._ This will never do! They make use of me, and laugh at me
in their sleeves;—push me round and go by. That break down _was_ a
devil of a business! They didn’t laugh out to be sure; but they coughed
and looked unutterably!! And where is this to end? What shall I have to
show for it? Confounded loss of time;—to hear those fellows prosing,
instead of seeing the occultation last night. And that book of Ls.’;
so much that _I_ had begun upon,—and might have finished! It never
will do! (_Rousing himself after a pause._) But knowledge, after all,
_is_ power! That at least is certain,—power—to do what? to refuse Lord
Doodle’s invitation; and to ask Lord Humbug for a favour, which it is
ten to one he will refuse! But the Royal Society is defunct! That I
_have_ accomplished. Gilbert, and the Duke! and the Secretaries! I have
driven them all before me!—and, now, though _I_ must not be a knight of
the Guelphic order, (yet a riband is a pretty looking thing! and {279}
a star too!—) I will show that I can teach _them_ how to make knights;
and describe the decorations that other men are to wear. But here comes
Lord Flumm, and I am saved the bore of calling upon him.
SCENE V.
_Enter_ LORD FLUMM.
_Lord Flumm._ Mr. Turnstile, if I do not mistake! My dear Turnstile:
how glad I am to see you again! it _was_ kind of Sir Phillip to
introduce me. You know that you are near our house; and Lady Flumm will
be so happy——
_Turnstile._ In truth, my Lord, I was about to call upon you.
After what you were so good as to say last night, I took the first
opportunity.
_Lord Flumm._ Well, that _is_ kind. But you did not speak last night.
How came that? I don’t find you in the paper, yet the subject was quite
your own. Tallow and bar-iron, raw materials and machinery. Ah, my dear
sir! when science condescends to come among us mortals, the effects to
be expected _are_ wonderful indeed!
_Turnstile._ My Lord, you flatter. But we have reached your door.
(_Aside._) [Confound him!—But I am glad he was not in the house. It’s
clear he hasn’t heard of the break down.]
_Lord Flumm._ While I have you to myself, Turnstile, remember that you
dine with me on Tuesday. I am to have two friends, Lord S—— and Sir
George Y——, who wish very much to be acquainted with you. Half-past
seven.
_Turnstile._ You are very good, my lord. I dare not refuse so kind an
invitation. [_Exeunt._ {280}
SCENE VI.—LADY FLUMM’S _drawing-room_. LADY FLUMM _at the
writing-table_. MRS. FUBSEY _at work on a sofa_.
_Enter_ LORD FLUMM _and_ TURNSTILE.
_Lord Flumm._ Lady Flumm, this is Mr. Turnstile, whom you have so long
wished to know. Mr. Turnstile,—Lady Flumm.
_Lady Flumm._ _The_ Mr. Turnstile. My dear sir, I am too happy to
see you. We had just been speaking of your delightful book. Selina!
(_Calling._) [_Enter_ LADY SELINA.] This is Mr. Turnstile.
_Lady Selina._ Indeed!
_Lady Flumm._ Yes, indeed! You see he is a mortal man after all. Bring
me, my love, the book you will find open on the table in the boudoir. I
wish to show Mr. Turnstile the passages I have marked this morning.
_Lady Selina._ (_Returning with the book, and running over the
leaves._) “Lace made by caterpillars.”—“Steam-engines with
fairy fingers.”—“Robe of nature.”—“Sun of science.”—“Faltering
worshipper.”—“Altar of truth.” It _is, indeed_, delightful! The taste,
the poetical imagination, are surprising. I hope, Mr. Turnstile,—indeed
I am sure, that you love music?
_Turnstile._ Not _very_ particularly, I must acknowledge (_smiling_); a
barrel-organ is the instrument most in my way.
_Lady Flumm._ (_Smiling._) Music and machinery, Mr. Turnstile. Polite
literature and mathematics. You _do_ know how to combine. Others must
judge of the profounder parts of your works; but the style, and the
fancy, are what I should most admire.—You dine with Lord Flumm, he
tells me, on Tuesday. Now you _must_ come to _me_ on Thursday night.
_Turnstile._ I am sorry to say, that, on recollection, I _ought_ to
{281} have apologized to Lord Flumm. The Pottery Question stands for
Tuesday; and I should be there, as one of the Committee; and Thursday,
your Ladyship knows, is the second reading of the Place and Pension
Bill.
_Lady Flumm._ Oh, we are Staffordshire people! _that_ will excuse you
to the pottery folks; and, for Thursday, I _will_ absolutely take no
excuse. We have Pasta and Donzelli! perhaps a quadrille afterwards—(you
dance, Mr. Turnstile?)—and Lady Sophia C—— and her cousin, Lord F——,
have said _so much_ about those beautiful passages at the end of your
book, that they will be quite disappointed if I do not keep my promise
to introduce them. (_Touching his arm with her finger._)
_Turnstile._ Your Ladyship knows how to conquer: I feel that I _cannot_
refuse. [_Exit._
SCENE VII.—_Grosvenor-square; before_ LORD FLUMM’S _house_.
_Enter_ TURNSTILE, _from the house_.
_Turnstile._ This is all very delightful; but what will they say at
Shoreditch?—twice in one week absent from the House, and at two Tory
parties.
_Enter_ GRISKIN, _hastily, heated; his hat in his left hand; a
pocket-handkerchief in his right_.
_Griskin._ Mr. Turnstile, I’m glad to find you; just called on you,
as I came to this quarter to look after a customer—long way from the
City—sorry not to hear from you.
_Turnstile._ Why, really, Mr. Griskin, I am very sorry; but I am not
acquainted with the Commander-in-chief. And I must say that I should
not know how to press for the {282} contract, knowing that your
nephew’s prices are thirty per cent., at least, above the market.
_Griskin._ That’s being rather nice, I should say, Mr. Turnstile. My
nephew is as good a lad as ever stood in shoe-leather; and has six good
wotes in Shoreditch,—and, as to myself, Mr. Turnstile, I must say that,
after all I did at your election—and in such wery hot weather—I did not
expect you’d be so wery particular about a small matter.—Sir, I wish
you a good morning.
_Turnstile._ (_Bowing and looking after him._) So this fellow, like the
rest of them, thinks that I am to do his jobs, and to neglect my own.
And this is your _reformed_ Parliament.
SCENE IX.—_The street, near_ TURNSTILE’S _house_.
_Enter_ TRIPES _and_ SMOOTH, _meeting_.
_Smooth._ (_Taking both_ TRIPES’ _hands_). My dear Tripes, how d’ye
do?—Pray, how is your good lady?—What a jolly party at your house last
night! and Mrs. Tripes, I hope, is none the worse for it?
_Tripes._ Oh dear sir, no! Mrs. Tripes and my daughters were _so_
pleased with your Scotch singing.
_Smooth._ And your boys, how are they?—fine, promising, active
fellows.—You’ve heard from MacLeech?
_Tripes._ Just received the note as I left home.
_Smooth._ All is quite right, you see, your cousin has the appointment
at the Cape. I knew MacLeech was just the man for the details. A ship,
I find, is to sail in about three weeks; and (_significantly_) I don’t
think your cousin need be _very_ scrupulous about freight and passage.
_Tripes._ You are too good, Mr. Smooth. I’m sure if anything that I can
do,—my sense of all your kindness—— {283}
_Smooth._ I was thinking, when I saw those fine lads of yours, that
another assistant to my under secretary’s deputy—but (between you and
me) Hume thinks that one is more than enough. We must wait a little.
_Takes_ TRIPES’ _arm_. [_Exeunt._
SCENE X.—TURNSTILE’S _parlour_, 11½ A. M. _Breakfast on the table;
pamphlets and newspapers. In the corners of the room, books and
philosophical instruments, dusty and thrown together; heaps of
Parliamentary Reports lying above them._ TURNSTILE _alone, musing, and
looking over some journals_.
_Turnstile._ This headache! Impossible to sleep when one goes to
bed by daylight. Experiments by Arago! Ah! a paper by Cauchy, on my
own subject. But here is this cursed committee in Smithfield to be
attended; and it is already past eleven. (_Rising_).
[_Knock at the hall door._]
_Enter Servant._
_Servant._ Mr. Tripes, sir.
_Turnstile._ Show him in. He comes, no doubt, to say that my election
is arranged. A good, fat-headed, honest fellow.
_Enter_ TRIPES.
Well Mr. Tripes, I’m glad to see you. Pray take a chair.
_Tripes._ We hoped to have seen you at the meeting yesterday, sir.
Capital speech from Mr. Smooth. You know, of course, that Mr. Highway
is a candidate; and Mr. MacLeech is talked of;—very sorry, indeed, you
weren’t there.
_Turnstile._ A transit of Venus, Mr. Tripes, is a thing that does not
happen every day. Besides, my friend, Stellini {284} from Palermo, is
here; and I had promised to go with him to Greenwich.
_Tripes._ Almost a pity, sir, to call off your attention from such
objects. But in the City we are men of business, you know,—plain,
every-day people.
_Turnstile._ It was unlucky; but I could not help it. The committee, I
hope, is by this time at work?
_Tripes._ It was just that, I called about. I wished to tell you
myself how very sorry I am that I cannot be your chairman. But—my
large family—press of business,—in short,—you must excuse me;—and, if
I should be upon Mr. Smooth’s committee, I don’t well see how I can
attend to both.
_Turnstile._ Smooth!—but he and I go together, you know,—at least, I
understood it so.
_Tripes._ I’m glad to hear it; I feared there might be some mistake.
And, if Mr. MacLeech comes forward,—being a fellow-townsman of Mr.
