THE TWO CITIES TRYING AGAIN—BUGBEARS.
One, two, three years passed by, and the Liverpool and Manchester
project started up again. It was not dead, it had only slept; and the
three years had almost worn out the patience of both merchants and
manufacturers. Trade between the two cities must have speedier and
easier transit. Trade is one of the great progressive elements in the
world. It goes ahead; it will have the right of way; it will have the
right way—the best, safest, cheapest way of doing its business. Yet it
is not selfish; its object is the comfort and well-being of men. To do
this, it breaks down many a wall which selfishness has built up, it cuts
through prejudices, it rides over a thousand "can't be's" of timid and
learned men; for learned men are not always practical. They sometimes
say things cannot be done, when it only needs a little stout trying to
overcome difficulties and do them.
A learned man once said that crossing the Atlantic by steam was
impossible.
"For the good of the race, we must have something truer than wind and
tougher than sails," said Trade. And it was not many years before ships
steamed into every port.
"Carriages travelling at twelve, sixteen, eighteen, twenty miles an
hour! Such gross exaggerations of the power of a locomotive we scout. It
can never be!" cries a sober Quarterly.
"You may scout it as much as you please," rejoins Trade; "but just as
soon as people need a cheaper, pleasanter, swifter mode of travel, it
will be _done_." And now the railway carriages thread the land in their
arrowy flight.
"The magnetic telegraph! a miserable chimera," cries a knowing
statesman. "Nobody who does not read outlandish jargon can understand
what a telegraph means."
"You will soon find out," answers Trade. And now it buys pork by the
hundred barrels, and sells grain by the thousand bushels; while armies
march and fleets sail at its bidding. Treaties are signed at its word;
and the telegraph girdles the world.
You see Trade is a civilizer; and Christian civilization makes all the
difference in the world between Arabs and Englishmen.
Liverpool merchants were now fairly awake. "What is to be done?" was the
question. Something. Could there be a _third_ water-line between the two
cities? No; there was not water enough for that.
Would the Bridgewater Canal increase its power and reduce its charges?
No.
A tram-road or a rail-road, then. There was no other alternative.
Mr. James, who was so much interested before, had failed and left the
country. When he left, he said to his friends, "When you build a road,
build a railroad, and get George Stephenson to do it."
The Darlington and Stockton enterprise could not fail to be known at
Liverpool; and a drift of opinion gradually began to set in strongly in
favour of the railway. People talked about it in good earnest.
"A railway!" cried the canal owners. "It is absurd; it is only got up to
frighten us; it will slump through, as it did before." They were easy.
"Let us go to Darlington and Killingworth and see for ourselves," said
the merchants; and four gentlemen were sent on a visit of inquiry. They
went first to Darlington, where the works were in vigorous progress,
though not done. It was in 1824, the year before they were finished.
Here they met Stephenson. He took them to Killingworth to see "Puffing
Billy."
Seeing was believing. "Billy's" astonishing feats won them completely
over; and they went back to Liverpool warm for a railroad. Their clear
and candid report convinced merchants, bankers, and manufacturers, who
gave a verdict in its favour. Public opinion was now coming over.
Books were opened for funds. There was no lack of subscribers. Money was
ready. To be sure of the _safety_ of locomotive power, a second
deputation was sent to Killingworth, taking with them a practical
mechanic, better able to judge about it than themselves. The man had
sense enough to see and to own that while he could not insure safety
over nine or ten miles an hour, there was nothing to be afraid of slower
than that. Then a third body went. The enterprise required caution, they
thought.
Yes, it did.
Having decided upon steam-power, the next thing was to secure the right
sort of man to carry on the work. Stephenson was that man. His energy
and ability were indispensable. Before trying to get a charter from
Parliament, the route needed to be surveyed again, and a careful
estimate of expenses made.
The Stockton road done, Stephenson was free to engage in this new
enterprise; his success in that proving his principles true on a larger
scale.
The canal owners now took alarm. They saw there was a dangerous rival,
and they came forward in the most civil and conciliatory manner,
professing a wish to oblige, and offering to put steam-power on their
canals. It was too late. Their day had gone by.
You know the violent opposition made to a former survey. How would it be
again? Did three years scatter the ignorance out of which it grew? Ah,
no. There was little if any improvement. The surveyors were watched and
dogged by night and by day. Boys hooted at them, and gangs of turbulent
men threatened them with violence. Mr. Stephenson barely escaped
duckings, and his unfortunate instruments capture and destruction.
