234 The Triumphs of Steam.

its hold, yet the effort was too fatiguing : he needed
rest. He could leave all his great works safely in
the hands of his son, and, rejoicing in Robert's daily
increasing fame, retire himself to Tapton, an estate
which he rented in Derbyshire, and give himself up
entirely to the pleasures of a country life. Again,
as when a boy, he went birds'-nesting ; again he
sought the hedges and hunted the woods for the
loveliest flowers of spring, and the last bright
berries of autumn. Again he roamed for hours
together over the hill-sides, rejoicing in the pure
air and his recovered freedom. His wealth enabling
him to carry out all the plans which had been the
day-dreams of his boyhood, his rabbits, his chickens,
his dogs, his horses, became the pets of his later
life, and there is no end to the stones he used to
tell of their love for him, and the wonderful things
which he could make them do. One black horse
was an especial favourite ; and this animal, not
particularly tractable with any one else, would
foHow Mr. Stephenson about like a dog, and go
and come, and do everything at his bidding.

'Then, too, his gardens were something wonder-
ful in the marvellous contrivances they exhibited
for bringing fruits and flowers to perfection. Neither
time nor expense was grudged in producing the
most perfect specimens that art and skill could ex-
hibit. His pines were the wonder of the country
round. By means of hot-water pipes, which gene-



His Country Life. 235

rated steam, Mr. Stephenson had contrived to create
a fictitious atmosphere, very like the oppressive
climate of the tropics ; concluding that, if he wished
to bring the fruit to perfection, he must provide
the means which nature herself pointed out were
necessary. The end fully answered his expectations.
Both in size, colour, and flavour, his pines were
unrivalled.

' But though he thus rejoiced in being surrounded
by everything rare and costly, it was from no love
of ostentation ; it was simply his genuine devotion
to science, and his desire of seeing everything that
was beautiful in nature cultivated to the extent of
its capabilities. For himself, his tastes were as
simple and inexpensive as in the days when he
could enjoy the dinner Spot brought him to the
pit He might like and be thankful for the good
things that surrounded him, but they made no real
portion of his daily enjoyment, and he was just as
contented with the humblest fare or the poorest
accommodation as with a princely feast and a bed
of down.

' Another of the great interests of the last years
of his life, was in superintending the formation of the
Clay Cross coal-pits. They were in the immediate
neighbourhood of Tapton ; and he rented all the
surrounding ground, that they might be under his
own immediate care and supervision. Endless were
the ingenious contrivances which he delighted to



236 The Triumphs of Steam.

invent for decreasing the labour of the miners, and
facilitating the excavation and raising of the coals ;
and he would watch their operation and success with
a delight as fresh as that which he could have felt in
his young and vigorous manhood. Indeed, this was
one of Mr. Stephenson's most remarkable charac-
teristics. The sense of power never seemed to leave
him : it pervaded everything he said and did. He
was a strong man glorying in his strength, yet with
an overflowing kindliness of nature, which made him
tender to all things living which needed his care.
An action that he thought unfair or wrong was in-
tolerable to him. It did not signify whether it was
done to himself or to others ; it was the act itself
which gave him displeasure. On one occasion he
was going on a journey. Railroads were not then so
plentiful as they are now, and he was travelling by
coach. The box-seat had been taken by a gentle-
man, and Mr. Stephenson had therefore secured the
one immediately behind. For some cause the gentle-
man had got down from the box, leaving his coat to
secure his seat. Before he returned, a young and
fashionably-dressed man lounged out of the hotel
before which the coach was standing, and, coolly
removing the gentleman's coat, appropriated the
box-seat for himself. In a short time the owner
returned, and claimed his own.

' " I have taken my place," was the only reply,
uttered in the tone of a man who thought himself



His Love of Justice. 237

quite above entering into any argument on the
subject.

'"But, sir," rejoined the other, "that place was
mine already."

' " If you wished for it, you should have kept it
better."

' Hitherto Mr. Stephenson had been a silent ob-
server of the scene ; but finding that the gentle-
man, anxious to avoid an unpleasant altercation, was
likely to cede his right, he said with the cool tone of
authority he knew so well how to assume :

' " Young man, you would not have said that to me."

'"Indeed! you think not?" was the supercilious
reply. " I rather think I should."

' " And if you had," returned Mr. Stephenson, " I
should just have pitched you into the middle of the
road there ; and, what is more, if you do not get
down from that seat at once, I will do it now."

