CHAPTER XIV. Manchester and Leeds , and Midland Railways -- Stephenson's Life at Alton -- Visit to Belgium -- General Extension of Railways and their Results .

The rapidity with which railways were carried out, when the spirit of the country became roused, was indeed remarkable. This was doubtless in some measure owing to the increased force of the current of speculation at the time, but chiefly to the desire which the public began to entertain for the general extension of the system. It was even proposed to fill up the canals, and convert them into railways. The new roads became the topic of conversation in all circles; they were felt to give a new value to time; their vast capabilities for “business” peculiarly recommended them to the trading classes; whilst the friends of “progress” dilated on the great benefits they would eventually confer upon mankind at large. It began to be seen that Edward Pease had not been exaggerating when he said, “Let the country but make the railroads, and the railroads will make the country!” They also came to be regarded as inviting objects of investment to the thrifty, and a safe outlet for the accumulations of inert men of capital. Thus new avenues of iron road were soon in course of formation, branching in all directions, so that the country promised in a wonderfully short time to become wrapped in one vast network of iron.

In 1836 the Grand Junction Railway was under construction between Warrington and Birmingham—the northern part by Mr. Stephenson, and the southern by Mr. Rastrick. The works on that line embraced heavy cuttings, long embankments, and numerous viaducts; but none of these are worthy of any special description. Perhaps the finest piece of masonry on the railway is the Dutton Viaduct across the valley of the Weaver. It consists of twenty arches of 60 feet span, springing 16 feet from the perpendicular shaft of each pier, and 60 feet in height from the crown of the arches to the level of the river. The foundations of the piers were built on piles driven 20 feet deep. The structure has a solid and majestic appearance, and is perhaps the finest of George Stephenson’s viaducts.

The Dutton Viaduct

The Manchester and Leeds line was in progress at the same time—an important railway connecting the principal manufacturing towns of Yorkshire and Lancashire. An attempt was made to obtain the Act as early as 1831; but its promoters were defeated by the powerful opposition of the landowners aided by the canal companies, and the project was not revived for several years. The line was somewhat circuitous, and the works were heavy; but on the whole the gradients were favourable, and it had the advantage of passing through a district full of manufacturing towns and villages, teeming hives of population, industry, and enterprise. The Act authorising the construction of the railway was obtained in 1836; it was greatly amended in the succeeding year, and the first ground was broken on the 18th August, 1837.

In conducting this project to an issue, the engineer had the usual opposition and prejudices to encounter. Predictions were confidently made in many quarters that the line could never succeed. It was declared that the utmost engineering skill could not construct a railway through such a country of hills and hard rocks; and it was maintained that, even if the railroad were practicable, it could only be made at a ruinous cost.

During the progress of the works, as the Summit Tunnel, near Littleborough, was approaching completion, the rumour was spread abroad in Manchester that the tunnel had fallen in and buried a number of the workmen. The last arch had been keyed in, and the work was all but finished, when the accident occurred which was thus exaggerated by the lying tongue of rumour. An invert had given way through the irregular pressure of the surrounding earth and rock at a part of the tunnel where a “fault” had occurred in the strata. A party of the directors accompanied the engineer to inspect the scene of the accident. They entered the tunnel’s mouth preceded by upwards of fifty navvies, each bearing a torch.

After walking a distance of about half a mile, the inspecting party arrived at the scene of the “frightful accident,” about which so much alarm had been spread. All that was visible was a certain unevenness of the ground, which had been forced up by the invert under it giving way; thus the ballast had been loosened, the drain running along the centre of the road had been displaced, and small pools of water stood about. But the whole of the walls and the roof were still as perfect as at any other part of the tunnel.

Entrance to the Summit Tunnel, Littleborough

The engineer explained the cause of the accident; the blue shale, he said, through which the excavation passed at that point, was considered so hard and firm, as to render it unnecessary to build the invert very strong there. But shale is always a deceptive material. Subjected to the influence of the atmosphere, it gives but a treacherous support. In this case, falling away like quicklime, it had left the lip of the invert alone to support the pressure of the arch above, and hence its springing inwards and upwards. Mr. Stephenson directed the attention of the visitors to the completeness of the arch overhead, where not the slightest fracture or yielding could be detected. Speaking of the work, in the course of the same day, he said, “I will stake my character and my head, if that tunnel ever give way, so as to cause danger to any of the public passing through it. Taking it as a whole, I don’t think there is such another piece of work in the world. It is the greatest work that has yet been done of this kind, and there has been less repairing than is usual,—though an engineer might well be beaten in his calculations, for he cannot beforehand see into those little fractured parts of the earth he may meet with.” As Stephenson had promised, the invert was put in; and the tunnel was made perfectly safe.

