The directors of the railway now began to see daylight, and they derived encouragement from the skillful manner in which their engineer had overcome the principal difficulties of the undertaking. He had formed a solid road over Chat Moss, and thus achieved one "impossibility;" and he had constructed a locomotive that could run at a speed of thirty miles an hour, thus vanquishing a still more formidable difficulty.
A single line of way was completed over Chat Moss by the 1st of January, 1830, and on that day the "Rocket," with a carriage full of directors, engineers, and their friends, passed along the greater part of the road between Liverpool and Manchester. Mr. Stephenson continued to direct his close attention to the improvement of the details of the locomotive, every successive trial of which proved more satisfactory. In this department he had the benefit of the able and unremitting assistance of his son, who, in the workshops at Newcastle, directly superintended the construction of the engines required for the public working of the railway. He did not by any means rest satisfied with the success, decided though it was, which had been achieved by the "Rocket." He regarded it but in the light of a successful experiment; and every successive engine placed upon the railway exhibited some improvement on its predecessors. The arrangement of the parts, and the weight and proportion of the engines, were altered as the experience of each successive day, or week, or month suggested; and it was soon found that the performances of the "Rocket" on the day of trial had been greatly within the powers of the improved locomotive.
The first entire trip between Liverpool and Manchester was performed on the 14th of June, 1830, on the occasion of a board meeting being held at the latter town. The train was on this occasion drawn by the "Arrow," one of the new locomotives, in which the most recent improvements had been adopted. George Stephenson himself drove the engine, and Captain Scoresby, the circumpolar navigator, stood beside him on the foot-plate, and minuted the speed of the train. A great concourse of people assembled at both termini, as well as along the line, to witness the novel spectacle of a train of carriages drawn by an engine at the speed of seventeen miles an hour. On the return journey to Liverpool in the evening, the "Arrow" crossed Chat Moss at a speed of nearly twenty-seven miles an hour, reaching its destination in about an hour and a half.
In the mean time Mr. Stephenson and his assistant, Mr. Gooch, were diligently occupied in making the necessary preliminary arrangements for the conduct of the traffic against the time when the line should be ready for opening. The experiments made with the object of carrying on the passenger traffic at quick velocities were of an especially harassing and anxious character. Every week, for nearly three months before the opening, trial trips were made to Newton and back, generally with two or three trains following each other, and carrying altogether from two to three hundred persons. These trips were usually made on Saturday afternoons, when the works could be more conveniently stopped and the line cleared for the occasion. In these experiments Mr. Stephenson had the able assistance of Mr. Henry Booth, the secretary of the company, who contrived many of the arrangements in the passenger carriages, not the least valuable of which was his invention of the coupling screw, still in use on all passenger railways.
At length the line was finished and ready for the public opening, which took place on the 15th of September, 1830, and attracted a vast number of spectators from all parts of the country. The completion of the railway was justly regarded as an important national event, and the ceremony of its opening was celebrated accordingly. The Duke of Wellington, then prime minister, Sir Robert Peel, Secretary of State, Mr. Huskisson, one of the members for Liverpool and an earnest supporter of the project from its commencement, were among the number of distinguished public personages present.
Eight locomotive engines, constructed at the Stephenson works, had been delivered and placed upon the line, the whole of which had been tried and tested, weeks before, with perfect success. The several trains of carriages accommodated in all about six hundred persons. The "Northumbrian" engine, driven by George Stephenson himself, headed the line of trains; then followed the "Phœnix," driven by Robert Stephenson; the "North Star," by Robert Stephenson senior (brother of George); the "Rocket," by Joseph Locke; the "Dart," by Thomas L. Gooch; the "Comet," by William Allcard; the "Arrow," by Frederick Swanwick; and the "Meteor," by Anthony Harding. The procession was cheered in its progress by thousands of spectators—through the deep ravine of Olive Mount; up the Sutton incline; over the great Sankey viaduct, beneath which a multitude of persons had assembled—carriages filling the narrow lanes, and barges crowding the river; the people below gazing with wonder and admiration at the trains which sped along the line, far above their heads, at the rate of some twenty-four miles an hour.
