A Protest against the Extension of Railways in the Lake District/The State of the Question
RAILWAYS IN THE LAKE DISTRICT.
In these lines Wordsworth gave vent to the feelings of repugnance and regret with which he viewed the proposal, made now more than thirty years ago, to construct a line of railway from Kendal to a spot within a mile of the Head of Windermere. The sonnet was followed, a few weeks later, by two letters from the Poet, which appeared in the 'Morning Post.' These were afterwards revised and published, with some additions, in the form of a pamphlet.
Before the first of these letters was written, the site of the present Windermere Station had been fixed on as the terminus of the railway; and, although Wordsworth continued his opposition to the whole scheme, he wrote not only with a view to the circumstances of his own day, but plainly foreseeing the revival of the attempt to penetrate to the heart of the district, in the future. It is meet then, at a time when such an attempt appears imminent, that we should, in any endeavour to rouse public interest in the fate of the district, begin with some notice of what was thus written in 1844.
Wordsworth felt that he had to deal with three classes of opponents, each in its own way raising the cry of selfishness against him. There was first the herd of speculators and money-makers who sought to bring into discredit all who stood in the way of their gains; second, 'they who are dazzled by the application of physical science to the useful arts, and indiscriminately applaud what they call the spirit of the age as manifested in this way; and, lastly, those persons who are ever ready to step forward in what appears to them to be the cause of the poor, but not always with becoming attention to particulars.' It is to the latter classes that Wordsworth addresses himself.
Showing, first how the taste for what is called picturesque natural scenery is peculiarly a modern one, he insists further on its rarity; and observes that however desirable it may be that every one should possess it, such a taste cannot be implanted at once, but must be gradually developed. Then, after illustrating the assertion that 'the features of nature which go to the composition of such scenery . . . cannot, in their finer relations to the human mind, be comprehended, or even very imperfectly conceived, without processes of culture or opportunities of observation in some degree habitual;'—he suggests that the dwellers in towns should be prepared, by more frequent intercourse with Nature in her gentle moods of field and wood, to appreciate her more majestic aspects. Finally he ridicules the folly of destroying the charm of the district, on the pretence of bringing people under its influence.
Such, in the main, is the scope of the first letter. In the second the argument is enforced by other considerations. Thus he deprecates the proposal to send people from the humbler ranks of society in large droves to the Lakes, on the ground, not only of their inability to gain any material benefit from the romantic scenery, but also of the want of respect for their independence shewn by such a proceeding. He puts in a plea on behalf of the resident gentry who, having settled in the locality for the sake of retirement, might be driven away by the proposed change; and observes, with much truth, that the poor would suffer by exchanging their old neighbours of the richer sort,—whose constant kindliness and care he eulogizes,— for 'strangers not linked to the neighbourhood, but flitting to and fro between their fancy villas and the homes where their wealth was accumulated and accumulating by trade and manufactures,'
He thus concludes his appeal. 'It will be felt by those who think with me upon this occasion that I have been writing on behalf of a social condition which no one who is competent to judge of it will be willing to subvert, and that I have been endeavouring to support moral sentiments and intellectual pleasures of a high order against an enmity which seems growing more and more every day; I mean "Utilitarianism,"' serving as a mask for cupidity and gambling speculations. My business with this evil lies in its reckless mode of action by Railways, now its favourite instruments. Upon good authority I have been told that there was lately an intention of driving one of these pests, as they are likely too often to prove, through a part of the magnificent ruins of Furness Abbey—an outrage which was prevented by some one pointing out how easily a deviation might be made; and the hint produced its due effect upon the engineer.
'Sacred as that relic of the devotion of our ancestors deserves to be kept, there are temples of Nature, temples built by the Almighty, which have a still higher claim to be left unviolated. Almost every reach of the winding vales in this district might once have presented itself to a man of imagination and feeling under that aspect, or as the Vale of Grasmere appeared to the Poet Gray more than seventy years ago.' "No flaring gentleman's house" says he, "nor garden-walls break in upon the repose of this little unsuspected paradise, but all is peace," &c., &c. Were the Poet now living, how would he have lamented the probable intrusion of a railway with its scarifications, its intersections, its noisy machinery, its smoke, and swarms of pleasure-hunters, most of them thinking that they do not fly fast enough through the country which they have come to see. Even a broad highway may in some places greatly impair the characteristic beauty of the country, as will be readily acknowlodged by those who remember what the Lake of Grasmere was before the new road that runs alonge its eastern margin had been constructed.'
