The Life of George Stephenson and of his Son Robert Stephenson / Comprising Also a History of the Invention and Introduction of the Railway Locomotive

CHAPTER XIX.

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.

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.

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:

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.

CHAPTER XX.

ROBERT STEPHENSON'S VICTORIA BRIDGE, LOWER CANADA—ILLNESS AND DEATH.

George Stephenson bequeathed to his son his valuable collieries, his share in the engine manufactory at Newcastle, and his large accumulation of savings, which, together with the fortune he had himself amassed by railway work, gave Robert the position of an engineer millionaire—the first of his order. He continued, however, to live in a quiet style; and although he bought occasional pictures and statues, and indulged in the luxury of a yacht, he did not live up to his income, which went on accumulating until his death.

There was no longer the necessity for applying himself to the laborious business of a Parliamentary engineer, in which he had now been occupied for some fifteen years. Shortly after his father's death, Edward Pease recommended him to give up the more harassing work of his profession; and his reply (15th of June, 1850) was as follows:

Although Robert Stephenson, in conformity with this expressed intention, for the most part declined to undertake new business, he did not altogether lay aside his harness, and he lived to repeat his tubular bridges both in Egypt and Canada. The success of the tubular system, as adopted at Menai and Conway, was such as to recommend it for adoption wherever great span was required, and the peculiar circumstances connected with the navigation of the Nile and the St. Lawrence may be said to have compelled its adoption in carrying railways across both those rivers.

Two tubular bridges were built after our engineer's designs across the Nile, near Damietta, in Lower Egypt. That near Benha contains eight spans or openings of 80 feet each, and two centre spans, formed by one of the largest swing-bridges ever constructed, the total length of the swing-beam being 157 feet, a clear waterway of 60 feet being provided on either side of the centre pier. The only novelty in these bridges consisted in the road being carried upon the tubes instead of within them, their erection being carried out in the usual manner by means of workmen, materials, and plant sent out from England. The Tubular Bridge constructed in Canada, after Mr. Stephenson's designs, was of a much more important character, and deserves a fuller description.

The important uses of railways had been recognized at an early period by the inhabitants of North America, and in the course of about thirty years more than 25,000 miles of railway, mostly single, were constructed in the United States alone. The Canadians were more deliberate in their proceedings, and it was not until the year 1840 that their first railway, 14 miles in length, was constructed between Laprairie and St. John's, for the purpose of connecting Lake Champlain with the River St. Lawrence. From this date, however, new lines were rapidly projected; more particularly the Great Western of Canada, and the Atlantic and St. Lawrence (now forming part of the Grand Trunk), until in the course of a few years Canada had a length of nearly 2000 miles of railway open or in course of construction, intersecting the provinces almost in a continuous line from Rivière du Loup, near the mouth of the St. Lawrence, to Port Sarnia, on the shores of Lake Huron.

But there still remained one most important and essential link to connect the lines on the south of the St. Lawrence with those on the north, and at the same time place the city of Montreal in direct railway connection with the western parts of Canada. The completion of this link was also necessary in order to maintain the commercial communication of Canada with the rest of the world during five months in every year; for, though the St. Lawrence in summer affords a splendid outlet to the ocean—toward which the commerce of the colony naturally tends—the frost in winter is so severe, that during that season Canada is completely frozen in, and the navigation hermetically closed by the ice.

The Grand Trunk Railway was designed to furnish a line of land communication along the great valley of the St. Lawrence at all seasons, following the course of the river, and connecting the principal towns of the colony. But stopping short on the north shore, nearly opposite Montreal, with which it was connected by a dangerous and often impracticable ferry, it was felt that, until the St. Lawrence was bridged by a railway, the Canadian system of railways was manifestly incomplete. But how to bridge this wide and rapid river! Never before, perhaps, was a problem of such difficulty proposed for solution by an engineer. Opposite Montreal, the St. Lawrence is about two miles wide, running at the rate of about ten miles an hour; and at the close of each winter it carries down the ice of 2000 square miles of lakes and rivers, with their numerous tributaries.