'The intruder turned round to see who ventured
thus to address him ; but there must have been
something in his monitor's look that showed he was
not a man to be trifled with. Discretion was evi-
dently in this case the better part of valour. The
young upstart made a precipitate retreat, and, with
many thanks to his vigorous champion, the rightful
owner remounted the box/

' What a plucky fellow he was ! ' exclaimed
Charles, laughing. 'How I should have liked to
have known him, Aunt Helen ! '



238 The Triumphs of Steam.

1 Ah ! any one might well wish to have been his
friend/ replied Mrs. Grenville. 'Such men, I am
afraid, are fast dying out amongst us. The refine-
ments of conventional life are sadly injurious to the
development of great and original genius. They
bring us all too much to a level of mediocrity. How-
ever, it is great occasions that call forth great men ;
and we must not expect that we are all to possess
the vigour and power of George Stephenson. We
ought, perhaps, rather to be satisfied that so large
a portion of the father's genius has descended to the
son, and that England may still command his ser r
vices.' l

' How Mr. Stephenson must have delighted in his
son's success, mamma!' said Arthur. 'When he
remembered all his care of him when he was a little
boy, and all that he had given up that Robert might
be well educated, what a pleasure it must have been
to see him such a great, good man !'

' It must indeed have been an unspeakable happi-
ness ; and I feel quite thankful that I have been
permitted to witness such pure, unselfish love as that
of Mr. Robert Stephenson for his father. It is quite
refreshing to feel that it can exist amidst the jarring
interests of this cold, selfish world. I remember
how struck I was, years ago, by Mr. Robert Ste-
phenson's evident vexation at some remark which,

1 Since this was written, he too has been called hence. Mr. Robert
Stephenson died on the I2th of October 1859.



His Courage and Presence of Mind. 239

by doing justice to one of his own great works,
seemed to place his genius on a level with his father's.

* " Those who say so," he exclaimed, " do not
know my father. Do not talk of my mind by
comparison with his. His was one of gigantic
grasp equal in power to Watt. My only object
through life has been to add to my father's fame ;
and the only honour that I ask for is, that my name
may go down to posterity with that of George
Stephenson."

' He need not fear but that the wish will be
gratified, and, to my mind, no coronet would add
nobility to the title. With the strong love which
bound them to each other, it is no wonder that
some of the happiest days of Mr. Stephenson's
later life were spent in his son's house in London.
It was during one of these visits that a circum-
stance occurred, curiously illustrative of Mr. Ste-
phenson's courage and presence of mind.

' One night, after the family had retired to rest,
Mr. Robert Stephenson was suddenly aroused from
his sleep by the sound of crashing glass. Hastily
rising, he saw that the windows of his room had
been burst in by the heat of flames, which were
now running quickly up the wood-work. To be up
and down, and to awake the household, was the
work of a few minutes ; and in a state of curious
dishabille and very great alarm the various mem-
bers of the family met in the hall. "Are you all



240 The Triumphs of Steam.

here ? " was Mr. Robert Stephenson's first inquiry.
Various names answered to their call, but there was
one well-known voice which was not heard.

1 " My father is not here ! Where is my father ?"
exclaimed Mr. Robert Stephenson.

'At this moment a door opened at the head of
the staircase, and Mr. Stephenson was seen calmly
walking out of his bedroom, with his carpet-bag in
his hand. He had got up at the first alarm, dressed
himself, packed his bag, and now, in the most lei-
surely way, was preparing to join the party in the
hall. The son trembled for his safety, for already
the flames seemed as if they must have cut off his
descent ; but Mr. Stephenson had lost none of his
nerve since the day he had descended into the
Killingworth coal-pit. He calmly laid his hand on
the banister, measuring the distance between the
flames and himself, and then walked down the
stairs with perfect composure, saying, as he placed
his carpet-bag on the hall table : " There, now I am
ready to help others, or be off myself."