Indeed, he had to take with him a body-guard to defend them. Much of the
surveying had to be done by stealth, when people were at dinner, or with
a dark lantern at night.
When dukes and lords headed the hostility, you cannot wonder that their
dependants carried it on. One gentleman declared that he would rather
meet a highwayman or see a burglar on his premises than an engineer; and
of the two he thought the former the more respectable! Widows complained
of damaged corn-fields, and gardeners of their violated strawberry-beds;
and though Stephenson well knew that in many cases not a whit of damage
had been done, he paid them for fancied injuries in the hope of stopping
their tongues.
[Illustration: SURVEYING AT NIGHT.]
A survey made under such circumstances must needs have been imperfect;
but it was as good as could be made. And no time was lost in taking
measures to get a Bill before Parliament.
A storm of opposition against railways suddenly arose, and spread over
every corner of the kingdom. Newspapers and pamphlets swarmed with
articles crying them down. Canal and turnpike owners spared no pains to
crush them. The most extraordinary stories were set afloat concerning
their dangers. Boilers would burst, and passengers be blown to atoms;
houses along the way would be burned; the air would become black with
smoke and poisoned by cinders; and property on the road would be
stripped of its value.
The Liverpool and Manchester Bill, however, got into Parliament, and
went before a Committee of the House of Commons to decide upon it, in
March 1825.
First, its friends had to show the _necessity_ of some new mode of
travel between the two cities; and that it was not difficult to do.
But when it came to asking for liberty to build a railway and run a
locomotive, the matter was more difficult to manage. And to face the
tremendous opposition rallied against it, the pluck of its friends was
severely tried.
The battle had to be fought inch by inch.
Stephenson, of course, was the chief witness for locomotives. But what
headway could he, an uneducated Northumbrian mechanic, make against
members of Parliament, backed by all the chief engineers of the kingdom?
For very few had faith in him; but those few had strong faith. He was
examined and cross-examined. They tried to bully him, to puzzle him, to
frighten him. On the subject of locomotives his answers were clear. He
declared he could drive an engine, and drive it safely, at the rate of
twelve miles an hour!
"Who can believe what is so notoriously in the teeth of all experience?"
cried the opposition; "the witness is a madman!"
Famous engineers were called on the stand. What had _they_ to say? One
declared the scheme a most wild one. He had no confidence in
locomotives. They were affected by wind and weather; with difficulty
were kept on the track, and were liable to constant accidents; indeed, a
gale of wind would render it impossible to start a locomotive, either by
poking the fire or keeping up the steam till the boiler should burst:
they could never be relied on.
The proposed route had to cross an ugly quagmire, several miles in
extent, called Chat Moss, a very shaky piece of land, no doubt; and here
the opposition took a strong stand. "No engineer in his senses," cried
one, "would think of going through Chat Moss. No carriage could stand on
the Moss short of the bottom."
"It is absurd to hold out the notion that locomotives can travel twice
as fast as stage-coaches," said another; "one might as soon trust
himself to a rocket as to the mercy of a machine going at that rate."
"Carriages cannot go at anything like that speed," added another; "if
driven to it, the wheels would only spin on their axles like a top, and
the carriages would stand stock-still!"
So much for learned arguments against it.
Then came the dangers of it. "The dumb animals would never recover from
the sight of a locomotive; cows would not give their milk; cattle could
not graze, nor horses be driven along the track," cried the opposition.
"As to that," said Stephenson, "come to Killingworth and see. More quiet
and sensible beasts cannot be found in the kingdom. The farmers _there_
never complain."
"Well," asked one, "suppose, now, one of those engines to be going along
a railroad at the rate of nine or ten miles an hour, and that a cow were
to stray upon the line and get in the way of the engine; would not
_that_, think you, be a very awkward circumstance?"
"Yes," answered Stephenson, with a droll twinkle in his eye; "very
awkward indeed—_for the coo_!"
The fellow, as you may suppose, backed off.
The danger in other respects was thus dwelt on: "In addition to the
smoke and the noise, the hiss and the whirl which locomotive engines
make, going at the rate of ten or twelve miles an hour, and filling the
cattle with dismay, what," asked an honourable member, "is to be done
with all those who have advanced money in making and mending turnpikes?
