The Rocket: The Story of the Stephensons, Father and Son

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The Rocket: The Story of the Stephensons, Father and Son Page 10

by Helen C. Knight


  CHAPTER IX.

  OPENING OF THE NEW ROAD—DIFFICULTIES VANISH—A NEW ERA.

  There was no more waiting for work at the locomotive factory inNewcastle. Orders immediately arrived from the directors to build eightlarge engines for the new road, and all the workshops were astir withbusy life. The victorious little "Rocket" was put on the road, andsensibly helped to finish it. Neither faith, nor men, nor means were nowwanting, and the labour in every part went heartily on.

  In June a meeting of the directors was held in Manchester, when the"Rocket" made a trip from Liverpool to that city with a freight andpassenger train, running through in two hours. Chat Moss never quivered.And the directors, I dare say, would have been very glad to forget theirdisconsolate meeting on the edge of it, when they nearly votedthemselves beaten by the bog, only Stephenson would not let them.

  On the 15th of September 1830, there was to be a public opening of theroad, and preparations were made at each end, and all along the way, forthe grand event. The occasion awakened a deep and universal interest. Itwas justly regarded as a national event, to be celebrated with becominghonours. The Duke of Wellington, then Prime Minister, was present; alsoSir Robert Peel, and Mr. Huskisson, whose stirring words had revived thedrooping spirits of the directors after their defeat in Parliament, andwhose influence had served to get their Bill successfully through atlast. No one, perhaps, had watched the progress of the enterprise withdeeper interest than Mr. Huskisson, or rejoiced more in the vanquishingof one difficulty after another to its final finishing. Great numberscame from far and near, who, assembling by the slow mode of travel ofthose days, took time accordingly.

  Carriages lined the roads and lanes; the river was crowded with boats;and soldiers and constables had their hands full to keep the people fromthe track.

  OPENING THE LINE.]

  The new locomotives, eight in number, having been carefully tested,steamed proudly up. The "Northumbrian," driven by George Stephenson,took the lead. Next the "Phœnix," under Robert's charge. The "NorthStar," by a brother of George. The "Rocket," and the rest, with theirtrains, followed. Six hundred persons were in this procession, flying atthe rate of twenty-five miles an hour! Oh the wonder and admirationwhich the spectacle excited! These noble steam-horses, panting,prancing, snorting, puffing, blowing, shooting through tunnels, dashingacross bridges, coursing high embankments, and racing over the fieldsand far away! England and the world never saw before a sight like that.

  But the joy and the triumph of the occasion were destined to be dampedby a sad disaster. At Parkenside, seventeen miles from Liverpool, the"Northumbrian," which carried the Duke and his party, was drawn up onone track, in order to allow the other trains to pass in review beforethem on the other. Mr. Huskisson had alighted, and, standing outside,was talking with the Duke, when a hurried cry of "Get in! get in!" wentup from the bystanders. For on came the "Rocket," steaming at fullspeed. Mr. Huskisson, startled and confused, attempted to regain thecarriage an instant too late: he was struck down, and the "Rocket" wentover him.

  "I have met my death!" exclaimed the unfortunate man; which, alas!proved but too true, for he died that evening.

  A sad confusion prevailed. The wounded gentleman was lifted into thecarriage, and the "Northumbrian" took him over the track home, adistance of fifteen miles, in about twenty minutes. So swiftly andeasily done! The use rather than the abuse of the new power made thestrongest impression.

  The mournful accident threw a cloud over the occasion. The Duke wishedto stop the celebration, and immediately return to Liverpool. Mr.Huskisson's friends joined with him in the wish. Others felt thatManchester should not be disappointed in witnessing the arrival of thetrains, and that the accident might become magnified and misrepresented,and thus operate mischievously upon public sentiment in relation torailroads; the party therefore consented to proceed to their journey'send, but were unwilling to mingle in any of the rejoicings common tosuch occasions.