'Quanto prsestantius esset
Numen aquae viridi si margine clauderet undas
Herba —'
'As it once was, and fringed with wood, instead of the breast work of bare wall that now confines it. In the same manner has the beauty, and still more the sublimity of many Passes in the Alps been injuriously affected. Will the reader excuse a M.S. poem in which I attempted to describe the impression made upon my mind by the descent towards Italy along the Simplon before the new military road had taken place of the old muleteer track with its primitive simplicities?
And with them we did journey several hours
At a slow step. The immeasurable height
Of woods decaying, never to be decayed,
The stationary blast of waterfalls,
And in the narrow rent, at every turn,
Winds thwarting winds bewildered and forlorn,
The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky.
The rocks that muttered close upon our ears,
Black drizzling crags that spake by the way-side
As if a voice were in them, the sick sight
And giddy prospect of the raving stream,
The unfettered clouds and region of the heavens,
Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light,
Were all like workings of one mind, the features
Of the same face, blossoms upon one tree.
Characters of the great Apocalypse,
The types and symbols of Eternity,
Of first, and last, and midst, and without end.'
'Thirty years afterwards I crossed the Alps by the same Pass; and what had become of the forms and powers to which I had been indebted for those emotions? Many of them remained, of course, undestroyed and indestructible. But, though the road and torrent continued to run parallel to each other, their fellowship was put an end to. The stream had dwindled into comparative insignificance, so much had Art interfered with and taken the lead of Nature; and although the utility of the new work, as facilitating the intercourse of great nations, was readily acquiesced in, and the workmanship, in some places, could not but excite admiration, it was impossible to suppress regret for what had vanished for ever. The oratories heretofore not unfrequently met with, on a road still somewhat perilous, were gone; the simple and rude bridges swept away; and instead of travellers proceeding, with leisure to observe and feel, were pilgrims of fashion hurried along in their carriages, not a few of them perhaps discussing the merits of "the last new Novel." or poring over their Guide-books, or fast asleep. Similar remarks might be applied to the mountainous country of Wales; but there too, the plea of utility, especially as expediting the communication between England and Ireland, more than justifies the labours of the Engineer. Not so would it be with the Lake District. A railroad is already planned along the sea coast, and another from Lancaster to Carlisle is in great forwardness: an intermediate one is therefore, to say the least of it, superfluous. Once for all let me declare that it is not against Railways but against the abuse of them that I am contending. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
'I have now done with the subject. The time of life at which I have arrived may, I trust, if nothing else will, guard me from the imputation of having written from any selfish interests, or from fear of disturbance which a railway might cause to myself. If gratitude for what repose and quiet in a district hitherto, for the most part, not disfigured but beautified by human hands, have done for me through the course of a long life, and hope that others might hereafter be benefited in the same manner and in the same country, be selfishness, then, indeed, but not otherwise, I plead guilty to the charge. Nor have I opposed this undertaking on account of the inhabitants of the district merely, but, as hath been intimated, for the sake of every one, however humble his condition, who coming hither shall bring with him an eye to perceive, and a heart to feel and worthily enjoy. And as for holiday pastimes, if a scene is to be chosen suitable to them for persons thronging from a distance, it may be found elsewhere at less cost of every kind. But, in fact, we have too much hurrying about in these islands; much for idle pleasure, and more from over activity in the pursuit of wealth, without regard to the good or happiness of others.
'Proud were ye, Mountains, when, in times of old,
Your patriot sons, to stem invasive war,
Intrenched your brows; ye gloried in each scar:
Now, for your shame, a Power, the Thirst of Gold,
That rules o'er Britain like a baneful star,
Wills that your peace, your beauty, shall be sold,
And clear way made for her triumphant car
Through the beloved retreats your arms enfold!
Heard ye that Whistle? As her long-linked Train
Swept onwards, did the vision cross your view?
Yes, ye were startled;—and, in balance true,
Weighing the mischief with the promised gain,
Mountains, and Vales, and Floods, I call on you
To share the passion of a just disdain.
Thus Wordsworth thought and wrote thirty years ago. His opinion concerning the appreciative powers of human nature is not, certainly, so flattering to average humanity as that of the Daily News; but it will, I trust, be sufficiently clear to the reader of the following pages, that the opposition of to-day is based, not on any desire to return to a position of exclusiveness—however logically tenable upon Wordsworth's hypothesis—but on a frank acceptance of the existing state of things, including what, to be quite plain, we may as well call 'cheap trips.'
The changes wrought, during the last thirty years, in our manufacturing centres, have certainly increased, rather than diminished, the difficulty of educating any one to the appreciation of nature in their immediate vicinity. And this alone should make the preservation of the Lake District an object of greater solicitude to the country at large than ever before.
