George Stephenson (42 page)

In recent decades there has been a lessening of public interest in George Stephenson, though Chesterfield did remember the centenary of his death in 1948 with a buffet tea. The 1975 celebrations for the 150th anniversary of the Stockton and Darlington Railway did do a lot to revive interest in George himself. Smiles made him into a Victorian legend and today the Victorians and their legends are back in favour.

His face and his engines often appear on railway medals and stamps abroad, when they are celebrating some anniversary, but many countries have their own pioneer engineers and their own railway sagas which are taught to children at school, forgetting that many of their railways, if not their engines, owed their inspiration to George. In Britain, every child does learn the name of George Stephenson but even educated adults soon forget what exactly it was he did, thinking perhaps he was the one who watched the kettle boil or wrote
Kidnapped
.

In the engineering and railway worlds his works are of course still well known to everyone, and they still argue about where he got his tubular boiler from. But, as ever, it is his engines and railways which have been constantly analysed and argued about at length rather than Stephenson the man.

Professor Jack Simmons of Leicester University, the leading academic in the field, says that before the war there was a slight period of debunking of the Stephenson legend. Railway writers, tired of the perfect picture of him as painted by Smiles, began to find a few warts. L.T.C. Rolt, with his theory about the relationship with William James, even if that particular row now can't be proved, was one of the first not to treat George as a plaster figure in a glass case.

‘There are many things we still don't know about George Stephenson, as a person and as an engineer,' says Professor Simmons. ‘I would like to know much more about the early days at Killingworth, from about 1814 onwards. He'd done so much by the time 1820 came, and he became involved in the Stockton and Darlington line, yet so little is known about it.

‘There is also something strange about the way he seemed to give up railways around 1845. Something appears to have snapped in him. It was the height of the mania, yet he kept out of it. Something made him withdraw and I think whatever it was happened around 1842–3. Perhaps he was worried by Hudson's success, jealous of Robert even, or perhaps he just physically suddenly aged and decided to retire? I've never seen anyone attempt an explanation.

‘We know him best from the late twenties and by then he was rather overbearing and arrogant, though it was understandable, when you know what went before. I think the incident of the Safety Lamp resolved him not to let such a thing happen again, to make sure he always got the credit where it was due and not give it to others.

‘He did become a megalomaniac. You should have a look at what he said to the people of Sheffield in 1836. He was unscrupulous in attacking his opponents' plans. He told Sheffield that unless they did things his way they would be excluded for ever from Railways! He did get rather carried away at times.

‘By the time we know him best, when he was rich and famous, his mind had set. His experiences had been learned a long time ago and he could be inflexible. He never quite got over his early triumphs. He was out of his depth when he got into any arguments with other people, such as the Parliamentary débâcle. He went harsh and rigid when opposed or when the situation got out of hand. He had created railways on his own and he naturally felt self-important. He was the perfect self-made man and he displayed all the classic self-made-man patterns. He was jealous and afraid of others. He was not a generous man, that is very clear. All these faults are understandable. Smiles completely hid them, yet they are to be expected in such a man who's faced the struggles he'd faced.

‘It's good that his character is now being filled out more, after all these years. The attacks on him by the professional engineers, which happened from the very beginning, have proved very little. There had been rival claims made by many other people for many of his successes. Most of them are nonsense. Nobody can pretend that George Stephenson was other than he was – the pioneer of railways.'

Postscript:

T
HE
G
EORGE
S
TEPHENSON
T
OUR

T
he end of steam came to Britain in 1968. Overnight, everything to do with steam became an art form. As an art form, railway mania is one of the world's growing pastimes. The nostalgia, and the prices, appear to be limitless. In Britain alone there are estimated to be two million railway enthusiasts who will buy or read or watch almost anything to do with their particular passion from the age of steam.

There are many places and objects associated with George Stephenson which can be seen today – some fascinating, some not worth the visit. True Stephenson pilgrims will go round them all. The layman might simply be interested in knowing what happened after George moved on.

WYLAM ON TYNE

George would be surprised to see his birthplace today. The industrial revolution has not left Wylam a wreck, as one might imagine, but a rather quaint country village with stone built cottages and some smart new desirable detached residences occupied by people like Tyne Tees TV executives who commute into Newcastle, nine miles further down the Tyne. As long as you stand with your back to the direction of Newcastle and its suburbs, which are moving steadily west every year, you can see gently rolling hills and a pretty river valley. The pits and ironworks have gone and George's cottage now stands in rural seclusion about half a mile east of the village. You get to it along the river banks, following a path out of Wylam village, past a notice saying ‘University of Newcastle, Private Fishing'. The cottage is set back slightly from the river bank, right beside the overgrown relics of the old North Eastern Railway line. There are several Victorian railway notices still standing
in situ
, the sort which can cost £50 a time from the sharper London antique stalls.

It's quite a handsome cottage, bigger than I'd expected, and in good condition, though of course in George's day, he and his family occupied only one room. A plaque over the door states that this is George Stephenson's birthplace, but most of the wordage is taken up with the names of long forgotten councillors who put up the plaque. The cottage was bought by the North East Coast Institute of Engineers and handed over to the National Trust in 1948. The present curator (Mrs Stephenson – no relation) welcomes visitors from April to the end of September who want to see round the house. Ring 0191 200 7146. She also does teas.

KILLINGWORTH

Killingworth is no longer a colliery village but it's far from rural. It's a new industrial estate with very little character, part of Newcastle's northern sprawl. Stephenson's cottage, Dial Cottage in Great Lime Road, stands out like an antique at Woolworths, a beautiful white-washed cottage in sparkling condition, obviously lovingly cared for. At the front is the famous sundial, put up by Robert and his father. Over the front door is a plaque which reads ‘George Stephenson, Engineer, Inventor of the locomotive engine, lived in this house, 1805–1823.' William James' daughter would have had apoplexy.