As early as the year 1846, the construction of a bridge at Montreal was strongly advocated by the local press as the only means of connecting that city with the projected Atlantic and St. Lawrence Railway. But the difficulties of executing such a work seemed almost insurmountable to those best acquainted with the locality. The greatest difficulty was apprehended from the tremendous shoving and pressure of the ice at the break-up of winter. At such times, opposite Montreal, the whole river is packed with huge blocks of ice, and it is often seen piled up to a height of from 40 to 50 feet along the banks, placing the surrounding country under water, and occasionally doing severe damage to the massive stone buildings erected along the noble river front of the city.

But no other expedient presented itself but a bridge, and a survey was made accordingly at the instance of the Hon. John Young, one of the directors of the railway. A period of colonial depression having shortly after occurred, the project slept for a time, and it was not until six years later, in 1852, when the Grand Trunk Railway was under construction, that the subject was again brought under discussion. In that year, Mr. Alexander M. Ross, who had superintended the construction of Robert Stephenson's tubular bridge at Conway, visited Canada, and inspected the site of the proposed structure, when he at once formed the opinion that a tubular bridge carrying a railway was the most suitable means of crossing the St. Lawrence, and connecting Montreal with the lines on the north of the river.

The directors felt that such a work would necessarily be of a most formidable and difficult character, and before coming to any conclusion they determined to call to their assistance Mr. Robert Stephenson, as the engineer most competent to advise them in the matter. Mr. Stephenson considered the subject of so much interest and importance that, in the summer of 1853, he proceeded to Canada to inquire as to all the facts, and examine carefully the site of the proposed work. He then formed the opinion that a tubular bridge across the river was not only practicable, but by far the most suitable for the purpose intended, and early in the following year he sent an elaborate report on the whole subject to the directors of the railway. The result was the adoption of his recommendation and the erection of the Victoria Bridge, of which Robert Stephenson was the designer and engineer, and Mr. A. M. Ross the joint and resident engineer in directly superintending the execution of the undertaking. The details of the plans were principally worked out in Mr. Stephenson's office in London, under the superintendence of his cousin, Mr. George Robert Stephenson, while the iron-work was for the most part constructed at the Canada Works, Liverpool, from whence it was shipped, ready for being fixed in position on the spot.

The Victoria Bridge is, without exception, the greatest work of its kind in the world. For gigantic proportions, and vast length and strength, there is nothing to compare with it in ancient or modern times. The entire bridge, with its approaches, is only about sixty yards short of two miles in length, being five times longer than the Britannia Bridge across the Menai Straits, seven and a half times longer than Waterloo Bridge, and more than ten times longer than Chelsea Bridge. The two-mile tube across the St. Lawrence rests on twenty-four piers, which, with the abutments, leave twenty-five spaces or spans for the several parts of the tube. Twenty-four of these spans are 242 feet wide; the centre span—itself a huge bridge—being 330 feet. The road is carried within the tube 60 feet above the level of the river, so as not to interfere with its navigation.

As one of the principal difficulties apprehended in the erection of the bridge was that arising from the tremendous "shoving" and ramming of the ice at the break-up of winter, the plans were carefully designed so as to avert all danger from this cause. Hence the peculiarity in the form of the piers, which, though greatly increasing their strength for the purpose intended, must be admitted to detract considerably from the symmetry of the structure as a whole. The western face of each pier—that is, the up-river side—has a large wedge-shaped cutwater of stone-work, presenting an inclined plane toward the current, for the purpose of arresting and breaking up the ice-blocks, and thereby preventing them from piling up and damaging the tube carrying the railway. The piers are of immense strength. Those close to the abutments contain about 6000 tons of masonry each, while those which support the great centre tube contain about 12,000 tons. The former are 15 feet wide, and the latter 18. Scarcely a block of stone used in the piers is less than seven tons in weight, while many of those opposed to the force of the breaking-up ice weigh fully ten tons.

As might naturally be expected, the getting in of the foundations of these enormous piers in so wide and rapid a river was attended with many difficulties. To give an idea of the water-power of the St. Lawrence, it may be mentioned that when the river comes down in its greatest might, large stone boulders weighing upward of a ton are rolled along by the sheer force of the current. The depth of the river, however, was not so great as might be supposed, varying from only five to fifteen feet during summer, when the foundation-work was carried on.