The construction of this subterranean road employed the labour of above a thousand men for nearly four years. Besides excavating the arch out of a solid rock, they used 23,000,000 of bricks, and 8000 tons of Roman cement in the building of the tunnel. Thirteen stationary engines, and about 100 horses, were also employed in drawing the earth and stone out of the shafts. Its entire length is 2869 yards, or nearly 1¾ mile—exceeding the famous Kilsby Tunnel by 471 yards.

The Midland Railway was a favourite line of Mr. Stephenson’s for several reasons. It passed through a rich mining district, in which it opened up many valuable coalfields, and it formed part of the great main line of communication between London and Edinburgh. The Act was obtained in 1836, and the first ground was broken in February, 1837.

Although the Midland Railway was only one of the many great works of the same kind executed at that time, it was almost enough of itself to be the achievement of a life. Compare it, for example with Napoleon’s military road over the Simplon, and it will at once be seen how greatly it excels that work, not only in the constructive skill displayed in it, but also in its cost and magnitude, and the amount of labour employed in its formation. The road of the Simplon is 45 miles in length; the North Midland Railway is 72½ miles. The former has 50 bridges and 5 tunnels, measuring together 1338 feet in length; the latter has 200 bridges and 7 tunnels, measuring together 11,400 feet, or about 2¼ miles. The former cost about £720,000 sterling, the latter above £3,000,000. Napoleon’s grand military road was constructed in six years, at the public cost of the two great kingdoms of France and Italy; while Stephenson’s railway was formed in about three years, by a company of private merchants and capitalists out of their own funds, and under their own superintendence.

It is scarcely necessary that we should give any account in detail of the North Midland works. The making of one tunnel so much resembles the making of another,—the building of bridges and viaducts, no matter how extensive, so much resembles the building of others,—the cutting out of “dirt,” the blasting of rocks, and the wheeling of excavation into embankments, is so much a matter of mere time and hard work,—that is quite unnecessary for us to detain the reader by any attempt at their description. Of course there were the usual difficulties to encounter and overcome,—but the railway engineer regarded these as mere matters of course, and would probably have been disappointed if they had not presented themselves.

On the Midland, as on other lines, water was the great enemy to be fought against,—water in the Claycross and other tunnels,—water in the boggy or sandy foundations of bridges,—and water in cuttings and embankments. As an illustration of the difficulties of bridge building, we may mention the case of the five-arch bridge over the Derwent, where it took two years’ work, night and day, to get in the foundations of the piers alone. Another curious illustration of the mischief done by water in cuttings may be briefly mentioned. At a part of the North Midland Line, near Ambergate, it was necessary to pass along a hillside in a cutting a few yards deep. As the cutting proceeded, a seam of shale was cut across, lying at an inclination of 6 to 1; and shortly after, the water getting behind the bed of shale, the whole mass of earth along the hill above began to move down across the line of excavation. The accident completely upset the estimates of the contractor, who, instead of 50,000 cubic yards, found that he had about 500,000 to remove; the execution of this part of the railway occupying fifteen months instead of two.

Land-slip on North Midland Line, near Ambergate

The Oakenshaw cutting near Wakefield was also of a very formidable character. About 600,000 yards of rock shale and bind were quarried out of it, and led to form the adjoining Oakenshaw embankment. The Normanton cutting was almost as heavy, requiring the removal of 400,000 yards of the same kind of excavation into embankment and spoil. But the progress of the works on the line was so rapid in 1839, that not less than 450,000 cubic yards of excavation were removed monthly.