In another respect our position is stronger than Wordsworth's. Not only have the Railways which were planned when he wrote been constructed, but others have been added, bringing travellers up to, or beyond, the edge of the district on every side.
It must be observed that there are two distinct points from which the question of extending a line of railway into the Lake District may be regarded. Either the minerals of the district are worth working, or they are not. Upon this matter I am not disposed to hazard an opinion. But the arguments made use of upon the one supposition, differ from those which are put forward upon the other, by those who favour the railway project; and it may be well to note their divergence, and to indicate some of the considerations which weigh against them.
Upon the supposition that there are no minerals in the district worth working, it is urged that the construction of a railroad, while it would scarcely damage the landscape, would make easy the access to places which must now be reached by a walk or a drive.
It would be idle to attempt to convince a man who can see nothing disfiguring or incongruous in the intrusion, upon a sequestered valley, of a railway with its staring accompaniments, that his opinion results from any lack of fineness in his perceptive powers. But concerning this question of access something may be said. Perfect accessibility, of course, would demand a complete network of lines, with stations at every lovely spot. Nobody, I believe, wants exactly that. It must therefore be a question of degree.
Considering it as such, I venture to say that a little study of present railway facilities will convince any one with a knowledge of the district that, unless we are to legislate solely for the indolent, or for the few who, being too weak to walk, are too poor to ride, no reasonable case for extending the railway can be made out. Even those who can afford but a day at a time may, by a judicious use of their opportunities, and by varying the point of entrance, see a great part of the district.
The imputation of selfishness is always an easy and popular mode of attack, and so it is hardly surprising that the old cry should be raised, that our object is to keep the district 'select,' and to bar the way against the crowds of 'excursionists.' Such charges cannot be too warmly repudiated. For my own part I cannot help thinking that it would add greatly to the comfort and pleasure of the humbler classes of society if our benevolent Railway Companies would grant them special facilities for making cheap excursions at any time, by the regular trains, instead of packing them closely in old rolling-stock, and shortening the time of their enjoyment by an irregular and often tediously prolonged journey. But upon the present system—indeed, perhaps, upon any system, on public holidays—crowds are inevitable; and we bid them very heartily 'Welcome.' As has been said elsewhere, 'It is not to guard that district in the interest of a small section of society, but to preserve it for those—and they are found in every rank—who can enjoy its unsullied natural loveliness, that this movement has been set on foot.'
There are no doubt places which a pedestrian, starting from the railway station, can scarcely visit in a day of nine or ten hours. But, of the persons who have only such intervals at their disposal, those who could best appreciate these inaccessible spots would be the last to desire that the grand solitude or peaceful beauty of the places they can reach should be abolished to make attainable those which they cannot.
We have no right to charge it scornfully upon our working classes that the number of such appreciative persons is small. The blame must rest, not so much upon them, as upon the circumstances of their daily life, in places where God's light is darkened, and His work destroyed, by the hands of men; in homes which they fly, not to, but from, upon their holidays. One wonders, indeed, upon what extent of actual observation is founded that singular creed of the Daily News, expressed, as it is, with almost Athanasian fervour:—'We are bound to believe that every one appreciates mountain glories, that he would not be found among them if he did not like them.' Alas! it is not so yet. But if, recognizing the beneficent and helpful power of noble scenery, we desire to widen the sphere of its influence so that, of all who shall be found among mountains, it may be truly said that they love them, let us not think to accomplish our purpose by making railways through their solitudes, and turning their hamlets into towns. If we are ever to raise men to communion with the powers of nature,—to develope in them the 'wise passiveness' of the 'heart that watches and receives' her lore—it will not be merely by giving them occasional and hurried glimpses of strange beauty, but by dignifying the labour, and adorning the surroundings[1] of their daily life.
But the question assumes, on both sides, a more serious aspect if it can be shewn that there are minerals worth working in the Lake District. On the one hand the arguments for making a railway will appear to many persons more cogent; while it must be admitted on the other, that, in such an event, the destruction of the beauty of the district would be more sudden and complete. Although, therefore, there are good reasons for doubting the existence of valuable mineral deposits, it will be well to look the question fairly in the face.
At a subsequent page will be found reprinted an article from the Daily News, in which the editor, accepting Wordsworth's authority as to the non-existence of any mineral wealth, urges the importance of preserving the district from further railway intrusion.