What with those who may still wish to travel in their own or hired
carriages, after the fashion of their forefathers? What is to become of
coach-makers and harness-makers, coach-masters and workmen, inn-keepers,
horse-breeders, and horse-dealers? Iron would be raised one hundred per
cent., or more probably exhausted altogether! The price of coal would be
ruinous. Why, a railroad would be the greatest nuisance, the biggest
disturbance of quiet and comfort, in all parts of the kingdom, that the
ingenuity of man could invent."
Not content with belittling his engine, they could not stop short of
abusing Stephenson himself. "He is more fit for Bedlam than anywhere
else," they cried; "he never had a plan—he is not capable of making one.
Whenever a difficulty is pressed, as in the case of a tunnel, he gets
out of it at one end; and when you try to catch him at that, he gets out
at the other."
"We protest," they said, "against a measure supported by such evidence
and founded upon such calculations. We protest against the Exchange of
Liverpool striding across the land of this country. It is despotism
itself."
What had the friends of locomotive power to say?
"We beseech you," they pleaded to the Committee, "not to crush it in its
infancy. Let not this country have the disgrace of putting a stop to
that which, if cherished, may in the end prove of the greatest advantage
to our trade and commerce. We appeal to you in the name of the two
largest towns in England; we appeal to you in the name of the country at
large; and we implore you not to blast the hopes that this powerful
agent, Steam, may be called in for the purpose of aiding land
communication: only let it have a fair trial, and these little
objections and private prejudices will be done away."
Flaws were picked in the surveys, and the estimate of costs based on
them. The surveys, quite likely, were imperfect; indeed, how could they
be otherwise, when every mile of the line had to be done at the risk of
life?
The battle lasted two months, and a very exciting one it was. It was
skilfully and powerfully carried on. Who beat?
_The opposition._ The Bill was lost.
Matters looked dark enough. Judging from appearances, the enterprise was
laid on the shelf, and the day of railways long put off. As for poor
Stephenson, his short day of favour seemed about gone. His being called
a madman, and regarded as a fool, as he had been by the opposition, was
not without its effect upon his newly-made friends. Their faith in him
sensibly cooled. But he did not lose faith in himself, not he. He had
waited long for the triumph of his engine, and he could wait longer. A
great blessing to the nation was locked up in it he well knew; and the
nation would have it some time, in spite of everything.
Was the enterprise a second time to be abandoned?
No, no. Taking breath, its friends again started to their feet. "Never
give up," was their motto, for they were in earnest. They rallied, and
met in London to consult what to do next.
Mr. Huskisson, a member of Parliament for Liverpool, came into the
meeting and urged them to try again—to try at the next session of
Parliament.
"Parliament must, in the end, grant you an Act," he said, "if you are
determined to have it." And try they determined to, for a horse railroad
at least.
For this purpose another and more careful survey had to be made.
Stephenson was left out. A _known_ man must be had. They meant to get
surveyors and engineers with well-established reputation to back them
up. Stephenson was too little known. He had no fame beyond a little
circle in one corner of the kingdom. How did he feel to be thus thrown
in the back-ground? George was not a man to grumble; he was too noble to
complain. In fact, you see, he was ahead of the times; too far ahead to
be understood and appreciated. He could afford to wait.
Two brothers of the name of Rennie were appointed in his stead. In time
the new survey was finished; the plans drawn, and the expenses reckoned
up. Changes were made in the route. Ill-tempered landowners were left on
one side, and every ground of complaint avoided that could be.
The new Bill was then carried to Parliament, and went before the
Committee in March the next year. The opposition was strong, indeed, but
less furious. Much of its bitterness was gone. It made a great show of
fears, which the advocates of the Bill felt it was not worth while to
waste words in answering. They left it to the road to answer them. Build
it, and see.
Mr. Huskisson and others supported it in a strong and manly tone; and
after a third reading, the Bill passed in the House of Commons. So far,
so good. It then had to go to the House of Lords. What would befall it
there? The same array of evidence on both sides was put forward. The
poor locomotive engine, which had proved such a bugbear in the House of
Commons, was regarded as quite a harmless affair by most of the lords;
and the opposition made such poor work in showing off its dangers, that
no plea in its behalf was called for. They were satisfied, they said;
and the Bill passed almost unanimously. Victory! victory!
The victory cost more than twenty thousand pounds! For a first cost it
looked large. But nothing worth doing can be done without effort, and
effort made _in faith_. Nothing done, nothing have.