DOI issue:
October 10, 1857
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16620#0164
164 PUNCk, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [October 10, 1857.
WHO'S TO BLAME P
ok passages from the life op a locomotive.
And, secondly, the man whose business it was to see that the man
whose business it was to see that engine kept in proper order did his
business—i. e., the superintendent of rolling stock—had neglected his
business.
And, thirdly, the man whose business it was to see that the man
whose business it was to see that the man whose business it was, &c,
&c, &c, i. e., the Directors—had neglected their business.
In short, everyone was to blame but the Blazer. She broke down in
obedience to the laws of nature.
Well, will it be believed that the Directors, in solemn conclave had
the impudence to propose trying the poor old locomotive ?
There s another Company—on a much larger scale, which has met
with a similar catastrophe. An old locomotive, called the General
Lloyd, part of the stock of the East India Company, has lately broken
down near the Dinapore Station, at a most critical moment for the
safety of every passenger in charge of the Company.
There has been an awful smash; and—
The Directors talk of trying the poor, old locomotive—which it was-
their duty to have had overhauled every journey, and which, if they had
done their duty, would have been quietly waiting in the yard to be
broken up for old iron, many a year ago......! ! Don't you think
the British public has a right to ask
" Who's to Blame ? "
There was once upon a time an old locomotive.
She had been a first-rate piece of engine-building in her day. Old
George Stephenson, when he turned her out of his yard at New-
castle—it was before they brought out that long-bodied, herring-gutted,
racing style of locomotive that now flashes its express-train along at
sixty miles an hour, and occasionally jumps down an embankment, or
over a viaduct, it's so light and lively—Old George clapped her on
the breech of her round, cobby boiler, with his own honest hand, as
the mechanics ran her down, and cried : " Thou's a bonny thing ; that
thou is ! " And on the spot he christened her The Blazer.
Old George had an eye for a locomotive.
The Blazer was a bonny thing.
B'or years she did her work on the Stockton and Darlington line,—
that modest mother, from whose iron loins has sprung the whole giant
race of railway-lines in the Old World and the New. It was honest,
regular, steady work on that line. Like its Quaker Directors, the com-
Sany was never in a hurry either to do its journeys, or to raise its
ividends. It began with a cool fifteen miles an hour, and a comfort-
able ten per cent. The fifteen miles have doubled; but the ten per
cent, dividend remains as it was. On a less Quakerish line, they would
have quadrupled the pace, and brought the dividend down to one per
cent, by this time. Well, The Blazer worked between dull Dar-
lington and ship-yardy Stockton, for many a year, till the gloss was
worn off her paint, and her iron and brass-work began to look weather-
beaten. But her boiler was made of right good stuff. Flaws were
rare in Old George's plates; and his rivets were good-holding ones,
and well clenched. Whatever part of The Blazer, might want the
doctor, her boiler was all sound. So she puffed, and panted, and
wheezed, and snorted, and ran her quiet, happy youth out, on that
primitive line, till railways had grown, and stretched their iron arms
over the whole island. One day The Blazer, now a steady, middle-
aged locomotive, was transferred, with some other part of the rolling I
stock which the makers could spare, and had a customer for (on highly j
remunerative terms), to one of the dashing, new Midland lines, got up I
on the Hudson high-pressure system of, " a short life and a merry I
one."
They took it out of their servants and stock, the better to take in
the public. Every pointsman, and signal-man, and station-master,
had three men's business to attend to, and every locomotive had to i
work double tides, on half allowances of care, oil, and overhauling.!
" Making things pleasant" was the motto of this Company, and every-1
thing—the comfort of servants, the interest of shareholders, the safety
of passengers—was risked recklessly for the purpose of swelling divi-
dends till they couldn't be swelled any more, and collapsed under the
crushing hands of hard fact. The poor old Blazer suffered with the
rest. Many and many a journey did the shaky old creature make,
when she ought to have been in hospital at, the repairing-house. Many
a journey did she get through with the pleasant conviction that her ^^^^^^^^'^^^^^^g^zs^^>-^ ^^V^
water-gauge was out of order, and her safety-valve useless. But work
she must, and the lower the bill her engineer had to show for repairs
at the year's end the better for him. Her boiler-plates were getting
remarkably thin now—oxidisation and deposits had done their work ;
and here and there a rivet was getting shaky. But there was no time
for overhauling her ; and a new boiler would have figured as a heayy
PITY FOR THE POOR SEPOYS!
Mr. Punch,
item under the head " repairs of rolling stock ; " so on the Blazer j " ' Spare while you strike.' ' Blend mercy with justice.' i
went, scaled plates, shaky rivets and all. At last it came. One fatal | wish, Sir, you would tell the twaddlers, who keep bleating these copy-
journey the poor old thing had to take a heavier turn of duty than I book moralities, to hold their tongues. ' Hang not at all,'is a doctrine I
had ever been laid on her before. It was on an express train, started
to race the express of a rival line. By overworking every inch of
man, and every ounce of metal, it was just possible to shorten the
journey by a quarter of an hour. So the quarter of an hour was to
be saved, of course, and when one of the Directors—a new-comer-
hinted at danger, he was most caustically reprimanded by the Chair-
man, and contemptuously put down by the Board.
