NEWBURN AND CALLERTON--GEORGE STEPHENSON LEARNS TO BE AN ENGINE-MAN.
On quitting their humble home at Dewley Burn, the Stephenson family
removed to a place called Jolly's Close, a few miles to the south,
close behind the village of Newburn, where another coal-mine belonging
to the Duke of Northumberland, called "the Duke's Winnin," had recently
been opened out.
One of the old persons in the neighborhood, who knew the family well,
describes the dwelling in which they lived as a poor cottage of only
one room, in which the father, mother, four sons, and two daughters
lived and slept. It was crowded with three low-poled beds. The one
apartment served for parlor, kitchen, sleeping-room, and all.
The children of the Stephenson family were now growing apace, and
several of them were old enough to be able to earn money at various
kinds of colliery work. James and George, the two eldest sons, worked
as assistant firemen; and the younger boys worked as wheelers or
pickers on the bank-tops; while the two girls helped their mother with
the household work.
Other workings of the coal were opened out in the neighborhood, and
to one of these George was removed as fireman on his own account.
This was called the "Mid Mill Winnin," where he had for his mate a
young man named Coe. They worked together there for about two years,
by twelve-hour shifts, George firing the engine at the wage of a
shilling a day. He was now fifteen years old. His ambition was as
yet limited to attaining the standing of a full workman, at a man's
wages, and with that view he endeavored to attain such a knowledge of
his engine as would eventually lead to his employment as engine-man,
with its accompanying advantage of higher pay. He was a steady, sober,
hard-working young man, but nothing more in the estimation of his
fellow-workmen.
One of his favorite pastimes in by-hours was trying feats of strength
with his companions. Although in frame he was not particularly robust,
yet he was big and bony, and considered very strong for his age. At
throwing the hammer George had no compeer. At lifting heavy weights
off the ground from between his feet, by means of a bar of iron passed
through them--placing the bar against his knees as a fulcrum, and
then straightening his spine and lifting them sheer up--he was also
very successful. On one occasion he lifted as much as sixty stones'
weight--a striking indication of his strength of bone and muscle.
When the pit at Mid Mill was closed, George and his companion Coe were
sent to work another pumping-engine erected near Throckley Bridge,
where they continued for some months. It was while working at this
place that his wages were raised to 12s. a week--an event to him of
great importance. On coming out of the foreman's office that Saturday
evening on which he received the advance, he announced the fact to his
fellow-workmen, adding triumphantly, "I am now a made man for life!"
The pit opened at Newburn, at which old Robert Stephenson worked,
proving a failure, it was closed, and a new pit was sunk at Water-row,
on a strip of land lying between the Wylam wagon-way and the River
Tyne, about half a mile west of Newburn Church. A pumping-engine
was erected there by Robert Hawthorn, the duke's engineer, and old
Stephenson went to work it as fireman, his son George acting as the
engine-man or plugman. At that time he was about seventeen years old--a
very youthful age at which to fill so responsible a post. He had thus
already got ahead of his father in his station as a workman; for the
plugman holds a higher grade than the fireman, requiring more practical
knowledge and skill, and usually receiving higher wages.
George's duties as plugman were to watch the engine, to see that it
kept well in work, and that the pumps were efficient in drawing the
water. When the water-level in the pit was lowered, and the suction
became incomplete through the exposure of the suction-holes, it was
then his duty to proceed to the bottom of the shaft and plug the tube
so that the pump should draw: hence the designation of "plugman." If
a stoppage in the engine took place through any defect which he was
incapable of remedying, it was his duty to call in the aid of the chief
engineer to set it to rights.
But from the time that George Stephenson was appointed fireman,
and more particularly afterward as engine-man, he applied himself
so assiduously and successfully to the study of the engine and its
gearing--taking the machine to pieces in his leisure hours for the
purpose of cleaning it and understanding its various parts--that he
soon acquired a thorough practical knowledge of its construction and
mode of working, and very rarely needed to call the engineer of the
colliery to his aid. His engine became a sort of pet with him, and he
was never wearied of watching and inspecting it with admiration.
