world’.
EIGHTEEN
Paxton, Prince Albert and
the Great Exhibition
We must have RAILWAYS FOR THE MILLION
Thomas Cook, 1843
A fter the formal opening of the exhibition, Thomas found he was in the centre of ‘one of the hottest contests ever inspired by railway competition’. Cuttle and Calverly, of Wakefield, had been appointed to cooperate with him in Yorkshire, but ‘the Midland and London & North-Western on one side, and the Great Northern on the other’ were in fierce competition with him. Thomas became desperate when the Great Northern Line reduced its tickets to five shillings, a third of the price of Thomas’s fifteen-shilling fare on the Midland Railways.
Unable to persuade the Midland to reduce its fares, Thomas tore up his contract, but at nine o’clock the fare was down to five shillings from Bradford, Leeds, Sheffield, and other competing points, and it stood at that rate to the close of the Exhibition. Thomas recalled that it ‘was a time of intense excitement, and all the trains on the line, except for the day Express, were made available for excursion tickets. Frequently the night mail would be run in from two to six divisions.’
‘Five shillings to London and back’ was Thomas’s war cry as he threw himself into the race by travelling to Leeds, Bradford, Sheffield and Derby with notices on street corners, on factory gates and on a van followed by a brass band. Both he and John Mason laboured well into each night for over three months selling tickets and ferrying the parties to and fro. Thomas later related his sales methods: ‘At the call of a band of music, I saw workpeople come out of factories in Bradford, pay five shillings for a ticket, and with a very few shillings in their pockets start off on Saturday night to spend Sunday and Monday in London, returning to work on Tuesday morning. The people of Yorkshire were thus educated to travel . . .’
The exhibition broke all records. Never before had London had to deal with such huge crowds or had so many people attended one single event. The carnival atmosphere inside the Crystal Palace extended on to grass plots with stalls, sideshows and kiosks selling souvenirs and lemonade. However, its aim to bring all sectors of British society to mingle together under one roof was initially countered by the entrance ticket price of five shillings, limiting it to what
The Times
called ‘the wealthy and the gentility and nobly born’. At the end of May the price was dropped to a shilling.
The Queen applauded Albert’s exhibition by visiting it no less than forty times during the six months it was open. 1
Thomas, it seems, visited it even more than the Queen. For six months he devoted himself to nothing but the exhibition, rarely sleeping a night at home. As he said, his ‘well-aired bed’ was often the floor of a railway carriage, because many of his exhibition trains to and from London ran through the night. John Mason travelled three or four times a week in each direction between Leeds, Bradford, Sheffield and Derby.
Only non-alcoholic beverages were being served at the exhibition – a sensational step forward for Thomas and other Temperance men (there were then around 11,000 spirit shops in London, as against 4,000 butchers and bakers). 2 The limitation was criticised by many visitors and
Punch
complained about ‘only ginger-beer’ being served. The phrase ‘spending a penny’ dates from the exhibition, as George Jennings installed something that was then just growing in use, public water-closets, and charged 827,000 users each a penny. These facilities, though, were not backed up with an adequate drainage or sewerage pipes, so cesspools near the Thames overflowed with the massive volume of water. But most consequences of the exhibition, especially for Thomas, were positive.
Seen as a feat of peace and internationalism, a way to combine art, industry and social progress, the exhibition stimulated industrial design and showed the virtues
EIGHTEEN
Paxton, Prince Albert and
the Great Exhibition
We must have RAILWAYS FOR THE MILLION
Thomas Cook, 1843
A fter the formal opening of the exhibition, Thomas found he was in the centre of ‘one of the hottest contests ever inspired by railway competition’. Cuttle and Calverly, of Wakefield, had been appointed to cooperate with him in Yorkshire, but ‘the Midland and London & North-Western on one side, and the Great Northern on the other’ were in fierce competition with him. Thomas became desperate when the Great Northern Line reduced its tickets to five shillings, a third of the price of Thomas’s fifteen-shilling fare on the Midland Railways.
Unable to persuade the Midland to reduce its fares, Thomas tore up his contract, but at nine o’clock the fare was down to five shillings from Bradford, Leeds, Sheffield, and other competing points, and it stood at that rate to the close of the Exhibition. Thomas recalled that it ‘was a time of intense excitement, and all the trains on the line, except for the day Express, were made available for excursion tickets. Frequently the night mail would be run in from two to six divisions.’
‘Five shillings to London and back’ was Thomas’s war cry as he threw himself into the race by travelling to Leeds, Bradford, Sheffield and Derby with notices on street corners, on factory gates and on a van followed by a brass band. Both he and John Mason laboured well into each night for over three months selling tickets and ferrying the parties to and fro. Thomas later related his sales methods: ‘At the call of a band of music, I saw workpeople come out of factories in Bradford, pay five shillings for a ticket, and with a very few shillings in their pockets start off on Saturday night to spend Sunday and Monday in London, returning to work on Tuesday morning. The people of Yorkshire were thus educated to travel . . .’
The exhibition broke all records. Never before had London had to deal with such huge crowds or had so many people attended one single event. The carnival atmosphere inside the Crystal Palace extended on to grass plots with stalls, sideshows and kiosks selling souvenirs and lemonade. However, its aim to bring all sectors of British society to mingle together under one roof was initially countered by the entrance ticket price of five shillings, limiting it to what
The Times
called ‘the wealthy and the gentility and nobly born’. At the end of May the price was dropped to a shilling.
The Queen applauded Albert’s exhibition by visiting it no less than forty times during the six months it was open. 1
Thomas, it seems, visited it even more than the Queen. For six months he devoted himself to nothing but the exhibition, rarely sleeping a night at home. As he said, his ‘well-aired bed’ was often the floor of a railway carriage, because many of his exhibition trains to and from London ran through the night. John Mason travelled three or four times a week in each direction between Leeds, Bradford, Sheffield and Derby.
Only non-alcoholic beverages were being served at the exhibition – a sensational step forward for Thomas and other Temperance men (there were then around 11,000 spirit shops in London, as against 4,000 butchers and bakers). 2 The limitation was criticised by many visitors and
Punch
complained about ‘only ginger-beer’ being served. The phrase ‘spending a penny’ dates from the exhibition, as George Jennings installed something that was then just growing in use, public water-closets, and charged 827,000 users each a penny. These facilities, though, were not backed up with an adequate drainage or sewerage pipes, so cesspools near the Thames overflowed with the massive volume of water. But most consequences of the exhibition, especially for Thomas, were positive.
Seen as a feat of peace and internationalism, a way to combine art, industry and social progress, the exhibition stimulated industrial design and showed the virtues
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