The first railway opened in this reign was in 1830, the Liverpool and Manchester, which melancholy event has already been noticed. In December, 1831, was opened that between Dundee and Newtyle. In 1833 the following railways were projected. The London and Bristol (G.W.R.), London and Southampton (L. & S.W.R.), London and Birmingham (L. &. N.W.R), London and Brighton, and London and Greenwich; in 1834 the Great Northern Railway; in 1835 the Eastern Counties Railway (G.E.R.), and the Commercial or Blackwall Railway. The other railways opened for traffic were the Leeds and Selby, September 22, 1834; Dublin and Kingdown on December 17, 1834; London and Greenwich, December 14, 1836, and Liverpool and Birmingham, July 4, 1837. Besides these there were many others projected, some of which came to nought. Take, for instance, one column of advertisements (p. 2, c. 5, Times, April 18, 1836)—South Western Railway, Padstow Breakwater, and Rock Delabole, Camelford, Callington, and Plymouth Railway, South London Union Railway, Bristol and Gloucestershire Railway, Margate and Ramsgate Railway, Ramsgate, Canterbury, Sandwich, Deal and Dover Railway, Gloucester and Hereford Railway, Harwich Railway, Westminster and Deptford Railway, and the Great Central Irish Railway.
In fact, the satire in John Bull of April 9, 1836, was not altogether undeserved—
"There is always a clown in a pantomime who knocks his head against a door, and tumbles on his nether end, and grins and distorts his limbs, and does, in short, a thousand feats to make the ridiculous performance more ridiculous still. In the pantomime of railroads, in which the tricks are innumerable, there is a clown, one so supereminently ridiculous, that if Grimaldi were still young and active enough to wear his blue tuft and wafer-dotted unmentionables, he would be jealous. The scheme to which we allude is one called by the sounding name of an International Railway—London, Paris, and Brussels, by Dover and Calais; and there are blanks left in the prospectus (and likely to be left) for the names of French patrons and Belgian patrons, and provincial directors, and all the rest of it; and the beginning of the suggestion is, that people are to go to Croydon in the first instance, as the shortest way to Belgium. Croydon seems an odd starting-point for Brussels; however, the prospectus infers that London has something to do with it; how much, we may venture to guess, by finding that the railroad communication with London is disavowed before the committee to whom the Bill is referred. As to Brussels and Paris, they will come, of course, when once the sea is crossed; but we must say that the Grimaldi railway, which renders it necessary to proceed by the old mode of travelling to Croydon in order to be steamed to Brussels, is very like paying a shilling to be rattled in an omnibus from London to a field in Bermondsey marsh, in order to climb up a flight of stairs to be rattled along the railroad at Deptford, at which place the traveller is suddenly ejected, his object being Greenwich (after which town the absurdity is delusively named), which it neither does, nor, thanks to the wisdom of Parliament, ever will reach; so that, what with the coloured hearse through the City, before you get to the starting-place in the bog, the climb upstairs, and the wearisome walk through the mud of the Lower Road to Greenwich, after you come down again, you would save exactly six pennies and three-quarters of an hour if you stepped into a fast-going coach at the Shoulder of Mutton or the Salopian at Charing Cross, and went slap bang to Greenwich itself, for the trifling charge of one shilling. This is absurd for a short affair and a matter of joke; but the railroad from Croydon to Brussels, for a serious concern and a long business, 'beats Bannagher,' as Mr. O'Connell says."
The Greenwich Railway referred to was opened by the Lord Mayor and civic authorities, on December 14, 1836, but only as far as Deptford; and the whole affair seems to have been a muddle. The Times of December 15 says—
"On the arrival of the several trains at Deptford the occupants of the carriages were allowed to get out; but here the arrangements fell far short of what we expected, for no preparation was made for their return. Many who had got out in the hopes of being present at the presentation to the Lord Mayor, and others who wished to regale themselves at some of the neighbouring inns at Deptford, could not, from the density of the crowds below the railway, get out; and, on retracing their steps to the railway, they found it a work of still greater difficulty and danger to return to the carriages from which they had alighted. Many who had taken the precaution to notice the name of the engine which drew the train, and the number of the carriage which brought them down, got back in the line between two trains, but were told by the conductors that they could not return by that way without great risk, for that the trains would return immediately. In consequence of this, many persons who came down by the trains went on to Deptford, and thence to town by the coaches."
CHAPTER XXVII.
Cases of wife selling — Duelling — Cases of — O'Connell and D'Israeli — Other duels.
There were two amusements somewhat fashionable in this reign, wife selling and duelling. The former is still in existence, the latter is extinct in England. The halter round the neck was used when the wife was sold at market, it being considered that, being thus accoutred, she was on a level with the cattle, and thus could be legally sold. Here is a ballad of the period thereon.
"Sale of a Wife.
"Attend to my ditty, you frolicsome folk,
I'll tell you a story—a comical joke;
'Tis a positive fact, what I'm going to unfold,
Concerning a woman who by auction was sold.