Bullbridge, near Ambergate

As a curiosity in construction, we may also mention a very delicate piece of work executed on the same railway at Bullbridge in Derbyshire, where the line at the same point passes over a bridge which here spans the river Amber, and under the bed of the Cromford Canal. Water, bridge; railway, and canal, were thus piled one above the other, four stories high; such another curious complication probably not existing. In order to prevent the possibility of the waters of the canal breaking in upon the works of the railroad, Mr. Stephenson had an iron trough made, 150 feet long, of the width of the canal, and exactly fitting the bottom. It was brought to the spot in three pieces, which were firmly welded together, and the trough was then floated into its place and sunk; the whole operation being completed without in the least interfering with the navigation of the canal. The railway works underneath were then proceeded with and finished.

Another line of the same series constructed by George Stephenson, was the York and North Midland, extending from Normanton—a point on the Midland Railway—to York; but it was a line of easy formation, traversing a comparatively level country.

During the time that our engineer was engaged in superintending the execution of these undertakings, he was occupied upon other projected railways in various parts of the country. He surveyed several lines in the neighbourhood of Glasgow, and afterwards routes along the east coast from Newcastle to Edinburgh, with the view of completing the main line of communication with London. When out on foot in the fields, on these occasions, he was ever foremost in the march; and he delighted to test the prowess of his companions by a good jump at any hedge or ditch that lay in their way. His companions used to remark his singular quickness of observation. Nothing escaped his attention—the trees, the crops, the birds, or the farmer’s stock; and he was usually full of lively conversation, everything in nature affording him an opportunity for making some striking remark, or propounding some ingenious theory. When taking a flying survey of a new line, his keen observation proved very useful to him, for he rapidly noted the general configuration of the country, and inferred its geological structure. He afterwards remarked to a friend, “I have planned many a railway travelling along in a postchaise, and following the natural line of the country.” And it was remarkable that his first impressions of the direction to be taken almost invariably proved correct; and there are few of the lines surveyed and recommended by him which have not been executed, either during his lifetime or since. As an illustration of his quick and shrewd observation on such occasions, we may mention that when employed to lay out a line to connect Manchester, through Macclesfield, with the Potteries, the gentleman who accompanied him on the journey of inspection cautioned him to provide large accommodation for carrying off the water, observing—“You must not judge by the appearance of the brooks; for after heavy rains these hills pour down volumes of water, of which you can have no conception.” “Pooh! pooh! don’t I see your bridges?” replied the engineer. He had noted the details of each as he passed along.

Among the other projects which occupied his attention about the same time, were the projected lines between Chester and Holyhead, between Leeds and Bradford, and between Lancaster and Maryport by the western coast. This latter was intended to form part of a west-coast line to Scotland; Stephenson favouring it partly because of the flatness of the gradients, and also because it could be formed at comparatively small cost, whilst it would open out a valuable iron-mining district, from which a large traffic in ironstone was expected. One of its collateral advantages, in the engineer’s opinion, was, that by forming the railway directly across Morecambe Bay, on the north-west coast of Lancashire, a large tract of valuable land might be reclaimed from the sea, the sale of which would considerably reduce the cost of the works. He estimated that by means of a solid embankment across the bay, not less than 40,000 acres of rich alluvial land would be gained. He proposed to carry the road across the ten miles of sands which lie between Poulton, near Lancaster, and Humphrey Head on the opposite coast, forming the line in a segment of a circle of five miles’ radius. His plan was to drive in piles across the entire length, forming a solid fence of stone blocks on the land side for the purpose of retaining the sand and silt brought down by the rivers from the interior. The embankment would then be raised from time to time as the deposit accumulated, until the land was filled up to high-water mark; provision being made by means of sufficient arches, for the flow of the river waters into the bay. The execution of the railway after this plan would, however, have occupied more years than the promoters of the West Coast line were disposed to wait; and eventually Mr. Locke’s more direct but uneven line by Shap Fell was adopted. A railway has since been carried across the head of the bay; and it is not improbable that Stephenson’s larger scheme of reclaiming the vast tract of land now left bare at each receding tide, may yet be carried out.

While occupied in carrying out the great railway undertakings which we have above so briefly described, Mr. Stephenson’s home continued, for the greater part of the time, to be at Alton Grange, near Leicester. But he was so much occupied in travelling about from one committee of directors to another—one week in England, another in Scotland, and probably the next in Ireland,—that he often did not see his home for weeks together. He had also to make frequent inspections of the various important and difficult works in progress, especially on the Midland and Manchester and Leeds lines; besides occasionally going to Newcastle to see how the locomotive works were going on there. During the three years ending in 1837—perhaps the busiest years of his life [263]—he travelled by postchaise alone upwards of 20,000 miles, and yet not less than six months out of the three years were spent in London. Hence there is comparatively little to record of Mr. Stephenson’s private life at this period; during which he had scarcely a moment that he could call his own.

