While the project was still under discussion, its promoters, desirous of removing the doubts which existed as to the employment of steam power on the proposed railway, sent a second deputation to Killingworth for the purpose of again observing the action of Stephenson’s engines. The cautious projectors of the railway were not yet quite satisfied; and a third journey was made to Killingworth, in January, 1825, by several gentlemen of the committee, accompanied by practical engineers, for the purpose of being personal eye-witnesses of what steam-carriages were able to perform upon a railway. There they saw a train, consisting of a locomotive and loaded waggons, weighing in all 54 tons, travelling at the average rate of about 7 miles an hour, the greatest speed being about 9½ miles an hour. But when the engine was run with only one waggon attached containing twenty gentlemen, five of whom were engineers, the speed attained was from 10 to 12 miles an hour.
In the mean time the survey was proceeded with, in the face of great opposition from the proprietors of the lands through which the railway was intended to pass. The prejudices of the farming and labouring classes were strongly excited against the persons employed upon the ground, and it was with the greatest difficulty that the levels could be taken. At one place, Stephenson was driven off the ground by the keepers, and threatened to be ducked
in the pond if found there again. The farmers also turned out their men to watch the surveying party, and prevent them entering upon any lands where they had the power of driving them off.
One of the proprietors declared that he would order his game-keepers to shoot or apprehend any persons attempting a survey over his property. But one moonlight night a survey was obtained by the following ruse. Some men, under the orders of the surveying party, were set to fire off guns in a particular quarter; on which all the game-keepers on the watch made off in that direction, and they were drawn away to such a distance in pursuit of the supposed poachers, as to enable a rapid survey to be made during their absence.
When the canal companies found that the Liverpool merchants were determined to proceed with their scheme—that they had completed their survey, and were ready to apply to Parliament for an Act to enable them to form the railway—they at last reluctantly, and with a bad grace, made overtures of conciliation. They promised to employ steam-vessels both on the Mersey and on the Canal. One of the companies offered to reduce its length by three miles, at a considerable outlay. At the same time they made a show of lowering their rates. But it was too late; for the project of the railway had now gone so far that the promoters (who might have been conciliated by such overtures at an earlier period) felt they were fully committed to it, and that now they could not well draw back. Besides, the remedies offered by the canal companies could only have had the effect of staving off the difficulty for a brief season,—the absolute necessity of forming a new line of communication between Liverpool and Manchester becoming more urgent from year to year. Arrangements were therefore made for proceeding with the bill in the parliamentary session of 1825.
On this becoming known, the canal companies prepared to resist the measure tooth and nail. The public were
appealed to on the subject; pamphlets were written and newspapers were hired to revile the railway. It was declared that its formation would prevent cows grazing and hens laying. The poisoned air from the locomotives would kill birds as they flew over them, and render the preservation of pheasants and foxes no longer possible. Householders adjoining the projected line were told that their houses would be burnt up by the fire thrown from the engine-chimneys; while the air around would be polluted by clouds of smoke. There would no longer be any use for horses; and if railways extended, the species would become extinguished, and oats and hay be rendered unsaleable commodities. Travelling by rail would be highly dangerous, and country inns would be ruined. Boilers would burst and blow passengers to atoms. But there was always this consolation to wind up with—that the weight of the locomotive would completely prevent its moving, and that railways, even if made, could never be worked by steam-power.
Indeed, when Mr. Stephenson, at the interviews with counsel, held previous to the Liverpool and Manchester bill going into Committee of the House of Commons, confidently stated his expectation of being able to impel his locomotive at the rate of 20 miles an hour, Mr. William Brougham, who was retained by the promoters to conduct their case, frankly told him that if he did not moderate his views, and bring his engine within a reasonable speed, he would “inevitably damn the whole thing, and be himself regarded as a maniac fit only for Bedlam.”
The idea thrown out by Stephenson, of travelling at a rate of speed double that of the fastest mail-coach, appeared at the time so preposterous that he was unable to find any engineer who would risk his reputation in supporting such “absurd views.” Speaking of his isolation at the time, he subsequently observed, at a public meeting of railway men in Manchester: “He remembered the time when he had very few supporters in bringing out the railway system—
when he sought England over for an engineer to support him in his evidence before Parliament, and could find only one man, James Walker, but was afraid to call that gentleman, because he knew nothing about railways. He had then no one to tell his tale to but Mr. Sandars, of Liverpool, who did listen to him, and kept his spirits up; and his schemes had at length been carried out only by dint of sheer perseverance.”