All this was but a preliminary skirmish, the main battle now began. The beef-eating Briton was thoroughly aroused. George Stephenson was considered to be an incarnation or certainly an implement of his Satanic Majesty. The public were appealed to, and ever ready to hinder progress, they took off their tuxedo, smocks, frocks, morning coats or whatever covered their bodies, and formed phalanx against the common foe. A meeting of Manchester ministers of all denominations was convened. This meeting declared that the locomotive was “in direct opposition both to the law of God and to the most enduring interests of society.” This set match to powder. The doctors declared that the air would be poisoned and birds would die of suffocation. The landowners, that the preservation of pheasants and foxes was no longer possible. Householders, that their houses would be burnt down and the air polluted by clouds of smoke. Horse-breeders, that horses would become extinct. Farmers, that oats and hay would be rendered unsaleable. Innkeepers, that inns would be ruined. Passengers, that boilers would burst. Heaven knows who—“that the locomotive would prevent cows grazing, hens laying, and would cause ladies to give premature birth to children at the sight of these things moving at four and a half miles an hour!” Yet there was this consolation. The very, very ordinary man, the British public at large, declared that “the weight of the locomotive (six tons!) would completely prevent its moving, and that railways, even if made, could _never_ be worked by steam power.” Yet for ten years now, and more, the Killingworth engines were running daily! The Stockton and Darlington line was a tremendous success; so also was the railway between Manchester and Liverpool, yet opposition thickened rather than lessened. In 1830, the “Rocket” had attained a speed of thirty-five miles an hour, yet, in 1832, Colonel Sibthorpe (the Army now come into the picture and oh! how bravely), declared his hatred of these “infernal railroads,” and that he “would rather meet a highwayman, or see a burglar on his premises, than an engineer!” When the Birmingham railway bill was before Parliament, Sir Astley Cooper, that most eminent of surgeons, declared: “You are entering upon an enormous undertaking of which you know nothing. Then look at the recklessness of your proceedings! You are proposing to destroy property, cutting up our estates in all directions! Why, gentlemen, if this sort of thing be permitted to go on, you will in a very few years _destroy the noblesse_!” And this, from a man who had been knighted for cutting a wen out of George IV.’s neck! THE NATURE OF THE BEAST