CLOSING YEARS OF GEORGE STEPHENSON'S LIFE--ILLNESS AND DEATH--CHARACTER.
In describing the completion of the series of great works detailed in
the preceding chapter, we have somewhat anticipated the closing years
of George Stephenson's life. He could not fail to take an anxious
interest in the success of his son's designs, and he paid many visits
to Conway and to Menai during the progress of the bridges. He was
present on the occasion of the floating and raising of the first Conway
tube, and there witnessed a proof of the soundness of Robert's judgment
as to the efficiency and strength of the structure, of which he had at
first expressed some doubt; but before the like test could be applied
at the Britannia Bridge, George Stephenson's mortal anxieties were at
an end, for he had then ceased from all his labors.
Toward the close of his life, George Stephenson almost entirety
withdrew from the active pursuit of his profession. He devoted himself
chiefly to his extensive collieries and lime-works, taking a local
interest only in such projected railways as were calculated to open up
new markets for their products.
At home he lived the life of a country gentleman, enjoying his garden
and grounds, and indulging his love of nature, which, through all his
busy life, had never left him. It was not until the year 1845 that he
took an active interest in horticultural pursuits. Then he began to
build new melon-houses, pineries, and vineries, of great extent; and
he now seemed as eager to excel all other growers of exotic plants in
his neighborhood, as he had been some thirty years before to surpass
the villagers of Killingworth in the production of cabbages and
cauliflowers. He had a pine-house built 68 feet in length and a vinery
140 feet. Workmen were constantly employed in enlarging them, until
at length he had no fewer than ten glass forcing-houses. He did not
take so much pleasure in flowers as in fruits. At one of the county
agricultural meetings he said that he intended yet to grow pine-apples
at Tapton as big as pumpkins. The only man to whom he would "knock
under" was his friend Paxton, the gardener to the Duke of Devonshire;
but he was so old in the service, and so skillful, that he could
scarcely hope to beat him. Yet his "Queen" pines did take the first
prize at a competition with the duke, though this was not until shortly
after his death, when the plants had become fully grown. Stephenson's
grapes also took the first prize at Rotherham, at a competition open to
all England. He was extremely successful in producing melons, having
invented a method of suspending them in baskets of wire gauze, which,
by relieving the stalk from tension, allowed nutrition to proceed more
freely, and better enabled the fruit to grow and ripen.
He also took much pride in his growth of cucumbers. He raised them very
fine and large, but he could not make them grow straight. Place them
as he would, notwithstanding all his propping and humoring of them by
modifying the application of heat and the admission of light, they
would still insist on growing crooked in their own way. At last he
had a number of glass cylinders made at Newcastle, and into these the
growing cucumbers were inserted, when at last he succeeded in growing
them perfectly straight. Carrying one of the new products into his
house one day, and exhibiting it to a party of visitors, he told them
of the expedient he had adopted, and added, "I think I have bothered
them noo!"
Farming operations were also carried on by him with success. He
experimented on manure, and fed cattle after methods of his own. He
was very particular as to breed and build in stock-breeding. "You
see, sir," he said to one gentleman, "I like to see the _coo's_ back
at a gradient something like this" (drawing an imaginary line with
his hand), "and then the ribs or girders will carry more flesh than
if they were so--or so." When he attended the county agricultural
meetings, which he frequently did, he was accustomed to take part in
the discussions, and he brought the same vigorous practical mind to
bear upon questions of tillage, drainage, and farm economy which he
had before been accustomed to exercise on mechanical and engineering
matters.
All his early affection for birds and animals revived. He had favorite
dogs, and cows, and horses; and again he began to keep rabbits, and
to pride himself on the beauty of his breed. There was not a bird's
nest in the grounds that he did not know of; and from day to day he
went round watching the progress which the birds made with their
building, carefully guarding them from harm. His minute knowledge of
the habits of British birds was the result of a long, loving, and close
observation of nature.
At Tapton he remembered the failure of his early experiment in hatching
birds' eggs by heat, and he now performed it successfully, being able
to secure a proper apparatus for maintaining a uniform temperature.