' It was this perfect self-possession which inspired
every one with such extraordinary confidence in Mr.
Stephenson. All say alike, that you could not be
with him, or hear him speak, without feeling the
most implicit reliance on the innate power and rec-
titude of this wonderful man. And yet there was
nothing painful in this sense of his superiority, tem-
pered as it was by the kindliness of his nature, ready



Testimony to his Worth. 241

to enter into the pursuits and interests of those with
whom he lived. No wonder that those who knew
him well, loved him so devotedly. One who had
ample opportunities of judging of the truth of what
I have just said, once wrote to me: "Those were,
indeed, delightful evenings spent in his society. It
was impossible to know him personally, without
being impressed with his rare combination of ad-
mirable qualities. Marvellous, indeed, it was to
see and listen to him, and reflect on what his early
life had been. The light of genius shone perpetu-
ally around him, bursting in startling flashes from
his conversation, lending a beauty and refinement
to his manly countenance, which the natural sym-
metry of his features would alone have failed to
produce. His figure was erect and dignified, and
the moment he entered a room, you felt at once
you were in the presence of a man of genius."

' No wonder that, when such a man was suddenly
withdrawn by death, a blank was felt in those social
circles of which he had been the charm and delight,
which those who mourned his loss were well aware
could never be filled up again on earth/

'Did he die quite suddenly then, mamma?' ex-
claimed Arthur.

'Very unexpectedly to those about him, though
it is possible that the seeds of disease had long been
sown. In September 1845 he had been requested
to pay a visit to Spain, that he might give his

Q



242 The Triumphs of Steam.

opinion upon a railroad which was in contempla-
tion between Madrid and the Bay of Biscay.
Always fond of travelling, seeing new places, and
studying the character of new people, Mr. Ste-
phenson, although overwhelmed at the time by a
multiplicity of occupations, unfortunately accepted
the invitation ; and, in company with some inti-
mate friends, started at once for the Continent,
travelling through France, that he might have the
opportunity of seeing its southern provinces. He
had but six weeks to accomplish everything that
he had undertaken to do, and on his arrival in
Spain he found considerably more work awaiting
him than he had been led to expect

' To slur over his work, was not in Mr. Stephen-
son's nature. As of old, he would see to everything
himself. This, combined with the fatigue of survey-
ing such an impracticable line as that from Madrid
to the coast, was more than his strength could bear.
He felt he was knocking up fast, but still, with his
indomitable energy, he would persist in carrying out
that which he had undertaken to do. It was in vain
that his friends entreated him to moderate his labours.
He had the work to do, and it must be done. The
consequences which had been foreseen, only too
surely followed. Still, even then, if he would have
consented to lie by for a time, it is possible that
the mischief might have been averted ; but he knew
that his presence in England on a particular day



Illness of Mr. Slephenson. 243

was important to others as well as to himself: no
persuasions, therefore, could induce him to delay
his return. By a strong exercise of will, he kept
down the malady ; but, alas ! before he reached
England, it was abundantly clear that, struggle
against it as he would, he could no longer conceal
from himself or others that he was alarmingly ill.
Hardly had he gone on board the packet which
was to convey him from Havre to Southampton,
when a violent accession of pleurisy set in. If
it had not been for his still wonderful strength
of constitution, combined with the skill and un-
ceasing watchfulness of those who nursed him, he
must have sunk under the violence of the disease.
Happily his life was saved for the time ; but
although he thus apparently rallied, his consti-
tution had received a shock from which it never
afterwards fully recovered. Of this truth, how-
ever, he could not be himself persuaded. Never
having been accustomed from his boyhood to any-
thing like restraint, the care which was now really
necessary for the preservation of his health was
intolerable to him/

' Ah ! Aunt Helen/ interrupted Charles, laugh-
ingly, ' he ought to have had a wife, ought he not ?
There is nothing like a wife for keeping a man in
order/

* Unfortunately/ replied Mrs. Grenville, ' even
that infallible prescription failed in Mr. Stephen-



244 The Triumphs of Steam.

son's case. He had been twice married since the
death of Mr. Robert Stephenson's mother ; and
such care and affection as a wife could give him
were happily his own. But I am afraid he was not
a man who would permit himself to be kept in order
for his own good. He piqued himself upon his
wonderful strength of constitution ; he gloried in
his power of bearing fatigue, and being able to
perform feats of athleticism worthy of the young
and vigorous days of his youth. It was not, there-
fore, surprising that he should not like to live by
rule, and give up his habits of independence for
the strict regimen necessary for an invalid. It was
no use worrying him ; he never could be made to
think of himself ; his friends could only look on
anxiously and watch the results. It so chanced
that in the autumn of 1848 he was superintend-
ing an alteration in his conservatories at Tapton.
Excessively interested in the progress of the works,
he used to go from hothouse to hothouse, without
a thought of the danger to which he was expos-
ing himself by these sudden and violent changes
of temperature. A sudden chill was the conse-
quence : violent inflammation set in rapidly. He
had not strength to bear up against the necessary
remedies, and, after a few days' illness, to the inex-
pressible grief of all who loved and honoured him,
on the 1 2th of August 1848 he quietly breathed
his last.



