At Parkside, about 17 miles from Liverpool, the engines stopped to take in water. Here a deplorable accident occurred to one of the illustrious visitors, which threw a deep shadow over the subsequent proceedings of the day. The “Northumbrian” engine, with the carriage containing the Duke of Wellington, was drawn up on one line, in order that the whole of the trains on the other line might pass in review before him and his party. Mr. Huskisson had alighted from the carriage, and was standing on the opposite road, along which the “Rocket” was observed rapidly coming up. At this moment the Duke of Wellington, between whom and Mr. Huskisson some coolness had existed, made a sign of recognition, and held out his hand. A hurried but friendly grasp was given; and before it was loosened there was a general cry from the bystanders of “Get in, get in!” Flurried and confused, Mr. Huskisson endeavoured to get round the open door of the carriage,
which projected over the opposite rail; but in so doing he was struck down by the “Rocket,” and falling with his leg doubled across the rail, the limb was instantly crushed. His first words, on being raised, were, “I have met my death,” which unhappily proved true, for he expired that same evening in the parsonage of Eccles. It was cited at the time as a remarkable fact, that the “Northumbrian” engine, driven by George Stephenson himself, conveyed the wounded body of the unfortunate gentleman a distance of about 15 miles in 25 minutes, or at the rate of 36 miles an hour. This incredible speed burst upon the world with the effect of a new and unlooked-for phenomenon.
The accident threw a gloom over the rest of the day’s proceedings. The Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel expressed a wish that the procession should return to Liverpool. It was, however, represented to them that a vast concourse of people had assembled at Manchester to witness the arrival of the trains; that report would exaggerate the mischief, if they did not complete the journey; and that a false panic on that day might seriously affect future railway travelling and the value of the Company’s property. The party consented accordingly to proceed to Manchester, but on the understanding that they should return as soon as possible, and refrain from further festivity.
As the trains approached Manchester, crowds of people were found covering the banks, the slopes of the cuttings, and even the railway itself. The multitude, become impatient and excited by the rumours which reached them, had outflanked the military, and all order was at an end. The people clambered about the carriages, holding on by the door-handles, and many were tumbled over; but, happily no fatal accident occurred. At the Manchester station, the political element began to display itself; placards about “Peterloo,” etc., were exhibited, and brickbats were thrown at the carriage containing the Duke. On the carriages coming to a stand in the Manchester station the Duke did not descend, but remained seated, shaking hands with the
women and children who were pushed forward by the crowd. Shortly after, the trains returned to Liverpool, which they reached, after considerable interruptions, in the dark, at a late hour.
On the following morning the railway was opened for public traffic. The first train of 140 passengers was booked and sent on to Manchester, reaching it in the allotted period of two hours; and from that time the traffic has regularly proceeded from day to day until now.
It is scarcely necessary that we should speak at any length of the commercial results of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway. Suffice it to say that its success was complete and decisive. The anticipations of its projectors were, however, in many respects at fault. They had based their calculations almost entirely on the heavy merchandise traffic—such as coal, cotton, and timber,—relying little upon passengers; whereas the receipts derived from the conveyance of passengers far exceeded those derived from merchandise of all kinds, which, for a time continued a subordinate branch of the traffic.
For some time after the public opening of the line, Mr. Stephenson’s ingenuity continued to be employed in devising improved methods for securing the safety and comfort of the travelling public. Few are aware of the thousand minute details which have to be arranged—the forethought and contrivance that have to be exercised—to enable the traveller by railway to accomplish his journey in safety. After the difficulties of constructing a level road over bogs, across valleys, and through deep cuttings, have been overcome, the maintenance of the way has to be provided for with continuous care. Every rail with its fastenings must be complete, to prevent risk of accident; and the road must be kept regularly ballasted up to the level, to diminish the jolting of vehicles passing over it at high speeds. Then the stations must be protected by signals observable from such a distance as to enable the train to be stopped in event of an obstacle, such as a stopping or shunting train being in the
way. For some years the signals employed on the Liverpool railway were entirely given by men with flags of different colours stationed along the line; there were no fixed signals, nor electric telegraphs; but the traffic was nevertheless worked quite as safely as under the more elaborate and complicated system of telegraphing which has since been established.
From an early period it became obvious that the iron road as originally laid down was far too weak for the heavy traffic which it had to carry. The line was at first laid with fish-bellied rails weighing thirty-five pounds to the yard, calculated only for horse-traffic, or, at most, for engines like the “Rocket,” of very light weight. But as the power and the weight of the locomotives were increased, it was found that such rails were quite insufficient for the safe conduct of the traffic, and it therefore became necessary to re-lay the road with heavier and stronger rails at considerably increased expense.