The method first employed to get in the foundations was by means of dams or caissons, which were constructed on shore, floated into position, and scuttled over the places at which the foundations were to be laid, thus at once forming a nucleus from which the dams could be constructed. The first of such dams was floated, got into position, scuttled, and sunk, and the piling fairly begun, on the 19th of June, 1854. By the 15th of the following month the sheet-piling and puddling was finished, when the pumping of the water out of the inclosed space by steam-power was proceeded with, and in a few hours the bed of the river was laid almost dry, the toe of every pile being distinctly visible. By the 22d the first stone of the pier was laid, and on the 14th of August the masonry was above water-level.

The getting in of the foundations of the other piers was proceeded with in like manner, though frequently interrupted by storms, inundations, and collisions of timber-rafts, which occasionally carried away the moorings of the dams. Considerable difficulty was in some places experienced from the huge boulder-stones lying in the bed of the river, to remove which sometimes cost the divers several months of hard labor. In getting in the foundations of the later piers, the method first employed of sinking the floating caissons in position was abandoned, and the dams were constructed of "crib-work,"[106] which was found more convenient, and less liable to interruption by accident from collision or otherwise.

By the spring of 1857 a sufficient number of piers had been finished to enable the erection of the tubes to be proceeded with. The operations connected with this portion of the work were also of a novel character. Instead of floating the tubes between the piers and raising them into position by hydraulic power, as at Conway and Menai, which the rapid current of the St. Lawrence would not permit, the tubes were erected in situ on a staging prepared for the purpose, as shown in the following engraving.

Floating scows, each 60 feet by 20, were moored in position, and kept in their place by piles sliding in grooves. These piles, when firmly fixed in the bed of the river, were bolted to the sides of the scows, and the tops were leveled to receive the sills upon which the framing carrying the truss and platform was erected. Timbers were laid on the lower chords of the truss, forming a platform 24 feet wide, closely planked with deals. The upper chords carried rails, along which moved the "travelers" used in erecting the tubes. The plates forming the bottom of each tube having been accurately laid and riveted, and adjusted to level and centre by oak wedges, the erection of the sides was next proceeded with, extending outward from the centre on either side, this work being closely followed by the plating of the top. Each tube between the respective pairs of piers was in the first place erected separate and independent of its adjoining tubes; but after completion, the tubes were joined in pairs and firmly bolted to the masonry over which they were united, their outer ends being placed upon rollers so arranged on the adjoining piers that they might expand or contract according to variations of temperature.

The work continued to make satisfactory progress down to the spring of 1858, by which time fourteen out of the twenty-four piers were finished, together with the formidable abutments and approaches to the bridge. Considerable apprehensions were entertained as to the security of the piers and the unfinished parts of the work at the usual breaking-up of the ice. We take the following account from a letter written by Mr. Ross to Mr. Stephenson descriptive of the scene.

Toward the end of January, 1859, the plating of the bottom of the great central tube was begun. The execution of this part of the undertaking was of a very formidable and difficult character. The gangs of men employed upon it were required to work night and day, though the season was mid-winter, as it was of great importance to the navigation that the staging should be removed by the time that the ice broke up and the river became open. The night gangs were lighted at their work by wood-fires filling huge braziers, the bright glow of which illumined the vast snow-covered ice-field in the midst of which they worked at so lofty an elevation; and the sight as well as the sounds of the hammering and riveting, the puffing of the steam-engines, and the various operations thus carried on, presented a scene the like of which has rarely been witnessed. The work was not conducted without considerable risk to the men, arising from the intense cold. The temperature was often 20° below zero, and notwithstanding that they all worked in thick gloves, and that care was taken to protect every exposed part, many of them were severely frostbitten. Sometimes, when thick mist rose from the river, they would become covered with icicles, and be driven from their work.

