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The coming of Steam

The harnessing of steam is one of Britain’s major contributions to the world.  Please remember that when you ponder the bad things that we have also done.  

clock time and sun time   the railways

 

Before the coming of steam, ordinary folk like you and me would probably have been tied to a life of backbreaking toil on the land, because that’s how some 95% of us earned our bread. 

 

I have to admit to an element of bias here, because my ancestors were among the pioneers.

 

But to me the harnessing of steam was one of the Great Inventions of Mankind, up there with writing and the wheel. 

 

Before the coming of steam, everything had to be done by muscle power.  We tend to forget this when we read Jane Austen and other pre-steam authors.  Their heroes and heroines were taken from the moneyed elite.  And maybe their lives didn’t change very much when steam came.

 

But most people’s lives were transformed.  The Industrial revolution had already started when steam hit it (more) but the transport revolution hadn’t.  (Canal aficionados will be after my blood for leaving out their favourite transport system.  But I did admit to being biased.)

 

Very soon after steam hit transport, it hit the farms too.  Along came huge traction engines, powering giant threshing machines, or hauling 10 furrow ploughs across the fields on cables.  And within a few years the proportion of people working on the land was down to (I think) less than 10%.   There were casualties to be sure.  But prices tumbled and most people saw huge benefits.

Clock time and Sun time

Before the coming of the railways, every village kept its own time.  When the Sun was out, the church clock was adjusted from a sundial.  These were often mounted on the south-facing side of the church tower.  This one adorns the church at Market Harborough in Leicestershire.  A wall-mounted sundial looks quite different from the normal sundial that we are used to, but the principle is exactly the same.  The gnomon (pointer) still points to the Pole Star, but it points backwards through the fabric of the building. 

 

Time ‘of the clock’ was regarded as inferior to true Sun time – and for good reason.  If you look up ‘The Equation of Time’ on the Internet, you will find that ‘clock’ time and ‘Sun’ time can differ by up to ¼ hour at certain times of the year.  It has to do with the vagaries of the Earth’s orbit.  This is why, in our northern climes, the mid-winter mornings carry on getting darker for several weeks after the evenings have begun to lighten.  You hadn’t noticed this?  It’s true.  And it happens because ‘clock’ time is averaged out over the year.  If you reset your clock regularly from a sundial then this wouldn’t happen.

 

Of course the railways couldn’t be doing with all these different times.  Over the 1840s they gradually adopted Railway Time (Greenwich Time) for all their services throughout the country.  Clocks were extremely accurate by then, as this picture of the 1837 master clock from Euston Station in London suggests.  Euston was the London terminus for the London and Birmingham Railway.  Guards had accurate watches too, no doubt having borrowed technology from ships chronometers.  The telegraph was up and running by that time, so an entire railway system could easily be kept in time from a single clock. 

 

Unfortunately most of Britain lies to the west of Greenwich, and its local time runs later than Greenwich time.  Many folk were missing trains, and the entire nation gradually adopted railway time too.

The railways

Before the coming of steam, travel was slow, expensive and dangerous.  This picture comes from the Northern Echo Railway Centenary Supplement, and it shows “a heavily laden stage wagon plodding slowly along under eight horse power”. Leisure travel was the exclusive privilege of the rich:

 

John Gilpin’s spouse said to her dear –

            Though wedded we have been

These twice ten tedious years, yet we

No holiday have seen.

                                           William Cowper (1731-1800)

 

Gilpin was real, and a wealthy man.  Yet Mrs. Gilpin’s idea of a 20th anniversary ‘holiday’ was a day out, by chaise and pair, to a famous local eating house!  (I can recommend the tale of “John Gilpin”. It’s on the Internet. His adventures, trying to follow his family to the pub on horseback, are amazing.)

 

However then came the world’s first successful steam ‘demonstrator’, the Stockton and Darlington Railway.  And within a very few years, the railway companies were taking us ordinary folk to the seaside in trainloads – for very little money.  And we ordinary folk had the leisure to go.

 

The next few pictures come from the Stockton & Darlington website.  The first depicts the ceremonial opening of the Railway in 1825, and shows some of the 38 wagons being hauled by George Stephenson’s ‘Locomotion’.  The wagons at the front weren’t meant to have people in.  They were already filled with coal and flour.  A coach, called ‘Experiment’, was provided for passengers.  It was thought that only rich people would want to travel on the Railway.  How wrong can you be?  The second picture shows a modern replica of the locomotive.

 

Here is an unashamedly Pease-centred account of how it all happened.

 

Edward Pease was a Quaker businessman, born in Darlington in the North-East of England in 1767.  The family business was wool, and Pease spent much of his working life travelling the country on horseback, buying wool and shipping it back to Darlington (see top picture).  

 

The Quakers thought big.  And they had a special pact with God that allowed them to make as much money as they liked, as long as it was a by-product of doing good.  All this slow and painful travelling gave Pease plenty of time to ponder the thought that “there’s got to be a better way than this”. 

 

So by 1817, at around 50, Pease had retired from the woollen business to concentrated on putting the ideas he had had into practice.