  But the railroad needed no such demonstrations to publish or to proveits worth. It had within itself more substantial proof. Time was saved;labour was saved; money was saved. Coal, cotton, and every article ofmerchandise useful to men, could be carried cheaper, could be hadcheaper than ever before; and, what was better, had in quantitiessufficient to satisfy the industry and necessities of men. And withcheapness were combined comfort and safety. The first eighteen months,700,000 persons were carried over the road, and not an accidenthappened!

  But were not people frightened by the smoke, cinders, fire, and noise ofthe engines, as the opposition in Parliament had declared they would be?No, no. It was not long before everybody wanted land near the track; andland, therefore, near the road rapidly rose in value. The farmers whohad driven the surveyors from their fields, now complained of being lefton one side; and those who had farms near the station to rent, rentedthem at a much higher rate than ever before. Barren lots became suddenlyprofitable, and even Chat Moss was turned into productive acres!

  In 1692, an old writer states, "There is an admirable commodiousnessboth for men and women of the better rank to travel from London, thelike of which has not been known in the world; and that is, bystage-coaches, wherein one may be transferred to any place, shelteredfrom foul weather, with a velocity and speed equal to the fastest postsin foreign countries; for the stage-coaches called 'Flying-coaches' makeforty or fifty miles a day."

  An English paper, bearing the date of January 1775, has thisadvertisement: "HEREFORD MACHINE, in a day and a half, twice a week,continues flying from the Swan in Hereford, Monday and Thursday, toLondon."

  In the Scriptures we find Isaiah, with prophetic eye, looking over thecenturies to these later times and penning down: "Every valley shall beexalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low; and the crookedshall be made straight, and the rough places plain;" and "swiftpassengers" are seen executing the world's affairs—no meagre descriptionof the great means of intercourse in our day, the railway and thetelegraph. The prophet saw in it a clearing of the way for the comingkingdom of the Redeemer, which is some time to spread over the wholeearth as "the waters cover the sea." Men make good tools and instrumentsfor themselves. They forget they are perfecting them for God also, whois using them, and who will use them, to make known the precious gospelof his Son, "peace on earth, and good-will to men."

  What powerful preachers for the Sabbath are the railway and thetelegraph, doing away with all necessity and every excuse for Sabbathtravelling as they do! Long journeys and the most urgent business can bedone between Sabbath and Sabbath, giving a rest-day to the nation. Andthis view of them is deserving of more and more regard.

  The institution of the Sabbath was founded with the human race. It wasmeant to be the rest-day of the entire world. It was set up as ablessing: "The Lord blessed the Sabbath-day, and hallowed it." Thebodies of man and beast need it. The muscles, bones, nerves, sinews, andbrain cannot endure the strain of constant and uninterrupted work. It isthe day for making up the waste of the animal frame caused by continuallabour and excitement. Night rest is not enough. The God of Nature andof the Sabbath has fitted the one to the other.

  When the knowledge of God had faded out of the earth, and he had chosena people to restore and preserve it, besides a code of national lawsparticularly for them, he enacted from Sinai a code of moral laws forman. Among them was the rest-law of the Sabbath. It is the fourthcommandment of the Decalogue, taught in all our Sabbath schools,pulpits, and homes: "Remember the Sabbath-day, to keep it holy: in itthou shalt do no work," man nor beast. Further, God promises a greatreward to those who call "the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord,honourable; not doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own pleasure,nor speaking thine own words, but delighting thyself in the Lord;"showing not only the rest-use of the Sabbath, but its soul-use, as a dayof special intercourse with God.

  "The Sabbath was made for man," says Jesus Christ; and the _Christian_Sabbath has incorporated in
to it the finishing of the great plan of ourredemption, when Christ,

  "Who endured the cross and grave, Sinners to redeem and save,"

  arose from the dead, according to the Scriptures. Thus it isappropriately called "the Lord's day;" the day when our worldly businessis to be set aside, and when Christ presses his claims upon the heartsand consciences of men. It is a break in the hurrying whirl of thislife's interests, to consider the solemn issues of eternity, and thatatoning love which is mighty to save all who by repentance and faithaccept its terms of mercy.