Notwithstanding these difficulties, the laying of the great central tube made steady progress. By the 17th of February the first pair of side-plates was erected; on the 28th, the bottom was riveted and completed; 180 feet of the sides was also in place, and 100 feet of the top was plated; and on the 21st of March the whole of the plating was finished. A few days later the wedges were knocked away, and the tube hung suspended between the adjoining piers. On the 18th of May following the staging was all cleared away, with the moored scows and the crib-work, and the centre span of the bridge was again clear for the navigation of the river.

The first stone of the bridge was laid on the 22d of July, 1854. The works continued in progress for a period of five and a half years, until the 17th of December, 1859, when the first train passed over the bridge; and on the 25th of August, 1860, it was formally opened for traffic by the Prince of Wales. It was the greatest of Robert Stephenson's bridges, and worthy of being the crowning and closing work of his life. But he was not destined to see its completion. Two months before the bridge was finished he had passed from the scene of all his labors.

We have little to add as to the closing events in Robert Stephenson's life. Retired in a great measure from the business of an engineer, he occupied himself for the most part in society, in yachting, and in attending the House of Commons and the Clubs. It was in the year 1847 that he entered the House of Commons as member for Whitby; but he does not seem to have been very regular in his attendance, and only appeared on divisions when there was a "whip" of the party to which he belonged. He was a member of the Sewage and Sanitary Commissions, and of the Commission which sat on Westminster Bridge. He very seldom addressed the House, and then only on matters relating to engineering. The last occasions on which he spoke were on the Suez Canal[107] and the cleansing of the Serpentine. Besides constructing the railway between Alexandria and Cairo, he was consulted, like his father, by the King of Belgium as to the railways of that country; and he was made Knight of the Order of Leopold because of the improvements which he had made in locomotive engines, so much to the advantage of the Belgian system of inland transit. He was consulted by the King of Sweden as to the railway between Christiana and Lake Miösen, and in consideration of his services was decorated with the Grand Cross of the Order of St. Olaf. He also visited Switzerland, Piedmont, and Denmark, to advise as to the system of railway communication best suited for those countries. At the Paris Exhibition of 1855 the Emperor of France decorated him with the Legion of Honor in consideration of his public services; and at home the University of Oxford made him a Doctor of Civil Laws. In 1855 he was elected President of the Institute of Civil Engineers, which office he held with honor and filled with distinguished ability for two years, giving place to his friend Mr. Locke at the end of 1857.

Mr. Stephenson was frequently called upon to act as arbitrator between contractors and railway companies, or between one company and another, great value being attached to his opinion on account of his weighty judgment, his great experience, and his upright character; and we believe his decisions were invariably stamped by the qualities of impartiality and justice. He was always ready to lend a helping hand to a friend, and no petty jealousy stood between him and his rivals in the engineering world. The author remembers being with Mr. Stephenson one evening at his house in Gloucester Square when a note was put into his hand from his friend Brunel, then engaged in his fruitless efforts to launch the Great Eastern. It was to ask Stephenson to come down to Blackwall early next morning, and give him the benefit of his judgment. Shortly after six next morning Stephenson was in Scott Russell's building-yard, and he remained there until dusk. About midday, while superintending the launching operations, the balk of timber on which he stood canted up, and he fell up to his middle in the Thames mud. He was dressed as usual, without great-coat (though the day was bitter cold), and with only thin boots upon his feet. He was urged to leave the yard and change his dress, or at least dry himself; but, with his usual disregard of health, he replied, "Oh, never mind me; I'm quite used to this sort of thing;" and he went paddling about in the mud, smoking his cigar, until almost dark, when the day's work was brought to an end. The result of this exposure was an attack of inflammation of the lungs, which kept him to his bed for a fortnight.