His correspondence increased so much, that he found it necessary to engage a private secretary, who accompanied him on his journeys. He was himself exceedingly averse to writing letters. The comparatively advanced age at which ho learnt the art of writing, and the nature of his duties while engaged at the Killingworth colliery, precluded that facility in correspondence which only constant practice can give. He gradually, however, acquired great facility in dictation, and possessed the power of labouring continuously at this work; the gentleman who acted as his secretary in 1835, having informed us that during his busy season he one day dictated not fewer than 37 letters, several of them embodying the results of much close thinking and calculation. On another occasion, he dictated reports and letters for twelve continuous hours, until his secretary was ready to drop off his chair from sheer exhaustion, and at length he pleaded for a suspension of the labour. This great mass of correspondence, although closely bearing on the subjects under discussion, was not, however, of a kind to supply the biographer with matter for quotation, or give that insight into the life and character of the writer which the letters of literary men so often furnish. They were, for the most part, letters of mere business, relating to works in progress, parliamentary contests, new surveys, estimates of cost, and railway policy,—curt, and to the point; in short, the letters of a man every moment of whose time was precious. He was also frequently called upon to inspect and report upon colliery works, salt works, brass and copper works, and such like, in addition to his own colliery and railway business. And occasionally he would run up to London, for the purpose of attending in person to the preparation and deposit of the plans and sections of the projected undertakings of which he had been appointed engineer.

Fortunately Stephenson possessed a facility of sleeping, which enabled him to pass through this enormous amount of fatigue and labour without injury to his health. He had been trained in a hard school, and could bear with ease conditions which, to men more softly nurtured, would have been the extreme of physical discomfort. Many, many nights he snatched his sleep while travelling in his chaise; and at break of day he would be at work, surveying until dark, and this for weeks in succession. His whole powers seemed to be under the control of his will, for he could wake at any hour, and go to work at once. It was difficult for secretaries and assistants to keep up with such a man.

It is pleasant to record that in the midst of these engrossing occupations, his heart remained as soft and loving as ever. In spring-time he would not be debarred of his boyish pursuit of bird-nesting; but would go rambling along the hedges spying for nests. In the autumn he went nutting, and when he could snatch a few minutes he indulged in his old love of gardening. His uniform kindness and good temper, and his communicative, intelligent disposition, made him a great favourite with the neighbouring farmers, to whom he would volunteer much valuable advice on agricultural operations, drainage, ploughing, and labour-saving processes. Sometimes he took a long rural ride on his favourite “Bobby,” now growing old, but as fond of his master as ever. Towards the end of his life, “Bobby” lived in clover, its master’s pet, doing no work; and he died at Tapton, in 1845, more than twenty years old.

During one of George’s brief sojourns at the Grange, he found time to write to his son a touching account of a pair of robins that had built their nest within one of the upper chambers of the house. One day he observed a robin fluttering outside the windows, and beating its wings against the panes, as if eager to gain admission. He went up stairs, and there found, in a retired part of one of the rooms, a robin’s nest, with one of the parent birds sitting over three or four young—all dead. The excluded bird outside still beat against the panes; and on the window being let down, it flew into the room, but was so exhausted that it dropped upon the floor. Mr. Stephenson took up the bird, carried it down stairs, had it warmed and fed. The poor robin revived, and for a time was one of his pets. But it shortly died too, as if unable to recover from the privations it had endured during its three days’ fluttering and beating at the windows. It appeared that the room had been unoccupied, and, the sash having been let down, the robins had taken the opportunity of building their nest within it; but the servant having closed the window again, the calamity befel the birds which so strongly excited Mr. Stephenson’s sympathies. An incident such as this, trifling though it may seem, gives the true key to the heart of the man.