He was also curious about the breeding and fattening of fowls; and
when his friend Edward Pease, of Darlington, visited him at Tapton, he
explained a method which he had invented of fattening chickens in half
the usual time. The chickens were confined in boxes, which were so made
as to exclude the light. Dividing the day into two or three periods,
the birds were shut up at the end of each after a heavy feed, and went
to sleep. The plan proved very successful, and Mr. Stephenson jocularly
said that if he were to devote himself to chickens he could soon make a
little fortune.
Mrs. Stephenson tried to keep bees, but found they would not thrive
at Tapton. Many hives perished, and there was no case of success. The
cause of failure was long a mystery to the engineer; but one day his
acute powers of observation enabled him to unravel it. At the foot of
the hill on which Tapton House stands, he saw some bees trying to rise
up from among the grass, laden with honey and wax. They were already
exhausted, as if with long flying; and then it occurred to him that
the height at which the house stood above the bees' feeding-ground
rendered it difficult for them to reach their hives when heavy laden,
and hence they sank exhausted. He afterward incidentally mentioned the
circumstance to Mr. Jesse, the naturalist, who concurred in his view
as to the cause of failure, and was much struck by the keen observation
which had led to its solution.
George Stephenson had none of the habits of the student. He read very
little; for reading is a habit which is generally acquired in youth,
and his youth and manhood had been, for the most part, spent in hard
work. Books wearied him and sent him to sleep. Novels excited his
feelings too much, and he avoided them, though he would occasionally
read through a philosophical work on a subject in which he felt
particularly interested. He wrote very few letters with his own hand.
Nearly all his letters were dictated, and he avoided even dictation
when he could. His greatest pleasure was in conversation, from which he
gathered most of his imparted information.
It was his practice, when about to set out on a journey by railway, to
walk along the train before it started, and look into the carriages to
see if he could find "a conversible face." On one of such occasions, at
the Euston Station, he discovered in a carriage a very handsome, manly,
and intelligent face, which he afterward found was that of the late
Lord Denman. He was on his way down to his seat at Stony Middelton,
in Derbyshire. Stephenson entered the carriage, and the two were
shortly engaged in interesting conversation. It turned upon chronometry
and horology, and the engineer amazed his lordship by the extent of
his knowledge on the subject, in which he displayed as much minute
information, even down to the latest improvements in watch-making,
as if he had been bred a watchmaker and lived by the trade. Lord
Denman was curious to know how a man whose time must have been mainly
engrossed by engineering had gathered so much knowledge on a subject
quite out of his own line, and he asked the question. "I learned
clockmaking and watchmaking," was the answer, "while a working-man at
Killingworth, when I made a little money in my spare hours by cleaning
the pitmen's clocks and watches; and since then I have kept up my
information on the subject." This led to farther questions, and then he
proceeded to tell Lord Denman the interesting story of his life, which
held him entranced during the remainder of the journey.
Many of his friends readily accepted invitations to Tapton House
to enjoy his hospitality, which never failed. With them he would
"fight his battles o'er again," reverting often to his battle for the
locomotive; and he was never tired of telling, nor were his auditors
of listening to, the lively anecdotes with which he was accustomed to
illustrate the struggles of his early career. While walking in the
woods or through the grounds, he would arrest his friends' attention
by allusion to some simple object--such as a leaf, a blade of grass, a
bit of bark, a nest of birds, or an ant carrying its eggs across the
path--and descant in glowing terms on the creative power of the Divine
Mechanician, whose contrivances were so exhaustless and so wonderful.
This was a theme upon which he was often accustomed to dwell in
reverential admiration when in the society of his more intimate friends.
One night, when walking under the stars, and gazing up into the field
of suns, each the probable centre of a system, forming the Milky Way, a
friend observed, "What an insignificant creature is man in sight of so
immense a creation as this!" "Yes!" was his reply: "but how wonderful a
creature also is man, to be able to think and reason, and even in some
measure to comprehend works so infinite!"