Smooth, and a good deal in the Glasgow interest;—a commercial man too,
Mr. Turnstile;—a _practical_ man—Mr. Turnstile;—I am not quite sure
that you can count upon Mr. Smooth’s assistance;—and Government, you
know, is strong.
_Turnstile._ Assistance, Mr. Tripes,—from Smooth!—why I came in
on my own ground;—on the _Independent_ interest.—Assistance from
Smooth!—Besides,—Smooth knows very well that _our_ second votes secured
him.
_Tripes._ Very true, sir; but these Independent people are hard to deal
with; and Mr. Highway, I assure you, hit very hard in his speech at the
meeting yesterday. He talked of amateur politicians,—attention to the
business of the people,—dinners with the opposite party. In short, I
fear, they will say,—like the others,—that what they want is something
{285} of “a _practical man_” Mr. Turnstile.—I’m sorry that I must be
going.—Sir, your servant.
_Turnstile._ (_Rising and ringing._) [_Enter servant._] Open the door
for Mr. Tripes. [_Exit_ TRIPES.] D——d, double-faced, selfish blockhead!
SCENE XI.—_The street, as before._
_Enter_ TRIPES, _from_ TURNSTILE’S _house_.
_Tripes._ (_Putting on his hat._) He might have been more civil,
too;—though he did count upon me for his chairman. But I’ll show him
that I’m not to be insulted; and if, MacLeech manages the matter well
for Charles, this _Mr. Philosopher Turnstile_, though he thinks himself
so clever, may go to the devil. [_Exit._
ACT II.
SCENE I.—_Downing-street, after a Cabinet Meeting._ LORD A.; CLOSEWIND;
SHIFT; SMOOTH; _and other Members of the Cabinet_.
_Lord A._ That point being settled, gentlemen, the sooner you are at
your posts the better. The King comes down to dissolve on Friday.[40]
But, before we part, we had better {286} decide about this Presidency
of the Board of Manufactures. The appointment requires an able man; of
_rather_ peculiar attainments. Mr. Turnstile has been mentioned to me;
and his claims I am told, are strong:—long devotion to science,—great
expense and loss of time for public objects,—high reputation, and
weight of opinion, as a man of science.
[40] Parliament is ordinarily dissolved by Proclamation, after
having been previously prorogued. However, there is at least one
modern instance to justify the historical consistency of the text,
namely, that which occurred on the 10th June, 1818, when the
Prince Regent, afterwards George IV., dissolved the Parliament
in person. The Dramatist cannot therefore be properly accused of
drawing heedlessly upon his imagination, though even had he thus
far transgressed the boundaries of historical truth, Horace’s
maxim might have been pleaded in excuse:—
“Pictoribus atque Poetis
Quidlibet audendi semper fuit æqua potestas.”
_Smooth._ I believe that he has left _science_; at least, he wishes it
to be so considered. He is my colleague at Shoreditch; and, of course,
I wish to support him;—but,—when business is to be done;—and men,—and
things, to be brought together,—I own,—I _doubt_—whether a more
practical man,—might not——
_Shift._ And _that_ poor Turnstile certainly is not. He must always
have _a reason_;—nothing but the _quod erat demonstrandum_; a romancer;
if you have anything to do, his first object is _to do it well_. I am
quite sure he will not answer our purpose.
_Closewind._ He talks too much about consistency; and on party
questions, you are never sure of him: last week he did not divide with
us, on either night.
_Lord A._ Well; _I_ am quite indifferent. I did hear of his being at
Lord Flumm’s; and after what had just passed in the Lords, a personal
friend of mine would, perhaps, have kept away from that quarter. Is
there no other person?
_Smooth._ (_Hesitatingly._) Davies Gilbert.
_Shift._ (_Laughing._) Pooh! Pooh! Poor Gilbert! No, that will never do.
_Smooth._ Or—Warburton?
_Shift._ (_Sneering._) Worse and worse!—if _ever_ there was an
impracticable——
_Closewind._ But we don’t know that Turnstile is sure of his seat.
Smooth, hasn’t MacLeech been talked of for Shoreditch? {287}
_Smooth._ He’s _certain_ of succeeding! The independent gentlemen don’t
quite like Turnstile—they wish for Highway—and the split will foil them
both. MacLeech—now that he has been mentioned—I must acknowledge, does
seem to me to be the _very_ man for the manufactures,—a practical,
persevering man of business,—never absent from the House,—excellent
Scotch connections,—a cousin of the Duke of Y.’s——.
_Lord A._ That is a good point, certainly. An appointment given there
would be candid and liberal;—it might conciliate——
_Closewind._ A very civil, excellent fellow, too. MacLeech, _I_ should
say, is the man.
_Shift._ I quite agree with you.
_Smooth._ I confess, I think he will fill the office well. And if it is
thought quite necessary that Hume’s motion to reduce the salary,—though
it is not large——
_Closewind._ Oh, no! The salary had better remain;—2000 _l._ is not too
much. Besides, the _principle_ of giving way is bad.
_Lord A._ Well, gentlemen, let it be so. Smooth, you will let MacLeech
know that he has the office.
_Smooth._ And at the present salary?
_Lord A._ Agreed. [_Exeunt._
SCENE IV.—_The Athenæum Club._ SMOOTH _and_ ATALL _at a table_.
_Smooth._ I saw it this morning on the breakfast-table at Lord A’s; it
is an admirable article, and I was told is yours.
_Atall._ (_Decliningly._) These things, you know, are always supposed
to be anonymous. But I am not sorry that you liked the paper. Did his
lordship speak of it? {288}
_Smooth._ The book was open at the article upon the table. It does
you honour. Hits _just_ the happy point,—hints probable _intentions_,
without giving any pledge,—enough to please the Liberals,—and full room
for _explanation_, if any change becomes expedient. The true plan,
believe me, for a ministry, in times like these, is to proceed _en
tâtonnant_.—Pray, Mr. Dean, how is the Bishop of Hereford?
_Atall._ I didn’t know that he was particularly ill. He has long been
feeble.
_Smooth._ These complainers do sometimes hold out. But they cannot last
for ever.—We meet I hope to-morrow at the levee. You _ought_ to be
there.
_Atall._ I have come to town for the purpose; having secured, I think,
Closewind’s election at Cambridge.
_Smooth._ Well done, my very good friend! Men of talent should always
pull together. Sorry that I must go; but we meet to-morrow. (_Shaking
hands very cordially._) [_Exit._
SCENE VI.—BYEWAYS’ _lodgings_. BYEWAYS _alone, writing_.
_Enter_ TURNSTILE.
_Turnstile._ My dear Byeways; I want your assistance. Deserted by those
shabby dogs the Radicals, and tricked, I fear, by the Whigs, I find I
have no chance of a decent show of numbers at the next election, if my
scientific friends do not support me with spirit. Even so, it _can_
be only an honourable retreat. I count upon _you_,—you understand
the world;—and as soon as we can muster a committee, you must be my
chairman.
_Byeways._ My good friend, don’t be in a hurry; sit down and tell me
all about it. I know you don’t care much about your seat,—and after
all,—it is,—to you, a waste of {289} time;—but, with the Independents
at your back, you are secure. As to me, my dear fellow, you know that I
am——
_Turnstile._ But man! the Independents, as you call them, have taken up
Highway; he blusters, and goes any length.
_Byeways._ But Smooth, you know, is strong in Shoreditch,—Government
interest,—you brought him in last time; and you and he, together——
_Turnstile._ I know it; but he says he is not _strong enough_ to run
any risk. If you will be my chairman, with a good committee, we may at
least die game.
_Byeways._ My dear Turnstile, you know how glad I always am to serve
you—and you know what _I think_;—but in my situation, my dear fellow,
it is quite impossible that I can _oppose_ the ministers. MacLeech
too, they say, is a candidate; and his brother-in-law’s uncle was very
civil, last year, in Scotland, to my wife’s cousin.—But I _have_ a plan
for you. There is Atall, just come to town; make _him_ your chief,
and bring the Cambridge men together. The clergy were always strong
in Shoreditch. Atall can speak to them.—I am obliged to go to the War
Office.—And you had better lose no time in seeing Atall. Sorry to bid
you good-bye. [_Exit._
_Turnstile._ Well, this _is_ strange! yet I thought I might have
counted upon Byeways. [_Exit._
SCENE VIII.—LADY FLUMM’S _Drawing-room_. LADY FLUMM; LADY SELINA; HON.
MRS. FUBSEY.
_Mrs. Fubsey._ But, my dear sister; how _can_ you so beflatter that
poor man? You don’t know all the mischief you may do to him.
_Lady Flumm._ “Poor man!” I cannot pity him. His maxim is, that
knowledge is power; and he thinks _his_ {290} knowledge is all that
can be known. He has to learn that _our_ knowledge, also, is power; and
that we know how to use it too.
_Enter_ LORD FLUMM.
_Lord Flumm._ There, Lady Selina, so much for your philosophic friend.
Poor Turnstile! What a business he _has_ made of it. Here is the
“Times,” with the report of the Shoreditch election meeting. Turnstile
has no chance. The Scotchmen coalesce; Highway none of us can think
of; and Smooth and MacLeech walk over the ground in triumph; and then,
the Presidency of Manufactures, the _very_ appointment for which poor
Turnstile was fitted (and, to do the poor devil justice, he could have
filled it well), is given to MacLeech, a Scotch hanger on, or distant
cousin of Smooth’s, and with the old salary, in spite of all that Hume
could say against it.—Bravo! Reform, and the Whigs for ever!—We Tories
could not have done the business in a better style.
_Enter a Footman._
_Footman._ Mr. Turnstile, my Lady, sends up his card.
_Lady Flumm._ Oh, not at home! And Sleek, put a memorandum in the
visiting-book, that we are “out of town,” whenever Mr. Turnstile calls.