He was habitually careless of his health, and perhaps he indulged in narcotics to a prejudicial extent. Hence he often became "hipped," and sometimes ill. When Mr. Sopwith accompanied him to Egypt in the Titania, in 1856, he succeeded in persuading Mr. Stephenson to limit his indulgence in cigars and stimulants, and the consequence was that by the end of the voyage he felt himself, as he said, "quite a new man." Arrived at Marseilles, he telegraphed from thence a message to Great George Street, prescribing certain stringent and salutary rules for observance in the office there on his return. But he was of a facile, social disposition, and the old associations proved too strong for him. When he sailed for Norway in the autumn of 1859, though then ailing in health, he looked a man who had still plenty of life in him. By the time he returned his fatal illness had seized him. He was attacked by congestion of the liver, which first developed itself in jaundice, and then ran into dropsy, of which he died on the 12th of October, in the fifty-sixth year of his age. He was buried by the side of Telford in Westminster Abbey, amid the departed great men of his country, and was attended to his resting-place by many of the intimate friends of his boyhood and his manhood. Among those who assembled round his grave were some of the greatest men of thought and action in England, who embraced the sad occasion to pay the last mark of their respect to this illustrious son of one of England's greatest working-men.

It would be out of keeping with the subject thus drawn to a conclusion to pronounce any panegyric on the character and achievements of George and Robert Stephenson. These, for the most part, speak for themselves; and both were emphatically true men, exhibiting in their lives many valuable and sterling qualities.

No beginning could have been less promising than that of the elder Stephenson. Born in a poor condition, yet rich in spirit, he was from the first compelled to rely upon himself, every step of advance which he made being conquered by patient labor. Whether working as a brakesman or an engineer, his mind was always full of the work in hand. He gave himself thoroughly up to it. Like the painter, he might say that he had become great "by neglecting nothing." Whatever he was engaged upon, he was as careful of the details as if each were itself the whole. He did all thoroughly and honestly. There was no "scamping" with him. When a workman, he put his brains and labor into his work; and when a master, he put his conscience and character into it. He would have no slop-work executed merely for the sake of profit. The materials must be as genuine as the workmanship was skillful. The structures which he designed and executed were distinguished for their thoroughness and solidity; his locomotives were famous for their durability and excellent working qualities. The engines which he sent to the United States in 1832 are still in good condition; and even the engines built by him for the Killingworth Colliery, upward of thirty years since, are working there to this day. All his work was honest, representing the actual character of the man.

He was ready to turn his hand to any thing—shoes and clocks, railways and locomotives. He contrived his safety-lamp with the object of saving pitmen's lives, and periled his own life in testing it. With him to resolve was to do. Many men knew far more than he, but none was more ready forthwith to apply what he did know to practical purposes. It was while working at Willington as a brakesman that he first learned how best to handle a spade in throwing ballast out of the ships' holds. This casual employment seems to have left upon his mind the most lasting impression of what "hard work" was; and he often used to revert to it, and say to the young men about him, "Ah, ye lads! there's none o' ye know what wark is." Mr. Gooch says he was proud of the dexterity in handling a spade which he had thus acquired, and that he has frequently seen him take the shovel from a laborer in some railway cutting, and show him how to use it more deftly in filling wagons of earth, gravel, or sand. Sir Joshua Walmsley has also informed us that, when examining the works of the Orleans and Tours Railway, Stephenson, seeing a large number of excavators filling and wheeling sand in a cutting, at a great waste of time and labor, went up to the men and said he would show them how to fill their barrows in half the time. He showed them the proper position in which to stand so as to exercise the greatest amount of power with the least expenditure of strength; and he filled the barrow with comparative ease again and again in their presence, to the great delight of the workmen. When passing through his own workshops he would point out to his men how to save labor and get through their work skillfully and with ease. His energy imparted itself to others, quickening and influencing them as strong characters always do, flowing down into theirs, and bringing out their best powers.

His deportment to the workmen employed under him was familiar, yet firm and consistent. As he respected their manhood, so they respected his masterhood. Although he comported himself toward his men as if they occupied very much the same level with himself, he yet possessed that peculiar capacity for governing which enabled him always to preserve among them the strictest discipline, and to secure their cheerful and hearty services. Mr. Ingham, M.P. for South Shields, on going over the workshops at Newcastle, was particularly struck with this quality of the master in his bearing toward his men. "There was nothing," said he, "of undue familiarity in their intercourse, but they spoke to each other as man to man; and nothing seemed to please the master more than to point out illustrations of the ingenuity of his artisans. He took up a rivet, and expatiated on the skill with which it had been fashioned by the workman's hand—its perfectness and truth. He was always proud of his workmen and his pupils; and, while indifferent and careless as to what might be said of himself, he fired up in a moment if disparagement were thrown upon any one whom he had taught or trained."