A microscope which he had brought down to Tapton was a source of
immense enjoyment, and he was never tired of contemplating the minute
wonders which it revealed. One evening, when some friends were visiting
him, he induced each of them to puncture his skin so as to draw blood,
in order that he might examine the globules through the microscope. One
of the gentlemen present was a teetotaler, and Stephenson pronounced
his blood to be the most lively of the whole. He had a theory of his
own about the movement of the globules in the blood, which has since
become familiar. It was, that they were respectively charged with
electricity, positive at one end and negative at the other, and that
they thus attracted and repelled each other, causing a circulation.
No sooner did he observe any thing new than he immediately set about
devising a reason for it. His training in mechanics, his practical
familiarity with matter in all its forms, and the strong bent of his
mind, led him first of all to seek for a mechanical explanation; and
yet he was ready to admit that there was a something in the principle
of _life_--so mysterious and inexplicable--which baffled mechanics,
and seemed to dominate over and control them. He did not care much,
either, for abstruse mechanics, but only for the experimental and
practical, as is usually the case with those whose knowledge has been
self-acquired.
[Illustration: (Footpath to Tapton House)]
Even at his advanced age the spirit of frolic had not left him. When
proceeding from Chesterfield Station to Tapton House with his friends,
he would almost invariably challenge them to a race up the steep
path, partly formed of stone steps, along the hill-side. And he would
struggle, as of old, to keep the front place, though by this time his
"wind" greatly failed him. He would occasionally invite an old friend
to take a wrestle with him on the lawn, to keep up his skill, and
perhaps to try some new "knack" of throwing. In the evening he would
sometimes indulge his visitors by reciting the old pastoral of "Damon
and Phyllis," or singing his favorite song of "John Anderson my Joe."
But his greatest enjoyment on such occasion was "a crowdie." "Let's
have a crowdie night," he would say; and forthwith a kettle of boiling
water was ordered in, with a basin of oatmeal. Taking a large bowl,
containing a sufficiency of hot water, and placing it between his
knees, he poured in oatmeal with one hand, and stirred the mixture
vigorously with the other. When enough meal had been added, and the
stirring was completed, the crowdie was made. It was then supped with
new milk, and Mr. Stephenson generally pronounced it "capital!" It was
the diet to which he had been accustomed when a working-man, and all
the dainties with which he had become familiar in recent years had
not spoiled his simple tastes. To enjoy crowdie at his years, besides,
indicated that he still possessed that quality on which no doubt much
of his practical success in life had depended--a strong and healthy
digestion.
He would also frequently invite to his house the humbler companions
of his early life, and take pleasure in talking over old times with
them. He never assumed any of the bearings of the great man on such
occasions, but treated his visitors with the same friendliness and
respect as if they had been his equals, sending them away pleased with
themselves and delighted with him. At other times, needy men who had
known him in their youth would knock at his door, and they were never
refused access. But if he had heard of any misconduct on their part,
he would rate them soundly. One who knew him intimately in private
life has seen him exhorting such backsliders, and denouncing their
misconduct and imprudence, with the tears streaming down his cheeks.
And he would generally conclude by opening his purse, and giving them
the help which they needed "to make a fresh start in the world."
His life at Tapton during his later years was occasionally diversified
by a visit to London. His engineering business having become limited,
he generally went there for the purpose of visiting friends, or "to
see what there was fresh going on." He found a new race of engineers
springing up on all sides--men who knew him not; and his London
journeys gradually ceased to yield him pleasure. A friend used to take
him to the opera, but by the end of the first act he was generally
observed in a profound slumber. Yet on one occasion he enjoyed a visit
to the Haymarket, with a party of friends on his birthday, to see T. P.
Cooke in "Black-eyed Susan"--if that can be called enjoyment which kept
him in a state of tears during half the performance. At other times he
visited Newcastle, which always gave him great pleasure. He would, on
such occasions, go out to Killingworth and seek up old friends, and
if the people whom he knew were too retiring and shrunk into their
cottages, he went and sought them there. Striking the floor with his
stick, and holding his noble person upright, he would say, in his own
kind way, "Well, and how's all here to-day?" To the last he had always
a warm heart for Newcastle and its neighborhood.