There is, indeed, a peculiar fascination about an engine to the person
whose duty it is to watch and work it. It is almost sublime in its
untiring industry and quiet power; capable of performing the most
gigantic work, yet so docile that a child's hand may guide it. No
wonder, therefore, that the workman who is the daily companion of this
life-like machine, and is constantly watching it with anxious care,
at length comes to regard it with a degree of personal interest and
regard. This daily contemplation of the steam-engine, and the sight
of its steady action, is an education of itself to an ingenious and
thoughtful man. And it is a remarkable fact, that nearly all that has
been done for the improvement of this machine has been accomplished,
not by philosophers and scientific men, but by laborers, mechanics,
and engine-men. Indeed, it would appear as if this were one of the
departments of practical science in which the higher powers of the
human mind must bend to mechanical instinct.
Stephenson was now in his eighteenth year, but, like many of his
fellow-workmen, he had not yet learned to read. All that he could do
was to get some one to read for him by his engine-fire, out of any
book or stray newspaper which found its way into the neighborhood.
Bonaparte was then overrunning Italy, and astounding Europe by his
brilliant succession of victories; and there was no more eager auditor
of his exploits, as read from the newspaper accounts, than the young
engine-man at the Water-row Pit.
There were also numerous stray bits of information and intelligence
contained in these papers which excited Stephenson's interest. One of
them related to the Egyptian method of hatching birds' eggs by means
of artificial heat. Curious about every thing relating to birds,
he determined to test it by experiment. It was spring time, and he
forthwith went bird-nesting in the adjoining woods and hedges. He
gathered a collection of eggs of various sorts, set them in flour in a
warm place in the engine-house, covered the whole with wool, and waited
the issue. The heat was kept as steady as possible, and the eggs were
carefully turned every twelve hours; but, though they chipped, and some
of them exhibited well-grown chicks, they never hatched. The experiment
failed, but the incident shows that the inquiring mind of the youth was
fairly at work.
Modeling of engines in clay continued to be another of his favorite
occupations. He made models of engines which he had seen, and of others
which were described to him. These attempts were an improvement upon
his first trials at Dewley Burn bog, when occupied there as a herd-boy.
He was, however, anxious to know something of the wonderful engines
of Boulton and Watt, and was told that they were to be found fully
described in books, which he must search for information as to their
construction, action, and uses. But, alas! Stephenson could not read;
he had not yet learned even his letters.
Thus he shortly found, when gazing wistfully in the direction of
knowledge, that to advance farther as a skilled workman, he must master
this wonderful art of reading--the key to so many other arts. Only
thus could he gain an access to books, the depositories of the wisdom
and experience of the past. Although a grown man, and doing the work of
a man, he was not ashamed to confess his ignorance, and go to school,
big as he was, to learn his letters. Perhaps, too, he foresaw that,
in laying out a little of his spare earnings for this purpose, he
was investing money judiciously, and that, in every hour he spent at
school, he was really working for better wages.
His first schoolmaster was Robin Cowens, a poor teacher in the village
of Walbottle. He kept a night-school, which was attended by a few of
the colliers' and laborers' sons in the neighborhood. George took
lessons in spelling and reading three nights in the week. Robin
Cowens's teaching cost threepence a week; and though it was not very
good, yet George, being hungry for knowledge and eager to acquire it,
soon learned to read. He also practiced "pot-hooks," and at the age of
nineteen he was proud to be able to write his own name.
A Scotch dominie, named Andrew Robertson, set up a night-school in
the village of Newburn in the winter of 1799. It was more convenient
for George to attend this school, as it was nearer his work, being
only a few minutes' walk from Jolly's Close. Besides, Andrew had
the reputation of being a good arithmetician, and this was a branch
of knowledge that Stephenson was very desirous of acquiring. He
accordingly began taking lessons from him, paying fourpence a week.
Robert Gray, junior fireman at the Water-row Pit, began arithmetic
at the same time; and Gray afterward told the author that George
learned "figuring" so much faster than he did, that he could not make
out how it was--"he took to figures so wonderful." Although the two
started together from the same point, at the end of the winter George
had mastered "reduction," while Robert Gray was still struggling
with the difficulties of simple division. But George's secret was
his perseverance. He worked out the sums in his by-hours, improving
every minute of his spare time by the engine-fire, there studying the
arithmetical problems set for him upon his slate by the master. In
the evenings he took to Robertson the sums which he had "worked," and
new ones were "set" for him to study out the following day. Thus his
progress was rapid, and, with a willing heart and mind, he soon became
well advanced in arithmetic. Indeed, Andrew Robertson became very
proud of his scholar; and shortly after, when the Water-row Pit was
closed, and George removed to Black Callerton to work there, the poor
schoolmaster, not having a very extensive connection in Newburn, went
with his pupils, and set up his night-school at Black Callerton, where
he continued his lessons.