In manner, George Stephenson was simple, modest, and unassuming, but always manly. He was frank and social in spirit. When a humble workman, he had carefully preserved his sense of self-respect. His companions looked up to him, and his example was worth much more to many of them than books or schools. His devoted love of knowledge made his poverty respectable, and adorned his humble calling. When he rose to a more elevated station, and associated with men of the highest position and influence in Britain, he took his place among them with perfect self-possession. They wondered at the quiet ease and simple dignity of his deportment; and men in the best ranks of life have said of him that "he was one of Nature's gentlemen."

Probably no military chiefs were ever more beloved by their soldiers than were both father and son by the army of men who, under their guidance, worked at labors of profit, made labors of love by their earnest will and purpose. True leaders of men and lords of industry, they were always ready to recognize and encourage talent in those who worked for and with them. Thus it was pleasant, at the openings of the Stephenson lines, to hear the chief engineers attributing the successful completion of the works to their assistants; while the assistants, on the other hand, ascribed the principal glory to their chiefs.

George Stephenson, though a thrifty and frugal man, was essentially unsordid. His rugged path in early life made him careful of his resources. He never saved to hoard, but saved for a purpose, such as the maintenance of his parents or the education of his son. In his later years he became a prosperous and even a wealthy man; but riches never closed his heart, nor stole away the elasticity of his soul. He enjoyed life cheerfully, because hopefully. When he entered upon a commercial enterprise, whether for others or for himself, he looked carefully at the ways and means. Unless they would "pay," he held back. "He would have nothing to do," he declared, "with stock-jobbing speculations." His refusal to sell his name to the schemes of the railway mania—his survey of the Spanish lines without remuneration—his offer to postpone his claim for payment from a poor company until their affairs became more prosperous, are instances of the unsordid spirit in which he acted.

Another marked feature in Mr. Stephenson's character was his patience. Notwithstanding the strength of his convictions as to the great uses to which the locomotive might be applied, he waited long and patiently for the opportunity of bringing it into notice; and for years after he had completed an efficient engine, he went on quietly devoting himself to the ordinary work of the colliery. He made no noise nor stir about his locomotive, but allowed another to take credit for the experiments on velocity and friction which he had made with it upon the Killingworth railroad. By patient industry and laborious contrivance he was enabled, with the powerful help of his son, almost to do for the locomotive what James Watt had done for the condensing engine. He found it clumsy and inefficient, and he made it powerful, efficient, and useful. Both have been described as the improvers of their respective engines; but, as to all that is admirable in their structure or vast in their utility, they are rather entitled to be described as their inventors. They have both tended to increase indefinitely the mass of human comforts and enjoyments, and to render them cheap and accessible to all. But Stephenson's invention, by the influence which it is daily exercising upon the civilization of the world, is even more remarkable than that of Watt, and is calculated to have still more important consequences. In this respect it is to be regarded as the grandest application of steam-power that has yet been discovered.

George Stephenson's close and accurate observation provided him with a fullness of information on many subjects which often appeared surprising to those who had devoted to them a special study. On one occasion the accuracy of his knowledge of birds came out in a curious way at a convivial meeting of railway men in London. The engineers and railway directors present knew each other as railway men and nothing more. The talk had been all of railways and railway politics. Stephenson was a great talker on those subjects, and was generally allowed, from the interest of his conversation and the extent of his experience, to take the lead. At length one of the party broke in with, "Come, now, Stephenson, we have had nothing but railways! can not we have a change, and try if we can talk a little about something else?" "Well," said Stephenson, "I'll give you a wide range of subjects; what shall it be about?" "Say birds' nests!" rejoined the other, who prided himself on his special knowledge of the subject. "Then birds' nests be it." A long and animated conversation ensued: the bird-nesting of his boyhood—the blackbird's nest which his father had held him up in his arms to look at when a child at Wylam—the hedges in which he had found the thrush's and the linnet's nests—the mossy bank where the robin built—the cleft in the branch of the young tree where the chaffinch had reared its dwelling—all rose up clear in his mind's eye, and led him back to the scenes of his boyhood at Callerton and Dewley Burn. The color and number of the birds' eggs—the period of their incubation—the materials employed by them for the walls and lining of their nests, were described by him so vividly, and illustrated by such graphic anecdotes, that one of the party remarked that, if George Stephenson had not been the greatest engineer of his day, he might have been one of the greatest naturalists.