Sir Robert Peel, on more than one occasion, invited George Stephenson
to his mansion at Drayton, where he was accustomed to assemble round
him men of the highest distinction in art, science, and legislation,
during the intervals of his Parliamentary life. The first invitations
were respectfully declined; but Sir Robert again pressing him to come
down to Tamworth, where he would meet Buckland, Follett, and others
well known to both, he at last consented.
Stephenson's strong powers of observation, together with his native
humor and shrewdness, imparted to his conversation at all times much
vigor and originality. Though mainly an engineer, he was also a
profound thinker on many scientific questions, and there was scarcely
a subject of speculation or a department of recondite science on which
he had not employed his faculties in such a way as to have formed large
and original views. Mr. Sopwith, F.R.S., has informed us that the
conversation at Drayton, on one occasion, turned on the theory of the
formation of coal, in the course of which Stephenson had an animated
discussion with Dr. Buckland. But the result was, that Dr. Buckland,
a much greater master of tongue-fence, completely silenced him. Next
morning, before breakfast, when he was walking in the grounds deeply
pondering, Sir William Follett came up and asked what he was thinking
about. "Why, Sir William, I am thinking over that argument I had with
Buckland last night. I know I am right, and that, if I had only the
command of words which he has, I'd have beaten him." "Let me know all
about it," said Sir William, "and I'll see what I can do for you."
The two sat down in an arbor, where the astute lawyer made himself
thoroughly acquainted with the points of the case, entering into it
with the zeal of an advocate about to plead the interests of his
client. After he had mastered the subject, Sir William said, "Now I am
ready for him." Sir Robert Peel was made acquainted with the plot, and
adroitly introduced the subject of the controversy after dinner. The
result was, that in the argument which followed, the man of science was
overcome by the man of law. "And what do _you_ say, Mr. Stephenson?"
asked Sir Robert, laughing. "Why," said he, "I say this, that of all
the powers above and under the earth, there seems to me to be no power
so great as the gift of the gab."
One Sunday, when the party had just returned from church, they were
standing together on the terrace near the Hall, and observed in the
distance a railway flashing along, tossing behind its long white plume
of steam. "Now, Buckland," said Stephenson, "I have a poser for you.
Can you tell me what is the power that is driving that train?" "Well,"
said the other, "I suppose it is one of your big engines." "But what
drives the engine?" "Oh, very likely a canny Newcastle driver." "What
do you say to the light of the sun?" "How can that be?" asked the
doctor. "It is nothing else," said the engineer: "it is light bottled
up in the earth for tens of thousands of years--light, absorbed by
plants and vegetables, being necessary for the condensation of carbon
during the process of their growth, if it be not carbon in another
form--and now, after being buried in the earth for long ages in fields
of coal, that latent light is again brought forth and liberated, made
to work as in that locomotive, for great human purposes."[104]
During the same visit Mr. Stephenson one evening repeated his
experiment with blood drawn from the finger, submitting it to the
microscope in order to show the curious circulation of the globules.
He set the example by pricking his own thumb; and the other guests,
by turns, in like manner gave up a small portion of their blood for
the purpose of ascertaining the comparative liveliness of their
circulation. When Sir Robert Peel's turn came, Stephenson said he was
curious to know "how the blood globules of a great politician would
conduct themselves." Sir Robert held forth his finger for the purpose
of being pricked; but once and again he sensitively shrunk back, and
at length the experiment, so far as he was concerned, was abandoned.
Sir Robert Peel's sensitiveness to pain was extreme, and yet he was
destined, a few years after, to die a death of the most distressing
agony.
In 1847, the year before his death, George Stephenson was again invited
to join a distinguished party at Drayton Manor, and to assist in the
ceremony of formally opening the Trent Valley Railway, which had
been originally designed and laid out by himself many years before.
The first sod of the railway had been cut by the prime minister in
November, 1845, and the formal opening took place on the 26th of June,
1847, the line having thus been constructed in less than two years.
