TWO CITIES THAT WANTED TO GET NEAR EACH OTHER—A
NEW FRIEND.
Manchester, thirty miles north-east of Liverpool, is the great centre of
the cotton trade in England. Its cloths are found in every market of the
world. Cotton coming to Liverpool is sent to the Manchester mills; and
the goods which the mills turn out are returned to Liverpool to be
shipped. The two cities, therefore, are intimately connected by constant
intercourse and mutual interest.
Two water communications existed between them; one by the rivers Mersey
and Irwell, the other by the famous Bridgewater Canal, which did an
immense business at an enormous profit. But the Manchester mills were
fast outgrowing these slow and cumbersome modes of travel. Liverpool
warehouses were piled with bales of cotton waiting to go, and the mills
at Manchester had often to stop because it did not come. Goods also
found as much difficulty in getting back. Merchants and manufacturers
both grumbled. Business was in straits. What was to be done? Carting was
quite out of the question. Canal owners were besought to enlarge their
water-power. No, they would do nothing. They were satisfied with things
as they were. Their dividends were sure.
But want demands supply; need creates resources. Something _must_ be
done to facilitate the transit of goods between the two cities. What?
Build a tram-road, or _rail-road_. Nobody, however, but a very fast man
would risk his good sense by seriously advising a rail-road. Solid men
would certainly shun him. A tram-road was a better understood thing. The
collieries had used small pieces of them for years. A tram-road then.
Business men put their heads together and began earnestly to talk of a
tram-road.
William James, a rich and enterprising man, entered heartily into the
project, and undertook to make surveys for a suitable route. And not
long after a party of surveyors was seen in the fields near Liverpool.
Their instruments and movements excited attention. People eyed them with
anxiety; suspicions were roused; the inhabitants became alarmed. Who
were they, making such mysterious measurements and calculations on other
people's land? A mob gradually gathered, whose angry tones and
threatening gestures warned the surveyors of a storm brewing over their
heads. Wisely considering that flight was better than fight, they took
themselves off, and by-and-by turned up farther on.
The landowners, who might be supposed to have known better, told the
farmers to drive them off; and the farmers, with their "hands," were
only too ready to obey. They stationed themselves at the field gates and
bars with pitch-forks, rakes, shovels, and sticks, and dared the
surveyors to come on. A poor chain-man, not quite so nimble as his
pursuers, made his leap over a fence quickened by a pitch-fork from
behind! Even women and children joined the hue and cry, pelting the
strangers with stones and dirt whenever they had a chance. The colliers
were not behind the farmers in their foolish hostility. A stray surveyor
was caught and thrown into a pit.
At a sight of the theodolite their fury knew no bounds. That unoffending
instrument they seemed to regard as the very Sebastopol of the enemy, to
seize and destroy which was to win the day. Tho surveyors, therefore,
were obliged to hire a noted boxer to carry it, who could make good his
threats on the enemy. A famous fighter among the colliers, determined
not to be outdone, marched up to the theodolite to capture it. A
fist-and-fist fight took place; the collier was sorely beaten, but the
rabble, taking his part against the poor instrument, pelted it with
stones and smashed it to pieces.
You may well suppose that surveying under such circumstances was no
light matter. What was the gist of the hostility? It is hard to tell.
The canal owners might have had a hand in scattering these wild fears;
fears of what, however, it is not so easy to find out. There was nothing
in a simple horse rail-road, or tram-road, as it is called, to provoke
an opposition so bitter from the people. It was a _new thing_; and new
things, great improvements though they may be on old ones, often stir up
a thousand doubts and fears among the ignorant and unthinking.
Nor did the project generally take among those who would be most
benefited by it. Mr. James and his friends held public meetings in all
the towns and villages along the way; enterprising men in Liverpool and
Manchester talked it up, and tried to create a public interest; but
there was a holding back, which, while it checked all actual progress in
the enterprise, did not cause it to be altogether given up. The time had
not come; that was all.
Mr. James had a secret leaning towards the use of steam on the new road.
He would have immediately and unhesitatingly advocated a rail-road run
by locomotives. But that was out of the question. The public were far
behind that point, and to have openly advocated it would have risked his
judgment and good sense in the opinion of the best men. Therefore Mr.
James wisely held his tongue. But hearing of the Killingworth
locomotives, and of a collier who had astonished the natives by his
genius, he determined to make a journey to Newcastle, and see the
"lions" for himself.
Stephenson was not at home. "Puffing Billy" was; and "Billy" puffed in a
way that took Mr. James's heart at once. He seemed to see at a glance
"Billy's" remarkable power, and was struck with admiration and delight.
"Here is an engine," he exclaimed, "that is destined before long to work
a complete revolution in society."
The image of "Puffing Billy" followed him home.
"Why," he wrote to Stephenson's partner in the patent, "it is the
greatest wonder of the age, and the forerunner, I believe, of most
important changes in the modes of travel in the kingdom."
A few weeks later he made another visit to Killingworth, taking his two
sons with him. "Puffing Billy" was at work, as usual.
The boys were frightened at the sight of the snorting monster; but
Stephenson encouraged them to mount, with their father, and see how
harmless and manageable the monster was.
The second visit was even more gratifying than the first.
"Mr. Stephenson," said James, "is the greatest practical genius of the
age. His fame will rank with that of Watt."
Mr. James lost all hesitation now about speaking his mind. "Puffing
Billy" had driven the backwardness out of him, and he was willing, at
all hazards, boldly to advocate rail-roads and the steam-horse. No more
tram-roads; steam or nothing. This was in 1821.
Mr. James entered heart and soul into the new idea of the age. On his
return to Liverpool, it was everywhere his theme; and wherever he had
influence, he tried to stir up men's minds to the benefits and blessings
puffing out in "Puffing Billy."
[Illustration: THE VISIT TO "PUFFING BILLY."]
Stephenson rejoiced in such a friend. It was just what he and "Billy"
most needed—somebody to introduce them into the great world. And
Stephenson and his partner offered him a share in the profits of
whatever business he could secure to them.
But what can one man, or a few men, do in an enterprise like this,
depending upon the verdict of that important power, Public Opinion? And
Public Opinion had not yet made up its mind to it.
A thousand difficulties bristled in the way. There were both the
indifference of friends and the opposition of enemies at home. In
addition to this, a violent opposition was foreseen in Parliament, which
it needed all the strength and courage of a united constituency to meet.
Under these discouraging circumstances, there were not enough men of
pluck to push the matter through.
So everything about the new road went by the board. It was laid on the
shelf, at least for the present, and Liverpool and Manchester trade
jogged on as before.