His powers of conversation were very great. He was so thoughtful, original, and suggestive. There was scarcely a department of science on which he had not formed some novel and sometimes daring theory. Thus Mr. Gooch, his pupil, who lived with him when at Liverpool, informs us that when sitting over the fire, he would frequently broach his favorite theory of the sun's light and heat being the original source of the light and heat given forth by the burning coal. "It fed the plants of which that coal is made," he would say, "and has been bottled up in the earth ever since, to be given out again now for the use of man." His son Robert once said of him, "My father flashed his bull's eye full upon a subject, and brought it out in its most vivid light in an instant: his strong common sense and his varied experience, operating on a thoughtful mind, were his most powerful illuminators."

The Bishop of Oxford related the following anecdote of him at a recent public meeting in London: "He heard the other day of an answer given by the great self-taught man, Stephenson, when he was speaking with something of distrust of what were called competitive examinations. Stephenson said, 'I distrust them for this reason—they will lead, it seems to me, to an unlimited power of cram;' and he added, 'Let me give you one piece of advice—never to judge of your goose by its stuffing!'"

George Stephenson had once a conversation with a watchmaker, whom he astonished by the extent and minuteness of his knowledge as to the parts of a watch. The watchmaker knew him to be an eminent engineer, and asked how he had acquired so extensive a knowledge of a branch of business so much out of his sphere. "It is very easily to be explained," said Stephenson; "I worked long at watch-cleaning myself, and when I was at a loss, I was never ashamed to ask for information."

His hand was open to his former fellow-workmen whom old age had left in poverty. To poor Robert Gray, of Newburn, who acted as his brideman on his marriage to Fanny Henderson, he left a pension for life. He would slip a five-pound note into the hand of a poor man or a widow in such a way as not to offend their delicacy, but to make them feel as if the obligation were all on his side. When Farmer Paterson, who married a sister of George's first wife, Fanny Henderson, died and left a large young family fatherless, poverty stared them in the face. "But ye ken," said our informant, "George struck in fayther for them." And perhaps the providential character of the act could not have been more graphically expressed than in these simple words.

On his visit to Newcastle, he would frequently meet the friends of his early days, occupying very nearly the same station in life, while he had meanwhile risen to almost world-wide fame; but he was not less hearty in his greeting of them than if their relative position had remained the same. Thus, one day, after shaking hands with Mr. Brandling on alighting from his carriage, he proceeded to shake hands with his coachman, Anthony Wigham, a still older friend, though he only sat on the box.

Robert Stephenson inherited his father's kindly spirit and benevolent disposition. We have already stated that he was often called in as an umpire to mediate between conflicting parties, more particularly between contractors and engineers. On one occasion Brunel complained to him that he could not get on with his contractors, who were never satisfied, and were always quarreling with him. "You hold them too tightly to the letter of your agreement," said Stephenson; "treat them fairly and liberally." "But they try to take advantage of me at all points," rejoined Brunel. "Perhaps you suspect them too much?" said Stephenson. "I suspect all men to be rogues," said the other, "till I find them to be honest." "For my part," said Stephenson, "I take all men to be honest till I find them to be rogues." "Ah! then, I fear we shall never agree," concluded Brunel.

Robert almost worshiped his father's memory, and was ever ready to attribute to him the chief merit of his own achievements as an engineer. "It was his thorough training," we once heard him say, "his example, and his character, which made me the man I am." On a more public occasion he said, "It is my great pride to remember that, whatever may have been done, and however extensive may have been my own connection with railway development, all I know and all I have done is primarily due to the parent whose memory I cherish and revere."[108] To Mr. Lough, the sculptor, he said he had never had but two loves—one for his father, the other for his wife.