The amount of their Parliamentary business having greatly increased with the projection of new lines of railway, the Stephensons found it necessary to set up an office in London in 1836. George’s first office was at 9, Duke Street, Westminster, from whence he removed in the following year to 30½, Great George-street. That office was the busy scene of railway politics for several years. There consultations were held, schemes were matured, deputations were received, and many projectors called upon our engineer for the purpose of submitting to him their plans of railways and railway working. His private secretary at the time has informed us that at the end of the first Parliamentary session in which he had been engaged as engineer for more companies than one, it became necessary for him to give instructions as to the preparation of the accounts to be rendered to the respective companies. In the simplicity of his heart, he directed Mr. Binns to take his full time at the rate of ten guineas a day, and charge the railway companies in the proportion in which he had been actually employed on their respective business during each day. When Robert heard of this instruction, he went directly to his father and expostulated with him against this unprofessional course; and, other influences being brought to bear upon him, George at length reluctantly consented to charge as other engineers did, an entire day’s fee to each of the Companies for which he was concerned whilst their business was going forward; but he cut down the number of days charged for and reduced the daily amount from ten to seven guineas.

Besides his journeys at home, Mr. Stephenson was on more than one occasion called abroad on railway business. Thus, at the desire of King Leopold, he made several visits to Belgium to assist the Belgian engineers in laying out the national lines of that kingdom. That enlightened monarch at an early period discerned the powerful instrumentality of railways in developing a country’s resources, and he determined at the earliest possible period to adopt them as the great high-roads of the nation. The country, being rich in coal and minerals, had great manufacturing capabilities. It had good ports, fine navigable rivers, abundant canals, and a teeming, industrious population. Leopold perceived that railways were eminently calculated to bring the industry of the country into full play, and to render the riches of the provinces available to the rest of the kingdom. He therefore openly declared himself the promoter of public railways throughout Belgium. A system of lines was projected, at his instance, connecting Brussels with the chief towns and cities of the kingdom; extending from Ostend eastward to the Prussian frontier, and from Antwerp southward to the French frontier.

Mr. Stephenson and his son, as the leading railway-engineers of England, were consulted by the King on the best mode of carrying out his important plans, as early as 1835. In the course of that year they visited Belgium, and had several interesting conferences with Leopold and his ministers on the subject of the proposed railways. The King then appointed George Stephenson by royal ordinance a Knight of the Order of Leopold. At the invitation of the monarch, Mr. Stephenson made a second visit to Belgium in 1837, on the occasion of the public opening of the line from Brussels to Ghent. At Brussels there was a public procession, and another at Ghent on the arrival of the train. Stephenson and his party accompanied it to the Public Hall, there to dine with the chief Ministers of State, the municipal authorities, and about five hundred of the principal inhabitants of the city; the English Ambassador being also present. After the King’s health and a few others had been drunk, that of Mr. Stephenson was proposed; on which the whole assembly rose up, amidst great excitement and loud applause, and made their way to where he sat, in order to jingle glasses with him, greatly to his own amazement. On the day following, our engineer dined with the King and Queen at their own table at Laaken, by special invitation; afterwards accompanying his Majesty and suite to a public ball given by the municipality of Brussels, in honour of the opening of the line to Ghent, as well as of their distinguished English guest. On entering the room, the general and excited inquiry was, “Which is Stephenson?” The English engineer had not before imagined that he was esteemed to be so great a man.

The London and Birmingham Railway having been completed in September, 1838, after being about five years in progress, the great main system of railway communication between London, Liverpool, and Manchester was then opened to the public. For some months previously, the line had been partially opened, coaches performing the journey between Denbigh Hall (near Wolverton) and Rugby,—the works of the Kilsby tunnel being still incomplete. It was already amusing to hear the complaints of the travellers about the slowness of the coaches as compared with the railway, though the coaches travelled at the speed of eleven miles an hour. The comparison of comfort was also greatly to the disparagement of the coaches. Then the railway train could accommodate any quantity, whilst the road conveyances were limited; and when a press of travellers occurred—as on the occasion of the Queen’s coronation—the greatest inconvenience was experienced, and as much as £10 was paid for a seat on a donkey-chaise between Rugby and Denbigh. On the opening of the railway throughout, of course all this inconvenience and delay was brought to an end.

Numerous other openings of railways constructed by Mr. Stephenson took place about the same time. The Birmingham and Derby line was opened for traffic in August, 1839; the Sheffield and Rotherham in November, 1839; and in the course of the following year, the Midland, the York and North Midland, the Chester and Crewe, the Chester and Birkenhead, the Manchester and Birmingham, the Manchester and Leeds, and the Maryport and Carlisle railways, were all publicly opened in whole or in part. Thus 321 miles of railway (exclusive of the London and Birmingham) constructed under Mr. Stephenson’s superintendence, at a cost of upwards of eleven millions sterling, were, in the course of about two years, added to the traffic accommodation of the country.