SCENE XII.—TURNSTILE’S _Parlour. Night._ TURNSTILE _alone_.
_Turnstile._ Then all is up. What a fool have I been to embark upon
this sea of trouble! Two years of trifling and lost time; while others
have been making discoveries and adding to their reputation. Those
_rascal_ Whigs, my blood boils to think of them. I can forgive the
Shoreditch {291} people—the greasy, vulgar, money-getting beasts;—but
my friends, the men of principle—— (_Getting up and walking about._)
Is it still too late to return? (_Looking round upon his books and
instruments._) There you are, my old friends, whom I _have_ treated
rather ungratefully. What a scene at that cursed meeting! Highway’s
bullying; and the baseness of Smooth; the sleek, sly, steering of that
knave MacLeech; and yet they _must_ succeed. There’s no help for it.
I _am_ fairly beaten—thrown overboard, with not a leg to stand upon;
and all I have to do is to go to bed now, to sleep off this fever; and
to-morrow, take leave of politics, and try to be myself once more.
END OF THE EXTRACTS.
* * * * *
_Note._—The reader will doubtlessly have already discovered that
“Byeways,” with the other _dramatis personæ_ of this squib, are living
characters not unknown in fashionable and political circles. In a
future edition, if it can be done without offence, I may perhaps be
induced to present them to the public without their masks and buskins.
{292}
CHAPTER XXIII.
EXPERIENCE AT COURTS.
Pension to Dr. Dalton — Inhabitants of Manchester subscribe for a
Statue by Chantrey — The Author proposed that he should appear at a
Levee — Various difficulties suggested and removed — The Chancellor
approves and offers to present him — Mentions it to King William IV.
— Difficulties occur — Dalton as a Quaker could not wear a Sword —
Answer, he may go in his Robes as Doctor of Laws of Oxford — As a
Quaker he could not wear Scarlet Robes — Answer, Dalton is afflicted
with Colour-blindness — Crimson to him is dirt-colour — Dr. Dalton
breakfasts with the Author — First Rehearsal — Second Rehearsal at Mr.
Wood’s — At the Levee — The Church in danger — Courtiers jealous of
the Quaker — Conversation at Court sometimes interesting, occasionally
profitable.
The following letter was addressed by me to Dr. Henry, the biographer
of Dalton, in reply to inquiries respecting the part I had taken in
procuring a pension for that distinguished philosopher. It was printed
in the “Life of Dalton,” and is now reprinted from its illustration of
the subject of this chapter:—
“MY DEAR SIR,—I have now examined my papers, as far as I can, to find
any traces of Dalton amongst them. I find only two letters, of which I
send you copies.
“I well remember taking a great interest in Dalton’s pension, as you
will see by several passages in ‘The Decline of Science,’ pp. 20 and
22, and note; but I have no recollection of any of the circumstances,
or through what channel it was applied for. {293}
“I find several letters of that date from Mr. Wood,[41] and it appears
from them that I went with him to Poulett Thomson;[42] but I only
gather this fact from those letters. I send them in the enclosure, as
they may be of use. You can return them at your own convenience.
〈STATUE OF DALTON.〉
“When the inhabitants of Manchester had subscribed 2,000 _l._ for
a statue of Dalton, he came up to London, and was the guest of Mr.
Wood. He sat to Chantrey for the statue. I consequently saw much of my
friend. It occurred to me that, as his townsmen were having a statue
of him—as the University of Oxford had given him the honorary degree
of Doctor of Laws—and as the Government had given him a pension—if it
were not incompatible with his feelings, it would be a fit thing that
he should be presented at a levee. It appeared to me that if William
the Fourth were informed of it, it would afford him an opportunity
of saying a few words to the venerable philosopher, which would be
gratifying to the inhabitants of Manchester, the University of Oxford,
and the world of science.
[41] Member for South Lancashire.
[42] Afterwards Lord Sydenham.
“Accordingly I wrote a note to Mr. Wood, suggesting the idea, and
proposing that he should ascertain from Doctor Dalton whether it would
be unpleasant to him to go through the usual forms.
“Dalton not objecting, my note was sent on by Mr. Wood to Lord
Brougham, who at that time was Lord Chancellor. He approved highly of
the plan, and offered to present Doctor Dalton. He also mentioned the
circumstance to the King.
“I had had some conversation with Mr. Wood upon the subject, when
several difficulties presented themselves to him. Doctor Dalton, as a
Quaker, could not appear in a {294} court-dress, because he must wear
a sword. To this I replied, that being aware of the difficulty, I had
proposed to let him wear the robes of a Doctor of Laws of Oxford.
“Mr. Wood remarked, that those robes being _scarlet_, they were not of
a colour admissible by Quakers.
“To this I replied, that Doctor Dalton had a kind of
_colour-blindness_, and that all red colours appeared to him to be
the colour of dirt. Besides, I had found that our friend entertained
very reasonable views of such mere matters of form. The velvet cap
of the Doctor again was not an obstacle, as he was informed that it
was usually held in the hand, and was rather a mark of office than a
covering for the head.
“These difficulties being surmounted, Doctor Dalton came one morning to
breakfast with me. We were alone; and after breakfast he went up with
me into the drawing-room, in order to see the Difference Engine. After
we had made several series of calculations, he recollected that he had
in his pocket a note to me from Mr. Wood. On hastily looking it over, I
found that it was to announce to me that our friend acquiesced in the
plan.
〈FIRST REHEARSAL OF A LEVEE.〉
“I now mentioned the forms usual at a levee, and placing several chairs
in order to represent the various officers in the Presence-chamber, I
put Doctor Dalton in the middle of the circle to represent the King.
I then told my friend that I should represent a greater man than the
King; that I intended to personate Doctor Dalton, and would re-enter at
the further door, go round the circle, make my obeisance to the King,
and thus show him the kind of ceremony at which he was to assist.
“On passing the third chair from the King’s, I put my card on the
chair, at the same time informing Doctor Dalton {295} that this was
the post of a Lord in Waiting, who takes the cards, and gives them to
the next officer, who announces them to the King.
“On passing the philosopher I kissed his hand, and then passing round
the rest of the circle of chairs, I thus gave him his first lesson as a
courtier.
“It was arranged that I should take Doctor Dalton with me to the levee,
and put on his card, ‘Doctor Dalton, presented by the Lord Chancellor.’
〈FULL DRESS REHEARSAL OF LEVEE.〉
“When the morning arrived I went to Mr. Wood’s residence, and found
Doctor Dalton quite ready for the expedition. In order to render the
chief actor perfect in his part, we again had a rehearsal; Mrs. Wood
personating the King, and the rest of the family, with the assistance
of sundry chairs and stools, representing the great Officers of State.
I then entered the room, preceding my excellent friend, who followed
his instructions as perfectly as if he had been repeating an experiment.
“Being now quite satisfied with the performance, we drove off to St.
James’s. The robes of a Doctor of Laws are rarely made use of, except
at a University Address: consequently Dr. Dalton’s costume attracted
much attention, and compelled me to gratify the curiosity of many of
my friends, by explaining who he was. The prevailing opinion had been
that he was the Mayor of some corporate town come up to get knighted.
I informed my inquirers, that he was a much more eminent person than
any Mayor of any city, and having won for himself a name which would
survive when orders of knighthood should be forgotten, he had no
ambition to be knighted.
〈THE CHURCH IN DANGER.〉
“At a short distance from the Presence-chamber, I observed close before
me several dignitaries of the church, in {296} the full radiance of
their vast lawn sleeves. The Bishop of Gloucester,[43] who was nearest,
accidentally turning his head, I recognized a face long familiar to me
from its cordiality and kindness. A few words were interchanged between
us, and also by myself with the rest of the party, the remotest of
whom, if I remember rightly, was the Archbishop of Dublin. The dress
of my friend seemed to strike the Bishop’s attention; but the quiet
costume of the Quaker beneath his scarlet robe was entirely unnoticed.
I therefore confided to the Bishop of Gloucester the fact that I had
a Quaker by my side, at the same time assuring him that my peaceful
and philosophic friend was very far from meditating any injury to the
Church. The effect was electric upon the whole party; episcopal eyes
had never yet beheld such a spectacle in such society, and I fear,
notwithstanding my assurance, some portion of the establishment thought
the Church really in danger.
“We now entered the Presence-chamber, and having passed the King, I
retired very slowly, in order that I might observe events. Doctor
Dalton having kissed hands, the King asked him several questions, all
which the philosopher duly answered, and then moved on in proper order
to join me. This reception, however, had not passed with sufficient
rapidity to escape jealousy, for I heard one officer say to another,
‘Who the d—l is that fellow whom the King keeps talking to so long?’
[43] Dr. Monk.
〈INTERESTING CONFIDENCES AT A LEVEE.〉
“Conversations at Courts are not always thought to be the most
interesting things in the world; although, doubtless, they must be
so to the parties engaged in them. In the midst of crowded levees
and drawing-rooms, one is often compelled to become the confidant of
strangers around us. {297} The amusement derived from this source
predominates over the instruction. I have heard much anxious inquiry
as to certain pieces of clerical preferment—who is to have certain
military or colonial commands, and what promotions will take place from
the consequent vacancies?—many political queries have been proposed,
and how ‘the party’ would act in certain contingent cases? I once heard
a gentleman receive at a levee the first announcement of a legacy;
on another occasion, on my return from the Continent, I was myself
informed at a levee of a similarly gratifying, and to me entirely
unexpected, event.
“Doctor Dalton having now passed through the formal part of a levee,
had a better opportunity of viewing the details. He inquired the names
of several of the portraits, and I took the opportunity of pointing out
to him many of the living celebrities.
“We then returned to Mr. Wood’s residence, and the whole party were
highly gratified at the success of the undertaking.