When I called in 1975, the owner, a Mr Cook, came to the front door in carpet slippers and invited me in. He turned off his colour TV, much to his son's displeasure, and made me sit down. He's a Mancunian who retired to Newcastle some years ago after working locally as a traveller for a knitwear firm. He said he had to be called Cappy and wouldn't reveal his real christian name. ‘Even my wife calls me Cappy. Cappy Cook of course!'

He saw the house advertised for £4,500 in the
Evening Chronicle
in 1961. As a railway enthusiast he was immediately interested and offered £3,600, but expected that the council or some such body would offer more and open it to the public. ‘I still don't know why they didn't. Perhaps one day when I'm gone it might be open to the public.'

As it is, the public are constantly traipsing to his front door. ‘What I can't stand are the nosey buggers who just peer through the windows, thinking it's a museum. If they knock and ask and seem genuinely interested, I let them in. I had a man from California last week. He was in London on business but broke his journey to come all the way up here to look at this cottage. I've had Dutch, Japanese, Germans, Yankees, all sorts. The other day I had two Australians waken me up at 11.30 at night.

‘I get regulars coming every year. The Duke of Wellington's butler, he's been coming for years. He worked for the previous Duke, not the present one. He's getting on now. He's a Henderson and tells me he's related to Fanny, George's first wife.'

He's done a lot of work modernising the cottage and filled it with his own railway knick-knacks, such as a model of the
Rocket
which actually works. ‘I don't know who put the plaque up. I've looked in all the books. It should of course be pioneer, not inventor. George himself started off in just this end of the cottage, but as he got on he enlarged it himself and took over the rest. This is the room in which he nearly blew himself up when he was experimenting with his safety lamp.

‘I try and keep the cottage as nice as possible. The previous owner told me that the council was going to bulldoze it down at one stage. Can you believe it? They did that to Robert's old house in Newcastle. A friend of mine got the scraper from the front step.

‘What I can't understand is why no one's never written a play about George. His life would make a great film. They've made films of some dafter people who did nothing at all in their lives.

‘He was probably not as nice as he's usually made out. I've a suspicion he was a dogmatic old bugger, pretty bad tempered I shouldn't wonder.'

NEWBURN

Newburn Church, where George was twice married, is still there, just off the west road out of Newcastle. It's a well-known Tyneside church with a handsome Norman tower, Saxon additions and contains many stones from Hadrian's Wall. It has associations with the Delaval family and with William Hedley, the
Puffing Billy
engineer, engineer at Wylam Colliery and one of the many locomotive pioneers who paved the way for George Stephenson. Hedley was a benefactor of the church and there's a window in the south aisle in his memory – but no mementoes of George, apart from his signatures in the church register.

The church doesn't boast about its Stephenson connection - there's only a passing reference to him in the official history of the church – and doesn't attract many railway visitors. They would find it hard to get in anyway as the church is always locked to protect it from vandals, a sad situation for such an architecturally interesting building, especially as it is extensively written about in Pevsner's book on the buildings of Northumberland. The vicar didn't have a key – he was new and had only just arrived in the district – but I tracked down the church warden, Thomas Gillespy, who was very helpful.

In George's day, so the church warden said, the church came under the Bishop of Carlisle, who appointed the vicars. It wasn't until 1882 that the diocese of Newcastle was created, St Nicholas' Church in Newcastle being promoted to a cathedral. He brought out the church's marriage registers, which go back to 1665, and looked up George's two marriages. He agreed George's signature on his first marriage was rather rough and childlike but refuted any suggestion that George could in any sense be classed as illiterate.

‘He went to night classes when he was grown up, to a man in Walbottle. My grandmother went to the same man and she always said he was very good.'

NEWCASTLE

There are several original letters and documents by and relating to George and Robert at Newcastle's Central Library, in their local history room, and out at the Northumberland County Records Office in North Gosforth. The latter also has the manuscript of Nicholas Wood's notes taken at the Rainhill trials.

The Central Station, where Robert was fêted, is as imposing as ever, having recently been cleaned up. Not far away in Neville Street is the statue of George, dressed for some reason like a Greek, the one erected by the city fathers in 1862. The Lit. and Phil., also nearby, is still going strong and its subscription fee hasn't gone up by very much since George enrolled Robert a hundred and sixty years ago. He paid three guineas a year. They have one of his first safety lamps in a glass cage and copies of the reports and newspaper cuttings about the safety lamp row.

While in Newcastle in 1975, I went to see the chairman of the North Eastern branch of the Stephenson Locomotive Society. The SLS, as it's known to all fans, was founded in 1909 and is the oldest railway society in the world. (A boast worth making when you consider that there are 900 different railway societies.) It was not named directly after George Stephenson but after a locomotive called
Stephenson
which used to run on the London, Brighton and South Coast line. The society was begun in Croydon by seven enthusiasts to encourage a love for railways.

It had almost thirty branches throughout the country and many in Europe and America. Each branch had its monthly meetings, dinners and endless trips for members and friends to look at old locomotives, sheds, stations, signal boxes, and anything else to do with railways. There was a monthly magazine, usually about thirty-two pages thick, which carried the society's news plus irate letters from members who are incensed by terrible mistakes made by other members, such as labelling ‘The Merchant Venturer as leaving Box Tunnel whereas it is clearly emerging from Middle Hill Tunnel.'

The chairman of the North Eastern branch was a retired Newcastle jeweller called Leslie Charlton. He and about thirty local members met once a month at the Central Station. They don't hang around the platforms but congregate in room 36, one of British Rail's staff meeting rooms, to watch slides of old engines and other excitements.