The ceremonies which accompanied the public opening of these lines were often of an interesting character. The adjoining population held general holiday; bands played, banners waved, and assembled thousands cheered the passing trains amidst the occasional booming of cannon. The proceedings were usually wound up by a public dinner; and in the course of the speeches which followed, Mr. Stephenson would revert to his favourite topic—the difficulties which he had early encountered in the promotion of the railway system, and in establishing the superiority of the locomotive. On such occasions he always took great pleasure in alluding to the services rendered to himself and the public by the young men brought up under his eye—his pupils at first, and afterwards his assistants. No great master ever possessed a more devoted band of assistants and fellow-workers than he did. It was one of the most marked evidences of his own admirable tact and judgment that he selected, with such undeviating correctness, the men best fitted to carry out his plans. Indeed, the ability to accomplish great things, and to carry grand ideas into practical effect, depends in no small measure on that intuitive knowledge of character, which Stephenson possessed in so remarkable a degree.

At the dinner at York, which followed the partial opening of the York and North Midland Railway, Mr. Stephenson said, “he was sure they would appreciate his feelings when he told them, that when he first began railway business his hair was black, although it was now grey; and that he began his life’s labour as but a poor ploughboy. About thirty years since, he had applied himself to the study of how to generate high velocities by mechanical means. He thought he had solved that problem; and they had for themselves seen, that day, what perseverance had brought him too. He was, on that occasion, only too happy to have an opportunity of acknowledging that he had, in the latter portion of his career, received much most valuable assistance, particularly from young men brought up in his manufactory. Whenever talent showed itself in a young man he had always given that talent encouragement where he could, and he would continue to do so.”

That this was no exaggerated statement is amply proved by many facts which redound to Mr. Stephenson’s credit. He was no niggard of encouragement and praise when he saw honest industry struggling for a footing. Many were the young men whom, in the course of his useful career, he took by the hand and led steadily up to honour and emolument, simply because he had noted their zeal, diligence, and integrity. One youth excited his interest while working as a common carpenter on the Liverpool and Manchester line; and before many years had passed, he was recognised as an engineer of distinction. Another young man he found industriously working away at his bye-hours, and, admiring his diligence, engaged him for his private secretary, the gentleman shortly after rising to a position of eminent influence and usefulness. Indeed, nothing gave Mr. Stephenson greater pleasure than in this way to help on any deserving youth who came under his observation, and, in his own expressive phrase, to “make a man of him.”

The openings of the great main lines of railroad communication shortly proved the fallaciousness of the numerous rash prophecies which had been promulgated by the opponents of railways. The proprietors of the canals were astounded by the fact that, notwithstanding the immense traffic conveyed by rail, their own traffic and receipts continued to increase; and that, in common with other interests, they fully shared in the expansion of trade and commerce which had been so effectually promoted by the extension of the railway system. The cattle-owners were equally amazed to find the price of horse-flesh increasing with the extension of railways, and that the number of coaches running to and from the new railway stations gave employment to a greater number of horses than under the old stage-coach system. Those who had prophesied the decay of the metropolis, and the ruin of the suburban cabbage-growers, in consequence of the approach of railways to London, were also disappointed; for, while the new roads let citizens out of London, they let country-people in. Their action, in this respect, was centripetal as well as centrifugal. Tens of thousands who had never seen the metropolis could now visit it expeditiously and cheaply; and Londoners who had never visited the country, or but rarely, were enabled, at little cost of time or money, to see green fields and clear blue skies, far from the smoke and bustle of town. If the dear suburban-grown cabbages became depreciated in value, there were truck-loads of fresh-grown country cabbages to make amends for the loss: in this case, the “partial evil” was a far more general good. The food of the metropolis became rapidly improved, especially in the supply of wholesome meat and vegetables. And then the price of coals—an article which, in this country, is as indispensable as daily food to all classes—was greatly reduced. What a blessing to the metropolitan poor is described in this single fact!