“I am, my dear Sir, very truly yours,
“C. BABBAGE.
“_Dorset Street, Manchester Square,
February 7, 1854._”
{298}
CHAPTER XXIV.
EXPERIENCE AT COURTS.
The Author invited to a Meeting at Turin of the Philosophers of Italy,
1840 — The King, Charles Albert — Reflections on Shyness — Question of
Dress — Electric Telegraph — Theory of Storms — Remark of an Italian
Friend in the evening at the Opera — Various Instruments taken to the
Palace, and shown to the young Princes — The Queen being absent — The
reason why — The young Princes did great credit to their Governor
— The General highly gratified — The Philosopher proposes another
difficult question — It is referred to the King himself — An audience
is granted to ask the King’s permission to present the woven Silk
Engraving of Jacquard to Her Majesty — Singular but Comic Scene — The
final Capture of the Butterflies — Visit to Raconigi — The Vintage.
About a quarter of a century ago the Court of Turin had the reputation
of being the most formal and punctilious of any in Europe. It was dull
to the diplomatic officials, who were doomed like planets to circulate
around it, though not without interest to the inquiring traveller,
whose orbit, like that of a comet, passed through its atmosphere only
at distant intervals.
In 1840 I received a gratifying invitation to meet the _élite_ of the
science of Italy at Turin. On my arrival I immediately took measures to
pay my respects in the usual manner to the sovereign of the country.
Having inquired of a nobleman[44] high in the confidence of the King,
when there {299} would occur a levee, in order that I might have the
honour of being presented, I was informed that his Majesty was aware of
my arrival, and would receive me at a private audience. Two days after
I had a formal visit from Count Alessandro Saluzzo to inform me that
the King would receive me the next day at two o’clock.
[44] Conte D. Alessandro Saluzzo di Monesiglio, Grande di Corona,
Presid. della sexiare dell’ interno nel consiglio di stato, &c.
〈THE COURT OF TURIN IN 1840.〉
I then made inquiries as to the usual dress, and found that a court
dress was not considered essential on such occasions, especially for a
foreigner, and that I might with perfect propriety go in plain clothes.
I was glad to avail myself of this permission; but in order to prevent
any misapprehension, I drove up to the palace about a quarter of an
hour before the appointed time, and called upon General Cesare de
Salluce,[45] the governor of the two young princes, the present King of
Italy and the late Duke of Genoa, then respectively about eighteen and
seventeen years of age.
The General kindly offered to accompany me to the antechamber. In the
course of our conversation I took an opportunity of mentioning that,
having been informed I might appear in plain clothes, I had thought it
most respectful to his sovereign to wear the same dress I had worn a
few days before I left England, when I had the honour of being invited
to the first party[46] given by a subject to my own sovereign.
[45] Saluzzo di Monesiglio, Car. Cesare, Luogoten, Gen., Gran
Mastro d’Artiglieria et Governatore de Reali Principi, &c.; the
younger brother of the Count Alexander.
[46] The déjeûné at Wimbledon Park, the residence of the late Duke
of Somerset.
I had already been informed that the King, Charles Albert, took a great
interest in the success of the meeting; that he was a very good man,
but remarkably shy; and that he probably would not detain me more than
perhaps five minutes.
I had myself experienced the misery of that affliction, and {300} felt
how much more painful it must inevitably become when it fell to the lot
of a person placed in the most exalted rank.
〈RECEPTION OF THE PHILOSOPHER.〉
On entering the ante-room I found a number of the most distinguished
people of the country waiting for audience, the king at that time being
occupied, as I was informed, with one of his ministers. On his exit the
master of the ceremonies announced that his Majesty would receive me.
I then entered the royal reception-room, and was presented to the
King. He was a remarkably tall person, dressed in military costume,
having a very peculiar expression of countenance, which I was at a loss
how immediately to interpret. The King invited me to sit down, and I
followed his Majesty to a large bay-window, where we immediately sat
down on two stools opposite to each other.
The King expressed his satisfaction that I had come from so
considerable a distance to assist at the councils of the men of science
then assembling in his own capital. Of course I replied by remarking
that the advancement of the sciences contributed to the material as
well as to the intellectual progress of every nation, and that when a
sovereign, intimately convinced of this truth, took measures for the
extension and diffusion of knowledge, it was the duty of all those
engaged in its cultivation respectfully to assist as far as their
individual circumstances permitted.
After a short pause, the King put some question which I do not
remember, except that it was one of the conventional topics of society:
perhaps it might have related to my journey. I now felt that unless
I could raise some question of curiosity in his Majesty’s mind, to
overcome his natural reserve, the interview would soon terminate
precisely in the manner predicted. I therefore, in replying to this
question, {301} contrived to introduce a remarkable fact relative to
the electric telegraph. I soon perceived that it had taken hold of the
King’s imagination, and the next question confirmed my view. “For what
purposes,” said the King, “will the electric telegraph become useful?”
I must here request the reader to go back in his memory to the state
of our knowledge in 1840, when electricity and other subjects, now of
every-day application, were just commencing their then eccentric but
now regulated course.
〈THEORY OF STORMS—ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH.〉
The King put the very question I had wished. Carefully observing his
countenance, I felt that I was advancing in a tract in which he was
interested. At each pause the proper question was suggested, and at
last I pointed out the probability that, by means of the electric
telegraphs, his Majesty’s fleet might receive warning of coming storms.
This led to the new theory of storms, about which the king was very
curious. By degrees I endeavoured to make it clear. I cited, as an
illustration, a storm which had occurred but a short time before I left
England. The damage done by it at Liverpool was very great, and at
Glasgow immense. On one large property in the west coast of Scotland
thirty thousand timber-trees had been thrown down.
I then explained that by subsequent inquiries it had been found that
this storm arose from the overlapping of two circular whirlwinds,
one of them coming up from the Atlantic bodily at the rate of twenty
miles an hour, the other passing at the rate of twelve miles an hour,
in a north-westerly direction, to Glasgow, where they coalesced, and
destroyed property to the value of above half a million sterling. I
added that if there had been electric communication between Genoa and
a few other places the people of Glasgow might have had information of
one of those storms twenty-four hours previously to its {302} arrival,
and could then have taken effective measures for the security of much
of their shipping.
〈THE PHILOSOPHER TROUBLED WITH A CONSCIENCE.〉
During this conversation I had felt rather uneasy at occupying the
king’s time so long when several of his own ministers were waiting in
his ante-room for an audience, perhaps upon important business. Urged
by this truly conscientious motive, I committed a _gaucherie_ of the
deepest water—I half rose from my stool to take leave of his Majesty.
The King, as well he might, lifted up both his hands and then expressed
the greatest interest in the continuance of the subject.
After a conversation of about five-and-twenty minutes the King rose,
and, walking with me to the door, I made my bow. The King then held out
his hand.
Here might have arisen a puzzling question, what I ought to have done;
but previously to the interview I had taken the precaution of inquiring
of one of my Sardinian friends what were the usual forms, and whether
it was customary to kiss hands on being presented to the sovereign. The
answer was in the negative. The ceremony of kissing hands, he informed
me, never took place except when a native subject was appointed to some
very high office.
I therefore immediately perceived that the King had done me the honour
of adopting the salutation of my own country. Under these circumstances
I shook hands as an Englishman does, and then, bowing profoundly,
retired.
In the course of the evening of that day, being at the opera, I visited
the box of one of my Italian acquaintances. A great friend of mine,
also an Italian, who had been dining at the palace, came in soon
after. He said to me, “What an extraordinary person you are! You have
perfectly fascinated our King, who has done nothing but talk of you and
the things you have told him during the whole of dinner-time.” {303}
I admit I felt great satisfaction at this announcement of the complete
success of my daring experiment. It assured me that my unusual
deviation from the routine of a Court was fully justified by the
interest the matter communicated had awakened in the King’s mind.
〈EXHIBITS VARIOUS INSTRUMENTS.〉
I had brought with me to Turin several models and various instruments
connected with science and mechanical art, which of course had been
examined by many of my scientific and personal friends. Unfortunately,
on two occasions, when General de Salluce, who was much my senior
in years, called upon me, I happened to be absent from the house.
Knowing how fully his time was occupied by his illustrious pupils, I
much regretted that I had not been at home when he called, and during
one of my visits at the palace I offered to bring with me, on another
occasion, some of the things I thought might be most interesting.
The General could not think of giving me that trouble, and at first
very courteously declined the proposal. But after a moment or two he
said, “On second thoughts, I will accept your kind offer, because I
think it may be useful to my young pupils.”
On the morning proposed I drove up to the palace with some boxes
containing the various apparatus, and was immediately shown into a
large room nearly at the top of the palace. After opening the boxes
and giving the General a glance at the various articles, I remarked
that several of them were interesting to ladies, and that possibly the
Queen, if made acquainted with it, might like to accompany her sons;
in which case it would, perhaps, be more convenient for her Majesty if
they were placed in a lower room of the palace.
〈THE QUEEN UNABLE TO COME.〉
The idea appeared a happy one; the General was much {304} pleased at
it, and said he would go immediately and take her Majesty’s pleasure
on the subject. After considerable delay General de Salluce returned,
evidently much disappointed, and said he was commanded by the Queen to
thank me for the attention, and to express her Majesty’s regret that
she was prevented by an engagement from accompanying the young Princes.
When everything was arranged, and the hour appointed had arrived, the
young Princes, accompanied by, I presume, various members of the royal
household, and their Governor, arrived. Altogether there might have
been about a dozen or fourteen persons of both sexes present.
I pointed out the use and structure of most of the instruments. Some
objects belonged to mechanical art, such as patent locks and tools; a
few were related to the Fine Arts.