 

The invention of crude wooden rail-ways, plate-ways, or wagon-ways are lost in the mists of time.  But by the late 1700s, reasonably good ones were being used in mines, both underground and around the pithead.   And Pease knew that a horse could draw 10 tons along a level rail-way, whereas on an ordinary road it could draw “scarce a ton”.  He also knew that mine owners were beginning to build private railways to carry coal from their mines to nearby large towns.

 

So he developed the concept of the railway as the new King’s Highway. That is to say, a public rail road on which  hauliers would pay to transport their wagons.   It didn’t work out quite like that, but the principle was sound.

 

There had long been a plan to build a colliery railway from the South Durham mines to the port of Stockton on Tees, via Darlington.  But it was getting nowhere, and Edward Pease hijacked it to demonstrate his principle.  He believed that:

 

“… if the railway be established, and succeeds, as it is to convey not only goods but passengers (my italics), we shall have the whole of Yorkshire and next the whole of the United Kingdom following on with railways” (the Diaries of Edward Pease).  He could well have added “with the rest of the world not far behind”.

 

So, unlike all previous railways, the Stockton and Darlington was to be a Public railway, open to both freight and passengers on payment of a fee. 

 

As soon as word got round that Pease was serious, George Stephenson walked into his life.  The well-educated Quaker businessman, and the self-taught engine-wright from the coalfields, hit it off at once.  And the two remained friends for the rest of their lives.  Stephenson was given the job of surveying the line.  He introduced Pease to his latest colliery steam-engine, Blutcher – worth, as he put it, 50 horses.  Pease was converted, and his railway became at least partly a steam railway.  

 

One of the plans had been to dig a canal for the level parts of the route, and resort to a railway for the hillier parts.  But Pease was having no transhipments en route.  On another occasion, Stephenson pointed out that the direct line to the coalfields didn’t go near Darlington.  He was put straight very firmly.  “George, thou must think of Darlington :  thou must remember it was Darlington sent for thee.”

 

George Stephenson did not invent the steam locomotive.  The first serious (stationary) steam engine was built by one Thomas Newcomen nearly a hundred years before (around 1710 during Queen Anne’s time).  It was huge, very inefficient and was used for pumping out tin mines in Cornwall. 

 

Early steam engines worked by vacuum.  We won’t go into it, it’s on the Internet.  But the main points are that it didn’t matter too much how big they were, or how inefficient – and there was no need for a dangerous pressurised boiler. 

 

But a locomotive had to be small, light, powerful and economical – and reliable too.   Again others had shown the way, but none of their efforts came to much.  Stephenson’s great achievement was to make it all happen. 

 

For a locomotive, you have no choice but to resort to high pressure steam, and find a way of making it safe.  You also need a small but very powerful furnace.  The ‘steam draught’ was invented, I think by Stephenson.  It’s what makes steam engines chuff, and it makes the fire burn with terrible ferocity. 

 

Meanwhile, the businessmen of Liverpool and Manchester were being held to ransom by their local canal company.  They saw what was in progress across the Pennines, and they wanted one too.  But they had far more money to invest, and they wanted a railway bigger, better, faster and more reliable.   Stephenson was hired and, with all this money and the experience of the S&D, he gave them all three.  With his new locomotives, including his famous ‘Rocket’, he was able to make the Liverpool and Manchester another great step up.  But it was still the S&D that showed the way.

 

The railways were a major part of the Industrial revolution, and it’s difficult sometimes to separate out the benefits that these two massive developments brought to mankind.  But cutting transport costs was of itself a huge advance.

 

Within a very few years railways were criss-crossing the country, just as Edward Pease had predicted.  Stephenson’s son Robert was a major driving force.  British contractors were criss-crossing much of northern Europe with railways too.  The French railways run on the left to this day (if you’ve travelled on Eurostar, you will of course have spotted this as soon as you emerged in France).  If my memory serves, the Portuguese and Italian railways also run on the left.

 

These days, large power stations are the only economic application for steam.  But you can still experience steam-driven fairground rides.  And you can watch steam traction engines drive traditional farm machinery.  I’ve not heard tell of the huge ploughing engines being demonstrated.  Maybe the risk of cable breakage is considered too high for these safety-conscious times.

 

In many places round the world you can ride behind a steam engine on a ‘heritage’ railway. 

 

This picture of ‘Bittern’ was taken by Dave Warwick.  Bittern is an identical twin of the world steam speed record holder ‘Mallard’.  She has been lovingly restored from the ground up by the Watercress Line.  I played a small part in the restoration, which is why I’m devoting space to it.  The Watercress Line is based at New Alresford (‘new’ because it’s only about 800 years old).  I’m told that Bittern has been restored to a much higher standard than Mallard herself.  So she should be able to go quite a bit faster if the opportunity arose.  But, as the picture shows, she has been restored to be used; not to be incarcerated in a museum like poor Mallard.

 

Cars and lorries took transport up to the next level, and the aeroplane took it to the next level still.  But to my mind, neither revolutionised ordinary people’s lives the way steam and the railways did.

 

© C B Pease, April 08