The Lighthouse Stevensons - Bella Bathurst [39]
Though a masterpiece of Robert’s lobbying skills, the address left the Commissioners unmoved. The expense was still too great, they argued, the enterprise too dangerous and the precedents insufficiently tested. Furthermore, they added crushingly, even if the project was to go ahead, it would not automatically go to Robert. They suggested that they would ‘apply to the most eminent of their profession, as well mariners as civil engineers, for their opinion as to what manner and with what materials it would be most proper to erect the lighthouse’. As they pointed out, Robert had only built one lighthouse on his own and, despite his decade’s experience in design, planning and management of the Northern Lights, was still a young and relatively unqualified engineer. Although he was the NLB’s chief engineer, Robert was only on contract to the Board, and had no God-given right to suppose he would be allowed to undertake the work. The Commissioners, although no engineering experts themselves, found Robert’s bumptious self-belief disconcerting. As they reminded him, he was only a small pawn in a much grander game, and the Commissioners were cautious men.
Nevertheless, Robert’s report had made the Commissioners thoughtful. Despite their wariness, they remained conscious of their public duty. It was not only Robert, after all, who was prodding hard for the project to go ahead; the queue of vested interests grew louder by the month. By 1803, the Commissioners unbent enough to allow a Bill to be presented in Parliament, only to have it thrown out by the House of Lords. They also sought the advice of other, more reputable engineers. Thomas Telford, the famed architect of Highland roads and bridges, supplied a sketchy estimate for a stone lighthouse costing £29,000, and then disappeared, pleading overwork. John Rennie, the Commissioner’s next choice, came and stayed.
By 1805, Rennie was forty-four, a shrewd and charming man born and raised in East Lothian. He had trained first as a millwright, and then taken work as a jobbing engineer, working on bridges, canals and steam power. He had designed and built the Crinan Canal in Argyll and been jointly responsible for widening the Clyde to allow for deeper-hulled vessels to reach the Glasgow ports. By 1800 he was being courted for projects throughout Britain, and spent his time in a flurry of travel and correspondence. Samuel Smiles, in his Lives of the Engineers, records Rennie’s painful devotion to his profession. ‘Work was with him not only a pleasure,’ he wrote, ‘it was almost a passion. He sometimes made business appointments at as early an hour as five in the morning and would continue incessantly occupied until late at night.