What a change had come over the spirit of the landed gentry since the
time when George Stephenson had first projected a railway through
that district! Then they were up in arms against him, characterizing
him as the devastator and spoiler of their estates, whereas now he
was hailed as one of the greatest benefactors of the age. Sir Robert
Peel, the chief political personage in England, welcomed him as a
guest and friend, and spoke of him as the chief among practical
philosophers. A dozen members of Parliament, seven baronets, with
all the landed magnates of the district, assembled to celebrate the
opening of the railway. The clergy were there to bless the enterprise,
and to bid all hail to railway progress, as "enabling them to carry
on with greater facility those operations in connection with religion
which were calculated to be so beneficial to the country." The army,
speaking through the mouth of General A'Court, acknowledged the vast
importance of railways, as tending to improve the military defenses of
the country. And representatives from eight corporations were there to
acknowledge the great benefits which railways had conferred upon the
merchants, tradesmen, and working classes of their respective towns and
cities.
In the spring of 1848 George Stephenson was invited to Whittington
House, near Chesterfield, the residence of his friend and former
pupil, Mr. Swanwick, to meet the distinguished American, Emerson. On
being introduced to each other they did not immediately engage in
conversation; but presently Stephenson jumped up, took Emerson by
the collar, and, giving him one of his friendly shakes, asked how it
was that in England we could always tell an American. This led to an
interesting conversation, in the course of which Emerson said how much
he had every where been struck by the haleness and comeliness of the
English men and women, from which they diverged into a discussion of
the influences which air, climate, moisture, soil, and other conditions
exercised on the physical and moral development of a people. The
conversation was next directed to the subject of electricity, on
which Stephenson launched out enthusiastically, explaining his views
by several simple and some striking illustrations. From thence it
gradually turned to the events of his own life, which he related in so
graphic a manner as completely to rivet the attention of the American.
Afterward Emerson said "that it was worth crossing the Atlantic were it
only to have seen Stephenson--he had such force of character and vigor
of intellect."
The rest of George Stephenson's days were spent quietly at Tapton,
among his dogs, his rabbits, and his birds. When not engaged about the
works connected with his collieries, he was occupied in horticulture
and farming. He continued proud of his flowers, his fruits, and his
crops, while the old spirit of competition was still strong within
him. Although he had for some time been in delicate health, and his
hand shook from nervous debility, he appeared to possess a sound
constitution. Emerson had observed of him that he had the lives of
many men in him. But perhaps the American spoke figuratively, in
reference to his vast stores of experience. It appeared that he had
never completely recovered from the attack of pleurisy which seized him
during his return from Spain. As late, however, as the 26th of July,
1848, he felt himself sufficiently well to be able to attend a meeting
of the Institute of Mechanical Engineers at Birmingham, and to read to
the members his paper "On the Fallacies of the Rotatory Engine."
It was his last public appearance. Shortly after his return to Tapton
he had an attack of intermittent fever, from which he seemed to be
recovering, when a sudden effusion of blood from the lungs carried
him off, on the 12th of August, 1848, in the sixty-seventh year of
his age. When all was over, Robert wrote to Edmund Pease, "With deep
pain I inform you, as one of his oldest friends, of the death of my
dear father this morning at 12 o'clock, after about ten days' illness
from severe fever." Mr. Starbuck, who was also present, wrote: "The
favorable symptoms of yesterday morning were toward evening followed
by a serious change for the worse. This continued during the night,
and early this morning it became evident that he was sinking. At a
few minutes before 12 to-day he breathed his last. All that the most
devoted and unremitting care of Mrs. Stephenson[105] and the skill of
medicine could accomplish has been done, but in vain."
George Stephenson's remains were followed to the grave by a large body
of his work-people, by whom he was greatly admired and beloved. They
remembered him as a kind master, who was ever ready actively to promote
all measures for their moral, physical, and mental improvement. The
inhabitants of Chesterfield evinced their respect for the deceased by
suspending business, closing their shops, and joining in the funeral
procession, which was headed by the corporation of the town. Many of
the surrounding gentry also attended. The body was interred in Trinity
Church, Chesterfield, where a simple tablet marks the great engineer's
last resting-place.
[Illustration: TRINITY CHURCH, CHESTERFIELD.]