George still found time to attend to his favorite animals while
working at the Water-row Pit. Like his father, he used to tempt the
robin-redbreasts to hop and fly about him at the engine-fire by the
bait of bread-crumbs saved from his dinner. But his chief favorite was
his dog--so sagacious that he almost daily carried George's dinner to
him at the pit. The tin containing the meal was suspended from the
dog's neck, and, thus laden, he proceeded faithfully from Jolly's Close
to Water-row Pit, quite through the village of Newburn. He turned
neither to left nor right, nor heeded the barking of curs at his
heels. But his course was not unattended with perils. One day the big,
strange dog of a passing butcher, espying the engine-man's messenger
with the tin can about his neck, ran after and fell upon him. There
was a terrible tussle and worrying, which lasted for a brief while,
and, shortly after, the dog's master, anxious for his dinner, saw his
faithful servant approaching, bleeding but triumphant. The tin can was
still round his neck, but the dinner had been spilled in the struggle.
Though George went without his dinner that day, he was prouder of his
dog than ever when the circumstances of the combat were related to him
by the villagers who had seen it.
It was while working at the Water-row Pit that Stephenson learned the
art of brakeing an engine. This being one of the higher departments
of colliery labor, and among the best paid, George was very anxious
to learn it. A small winding-engine having been put up for the
purpose of drawing the coals from the pit, Bill Coe, his friend and
fellow-workman, was appointed the brakesman. He frequently allowed
George to try his hand at the machine, and instructed him how to
proceed. Coe was, however, opposed in this by several of the other
workmen, one of whom, a banksman named William Locke,[21] went so far
as to stop the working of the pit because Stephenson had been called
in to the brake. But one day, as Mr. Charles Nixon, the manager of the
pit, was observed approaching, Coe adopted an expedient which put a
stop to the opposition. He called upon Stephenson to "come into the
brake-house and take hold of the machine." Locke, as usual, sat down,
and the working of the pit was stopped. When requested by the manager
to give an explanation, he said that "young Stephenson couldn't brake,
and, what was more, never would learn, he was so clumsy." Mr. Nixon,
however, ordered Locke to go on with the work, which he did; and
Stephenson, after some farther practice, acquired the art of brakeing.
After working at the Water-row Pit and at other engines near Newburn
for about three years, George and Coe went to Black Callerton early in
1810. Though only twenty years of age, his employers thought so well
of him that they appointed him to the responsible office of brakesman
at the Dolly Pit. For convenience' sake, he took lodgings at a small
farmer's in the village, finding his own victuals, and paying so much
a week for lodging and attendance. In the locality this was called
"picklin in his awn poke neuk." It not unfrequently happens that the
young workman about the collieries, when selecting a lodging, contrives
to pitch his tent where the daughter of the house ultimately becomes
his wife. This is often the real attraction that draws the youth from
home, though a very different one may be pretended.
George Stephenson's duties as brakesman may be briefly described. The
work was somewhat monotonous, and consisted in superintending the
working of the engine and machinery by means of which the coals were
drawn out of the pit. Brakesmen are almost invariably selected from
those who have had considerable experience as engine-firemen, and
borne a good character for steadiness, punctuality, watchfulness, and
"mother wit." In George Stephenson's day the coals were drawn out of
the pit in corves, or large baskets made of hazel rods. The corves
were placed together in a cage, between which and the pit-ropes there
was usually from fifteen to twenty feet of chain. The approach of the
corves toward the pit mouth was signaled by a bell, brought into action
by a piece of mechanism worked from the shaft of the engine. When the
bell sounded, the brakesman checked the speed by taking hold of the
hand-gear connected with the steam-valves, which were so arranged that
by their means he could regulate the speed of the engine, and stop or
set it in motion when required. Connected with the fly-wheel was a
powerful wooden brake, acting by pressure against its rim, something
like the brake of a railway carriage against its wheels. On catching
sight of the chain attached to the ascending corve-cage, the brakesman,
by pressing his foot upon a foot-step near him, was enabled, with great
precision, to stop the revolutions of the wheel, and arrest the ascent
of the corves at the pit mouth, when they were forthwith landed on the
"settle-board." On the full corves being replaced by empty ones, it
was then the duty of the brakesman to reverse the engine, and send the
corves down the pit to be filled again.