The prophecies of ruin and disaster to landlords and farmers were equally confounded by the openings of the railways. The agricultural communications, so far from being “destroyed,” as had been predicted, were immensely improved. The farmers were enabled to buy their coals, lime, and manure for less money, while they obtained a readier access to the best markets for their stock and farm-produce. Notwithstanding the predictions to the contrary, their cows gave milk as before, their sheep fed and fattened, and even skittish horses ceased to shy at the passing locomotive. The smoke of the engines did not obscure the sky, nor were farmyards burnt up by the fire thrown from the locomotives. The farming classes were not reduced to beggary; on the contrary, they soon felt that, so far from having anything to dread, they had very much good to expect from the extension of railways.

Landlords also found that they could get higher rents for farms situated near a railway than at a distance from one. Hence they became clamorous for “sidings.” They felt it to be a grievance to be placed at a distance from a station. After a railway had been once opened, not a landlord would consent to have the line taken from him. Owners who had fought the promoters before Parliament, and compelled them to pass their domains at a distance, at a vastly-increased expense in tunnels and deviations, now petitioned for branches and nearer station accommodation. Those who held property near towns, and had extorted large sums as compensation for the anticipated deterioration in the value of their building land, found a new demand for it springing up at greatly advanced prices. Land was now advertised for sale, with the attraction of being “near a railway station.”

The prediction that, even if railways were made, the public would not use them, was also completely falsified by the results. The ordinary mode of fast travelling for the middle classes had heretofore been by mail-coach and stage-coach. Those who could not afford to pay the high prices charged for such conveyances went by waggon, and the poorer classes trudged on foot. George Stephenson was wont to say that he hoped to see the day when it would be cheaper for a poor man to travel by railway than to walk, and not many years passed before his expectation was fulfilled. In no country in the world is time worth more money than in England; and by saving time—the criterion of distance—the railway proved a great benefactor to men of industry in all classes.

It was some time before the more opulent, who could afford to post to town in aristocratic style, became reconciled to railway travelling. In the opinion of many, it was only another illustration of the levelling tendencies of the age. It put an end to that gradation of rank in travelling which was one of the few things left by which the nobleman could be distinguished from the Manchester manufacturer and bagman. But to younger sons of noble families the convenience and cheapness of the railway did not fail to recommend itself. One of these, whose eldest brother had just succeeded to an earldom, said one day to a railway manager: “I like railways—they just suit young fellows like me with ‘nothing per annum paid quarterly.’ You know we can’t afford to post, and it used to be deuced annoying to me, as I was jogging along on the box-seat of the stage-coach, to see the little Earl go by drawn by his four posters, and just look up at me and give me a nod. But now, with railways, it’s different. It’s true, he may take a first-class ticket, while I can only afford a second-class one, but we both go the same pace.”

For a time, however, many of the old families sent forward their servants and luggage by railroad, and condemned themselves to jog along the old highway in the accustomed family chariot, dragged by country post-horses. But the superior comfort of the railway shortly recommended itself to even the oldest families; posting went out of date; post-horses were with difficulty to be had along even the great high-roads; and nobles and servants, manufacturers and peasants, alike shared in the comfort, the convenience, and the despatch of railway travelling. The late Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, regarded the opening of the London and Birmingham line as another great step accomplished in the march of civilisation. “I rejoice to see it,” he said, as he stood on one of the bridges over the railway, and watched the train flashing along under him, and away through the distant hedgerows—“I rejoice to see it, and to think that feudality is gone for ever: it is so great a blessing to think that any one evil is really extinct.”

It was long before the late Duke of Wellington would trust himself behind a locomotive. The fatal accident to Mr. Huskisson, which had happened before his eyes, contributed to prejudice him strongly against railways, and it was not until the year 1843 that he performed his first trip on the South-Western Railway, in attendance upon her Majesty. Prince Albert had for some time been accustomed to travel by railway alone, but in 1842 the Queen began to make use of the same mode of conveyance between Windsor and London. Even Colonel Sibthorpe was eventually compelled to acknowledge its utility. For a time he continued to post to and from the country as before. Then he compromised the matter by taking a railway ticket for the long journey, and posting only a stage or two nearest town; until, at length, he undisguisedly committed himself, like other people, to the express train, and performed the journey throughout upon what he had formerly denounced as “the infernal railroad.”

Coalville and Snibston Colliery

Tapton House, near Chesterfield