The statue of George Stephenson, which the Liverpool and Manchester and
Grand Junction Companies had commissioned, was on its way to England
when his death occurred; and it served for a monument, though his best
monument will always be his works. The statue referred to was placed in
St. George's Hall, Liverpool. A full-length statue of him, by Bailey,
was also erected, a few years later, in the noble vestibule of the
London and Northwestern Station, in Euston Square. A subscription for
the purpose was set on foot by the Society of Mechanical Engineers, of
which he had been the founder and president. A few advertisements were
inserted in the newspapers, inviting subscriptions; and it is a notable
fact that the voluntary offerings included an average of two shillings
each from 3150 working-men, who embraced this opportunity of doing
honor to their distinguished fellow-workman.
But the finest and most appropriate statue to the memory of George
Stephenson is that which was erected in 1862, after the design of John
Lough, at Newcastle-upon-Tyne. It is in the immediate neighborhood of
the Literary and Philosophical Institute, to which both George and his
son Robert were so much indebted in their early years; close to the
great Stephenson locomotive foundery established by the shrewdness of
the father; and in the vicinity of the High-Level Bridge, one of the
grandest products of the genius of the son. The head of Stephenson, as
expressed in this noble work, is massive, characteristic, and faithful;
and the attitude of the figure is simple, yet manly and energetic. It
stands on a pedestal, at the respective corners of which are sculptured
the recumbent figures of a pitman, a mechanic, an engine-driver, and a
plate-layer. The statue appropriately stands in a very thoroughfare of
working-men, thousands of whom see it daily as they pass to and from
their work; and we can imagine them, as they look up to Stephenson's
manly figure, applying to it the words addressed by Robert Nicoll to
Robert Burns, with perhaps still greater appropriateness:
"Before the proudest of the earth
We stand, with an uplifted brow;
Like us, thou wast a toiling man--
And we are noble, now!"
The portrait prefixed to this volume gives a good indication of
George Stephenson's shrewd, kind, honest, manly face. His fair, clear
countenance was ruddy, and seemingly glowed with health. The forehead
was large and high, projecting over the eyes, and there was that
massive breadth across the lower part which is usually observed in
men of eminent constructive skill. The mouth was firmly marked, and
shrewdness and humor lurked there as well as in the keen gray eye. His
frame was compact, well knit, and rather spare. His hair became gray at
an early age, and toward the close of his life it was of a pure silky
whiteness. He dressed neatly in black, wearing a white neckcloth; and
his face, his person, and his deportment at once arrested attention,
and marked the Gentleman.
[Illustration: TABLET IN TRINITY CHURCH, CHESTERFIELD.]
FOOTNOTES:
[104] This was a favorite notion of George Stephenson's, and he held
that what produced light and heat had originally been light and heat.
Mr. Fearon, solicitor, has informed the author that he accompanied
Stephenson on one of his visits to Belgium, when it seemed to him
that the engineer did not take much interest in the towns, churches,
or public buildings of Belgium, probably because he knew little of
history, and they recalled no associations with the past. One day
the party went to see the beautiful Hôtel de Ville at Brussels, but
Stephenson did not seem moved by it. On passing out of the square,
however, by the little street which leads toward the Montague de la
Cour, his interest was thoroughly roused by the sight of an immense fat
pig hung up in a butcher's shop. He immediately took out his foot-rule,
measured the pig, and expressed a desire to have some conversation with
the butcher as to how it had been fed. The butcher accordingly waited
upon them at the hotel, and told all he knew about the feeding of the
pig; and then, says Mr. Fearon, "George went off into his favorite
theory of the sun's light, which he said had fattened the pig; for the
light had gone into the pease, and the pease had gone into the fat, and
the fat pig was like a field of coal in this respect, that they were,
for the most part, neither more nor less than bottled sunshine."
[105] The second Mrs. Stephenson having died in 1845, George married a
third time in 1848, about six months before his death. The third Mrs.
Stephenson was an intelligent and respectable lady, who had for some
years officiated as his housekeeper.
[Illustration: VICTORIA BRIDGE, MONTREAL.]