For much that the article contains, and for the firm stand it takes on this ground, we have every reason to be grateful. But it is, on this very account, the more important that its opening paragraphs should not be allowed to pass unchallenged. The notion that it is desirable to develop the wealth of the district by means of a railway exists, with more or less of confusion, in many minds, and runs through much of what is said on the subject. This idea is embodied with commendable perspicuity in the following sentences.
'The projected line may,' says the Daily News, 'be designed to facilitate the transport of minerals, and to bring a working population within reach of mines. In that case, to oppose the railway because the steam-whistle frightens the wild birds, disturbs the poet as he hunts for that difficult rhyme in the tenth line of his sonnet, or makes the artist drop his brush, would be to protect sentiment at the cost of the material prosperity of individuals, and the material prosperity of the country. Now, though the moralist may deny that material prosperity should be allowed to outweigh finer considerations, and though the artist may repine, there can be little doubt that in most cases the ordinary laws of economy must have their way.'
Here be it observed that, whether with the intention of making an easy victory for the 'laws of economy,' or not, the opponent case has been stated in its weakest form. A perusal to its close of this very article, still more of the papers that follow it, will convince the reader that there are grounds for opposing the railway, far stronger, and arguments more powerful, than the disturbance of birds and artists.
One naturally enquires,—What are these 'laws of economy,' the mere mention of which is supposed to settle the question in spite of all 'finer considerations'? The political economists often tell us that the 'laws' of their science are not commands or injunctions, but merely scientific statements of facts. It may, for example, be a law of so-called political economy that, if a mountain contain deposits of ore which, when reached by a railway, might be profitably worked, the construction of such railway would increase 'the material prosperity of individuals, and the material prosperity of the country.' And hence it might be hastily assumed that, if there be iron in the vale of Grasmere, the sooner we make a line to the place the better. But, before taking this step, it must be shewn that the consummation, in the Lake District, of that state of individuals and country which we describe by the term 'material prosperity,' is so pre-eminently desirable, as to outweigh all other, even confessedly 'finer'—considerations.
Now, of the material prosperity of the country at large, I suppose there can be no dispute. It may be suffering, so far as trade is concerned, a temporary relapse, after a period of inflation; but it is still happy in the multitude of its 'materially prosperous' inhabitants; while its capital city, in spite of 'its unutterable external hideousness, and with its horrible internal canker of publicé egestas, privatim opulentia, may still be styled, in the words of the late Professor Cairnes, 'a mighty monument of Economic achievement.'
But, at the same time, every step of its advancing career is marked, in its 'materially prosperous' districts, by the darkening of the light of heaven, and the defilement and destruction of the beauty of the earth. Sneer as we may about 'sentimentalism' and 'utopian ideas,'—and talk of the grandeur of industrial achievement, and the triumphs of commerce,—it remains, and will remain for ever true,—the curse of thorn and thistle and sweat of brow notwithstanding, that the glory of the Divine work is intended for the joy and for the instruction of men; for their contemplation, and not for their contempt. And year by year, as the Divine ordinance is set at defiance, and the people are farther and farther separated from these holy influences, the 'materially prosperous' individuals, for whose welfare we are so solicitous, find themselves surrounded by an increasing crowd of lunatics, drunkards, and criminals. Surely it is idle to urge the development of 'material prosperity,' as in itself a sufficient argument for turning, if it were possible, this Lake Country into a mining region.
The most obvious reasons for opposing such a wanton act of destruction will be found stated in the following pages; and, as I remarked above, they exceed, both in number and cogency, those suggested in the quotation from the Daily News.
If, indeed, we care to have any poets or painters, we must give them a little room to grow, or even to run wild in. We may rest assured we shall get no great art, either of pen or pencil, out of the back streets of our manufacturing towns; and even South Kensington may be powerless to help us, if we turn the whole country into slums.
But supposing we resolve to be content with art of the 'School,' and satisfied with the poetry of the 'pavement,'—we may yet find that, in destroying our country districts, and levelling them up with an imported population, we have killed the 'goose that lays the golden egg.'
Hear what the Times says, in a leading article of January, in this year:—
'The Army, the Navy, the Railways, the Trades, and even the Professions, all get their best men from the rural districts. Cities, ports, and Watering-places get all their domestic servants from the villages, and generally afford them new homes. The wonder is how mother earth stands the incessant drain. But at this moment, in many a rural nook, the farmers are wild with indignation at the impossibility of keeping the more promising lads, and the necessity of putting up with the worst—that is, with any they can get. Yet, strange to say, this residuum, left on the soil because it has not the spirit, or the knowledge, or the physical power to seek its fortune elsewhere, goes on producing children that lords and ladies might envy it. The profoundest ignorance, or ideas about politics and religion, which it would be awful to enquire into, do not prevent them from supplying Her Majesty with by far the most useful, most loyal, and most convertible portion of her subjects.'