The whole party seemed much pleased; the young Princes particularly
took a great interest in them, whereat the General was highly
gratified. Before his young pupils retired, I took the General aside
and inquired whether it was consistent with their customs that I
should present to each of his two pupils one of the various (but in
a pecuniary sense trifling) articles which they had examined. I was
glad to find that I might be permitted to leave behind me two little
souvenirs of a most agreeable day.
The whole party, with the exception of General de Salluce, had now
retired. We walked up and down the room together for some time,
conversing upon the success of the meeting. My excellent friend was
justly delighted with the intelligent inquiries made by his pupils.
I thought I now perceived a favourable opportunity of ascertaining the
cause of the Queen’s absence.
After some kind expression towards me, I suddenly stopped, {305} and,
looking inquiringly into his countenance, said, “Now, General, just
before this very agreeable party met you went to invite the Queen, and
you returned and then told me the _official_. Now pray do tell me the
_real_.”
〈THE REASON EXPLAINED.〉
The surprise of the General was certainly great, but, with a most
agreeable smile, he immediately consented.
It appears that its history was thus. The General went to the Queen’s
apartments and asked, through her lord-in-waiting, to be permitted to
see her Majesty. This request was immediately granted. The General then
informed the Queen that amongst the things her sons were going to see
were several which might, perhaps, interest her Majesty. The Queen said
she would accompany her sons, and then directed her own lord-in-waiting
to go and ask the King’s permission.
Accordingly the Queen’s lord-in-waiting went to the King’s apartments,
and found that he was sitting in Council. He proceeded to the ante-room
of the Council-chamber, and there found the King’s lord-in-waiting, to
whom he communicated his mission.
The King’s lord-in-waiting then informed the Queen’s lord-in-waiting
that important news[47] had just arrived, and that a special
council had been called; that of course he was ready to convey the
Queen’s message immediately, but he suggested whether, under these
circumstances, the Queen would wish it.
[47] The Syrian question.
The Queen’s lord-in-waiting now returned to her Majesty for further
instructions.
Of course the Queen, like a good wife, at once gave up the intention
of accompanying her sons in their interview with the philosopher. I
felt much regret at this disappointment. The Queen of Sardinia was the
sister of the Grand Duke of Tuscany (Leopold II.), from whom I had,
many years before, {306} when under severe affliction from the loss
of a large portion of my family, received the most kind and gratifying
attention.
〈THE WOVEN PORTRAIT.〉
On my road to Turin I had passed a few days at Lyons, in order to
examine the silk manufacture. I was specially anxious to see the loom
in which that admirable specimen of fine art, the portrait of Jacquard,
was woven. I passed many hours in watching its progress.
I possessed one copy, which had been kindly given to me by a friend;
but as I had proposed to visit Florence after the meeting at Turin, I
wished to procure another copy to present to the Grand Duke of Tuscany.
These beautiful productions were not made for sale; but, as a favour, I
was allowed to purchase one of them.
Whilst the General was giving me this illustration of Court etiquette,
it occurred to me that the silken engraving would be an appropriate
offering to a lady.
I therefore again asked my friend whether, consistently with the usages
of the country, I might be permitted to offer the engraving to the
Queen.
The sudden change of his countenance from gay to grave was very
remarkable. I feared I had proposed something of the most unusual kind.
The General then slowly replied, “I will take the King’s pleasure on
the subject.”
Two days after the General informed me that the King would give me an
audience the next day, in order that I might ask permission to present
the woven engraving to the Queen.
Accordingly, at the appointed hour, I went to the palace with the large
cartoon-case containing the portrait of Jacquard.[48] On being admitted
into the presence of the King, I placed the case upon a sofa, and,
opening it carefully, {307} unfolded the woven portrait from a crowd
of sheets of silver paper of the most ethereal lightness. I then placed
it in his Majesty’s hands. The King examined it minutely on both sides,
inquired about its structure, and appeared much pleased at the sight.
[48] The dimensions were 2 ft. 8 in. by 2 ft. 2 in.
〈A FLIGHT OF BUTTERFLIES.〉
I now went over to replace the engraving in its travelling-carriage.
The instant it approached its paper case a multitude of sheets of
silver paper were disturbed in their snug repose, and forthwith flew up
into the air. I made many ineffectual efforts to catch these runaways.
The King most condescendingly came to my assistance, took the portrait
out of my hands, and endeavoured himself to replace it in its nest,
whilst I was attempting to catch the flying covey.
But these volatile papers had no proper respect even for royalty. The
quires of silver paper which had remained in the case now came out in
all directions, whether to do honour to the King by rising to receive
him, or to recall their flighty sisters to their deserted couch I know
not; but somehow or other both the King and myself were on the floor
upon our knees, having secured some few of the fallen angels, whilst a
cloud of others, still on the wing, continually eluded our grasp.
At last I gave up the idea of grabbing at the flying sheets, and
confined my attention to seizing on the fallen ones. While still on
my knees, I suddenly felt an obstacle presented to my right foot.
On looking round I perceived that the heel of royalty had come into
contact with the toe of philosophy.
A comic yet kindly smile beamed upon the countenance of the King,
whilst an irrepressible but not irreverent one, lightened up my own.
The whole army of butterflies being at last captured, and {308} the
engraving replaced, the King entered into a conversation with me upon
various subjects.
〈THE VINTAGE AT RACONIGI.〉
The processes of wine-making then became the subject of conversation.
I believe I may have observed incidentally in reply to some question,
that my information was only derived from books, as I had not had an
opportunity of seeing any of its processes. About a week after this,
one of the officers of the household called upon me, and told me that
the vintage of Raconigi, one of the King’s beautiful domains, at about
a dozen miles from Turin, would commence in the following week; that
he was commanded by his Majesty, in case I should wish to examine the
processes, to inform me of the circumstance, and to accompany me for
the purpose of explaining them—a mission, he was so kind as to add,
which would personally be highly gratifying to himself.
I willingly accepted this most agreeable proposition, and the day was
fixed upon. At an early hour my friend was at my door in one of the
royal carriages. The weather was magnificent, and we drove through a
beautiful country.
On arriving at the vineyard we found several of the processes in full
operation. Each in succession was explained; and after spending a
most instructive morning, we found an excellent dinner prepared for
us at the palace, where I had the pleasure of meeting General ——, who
presided, and who had spent several years in England.
On our return in the evening I observed a dragoon apparently
accompanying the carriage. At first I took it for granted that his
road happened to be the same as ours; but after a mile or two had been
passed over, seeing him still close to us, I inquired of my companion
if he knew whither the soldier was going. It then appeared that he had
been sent by the General as a complimentary escort. {309}
However gratified I felt by this attention, I still was quite
uncomfortable at the idea of having a man galloping after our carriage
for ten miles. I therefore appealed to my friend to suspend this
unnecessary loss of _vis viva_. With some reluctance the dragoon was
exempted from further attendance upon the philosopher.
Shortly before I left Turin, one of my Italian friends remarked, with
evident feelings of pride and satisfaction, upon the attentions I had
received from his sovereign. “The King, he observed, has done three
things for you, which are very unusual—
“He has shaken hands with you.
“He has asked you to sit down at an audience.
“He has permitted you to make a present to the Queen. This last,” he
added, “is the rarest of all.”
* * * * *
〈AUDIENCE TO TAKE LEAVE.〉
Two days before my departure from Turin, I had an audience, to take
leave of his Majesty. The King inquired in what direction I intended
to travel homeward. I mentioned my intention of taking the mail to
Geneva, because it traversed a most remarkable suspension-bridge over a
deep ravine. The span of this bridge, which is named, after the king,
Pont Charles Albert, is six hundred French feet, and the depth of the
chasm over which it is suspended is also six hundred French feet. The
King immediately opened a drawer, and, taking out a small bronze medal,
struck to celebrate the opening of the bridge, presented it to me.
I now took the opportunity of expressing to the King my gratitude for
the many and kind attentions I had received from his subjects, and more
especially for the honour he had himself recently done me by sending
one of his ministers officially to convey to me his Majesty’s high
approbation of my conduct. {310} The King then entered upon another
course of inquiry, more immediately connected with his government.
I had on several occasions, when a favourable opportunity presented
itself, drawn the King’s attention to the doctrine of free trade—a
subject on which he evidently felt a great desire to be informed. The
questions put to me, though necessary for assisting the King to arrive
at right conclusions, were of such a nature that I considered them
confidential, and therefore forbear to relate them.
Two days after I started by the mail for Geneva. I shared the Coupé
of the Malle Poste with the courier, a very intelligent officer. On
mentioning my wish to see the celebrated bridge, he informed me that
he was already aware of my wishes, and that he had received orders
to detain the mail a quarter of an hour, that I might have a good
opportunity of seeing it.
〈THE PONT CHARLES ALBERT.〉
The scene which presented itself on my approach to the Pont Charles
Albert was singularly grand. We had been driving for some time along
a road skirting the edge of an immense chasm, six hundred and forty
English feet in depth. The opposite side was hid from our view by
a mist which hung over it. At the next bend in the road a portion
of the bridge suddenly became visible to us. It appeared to spring
from a massive pier on which the chains on our side of the ravine
rested. The bridge itself was nearly level, and was visible for about
three-quarters only of its length as it traversed the valley far
beneath it. The termination of the ascending portion of the chains on
the further pier, and that part of the bridge itself, were completely
concealed by the mist. It really seemed like a bridge springing from
a lofty cliff spanning the sea beneath and suspended on the distant
clouds. When we had descended from the mail at the {311} commencement,
we had directed the postilions to drive slowly across the bridge, then
about a third of a mile distant from us.
〈ITS MYSTIC SCENERY.〉
We were singularly favoured by circumstances. We saw the carriage which
had just left us apparently crossing the bridge, then penetrating into
the clouds, and finally becoming entirely lost to our view. At the same
time the dissolving mist in our own immediate neighbourhood began to
allow us to perceive the depth of the valley beneath, and at last even
the little wandering brook, which looked like a thread of silver at its
bottom.
