ONE OF THE MISERIES OF LONDON.
Entering upon any of the Bridges of London, or any of the passages leading to the Thames, being assailed by a group of Watermen, holding up their hands, and bawling out, “Sculls, Sculls! Oars, Oars!”
People, evidently, thought a voyage on one of these “hoys” a desperate undertaking; for we read in a little tract, of the fearsomeness of the adventure. The gentleman who braves this voyage, is a clergyman, and is bound for Ramsgate. “Many of us who went on board, had left our dearer comforts behind us. ‘Ah!’ said I, ‘so must it be, my soul, when the “Master comes and calleth for thee.” My tender wife! my tender babes! my cordial friends!’.... Our vessel, though it set sail with a fair wind, and gently fell down the river towards her destined port, yet once, or twice, was nearly striking against other vessels in the river.” And he winds up with, “About ten o’clock on Friday night we were brought safely into the harbour of Margate.... How great are the advantages of navigation! By the skill and care of three men and a boy, a number of persons were in safety conveyed from one part, to another, of the kingdom!”
Sydney Smith in an article (1808) in the Edinburgh Review on “Methodism” quotes a letter in the Evangelical Magazine. “A Religious Hoy sets off every week for Margate. Religious passengers accommodated. To the Editor. Sir,—It afforded me considerable pleasure to see upon the Cover of your Magazine for the present month, an advertisement announcing the establishment of a packet, to sail weekly between London and Margate, during the season; which appears to have been set on foot for the accommodation of religious characters; and in which ‘no profane conversation is to be allowed.’ ... Totally unconnected with the concern, and, personally, a stranger to the worthy owner, I take the liberty of recommending this vessel to the notice of my fellow Christians; persuaded that they will think themselves bound to patronize and encourage an undertaking that has the honour of our dear Redeemer for its professed object.”
There were but three bridges over the Thames—London, Blackfriars, and Westminster. London Bridge was doomed to come down. It was out of repair, and shaky; a good many arches blocked up, and those which were open had such a fall, as to be dangerous to shoot. Most of us can remember Blackfriars Bridge, and a good many Old Westminster Bridge, which was described in a London guidebook of 1802, as one of the most beautiful in the world. The same book says, “The banks of the Thames, contiguous to the bridges, and for a considerable extent, are lined with manufactories and warehouses; such as iron founders, dyers, soap and oil-makers, glass-makers, shot-makers, boat builders, &c. &c. To explore these will repay curiosity: in a variety of them, that powerful agent steam performs the work, and steam engines are daily erecting in others. They may be viewed by applying a day or two previous to the resident proprietors, and a small fee will satisfy the man who shows the works.”
The “Pool,” as that portion of the river Thames below London Bridge was called, was a forest of masts. Docks were few, and most of the ships had to anchor in the stream. Loading, and unloading, was performed in a quiet, and leisurely manner, quite foreign to the rush, and hurry of steam. Consequently, the ships lay longer at anchor, and, discharging in mid stream, necessitated a fleet of lighters and barges, which materially added to the crowded state of the river. Add to this the numerous rowing boats employed, either for business, or pleasure, and the river must have presented a far more animated appearance than it does now, with its few mercantile, and pleasure, steamers, and its steam tugs, and launches. Gay, too, were the water pageants, the City Companies barges, for the Lord Mayor’s Show, the Swan Upping, the Conservation of the Thames, and Civic junkettings generally; and then there were the Government barges, both belonging to the Admiralty, and Trinity House, as brave as gold and colour could make them; the latter making its annual pilgrimage to visit the Trinity almshouses at Deptford Strond—all the Brethren in uniform, with magnificent bouquets, and each thoughtfully provided with a huge bag of fancy cakes and biscuits, which they gave away to the rising generation. I can well remember being honoured with a cake, and a kindly pat on the head, from the great Duke of Wellington.
The pressure of the shipping was so great, extending as it did, in unbroken sequence, from London Bridge to Greenwich, that more dock accommodation was needed: the small ones, such as Hermitage and Shadwell Docks, being far too small to relieve the congested state of the river. In 1799 several plans were put forward for new Docks, and some were actually put in progress. The Bill for the West India Docks was passed in 1799. The first stone was laid on the 12th of July, 1800, and the docks were partly opened in the summer of 1802. The first stone of the London Docks was laid on the 26th of June, 1802, and the docks opened on the 30th of January, 1805; and, on the 4th of March of the same year, the foundation of the East India Docks was laid, and they were opened in 1806.
Early in 1801, a shaft was sunk at Gravesend, to tunnel under the Thames, which, although it ultimately came to nothing, showed the nascent power of civil engineering—then just budding—which has in later times borne such fruit as to make it the marvel of the century, in the great works undertaken and accomplished. Even in 1801, there was a steamboat on the Thames (Annual Register, July 1st): “An experiment took place on the river Thames, for the purpose of working a barge, or any other heavy craft, against tide, by means of a steam engine on a very simple construction. The moment the engine was set to work the barge was brought about, answering her helm quickly, and she made way against a strong current, at the rate of two miles and a half an hour.”
Commerce was developing, and the roads, with the heavy and cumbrous waggons, were insufficient for the growing trade. Railways, of course, were not yet, so their precursors, and present rivals, the canals, were made, in order to afford a cheap, and expeditious, means of intercommunication. In July, 1800, the Grand Junction Canal was opened from the Thames at Brentford, to Fenny Stratford in Buckinghamshire. A year afterwards, on the 10th of July, 1801, the Paddington Canal was opened for trade, with a grand aquatic procession, and some idea may be formed of the capital employed on these undertakings, when we find that even in January, 1804, the Grand Junction Canal had a paid-up capital of £1,350,000, and this, too, with land selling at a cheaper proportional rate than now.