His Death. 245

' Nor was sorrow for his death confined to his own
immediate circle of friends. England felt that she
had lost one of her greatest men, and long will the
recollection of his sterling worth be held in honour
amongst her sons. Yes, so long as Englishmen
estimate at their true value, energy which opposition
could not quell ; perseverance, proof against all diffi-
culties ; clear, good, common sense, content to choose
the happy medium ; and calm judgment, unswayed
by vanity, unblinded by self-interest.

' High, however, as is the position which has been
awarded with one consent to George Stephenson,
deep as is our debt of gratitude to the man who by
his genius brought about the greatest social change
the world has ever witnessed, still, perhaps, we
hardly estimate aright the full value of what he has
done for us. We have forgotten, so to speak, what
was the state of English society before his days.
We are so accustomed to the comforts and conveni-
ences brought to our homes through the agency of
steam, that really we have ceased to think about
them, and take them as a mere matter of course.
Think, for instance, of the incalculable blessing
of our post office system. It is all very well to
talk of the penny post, and of the immense ad-
vantages we derive from it ; but where would have
been the penny post without the locomotive ? Mr.
Rowland Hill might have planned in vain, had
not his clever schemes been made practicable,



246 The Triumphs of Steam.

thanks to the inventions of George and Robert
Stephenson.

'In the days of the mail coaches between four
and five tons of letters were sent away daily to all
parts of the kingdom from the General Post Office.
On the i6th of May 1856 Mr. Robert Stephen-
son ascertained, for a particular purpose, that the
number sent by the mail train from the Euston
Square station alone, amounted to one hundred
tons. And that is two years ago. Since then
the increase of the post office business has been
immense.

' But this is only to mention one instance of the
increased comforts of our daily life for which we
are indebted to our great engineer. In so many
ways the blessings brought about through his in-
strumentality are indirect, though not the less real.
With increased facility for travelling, inhabitants of
the most distant countries are gradually becoming
known to each other, and from this intercourse good
must eventually ensue. Prejudices must be lessened,
antipathies overcome, and so the way be smoothed
for the more general reception of the gospel truth,
destined to be preached from pole to pole, that the
religion of the Saviour can alone be productive of
" peace on earth, good-will to man." '

' Oh mamma !' said Arthur with a sigh, ' I wish I
could be as great a man as Mr. Stephenson.'

That, my love, is impossible. You have neither



Conclusion. 247

his talents, nor his strength of constitution. Better
wish for that which is more practicable, and seek for
that to which you may attain. Imitate Mr. Stephen-
son in his kindliness, his truthfulness, his self-denial,
his perseverance, his readiness at all times to pro-
mote the good of others : follow him in these as
closely as you will. You would be turning his ex-
ample to very bad account, if it only made you
discontented with your <own talents and position.
God has given to each 4iis allotted work ; only let
that be done in a right spirit, with earnestness of
purpose and singleness of heart, and you may rest
assured that your end will be attained, not pos-
sibly in this world's fame and applause, but in
the sure and certain inheritance laid up for you
in heaven : only remember you must do your own
work thoroughly, without repining that you are not
called to do the work of another. I do not deny
that earthly fame is very pleasant, and that it is
mast natural to desire to win it. But surely, better
still it is to know that your name is written in the
Lamb's book of life. The world's prizes are but
for very few, difficult to win, #nd often hard to
wear. But even could you call them yours, and
could the whole universe ring with your praises,
how would the plaudits die away before the
sound of those few words : " Well done, thou good
and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of
thy Lord ! "



248 The Triumphs of Steam.

'We cannot all be George Stephensons, but we
can all do what he did, work out our given task
with untiring energy and zeal ; only let us make
sure that we do it unto the Lord, and then we
need not fear that we shall ever come short of our
reward.'




MURRAY AND GIBB, EDINBURGH,
FVINTERS TO HER MAJESTY'S STATIONERY OFFICE.






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