The sun now burst out from behind a range of clouds, which had obscured
it. Its warm rays speedily dissipated the mist, illuminated the dark
gulf at our own side, and discovered to us the mail on terra firma on
the opposite side of the chasm waiting to convey us to our destination.
On our arrival at Annecy, my thoughtful companion informed me that
the mail would wait five-and-forty minutes. He suggested, as I was
not in good health, that I should immediately on my arrival get into
bed, whilst he would order tea, or supper, or any refreshment I might
prefer, and that he would be answerable for calling me at the proper
time to enable me to get comfortably whatever I might require, and be
ready to start again with the mail.
* * * * *
I have frequently attempted to assign in my own mind the reasons of the
singularly favourable reception I met with from the King of Sardinia.
The reputation arising from the Analytical Engine could scarcely have
produced that effect. The position of a sovereign is a very exceptional
one. He is surrounded by persons each of whom has always one or more
objects to gain. It is scarcely within the limits of possibility {312}
that he can have a real friend, or if he have that rarest commodity,
that he can know the fact.
〈ELEMENTS OF MY SUCCESS AT TURIN.〉
A certain amount of distrust must therefore almost always exist in his
mind. But this habitual distrust applies less to foreigners than to his
own subjects. The comet which passes through the thick atmosphere of
a Court may be temporarily disturbed in its path though it may never
revisit it again.
Perhaps the first element of my success was, that having been the
victim of shyness in early life, I could sympathise with those who
still suffered under that painful complaint.
Another reason may have been, that I never stated more than I really
knew. This is, I believe, a very unusual practice in Courts of _every_
kind; and when it happens to be obviously sincere, it commands great
influence.
There might be yet another reason:—it was well known that I had nothing
to ask for—to expect—or to desire.
{313}
CHAPTER XXV.
RAILWAYS.
Opening of Manchester and Liverpool Railway — Death of Mr. Huskisson
— Plate-glass Manufactory — Mode of separating Engine from Train —
Broad-gauge Question — Experimental Carriage — Measure the Force of
Traction, the Vertical, Lateral, and End Shake of Carriage, also its
Velocity by Chronometer — Fortunate Escape from meeting on the same
Line Brunel on another Engine — Sailed across the Hanwell Viaduct in
a Waggon without Steam — Meeting of British Association at Newcastle
— George Stephenson — Dr. Lardner — Suggestions for greater Safety on
Railroads — George Stephenson’s Opinion of the Gauges — Railways at
National Exhibitions.
At the commencement of the railway system I naturally took a great
interest in the subject, from its bearings upon mechanism as well as
upon political economy.
I accompanied Mr. Woolryche Whitmore, the member for Bridgenorth, to
Liverpool, at the opening of the Manchester and Liverpool Railway. The
morning previous to the opening, we met Mr. Huskisson at the Exchange,
and my friend introduced me to him. The next day the numerous trains
started with their heavy load of travellers. All went on pleasantly
until we reached Parkside, near Newton. During the time the engines
which drew us were taking in their water and their fuel, many of the
passengers got out and recognized their friends in other trains.
At a certain signal all resumed their seats; but we had {314} not
proceeded a mile before the whole of our trains came to a stand-still
without any ostensible cause. After some time spent in various
conjectures, a single engine almost flew past us on the other line of
rail, drawing with it the ornamental car which the Duke of Wellington
and other officials had so recently occupied. Instead of its former
numerous company it appeared to convey only two, or at most three,
persons; but the rapidity of its flight prevented any close observation
of the passengers.
〈FATAL ACCIDENT TO MR. HUSKISSON.〉
A certain amount of alarm now began to pervade the trains, and various
conjectures were afloat of some serious accident. After a while Mr.
Whitmore and myself got out of our carriage and hastened back towards
the halting place. At a little distance before us, in the middle of
the railway, stood the Duke of Wellington, Sir Robert Peel, and the
Boroughreeve of Manchester, discussing the course to be pursued in
consequence of the dreadful accident which had befallen Mr. Huskisson,
whom I had seen but a few minutes before standing at the door of the
carriage conversing with the Duke of Wellington. The Duke was anxious
that the whole party should return to Liverpool; but the chief officer
of Manchester pressed upon them the necessity of continuing the
journey, stating that if it were given up he could not be answerable
for the safety of the town.
It was at last mournfully resolved to continue our course to
Manchester, where a luncheon had been prepared for us; but to give up
all the ceremonial, and to return as soon as we could to Liverpool.
For several miles before we reached our destination the sides of
the railroad were crowded by a highly-excited populace shouting and
yelling. I feared each moment that some still greater sacrifice of life
might occur from the people {315} madly attempting to stop by their
feeble arms the momentum of our enormous trains.
〈GREAT DELAY—RUMOURS OF DISASTER.〉
Having rapidly taken what refreshment was necessary, we waited with
anxiety for our trains; but hour after hour passed away before they
were able to start. The cause of this delay arose thus. The Duke of
Wellington was the guest of the Earl of Wilton, the nearest station to
whose residence was almost half way between Manchester and Liverpool.
A train therefore was ordered to convey the party to Heaton House.
Unfortunately, our engines had necessarily gone a considerable distance
upon that line to get their supply of water, and were thus cut off by
the train conveying the Duke, from returning direct to Manchester.
There were not yet at this early period of railway history any sidings
to allow of a passage, or any crossing to enable the engines to get
upon the other line of rails. Under these circumstances the drivers
took the shortest course open to them. Having taken in their water,
they pushed on as fast as they could to a crossing at a short distance
from Liverpool. They backed into the other line of rail, and thus
returned to Manchester to pick up their trains.
In the meantime the vague rumour of some great disaster had reached
Liverpool. Thousands of persons, many of whom had friends and relatives
in the excursion trains, were congregated on the bridges and at the
railway station, anxious to learn news of their friends and relatives.
About five o’clock in the evening they perceived at a distance
half-a-dozen engines without any carriages, rushing furiously towards
them—suddenly checking their speed—then backing into the other line of
rail—again flying away towards Manchester, without giving any signs
or explanation of the mystery in which many of them were so deeply
interested. {316}
It is difficult to estimate the amount of anxiety and misery which
was thus unwillingly but inevitably caused amongst all those who had
friends, connections, or relatives in the missing trains.
When these engines returned to Manchester, our trains were
unfortunately connected together, and three engines were attached to
the front of each group of three trains.
This arrangement considerably diminished their joint power of traction.
But another source of delay arose: the couplings which were strong
enough when connecting an engine and its train were not sufficiently
strong when three engines were coupled together. The consequence was
that there were frequent fractures of our couplings and thus great
delays arose.
About half-past eight in the evening I reached the great building in
which we were to have dined. Its tables were half filled with separate
groups of three or four people each, who being strangers in Liverpool,
had no other resource than to use it as a kind of coffee-room in which
to get a hasty meal, and retire.
〈PLATE-GLASS MANUFACTORY.〉
The next morning I went over to see the plate-glass manufactory at
about ten miles from Liverpool.
On my arrival I found, to my great disappointment, that there were
orders that nobody should be admitted on that day, as the Duke of
Wellington and a large party were coming over from Lord Wilton’s. This
was the only day at my disposal, and it wanted nearly an hour to the
time appointed: so I asked to be permitted to see the works, promising
to retire as soon as the Earl of Wilton’s party arrived. I added
incidentally that I was not entirely unknown to the Duke of Wellington.
On the arrival of the party I quietly made my retreat {317}
unobserved, and had just entered the carriage which had conveyed me
from Liverpool, when a messenger arrived with the Duke’s compliments,
hoping that I would join his party. I willingly accepted the
invitation; the Duke presented me to each of his friends, and I had
the advantage of having another survey of the works. This was my first
acquaintance with the late Lady Wilton, who afterwards called on me
with the Duke of Wellington, and put that sagacious question relative
to the Difference Engine which I have mentioned in another part of this
volume. Amongst the party were Mr. and Mrs. Arbuthnot, with the former
of whom I afterwards had several interesting discussions relative to
subjects connected with the ninth “Bridgewater Treatise.”
A few days after, I met at dinner a large party at the house of one of
the great Liverpool merchants. Amongst them were several officers of
the new railway, and almost all the party were more or less interested
in its success.
In these circumstances the conversation very naturally turned upon
the new mode of locomotion. Its various difficulties and dangers were
suggested and discussed. Amongst others, it was observed that obstacles
might be placed upon the rail, either accidentally or by design, which
might produce expensive and fatal effects.
〈ON PREVENTING RAILWAY ACCIDENTS.〉
To prevent the occurrence of these evils, I suggested two remedies.
1st. That every engine should have just in advance of each of its front
wheels a powerful framing, supporting a strong piece of plate-iron,
descending within an inch or two of the upper face of the rail. These
iron plates should be fixed at an angle of 45° with the line of rail,
and also at the same angle with respect to the horizon. Their shape
would be something like that of ploughshares, and their effect would
{318} be to pitch any obstacle obliquely off the rail unless its
heavier portion were between the rails.
Some time after, a strong vertical bar of iron was placed in front of
the wheels of every engine. The objection to this is, that it has a
tendency to throw the obstacle straight forward upon another part of
the rail.
2nd. The second suggestion I made, was to place in front of each engine
a strong leather apron attached to a powerful iron bar, projecting five
or six feet in front of the engine and about a foot above the ballast.
The effect of this would be, that any animal straying over the railway
would be pitched into this apron, probably having its legs broken, but
forming no impediment to the progress of the train.
