The entire system was approximately 6 miles (9.7 km) long, and included thirteen locks, each 40 by 6 feet (12.2 by 1.8 metres).

One unusual feature was the Triple Lock, which had a Y-shaped chamber, with two separate entrances from above, leading to different branches.

[1] Coal was found on the Arbury estate, owned by the Newdigate family, at the beginning of the eighteenth century.

[2] Its success was put down to luck by Desaguliers, writing in 1744, who stated that the use of condensation water had been discovered by accident, and that the valve gear, which made the machine self-acting, had been built from catches and strings by Humphrey Potter, a young lad whose job was to mind it.

Whether this account was true is unknown, but it was self-acting in 1817,[3] when Henry Beighton studied it and published a detailed engraving of the engine.

[4] Sir Richard also constructed three "boatways" between 1700 and 1711, which were small canals used to convey coal from the outlying pits.

[2] Sir Roger, who was a Member of Parliament and became the owner of Arbury Hall on the early death of his brother, was a canal enthusiast.

His interest may have stemmed from his involvement with the Bridgewater Canal, where he acted as counsel for their bill to authorise an extension to the River Mersey.

[5] William Bean from Derbyshire acted as engineer, assisted by the mason and bricklayer from the Arbury estate, John Morris.

The next section, the Arbury High Level Canal, was the earliest, as it was used for boating in 1764, and was surveyed in that year, to establish how it could be incorporated into a larger system.

[2] After Newdigate's death in 1806, at the age of 88, the estate system continued to be used until 1812, but then it gradually became disused, and by 1819 the upper levels were no longer navigable.

Designed to carry coal to the Coventry Canal from the Griff Hollows wharf, which was connected to collieries by a tramroad, construction began in 1785, and it was opened on 29 July 1787.

[11] The wide-arched bridge, the scented elder-flowers, The wondrous watery rings that died too soon, The echoes of the quarry, the still hours With white robe sweeping-on the shadeless noon, Were but my growing self, are part of me, My present Past, my root of piety.