Railways and the Victorian Imagination (review)

Railways and the Victorian Imagination. By Michael Freeman. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1999. Pp. vii+264. $39.95.

In 1952, in Lines of Character, L. T. C. Rolt suggested that an essential appeal of railways was their "blend of romantic freedom with classic order." Michael Freeman's superb volume embodies that same paradox in its lavish but manageable presentation and well-structured narrative.

Freeman's aim is "to re-engage the railway with the age of which it was a part," and he uses "the experience of the railway" and "the railway as cultural metaphor" (pp. 19, 25) as the means of achieving that end. The overall structure of the resulting work is untrammeled either by chronology or by geography, albeit arranged into well-focused chapters. The reengagement begins with an accounting of the railway as a shock to the status quo, both social and natural. Subsequent chapters examine the rise and spread of such forces as statistics, capital, and urbanization; further chapters examine the railways' claims on territory and the existing labor forces, and finally its effects on education and art.

Freeman methodically examines the railway's relentless advance beyond physical territory into social and economic spheres, detailing how the "machine ensemble" appeared on the scene as interloper, as adversary, and as subtle shading, to perform a virtually complete assault on the consciousness of the citizens of Victorian Britain. Through interaction with railway networks and public gas systems, much of the population underwent a transformation from a seemingly autonomous existence to a cog in a vast machine spread out and unified on a previously unimaginable scale. Freeman repeatedly conveys the magnitude of these changes via subtle and vivid contrasts: the scarring incursions into the landscape opening up sublime vistas; the companies' upheavals inducing a feudal nostalgia, all the while doing double duty as ruthless profit-oriented enterprise and quasi-military countrywide family. Perhaps the ultimate image of the railway juggernaut's full encroachment upon the imagination is suggested not just by the adoption of the miniature locomotive as a toy but the emerging popularity of toy train systems as the century drew to a close. The perspectives thus drawn are both vast and minuscule, conveying the sense that the rails, overlaid onto the British landscape like some country-sized version of a company route map, dwarfed the nation, shuffling and shifting the scale of its landscape and population.

The illustrations, including company maps, prints, photographs, and scenes of the apocalyptic sublime, are integrated within a text laid out in clearly titled chapters and further subdivided by well-chosen subheadings. This approach allows the book to function on several levels: as a compendium of visual materials, as a developed and arresting narrative, and as a reference work, especially considering the exhaustive notes.

Freeman adopts a broad approach but maintains tight hold on a vast range of ideas, and the result functions equally well as introduction and finished thesis. Its thematic sweep compares favorably with that of John Stilgoe's approach to the American railroad environment in Metropolitan Corridor (1983), while its philosophical scope builds beyond Wolfgang Schivelbusch's The Railway Journey (1977). It is tempting to equate the book's effect and method with that of the Victorian builders: it seems scattered but remains focused, tangled ramifications forming a cohesive whole.

Marc Greuther

Mr. Greuther is curator of industrial collections at Henry Ford Museum and Greenfield Village in Dearborn, Michigan.

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