The monotony of George Stephenson's occupation as a brakesman was
somewhat varied by the change which he made, in his turn, from the
day to the night shift. His duty, on the latter occasions, consisted
chiefly in sending men and materials into the mine, and in drawing
other men and materials out. Most of the workmen enter the pit during
the night shift, and leave it in the latter part of the day, while
coal-drawing is proceeding. The requirements of the work at night are
such that the brakesman has a good deal of spare time on his hands,
which he is at liberty to employ in his own way. From an early period,
George was accustomed to employ those vacant night hours in working
the sums set for him by Andrew Robertson upon his slate, practicing
writing in his copy-book, and mending the shoes of his fellow-workmen.
His wages while working at the Dolly Pit amounted to from £1 15_s_. to
£2 in the fortnight; but he gradually added to them as he became more
expert at shoe-mending, and afterward at shoe-making.
Probably he was stimulated to take in hand this extra work by the
attachment he had by this time formed for a young woman named Fanny
Henderson, who officiated as servant in the small farmer's house in
which he lodged. We have been informed that the personal attractions of
Fanny, though these were considerable, were the least of her charms.
Mr. William Fairbairn, who afterward saw her in her home at Willington
Quay, describes her as a very comely woman. But her temper was one of
the sweetest; and those who knew her were accustomed to speak of the
charming modesty of her demeanor, her kindness of disposition, and,
withal, her sound good sense.
Among his various mendings of old shoes at Callerton, George was on
one occasion favored with the shoes of his sweetheart to sole. One can
imagine the pleasure with which he would linger over such a piece of
work, and the pride with which he would execute it. A friend of his,
still living, relates that, after he had finished the shoes, he carried
them about with him in his pocket on the Sunday afternoon, and that
from time to time he would pull them out and hold them up, exclaiming
"what a capital job he had made of them!"
Not long after he began to work at Black Callerton as brakesman he
had a quarrel with a pitman named Ned Nelson, a roystering bully, who
was the terror of the village. Nelson was a great fighter, and it was
therefore considered dangerous to quarrel with him. Stephenson was so
unfortunate as not to be able to please this pitman by the way in which
he drew him out of the pit, and Nelson swore at him grossly because of
the alleged clumsiness of his brakeing. George defended himself, and
appealed to the testimony of the other workmen. Nelson had not been
accustomed to George's style of self-assertion, and, after a great deal
of abuse, he threatened to kick the brakesman, who defied him to do so.
Nelson ended by challenging Stephenson to a pitched battle, and the
latter accepted the challenge, when a day was fixed on which the fight
was to come off.
Great was the excitement at Black Callerton when it was known that
George Stephenson had accepted Nelson's challenge. Every body said
he would be killed. The villagers, the young men, and especially the
boys of the place, with whom George was a great favorite, all wished
that he might beat Nelson, but they scarcely dared to say so. They
came about him while he was at work in the engine-house to inquire if
it was really true that he was "goin' to fight Nelson." "Ay; never
fear for me; I'll fight him." And fight him he did. For some days
previous to the appointed day of battle, Nelson went entirely off
work for the purpose of keeping himself fresh and strong, whereas
Stephenson went on doing his daily work as usual, and appeared not
in the least disconcerted by the prospect of the affair. So, on the
evening appointed, after George had done his day's labor, he went
into the Dolly Pit Field, where his already exulting rival was ready
to meet him. George stripped, and "went in" like a practiced pugilist,
though it was his first and last fight. After a few rounds, George's
wiry muscles and practiced strength enabled him severely to punish his
adversary and to secure an easy victory.
This circumstance is related in illustration of Stephenson's personal
pluck and courage, and it was thoroughly characteristic of the man. He
was no pugilist, and the reverse of quarrelsome. But he would not be
put down by the bully of the colliery, and he fought him. There his
pugilism ended; they afterward shook hands, and continued good friends.
In after life Stephenson's mettle was often as hardly tried, though in
a different way, and he did not fail to exhibit the same courage in
contending with the bullies of the railway world as he showed in his
encounter with Ned Nelson, the fighting pitman of Callerton.
[Illustration: (Colliery Gin)]
FOOTNOTE:
[21] Father of Mr. Locke, M.P., the engineer. He afterward removed to
Barnsley, in Yorkshire.
[Illustration: STEPHENSON'S COTTAGE AT WILLINGTON QUAY. [By R. P.
Leitch.]]