〈VARIOUS PLANS PROPOSED.〉
I have been informed that this contrivance has been adopted in America,
where the railroads, being unenclosed, are subject to frequent
obstruction from cattle. If used on enclosed roads, it still might
occasionally save the lives of incautious persons, although possibly at
the expense of broken limbs.
Another question discussed at this party was, whether, if an engine
went off the rail, it would be possible to separate it from the train
before it had dragged the latter after it. I took out my pencil and
sketched upon a card a simple method of accomplishing that object. It
passed round the table, and one of the party suggested that I should
communicate the plan to the Directors of the railway.
My answer was, that having a great wish to diminish the dangers of this
new mode of travelling, I declined making any such communication to
them; for, I added, unless these Directors are quite unlike all of whom
I have had any experience, I can foresee the inevitable result of such
a communication. {319}
It might take me some time and trouble to consider the best way of
carrying out the principle and to make the necessary drawings. Some
time after I have placed these in the hands of the Company, I shall
receive a very pretty letter from the secretary, thanking me in the
most flattering terms for the highly ingenious plan I have placed in
their hands, but regretting that their engineer finds certain practical
difficulties in the way.
Now, if the same Company had taken the advice of some eminent engineer,
to whom they would have to pay a large fee, no practical difficulties
would ever be found to prevent its trial.
It was evident from the remarks of several of the party that I had
pointed out the most probable result of any such communication.
It is possible that some report of this plan subsequently reached the
Directors; for about six months after, I received from an officer of
the railway Company a letter, asking my assistance upon this identical
point. I sent them my sketch and all the information I had subsequently
acquired on the subject. I received the stereotype reply I had
anticipated, couched in the most courteous language; in short, quite a
model letter for a young secretary to study.
〈REASONS WHY REJECTED.〉
Several better contrivances than mine were subsequently proposed; but
experience seems to show that the whole train ought to be connected
together as firmly as possible.
Not long after my return from Liverpool I found myself seated at dinner
next to an elderly gentleman, an eminent London banker. The new system
of railroads, of course, was the ordinary topic of conversation. Much
had been said in its favour, but my neighbour did not appear to concur
with the majority. At last I had an opportunity of asking his {320}
opinion. “Ah,” said the banker, “I don’t approve of this new mode of
travelling. It will enable our clerks to plunder us, and then be off
to Liverpool on their way to America at the rate of _twenty_ miles an
hour.” I suggested that science might perhaps remedy this evil, and
that possibly we might send lightning to outstrip the culprit’s arrival
at Liverpool, and thus render the railroad a sure means of arresting
the thief. I had at the time I uttered those words no idea how soon
they would be realized.
〈THE AUTHOR’S EXPERIMENTS ON THE GREAT WESTERN RAILWAY.〉
In 1838 and 1839 a discussion of considerable public importance had
arisen respecting the Great Western Railway. Having an interest in that
undertaking, it was the wish of Mr. Brunel and the Directors that I
should state my own opinion upon the question. I felt that I could not
speak with confidence without making certain experiments. The Directors
therefore lent me steam-power, and a second-class carriage to fit
up with machinery of my own contrivance, and appointed one of their
officers to accompany me, through whom I might give such directions as
I deemed necessary during my experiments.
I removed the whole of the internal parts of the carriage. Through
its bottom firm supports, fixed upon the framework below, passed up
into the body of the carriage, and supported a long table entirely
independent of its motions.
On this table slowly rolled sheets of paper, each a thousand feet long.
Several inking pens traced curves on this paper, which expressed the
following measures:—
1. Force of traction.
2. Vertical shake of carriage at its middle.
3. Lateral ditto.
4. End ditto.
5, 6, and 7. The same shakes at the end of the carriage. {321}
8. The curve described upon the earth by the centre of the frame of
the carriage.
9. A chronometer marked half seconds on the paper.
Above two miles of paper were thus covered. These experiments cost me
about 300 _l._, and took up my own time, and that of all the people I
was then employing, during five months.
I had previously travelled over most of the railways then existing in
this country, in order to make notes of such facts as I could observe
during my journeys.
The result of my experiments convinced me that the broad gauge was most
convenient and safest for the public. It also enabled me fearlessly to
assert that an immense array of experiments which were exhibited round
the walls of the meeting-room by those who opposed the Directors were
made with an instrument which could not possibly measure the quantities
proposed, and that the whole of them were worthless for the present
argument. The production of the work of such an instrument could not
fail to damage even a good cause.
On the discussion at the general meeting at the London Tavern, I made a
statement of my own views, which was admitted at the time to have had
considerable influence on the decision of the proprietors. Many years
after I met a gentleman who told me he and a few other proprietors
holding several thousand proxies came up from Liverpool intending to
vote according to the weight of the arguments adduced. He informed
me that he and all his friends decided their votes on hearing my
statement. He then added, “But for that speech, the broad gauge would
not now exist in England.”
〈THE PHILOSOPHER’S ADVENTURES AND ESCAPES BY RAIL.〉
These experiments were not unaccompanied with danger. {322} I
sometimes attached my carriage to a public train to convey me to the
point where my experiments commenced, and I had frequently to interrupt
their course, in order to run on to a siding to avoid a coming train.
I then asked to be allowed to make such experiments during the night
when there were no trains; but Brunel told me it was too dangerous to
be permitted, and that ballast-waggons, and others, carrying machinery
and materials for the construction and completion of the railroad
itself, were continually traversing various parts of the line at
uncertain hours.
The soundness of this advice became evident a very short time after it
was given. On arriving one morning at the terminus, the engine which
had been promised for my experimental train was not ready, but another
was provided instead. On further inquiry, I found that the “North
Star,” the finest engine the Company then possessed, had been placed
at the end of the great polygonal building devoted to engines, in
order that it might be ready for my service in the morning; but that,
during the night, a train of twenty-five empty ballast-waggons, each
containing two men, driven by an engine, both the driver and stoker
of which were asleep, had passed right through the engine-house and
damaged the “North Star.”
Most fortunately, no accident happened to the men beyond a severe
shaking. It ought, however, in extenuation of such neglect, to be
observed that engine-drivers were at that period so few, and so
thoroughly overworked, that such an occurrence was not surprising.
It then occurred to me, that being engaged on a work which was anything
but profitable to myself, but which contributed to the safety of all
travellers, I might, without {323} impropriety, avail myself of the
repose of Sunday for advancing my measures. I therefore desired Brunel
to ask for the Directors’ permission. The next time I saw Brunel, he
told me the Directors did not like to give an official permission,
but it was remarked that having put one of their own officers under
my orders, I had already the power of travelling on whatever day I
preferred.
I accordingly availed myself of the day on which, at that time,
scarcely a single train or engine would be in motion upon it.
Upon one of these Sundays, which were, in fact, the only really
safe days, I had proposed to investigate the effect of considerable
additional weight. With this object, I had ordered three waggons laden
with thirty tons of iron to be attached to my experimental carriage.
On my arrival at the terminus a few minutes before the time appointed,
my aide-de-camp informed me that we were to travel on the north line.
As this was an invasion of the usual regulations, I inquired very
minutely into the authority on which it rested. Being satisfied on this
point, I desired him to order my train out immediately. He returned
shortly with the news that the fireman had neglected his duty, but that
the engine would be ready in less than a quarter of an hour.
A messenger arrived soon after to inform me that the obstructions had
been removed, and that I could now pass upon the south, which was the
proper line.
I was looking at the departure of the only Sunday train, and conversing
with the officer, who took much pains to assure me that there was no
danger on whichever line we might travel; because, he observed, when
that train had departed, there can be no engine except our own on
either line until five o’clock in the evening. {324}
Whilst we were conversing together, my ear, which had become peculiarly
sensitive to the distant sound of an engine, told me that one was
approaching. I mentioned it to my railway official: he did not hear
it, and said, “Sir, it is impossible.”—“Whether it is possible or
impossible,” I said, “an engine _is_ coming, and in a few minutes we
shall see its steam.” The sound soon became evident to both, and our
eyes were anxiously directed to the expected quarter. The white cloud
of steam now faintly appeared in the distance; I soon perceived the
line it occupied, and then turned to watch my companion’s countenance.
In a few moments more I saw it slightly change, and he said, “It _is_,
indeed, on the north line.”
Knowing that it would stop at the engine-house, I ran as fast I could
to that spot. I found a single engine, from which Brunel, covered with
smoke and blacks, had just descended. We shook hands, and I inquired
what brought my friend here in such a plight. Brunel told me that he
had posted from Bristol, to meet the only train at the furthest point
of the rail then open, but had missed it. Fortunately, he said, “I
found this engine with its fire up, so I ordered it out, and have
driven it the whole way up at the rate of fifty miles an hour.”
〈ESCAPES MEETING BRUNEL.〉
I then told him that but for the merest accident I should have met him
on the _same_ line at the rate of forty miles, and that I had attached
to my engine my experimental carriage, and three waggons with thirty
tons of iron. I then inquired what course he would have pursued if he
had perceived another engine meeting him upon his own line.
Brunel said, in such a case he should have put on all the steam he
could command, with a view of driving off the opposite engine by the
superior velocity of his own. {325}
If the concussion had occurred, the probability is, that Brunel’s
engine would have been knocked off the rail by the superior momentum
of my train, and that my experimental carriage would have been buried
under the iron contained in the waggons behind.
These rates of travelling were then unusual, but have now become
common. The greatest speed which I have personally witnessed, occurred
on the return of a train from Bristol, on the occasion of the floating
of the “Great Britain.” I was in a compartment, in conversation with
three eminent engineers, when one of them remarked the unusual speed of
the train: my neighbour on my left took out his watch, and noted the
time of passage of the distance posts, whence it appeared that we were
then travelling at the rate of seventy-eight miles an hour. The train
was evidently on an incline, and we did not long sustain that dangerous
velocity.