Off went the lightning express at the heels of the old Blazer,
working at nobody knows how many pounds pressure to the square inch.
As might have been expected, " smash" went one of her worn-out
boiler-plates. The nearest, carriages slacked their speed, the middle
ones were jammed up into the air by those behind them ; three com-
partments went over the embankment: a score of people were killed,
some hundreds maimed—the reporters were busy—inquests were held
—and verdicts were returned,
Against whom ?
Against the Blazer, or against the Directors, who allowed that
worn-out locomotive to be used ?
What says Common Sense ?
Surely the poor old Blazer'was not to blame. She had done her work
well while she could, and had lasted longer than ninety-nine locomo-
tives out of a hundred. But first, the man whose business it was to
see that engine kept in proper O'-der—i.e., the engineer—had neglected
Ins business
can understand; but, if you are to hang at all, hang every Sepoy you
can catch. And let us have no more idle deprecation of the public
cry for vengeance. Do not hang, if you object to death punishment;
but, anyhow, don't hang and cant. Let us not talk of mercy and for-
giveness towards a criminal while we throttle him. Execution is
vengeance, whatever we may call it. Chapter and verse are quoted
against revenge. But chapter and verse must be construed reasonably.
Chapter and verse, if understood literally, would oblige us to send out
pale ale and preserved meat to our enemies, the Indian mutineers.
Chapter and verse are to be read, not only with grammar in view, but,
also with rhetoric. Hyperbole is one of the figures for which allow-
ance must be made in reading chapter and verse. Private and personal
revenge are doubtless forbidden by chapter and verse, and individuals
are counselled to disarm attack by concession. But the public is not
required to put up with outrages upon human nature; and doubtless
the burning indignation which such crimes excite arises from a senti-
ment implanted in man, on purpose to secure the punishment of atro-
cious criminals. Let us, Sir, in this, as in all other affairs, regard
"Things Rather than Words.
"P.S.—Poor Nena Sahib! If he should be captured, and our
vengeful authorities cannot be prevailed on to spare him, might he not
be allowed to expiate his little offences against English women and
children—under the influence of chloroform !"
WHO'S TO BLAME P
ok passages from the life op a locomotive.
And, secondly, the man whose business it was to see that the man
whose business it was to see that engine kept in proper order did his
business—i. e., the superintendent of rolling stock—had neglected his
business.
And, thirdly, the man whose business it was to see that the man
whose business it was to see that the man whose business it was, &c,
&c, &c, i. e., the Directors—had neglected their business.
In short, everyone was to blame but the Blazer. She broke down in
obedience to the laws of nature.
Well, will it be believed that the Directors, in solemn conclave had
the impudence to propose trying the poor old locomotive ?
There s another Company—on a much larger scale, which has met
with a similar catastrophe. An old locomotive, called the General
Lloyd, part of the stock of the East India Company, has lately broken
down near the Dinapore Station, at a most critical moment for the
safety of every passenger in charge of the Company.
There has been an awful smash; and—
The Directors talk of trying the poor, old locomotive—which it was-
their duty to have had overhauled every journey, and which, if they had
done their duty, would have been quietly waiting in the yard to be
broken up for old iron, many a year ago......! ! Don't you think
the British public has a right to ask
" Who's to Blame ? "
There was once upon a time an old locomotive.
She had been a first-rate piece of engine-building in her day. Old
George Stephenson, when he turned her out of his yard at New-
castle—it was before they brought out that long-bodied, herring-gutted,
racing style of locomotive that now flashes its express-train along at
sixty miles an hour, and occasionally jumps down an embankment, or
over a viaduct, it's so light and lively—Old George clapped her on
the breech of her round, cobby boiler, with his own honest hand, as
the mechanics ran her down, and cried : " Thou's a bonny thing ; that
thou is ! " And on the spot he christened her The Blazer.
Old George had an eye for a locomotive.
The Blazer was a bonny thing.