Like his father, he was eminently practical, and yet always open to the influence and guidance of correct theory. His main consideration in laying out his lines of railway was what would best answer the intended purpose, or, to use his own words, to secure the maximum of result with the minimum of means. He was pre-eminently a safe man, because cautious, tentative, and experimental; following closely the lines of conduct trodden by his father, and often quoting his maxims.

In society Robert Stephenson was simple, unobtrusive, and modest, but charming and even fascinating in an eminent degree. Sir John Lawrence has said of him that he was, of all others, the man he most delighted to meet in England—he was so manly yet gentle, and withal so great. While admired and beloved by men of such calibre, he was equally a favorite with women and children. He put himself upon the level of all, and charmed them no less by his inexpressible kindliness of manner than by his simple yet impressive conversation.

His great wealth enabled him to perform many generous acts in a right noble and yet modest manner, not letting his right hand know what his left hand did. Of the numerous kindly acts of his which have been made public, we may mention the graceful manner in which he repaid the obligations which both himself and his father owed to the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Institute when working together as fellow experimenters many years before in their humble cottage at Killingworth. The Institute was struggling under a debt of £6200, which impaired its usefulness as an educational agency. Mr. Stephenson offered to pay one half the sum provided the local supporters of the Institute would raise the remainder, and conditional also on the annual subscription being reduced from two guineas to one, in order that the usefulness of the institution might be extended. His generous offer was accepted and the debt extinguished.

Both father and son were offered knighthood, and both declined it. During the summer of 1847, George Stephenson was invited to offer himself as a candidate for the representation of South Shields in Parliament. But his politics were at best of a very undefined sort. Indeed, his life had been so much occupied with subjects of a practical character that he had scarcely troubled himself to form any decided opinion on the party political topics of the day, and to stand the cross-fire of the electors on the hustings might possibly have proved an even more distressing ordeal than the cross-questioning of the barristers in the Committees of the House of Commons. "Politics," he used to say, "are all matters of theory—there is no stability in them; they shift about like the sands of the sea; and I should feel quite out of my element among them." He had, accordingly, the good sense respectfully to decline the honor of contesting the representation of South Shields.

We have, however, been informed by Sir Joseph Paxton that, although George Stephenson held no strong opinions on political questions generally, there was one question on which he entertained a decided conviction, and that was the question of Free Trade. The words used by him on one occasion to Sir Joseph were very strong. "England," said he, "is, and must be, a shopkeeper; and our docks and harbors are only so many wholesale shops, the doors of which should always be kept wide open." It is curious that his son should have taken precisely the opposite view of this question, and acted throughout with the most rigid party among the Protectionists, supporting the Navigation Laws and opposing Free Trade, even to the extent of going into the lobby with Colonel Sibthorp, Mr. Spooner, and the fifty-three "cannon-balls," on the 26th of November, 1852. Robert Stephenson to the last spoke in strong terms as to the "betrayal of the Protectionist party" by their chosen leader, and he went so far as to say that he "could never forgive Peel."

But Robert Stephenson will be judged in after times by his achievements as an engineer rather than by his acts as a politician; and, happily, these last were far outweighed in value by the immense practical services which he rendered to trade, commerce, and civilization, through the facilities which the railways constructed by him afforded for free intercommunication between men in all parts of the world. Speaking in the midst of his friends at Newcastle in 1850, he observed:

As respects the immense advantages of railways to mankind there can not be two opinions. They exhibit, probably, the grandest organization of capital and labor that the world has yet seen. Although they have unhappily occasioned great loss to many, the loss has been that of individuals, while, as a national system, the gain has already been enormous. As tending to multiply and spread abroad the conveniences of life, opening up new fields of industry, bringing nations nearer to each other, and thus promoting the great ends of civilization, the founding of the railway system by George Stephenson and his son must be regarded as one of the most important events, if not the very greatest, in the first half of this nineteenth century.