Apart altogether from its special claims, it would be hard to find a more powerful plea than this, for the preservation of the Lake District. In summing the wealth of a country, the quality of its men will surely count for something; and even the 'laws of economy,' if only one understood them, might be found to have something to say against diminishing the production of the 'most useful, most loyal, and most convertible' of Her Majesty's subjects.[2]
Following the papers relating to the Lake District, will be found a letter describing, simply and graphically, the changes wrought by forty years in a single Yorkshire town; and an article from the Saturday Review, giving some additional glimpses of the scenery in a manufacturing neighbourhood. Both documents are of interest in connection with what has been said above;—presenting us as they do with a picture of the present daily surroundings of large masses of the people, and furnishing a series of choice illustrations of 'material prosperity.'
Now, it is an easy matter to condemn this state of things in toto, or to exclaim, with the much-shocked editor of a religious paper, that 'if one half of this be true, the legislature ought to interfere, and to interfere with vigour.' So also it is easy to blame in general those sometimes thoughtless and ignorant, but often well meaning though perplexed persons, who are more or less evidently involved in the sad progress of our industrial system, but of whose particular circumstances and difficulties we know nothing.
But it is a far different thing to deal actually with the evil; and worse than useless to shriek for legislative interference. Even now nothing is commoner than to hear manufacturers complain of the restraint of the law. The evil to be dealt with is not one but many. Like the hydra it has a hundred heads; but the strength of them all is rooted in the selfishness that seeks its own advantage at the cost of the well-being of others. We have to cut down that, and cast it out; and for such conquest no Acts of Parliament will avail.
I am touching the edge of a great subject, and must forbear. But, depend upon it, we are none of us guiltless in this matter. We are shocked, every now and then, by the description of such a village as Ardsley;[3] or startled to hear that some of the 'marvels of cheapness,' which so delight us, are wrung from the gasping poverty of children, or, ground by the pressure of hunger, out of dying men; but we do not enough remind ourselves that by the patronage we give to the production of cheap and specious rubbish,—by our encouragement of those sharp tradesmen, who wring their 'extraordinary bargains' often out of the dire necessities of those from whom they buy,—by our grudging or refusal of a just price for honest and good work,—by our every act of wastefulness, or wanton gratification of the thirst for luxury,—aye, and often by the beggarly meanness that takes the chattels of a poor tradesman, and impoverishes him by shamelessly-deferred payment,—we are aiding and abetting, by all the means in our power, the spread of the squalor and wretchedness which we profess to abhor.
To say that—barring a few isolated cases of oppression the working classes are well paid and might be in much better circumstances if they made a wise use of their wages in no way lessens our responsibility. Nor can I adequately express the amazement with which I frequently hear high wages spoken of, as though the mere increase of riches could in itself make life more happy or more blessed. If a man can have no joy in his work, the larger wages he gets the worse, as a rule, he will spend them.
I must not pursue this subject. Both the Letter and the Article are worth careful reading and thought; and may well suggest to the apostles of 'material prosperity' and 'progress,' the propriety of setting somewhat more in order the very considerable territory which they already occupy before attempting to annex thereto the Lake District of England.
I have much pleasure in expressing my thanks to the Editor of the Saturday Review, the Managers of the Daily News, and the Proprietors of Punch, for their permission to make use of the articles here re-printed; also to Mr. Robert Browning for kindly-granted leave to grace my fly-leaf with the precious lines from 'Lady Geraldine's Courtship,' by the late Mrs. Browning.
- ↑ I cannot forbear alluding with admiration to the effort to beautify in simple ways the homes of the London poor, which is being made by the 'Society for the Diffusion of Beauty.' A paper, explaining its object and mode of action, may be had from the founder, Miss Hill, 14, Nottingham Place, W. It is to be hoped that branches of the Society may spring up in other places. Only, let no one suppose that the best and wisest of such work can supersede the necessity for a change in the conditions of labour.
- ↑ The following paragraph from the same article shows that the work of the Company of St. George has the permissive sanction of the leading journal.
'If it is allowable to depopulate a district, to expatriate the poor, that encumbered it, to stop the paths and roads, to surround the whole area with a high paling, and then call the area a shooting, and stock it with game, it cannot be less allowable to take a similar area and prepare it for a larger population than it held before, and that a population, not of brutes, but of men.' - ↑ See the second article from the Saturday Review.