B'or years she did her work on the Stockton and Darlington line,—
that modest mother, from whose iron loins has sprung the whole giant
race of railway-lines in the Old World and the New. It was honest,
regular, steady work on that line. Like its Quaker Directors, the com-
Sany was never in a hurry either to do its journeys, or to raise its
ividends. It began with a cool fifteen miles an hour, and a comfort-
able ten per cent. The fifteen miles have doubled; but the ten per
cent, dividend remains as it was. On a less Quakerish line, they would
have quadrupled the pace, and brought the dividend down to one per
cent, by this time. Well, The Blazer worked between dull Dar-
lington and ship-yardy Stockton, for many a year, till the gloss was
worn off her paint, and her iron and brass-work began to look weather-
beaten. But her boiler was made of right good stuff. Flaws were
rare in Old George's plates; and his rivets were good-holding ones,
and well clenched. Whatever part of The Blazer, might want the
doctor, her boiler was all sound. So she puffed, and panted, and
wheezed, and snorted, and ran her quiet, happy youth out, on that
primitive line, till railways had grown, and stretched their iron arms
over the whole island. One day The Blazer, now a steady, middle-
aged locomotive, was transferred, with some other part of the rolling I
stock which the makers could spare, and had a customer for (on highly j
remunerative terms), to one of the dashing, new Midland lines, got up I
on the Hudson high-pressure system of, " a short life and a merry I
one."
They took it out of their servants and stock, the better to take in
the public. Every pointsman, and signal-man, and station-master,
had three men's business to attend to, and every locomotive had to i
work double tides, on half allowances of care, oil, and overhauling.!
" Making things pleasant" was the motto of this Company, and every-1
thing—the comfort of servants, the interest of shareholders, the safety
of passengers—was risked recklessly for the purpose of swelling divi-
dends till they couldn't be swelled any more, and collapsed under the
crushing hands of hard fact. The poor old Blazer suffered with the
rest. Many and many a journey did the shaky old creature make,
when she ought to have been in hospital at, the repairing-house. Many
a journey did she get through with the pleasant conviction that her ^^^^^^^^'^^^^^^g^zs^^>-^ ^^V^
water-gauge was out of order, and her safety-valve useless. But work
she must, and the lower the bill her engineer had to show for repairs
at the year's end the better for him. Her boiler-plates were getting
remarkably thin now—oxidisation and deposits had done their work ;
and here and there a rivet was getting shaky. But there was no time
for overhauling her ; and a new boiler would have figured as a heayy
PITY FOR THE POOR SEPOYS!
Mr. Punch,
item under the head " repairs of rolling stock ; " so on the Blazer j " ' Spare while you strike.' ' Blend mercy with justice.' i
went, scaled plates, shaky rivets and all. At last it came. One fatal | wish, Sir, you would tell the twaddlers, who keep bleating these copy-
journey the poor old thing had to take a heavier turn of duty than I book moralities, to hold their tongues. ' Hang not at all,'is a doctrine I
had ever been laid on her before. It was on an express train, started
to race the express of a rival line. By overworking every inch of
man, and every ounce of metal, it was just possible to shorten the
journey by a quarter of an hour. So the quarter of an hour was to
be saved, of course, and when one of the Directors—a new-comer-
hinted at danger, he was most caustically reprimanded by the Chair-
man, and contemptuously put down by the Board.
Off went the lightning express at the heels of the old Blazer,
working at nobody knows how many pounds pressure to the square inch.
As might have been expected, " smash" went one of her worn-out
boiler-plates. The nearest, carriages slacked their speed, the middle
ones were jammed up into the air by those behind them ; three com-
partments went over the embankment: a score of people were killed,
some hundreds maimed—the reporters were busy—inquests were held
—and verdicts were returned,
Against whom ?
Against the Blazer, or against the Directors, who allowed that
worn-out locomotive to be used ?
What says Common Sense ?
Surely the poor old Blazer'was not to blame. She had done her work
well while she could, and had lasted longer than ninety-nine locomo-
tives out of a hundred. But first, the man whose business it was to
see that engine kept in proper O'-der—i.e., the engineer—had neglected
Ins business
can understand; but, if you are to hang at all, hang every Sepoy you
can catch. And let us have no more idle deprecation of the public
cry for vengeance. Do not hang, if you object to death punishment;
but, anyhow, don't hang and cant. Let us not talk of mercy and for-
giveness towards a criminal while we throttle him. Execution is
vengeance, whatever we may call it. Chapter and verse are quoted
against revenge. But chapter and verse must be construed reasonably.
Chapter and verse, if understood literally, would oblige us to send out
pale ale and preserved meat to our enemies, the Indian mutineers.
Chapter and verse are to be read, not only with grammar in view, but,
also with rhetoric. Hyperbole is one of the figures for which allow-
ance must be made in reading chapter and verse. Private and personal
revenge are doubtless forbidden by chapter and verse, and individuals
are counselled to disarm attack by concession. But the public is not
required to put up with outrages upon human nature; and doubtless
the burning indignation which such crimes excite arises from a senti-
ment implanted in man, on purpose to secure the punishment of atro-
cious criminals. Let us, Sir, in this, as in all other affairs, regard
"Things Rather than Words.
"P.S.—Poor Nena Sahib! If he should be captured, and our
vengeful authorities cannot be prevailed on to spare him, might he not
be allowed to expiate his little offences against English women and
children—under the influence of chloroform !"