  We find it was on the observance or desecration of the Sabbath that theprosperity of the Hebrew nation hung. "You bring wrath upon the nation,"cried Nehemiah to the Sabbath-breaking traders. "This very profanationhas been the cause of our disasters in times past." For Sabbathprofanation leads to forgetfulness of God; and God left out, whatbecomes of man? Ruin stares him in the face. "The ungodly shall notprosper." What becomes of a nation? Ruin! They shall be left to theirown doings. The French nation blotted out the Sabbath, and showed whatit was _to be left of God_.

  When an African prince sent an embassy to Queen Victoria with costlypresents, and asked her to tell him in return the secret of England'sgreatness and England's glory, presenting him with a copy of the Bible,the Queen replied, "Tell your prince that _this_ is the secret ofEngland's greatness."

  For all our institutions, all our civil and religious interests, we needthe morality of the Bible, the conscience and the self-restraint whichthe Bible enjoins; and for this purpose we must vigorously support theinstitutions of the Bible. Foremost in the foreground is the Sabbath. Ithas come down to us through the ages, the great commemoration-day of afinished creation and a completed atonement, summoning men to call onthe name of the Lord, and bless and praise his holy name.

  On its observance the highest moral education of the people depends.Every railroad corporation is bound to be a Sabbath-keeping corporation.It _makes time enough_ to do its work. The _nature_ of its work demandsresponsible men. An immense amount of property is in its hands,requiring officers of scrupulous integrity to manage its interests. Thegross receipts of eight railways terminating in London are over £200,000a week.

  It has the life and limbs of thousands upon thousands intrusted to itscharge, at the mercy of its employés, engineers, firemen, brakemen,switchmen, the recklessness or unfaithfulness of any of whom may bringsudden death to scores, and plunge a nation into mourning. These men, tobe _kept_ the right men, need the Sabbath. To be honest, responsible,vigilant, true, God-fearing men, fit for their posts of duty, they _musthave_ the Sabbath.

  Many roads are Sabbath-keeping. Some of those which do run on that dayare poorly paid. Carrying the mail helps them out. They run, perhaps,for that purpose. But is it _necessary_ to keep up Sabbath violation onour great routes in order to forward the mail? Does not the Saturdaytelegraph do away with that necessity? Every important item of businesscan be put through on the wires in time.

  The side of the Sabbath is the side of God.

  * * * * *

  What became of George Stephenson and his son Robert? the boys will havethe curiosity to ask.

  George and Robert Stephenson took their rank among the great men ofEngland—that class of great men who contribute to the true prosperity ofthe world, by giving it better tools to do its labour with. A good toolis a great civilizer. The more perfect the instrument, the better thework. The more perfect the instrument, the greater the number of personsbenefited; for the sagacity necessary to invention and discovery, andthe intelligence required to mature them, are large-hearted andbroad-minded. They work for the many, not for the few.

  The history of railways in England it is not my object to give you, andthat enters largely into the remaining period of George Stephenson'slife; you will find it fully detailed in Smiles's Life of him. He becamerich and famous, yet he always preserved the simple habits and tastes ofhis early days. Though asked to dine at the richly-spread tables oflords and baronets, no dish suited his taste better than his frugaloat-meal "crowdie," and no cook served it better than himself. Kings andqueens thought it a privilege to talk with him. Liverpool erected astatue of him. The King of Belgium knighted him. But he cared little forhonours. When somebody, wishing to dedicate a book to him, asked whathis "ornamental initials" were, "I have to state," replied he, "that Ihave no flourishes to my name, either before or after. I think it willbe as well if you merely say, 'George Stephenson.'"

  Young men beginning life often called upon him for advice andassistance. He hated show and foppery, and a weakness in that directionoften got reproof. One day one came flourishing a gold-headed cane. "Putby that stick, my man," said Stephenson, "and I will talk with you."