One very cold day I found Dr. Lardner making experiments on the Great
Western Railway. He was drawing a series of trucks with an engine
travelling at known velocities. At certain intervals, a truck was
detached from his train. The time occupied by this truck before it
came to rest was the object to be noted. As Dr. Lardner was short of
assistants, I and my son offered to get into one of his trucks and note
for him the time of coming to rest.
〈SAILS ACROSS HANWELL VIADUCT.〉
Our truck having been detached, it came to rest, and I had noted the
time. After waiting a few minutes, I thought I perceived a slight
motion, which continued, though slowly. It then occurred to me that
this must arise from the effect of the wind, which was blowing
strongly. On my way to the station, feeling very cold, I had purchased
three yards of coarse blue woollen cloth, which I wound round my
person. This I now unwound; we held it up as a sail, and gradually
acquiring {326} greater velocity, finally reached and sailed across
the whole of the Hanwell viaduct at a very fair pace.
〈THE BATTLE OF THE GAUGES.〉
The question of the best gauge for a system of railways is yet
undecided. The present gauge of 4·8½ was the result of the accident
that certain tram-roads adjacent to mines were of that width. When the
wide gauge of the Great Western was suggested and carried out, there
arose violent party movements for and against it. At the meeting of
the British Association at Newcastle, in 1838, there were two sources
of anxiety to the Council—the discussion of the question of Steam
Navigation to America, and what was called “The battles of the Gauges.”
Both these questions bore very strongly upon pecuniary interests, and
were expected to be fiercely contested.
On the Council of the British Association, of course, the duty of
nominating the Presidents and Vice-Presidents of its various sections
devolves. During the period in which I took an active part in that
body, it was always a principle, of which I was ever the warm advocate,
that we should select those officers from amongst the persons most
distinguished for their eminence in their respective subjects, who were
born in or connected with the district we visited.
In pursuance of this principle, I was deputed by the Council to invite
Mr. George Stephenson to become the President of the Mechanical
Section. In case he should decline it, I was then empowered to offer
it to Mr. Buddle, the eminent coal-viewer; and in case of these both
declining, I was to propose it to the late Mr. Bryan Donkin, of London,
a native of that district, and connected with it by family ties.
〈BRITISH ASSOCIATION AT NEWCASTLE.〉
On my arrival at Newcastle, I immediately called on George Stephenson,
and represented to him the unanimous wish of the Council of the
British Association. To my great {327} surprise, and to my still
greater regret, I found that he at once declined the offer. All my
powers of persuasion were exercised in vain. Knowing that the two
great controverted questions to be discussed most probably formed the
real obstacle, I mentioned them, and added that, as I should be one
of his Vice-Presidents, I would, if he wished it, take the Chair upon
either or upon both the discussions of the Gauges and of the Atlantic
Steam Voyage, or upon any other occasion that might be agreeable or
convenient to himself: I found him immoveable in his decision. I made
another attempt the next day, and renewed the expression of my own
strong feeling, that we should pay respect and honour to the most
distinguished men of the district we visited. I then told him the
course I was instructed by the Council to pursue.
My next step was to apply to Mr. Buddle. I need not repeat the
arguments I employed: I was equally unsuccessful with each of the
eminent men the Council had wished to honour. I therefore now went
back to George Stephenson, told him of the failure of my efforts, and
asked him, if he still persisted in declining the Chair, would he do
me the favour to be one of the Vice-Presidents, as the Council had now
no resource but to place me in the Chair, which I had hoped would have
been occupied by a more competent person.
To this latter application he kindly acceded; and I felt that, with
the assistance of George Stephenson’s and Mr. Donkin’s professional
knowledge, and their presence by my side, I should be able to keep
order in these dreaded discussions.
The day before the great discussion upon Atlantic Steam Navigation,
I had a short conversation with Dr. Lardner: I told him that in my
opinion some of his views were hasty; {328} but that much stronger
opinions had been assigned to him than those he had really expressed,
and I recommended him to admit as much as he fairly could.
〈RAILWAY DISCUSSION.〉
At the appointed hour the room was filled with an expectant and rather
angry audience. Dr. Lardner’s beautiful apparatus for illustrating his
views was before them, and the Doctor commenced his statement. He was
listened to with the greatest attention, and was really most judicious
as well as very instructive. At the very moment which seemed to me the
most favourable for it, he turned to the explanation of the instruments
he proposed to employ, and having concluded his statement, it became my
duty to invite discussion upon the question.
I did so in very few words, merely observing that several opinions had
been attributed to Dr. Lardner which he had never maintained, and that
additional information had induced him candidly to admit that some of
those doctrines which he had supported were erroneous. I added, that
nothing was more injurious to the progress of truth than to reproach
any man who honestly admitted that he had been in error.
The discussion then commenced: it was continued with considerable
energy, but with great temper; and after a long and instructive debate
the assembled multitude separated. Some few who attended in expectation
of a scene were sorely disappointed. As I was passing out, one of my
acquaintance remarked, “You have saved that —— —— Lardner:” to which I
replied, “I have saved the British Association from a scandal.”
Before I terminate this Chapter on Railways, it will perhaps be
expected by some of my readers that I should point out such measures
as occur to me for rendering this universal system more safe. Since
the long series of experiments I {329} made in 1839, I have had
no experience either official or professional upon the subject. My
opinions, therefore, must be taken only at what they are worth,
and will probably be regarded as the dreams of an amateur. I have
indeed formed very decided opinions upon certain measures relative
to railroads; but my hesitation to make them public arises from
the circumstance, that by publishing them I may possibly delay
their adoption. It may happen, as is now happening to my system of
distinguishing lighthouses from each other, and of night telegraphic
communication between ships at sea—that although officially
communicated to all the great maritime governments, and even publicly
exhibited for months during the Exhibition of 1851, it will be allowed
to go to sleep for years, until some official person, casually hearing
of it, or perhaps re-inventing it, shall have _interest_ with the
higher powers to get it quietly adopted as his own invention. I have
given, in a former page, a list of the self-registering apparatus I
employed in my own experiments.
〈MEANS OF SAFETY FOR TRAINS.〉
In studying the evidence given upon the inquiries into the various
lamentable accidents which have occurred upon railways, I have been
much struck by the discordance of that evidence as to the speed with
which the engines were travelling when they took place.
Even the best and most unbiassed judgment ought not to be trusted when
mechanical evidence can be produced. The first rule I propose is, that—
_Every engine should have mechanical self-registering means of
recording its own velocity at every instant during the whole course of
its journey._
〈SELF-RECORDING MEANS.〉
In my own experiments this was the first point I attended to. I took a
powerful spring clock, with a chronometer movement, which every half
second lifted a peculiar pen, and left {330} a small dot of ink upon
the paper, which was moving over a table with the velocity given to it
by the wheels of the carriage.
Thus the comparative frequency of these dots indicated the rate of
travelling at the time. But the instrument was susceptible of giving
different scales of measurement. Thus it might be that only three
inches of paper passed under the pen in every mile, or any greater
length of paper, up to sixty feet per mile, might be ordered to pass
under the paper during an equal space. Again, the number of dots per
second could, if required, be altered.
The clock was broken four or five times during the earliest
experiments. This arose from its being fixed upon the platform carrying
the axles of the wheels. I then contrived a kind of parallel motion, by
which I was enabled to support the clock upon the carriage-springs, and
yet allow it to impress its dots upon the paper, which did not require
that advantage. After this, the clock was never injured.
The power of regulating the length of paper for each mile was of great
importance; it enabled me to examine, almost microscopically, the
junctions of the rails. When a large scale of paper was allowed, every
joining was marked upon the paper.
I find, on referring to my paper records, that on the 3rd March, 1839,
the “Atlas” engine drew my experimental carriage, with two other
carriages attached behind it, from Maidenhead to Drayton, with its
paper travelling only eleven feet for each mile of journey; whilst from
Drayton to Slough, forty-four feet of paper passed under the pen during
each mile of progress.
The inking pens at first gave me some trouble, but after successively
discovering their various defects, and remedying {331} them at an
expense of nearly £20, they performed their work satisfactorily. The
information they gave might be fully relied upon.
〈THEIR REMARKABLE EFFECT.〉
We had an excellent illustration of this on one occasion when we were
returning, late in the evening, from Maidenhead, after a hard day’s
work. The pitchy darkness of the night, which prevented us from seeing
any objects external to our carriage, was strongly contrasted with
the bright light of four argand lamps within it. I was accompanied by
my eldest son, Mr. Herschel Babbage, and three assistants. A roll of
paper a thousand feet in length was slowly unwinding itself upon the
long table extended before us, and winding itself up on a corresponding
roller at its other extremity. About a dozen pens connected with a
bridge crossing the middle of the table were each marking its own
independent curve gradually or by jumps, as the circumstances attending
our railway course was dictating. The self-feeding pens, which the
self-acting roller of blotting-paper continually followed, but never
overtook, were quietly marking their inevitable courses. All had gone
on well for a considerable time amidst perfect silence, if the steady
pace of thirty miles an hour, the dogged automatic action of the
material, and the muteness of the living machinery, admitted of such
a term. Being myself entirely ignorant of our position upon the rail,
I disturbed this busy repose by inquiring whether any one knew where
we were? To this question there was no reply. Each continued to watch
in silence for the duties which his own department might at any moment
require, but no such demands were made.
After some minutes, as I was watching the lengthening curves, I
perceived a slight indication of our position on the railroad. I
instantly looked at my son, and saw, by a faint {332} smile on his
countenance, that he also perceived our situation on the line. I had
scarcely glanced back at the growing curves upon the paper, to confirm
my interpretation, when each of my three assistants at the same instant
called out “Thames Junction.”