  "You will, sir, I hope, excuse me," he said on another occasion to avery gaily dressed youth; "I am plain-spoken, and am sorry to see aclever young man like you disfigured by that fine-patterned waistcoatand all these chains and fang-dangs. If I, sir, had bothered my headwith these things when I was of your age, I would not have been where Inow am."

  Wholesome as were his reproofs, his counsel was as reliable, and hishelp as timely. From the mine of his own rugged experience he hadgathered truths richer than grains of gold; and he never allowed anygood opportunity to pass without insisting upon the practice of thosehomelier and sterner virtues which form the strong woof of character.When building a road between Birmingham and London, Robert walked twentytimes over the entire route, illustrating the patient assiduity taughthim by his father. No slipshod work could escape their eye. "_Neglectnothing_," was their motto. As a Killingworth collier he put his brainsand his heart into his work. As a master-builder he put his conscienceinto it. All his work was honest, representing the actual character ofthe man.

  WHOLESOME REPROOF.]

  When the rough and tumble of life began to subside, and he became a morestationary engine, with greater leisure for the enjoyment of his nowample home, his old love of birds, dogs, horses, and rabbits revived.There was not a bird's nest upon his grounds that he did not know, andhe often watched the nest-building operations with a builder's interest;a blade of grass, a bit of bark, a nest of birds, an ant tugging for onepoor grain, were all to his mind revelations of the wonderful mechanismand creative power of God.

  LATER DAYS OF GEORGE STEPHENSON.]

  He died in August 1848, in the sixty-seventh year of his age.

  Robert proved himself worthy of such a father. They were alike incharacter, intimately associated in the great engineering enterprises oftheir day, and bound to each other by the fondest affection.

  George built roads, Robert bridges to run them over; for railroads havegiven birth to the most stupendous and splendid bridges the world eversaw. The famous Tubular Bridge over the Strait of Menai—connectingHolyhead with the mainland—and the High Level Bridge at Newcastle, builtby him, are monuments of engineering skill. You often see pictures ofthem. The most remarkable work of his genius, however, is on the otherside of the Atlantic Ocean.

  It was desirable that the Grand Trunk Railway of Canada, terminating atMontreal, should be connected with the sea-board; and the road wasaccordingly extended from Montreal to Portland, Maine. But the river St.Lawrence, deep and broad, sweeping down its mighty current the watersand ice of the great lakes, broke the line and separated the road intotwo parts. The river must be spanned. A bridge must be built. It was astupendous undertaking, but "Robert Stephenson can do it." RobertStephenson did do it. It is thrown from Languire to a point half a milebelow the city, a distance of nearly two miles. It is composed oftwenty-four spans, and has three million feet of solid masonry in it.The road runs through iron tubes, sixty feet above the river, and thetrain is nine minutes going across. There are ten thousand tons of ironin the tubes. It was six years in building. It is called the Goliath ofbridges; and is named the Victoria Bridge, in honour of Queen Victoria.

  VICTORIA BRIDGE, MONTREAL.]

  Robert drafted,
calculated, estimated, and superintended section aftersection of this immense work, and yet never visited the scene of labour!photographs were sent him of its progress step by step. It was finishedDecember 1859, and opened with all the festal honours possible in thatseason of the year. At the entertainment given there was onetoast—"Robert Stephenson, the greatest engineer the world eversaw"—followed by no cheers. A deep hush swept over the assembly.

  For Robert Stephenson was dead. He died on the 12th of October, twomonths before the completion of the work, in the rich prime of a noblemanhood. His death was looked upon as a public calamity; and England,with a true sense of his worth, laid him side by side with her mosthonoured dead. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, with her kings andqueens, her princes and poets, her warriors and statesmen. The funeralprocession was between two and three miles long; thousands lined thestreets, and thousands pressed into the Abbey. Tickets were necessary inorder to get entrance; and one of the most pressing applicants was anhumble working-man, who years before had driven the firstlocomotive-engine from Birmingham to London, with Robert Stephenson athis elbow.

  The humble Newcastle collier-boy crowned his life with honourable toil;and at his death a nation mourned a great man fallen.

 

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