At Parkside, about seventeen miles from Liverpool, the engines stopped to take in water. Here a deplorable accident occurred to one of the illustrious visitors, which threw a deep shadow over the subsequent proceedings of the day. The "Northumbrian" engine, with the carriage containing the Duke of Wellington, was drawn up on one line, in order that the whole of the trains on the other line might pass in review before him and his party. Mr. Huskisson had alighted from the carriage, and was standing on the opposite road, along which the "Rocket" was observed rapidly coming up. At this moment the Duke of Wellington, between whom and Mr. Huskisson some coolness had existed, made a sign of recognition, and held out his hand. A hurried but friendly grasp was given; and before it was loosened there was a general cry from the by-standers of "Get in, get in!" Flurried and confused, Mr. Huskisson endeavored to get round the open door of the carriage, which projected over the opposite rail, but in so doing he was struck down by the "Rocket," and falling with his leg doubled across the rail, the limb was instantly crushed. His first words, on being raised, were, "I have met my death," which unhappily proved true, for he expired that same evening in the parsonage of Eccles. It was cited at the time as a remarkable fact that the "Northumbrian" engine, driven by George Stephenson himself, conveyed the wounded body of the unfortunate gentleman a distance of about fifteen miles in twenty-five minutes, or at the rate of thirty-six miles an hour. This incredible speed burst upon the world with the effect of a new and unlooked-for phenomenon.
The accident threw a gloom over the rest of the day's proceedings. The Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel expressed a wish that the procession should return to Liverpool. It was, however, represented to them that a vast concourse of people had assembled at Manchester to witness the arrival of the trains; that report would exaggerate the mischief if they did not complete the journey; and that a false panic on that day might seriously affect future railway traveling and the value of the company's property. The party consented accordingly to proceed to Manchester, but on the understanding that they should return as soon as possible, and refrain from farther festivity.
As the trains approached Manchester, crowds of people were found covering the banks, the slopes of the cuttings, and even the railway itself. The multitude, become impatient and excited by the rumors which reached them, had outflanked the military, and all order was at an end. The people clambered about the carriages, holding on by the door-handles, and many were tumbled over; but, happily, no fatal accident occurred. At the Manchester station the political element began to display itself; placards about "Peterloo," etc., were exhibited, and brickbats were thrown at the carriage containing the duke. On the trains coming to a stand in the Manchester station, the duke did not descend, but remained seated, shaking hands with the women and children who were pushed forward by the crowd. Shortly after, the trains returned to Liverpool, which they reached, after considerable delays, late at night.
On the following morning the railway was opened for public traffic. The first train of 140 passengers was booked and sent on to Manchester, reaching it in the allotted time of two hours; and from that time the traffic has regularly proceeded from day to day until now.
It is scarcely necessary that we should speak at any length of the commercial results of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway. Suffice it to say that its success was complete and decisive. The anticipations of its projectors were, however, in many respects at fault. They had based their calculations almost entirely on the heavy merchandise traffic—such as coal, cotton, and timber—relying little upon passengers; whereas the receipts derived from the conveyance of passengers far exceeded those derived from merchandise of all kinds, which for a time continued a subordinate branch of the traffic. In the evidence given before the Committee of the House of Commons, the promoters stated their expectation of obtaining about one half of the whole number of passengers which the coaches then running could carry, or about 400 a day. But the railway was scarcely opened before it carried on an average about 1200 passengers daily; and five years after the opening, it carried nearly half a million of persons yearly. So successful, indeed, was the passenger traffic, that it engrossed the whole of the company's small stock of engines.
For some time after the public opening of the line, Mr. Stephenson's ingenuity continued to be employed in devising improved methods for securing the safety and comfort of the traveling public. Few are aware of the thousand minute details which have to be arranged—the forethought and contrivance that have to be exercised—to enable the traveler by railway to accomplish his journey in safety. After the difficulties of constructing a level road over bogs, across valleys, and through deep cuttings have been overcome, the maintenance of the way has to be provided for with continuous care. Every rail, with its fastenings, must be complete, to prevent risk of accident, and the road must be kept regularly ballasted up to the level to diminish the jolting of vehicles passing over it at high speeds. Then the stations must be protected by signals observable from such a distance as to enable the train to be stopped in event of an obstacle, such as a stopping or shunting train being in the way. For some years the signals employed on the Liverpool Railway were entirely given by men with flags of different colors stationed along the line; there were no fixed signals nor electric telegraphs; but the traffic was nevertheless worked quite as safely as under the more elaborate and complicated system of telegraphing which has since been established.
From an early period it became obvious that the iron road, as originally laid down, was quite insufficient for the heavy traffic which it had to carry. The line was in the first place laid with fish-bellied rails of only thirty-five pounds to the yard, calculated only for horse-traffic, or, at most, for engines like the "Rocket," of very light weight. But as the power and the weight of the locomotives were increased, it was found that such rails were quite insufficient for the safe conduct of the traffic, and it therefore became necessary to relay the road with heavier and stronger rails at considerable expense.
The details of the carrying stock had in like manner to be settled by experience. Every thing had, as it were, to be begun from the beginning. The coal-wagon, it is true, served in some degree as a model for the railway-truck; but the railway passenger-carriage was an entirely novel structure. It had to be mounted upon strong framing, of a peculiar kind, supported on springs to prevent jolting. Then there was the necessity for contriving some method of preventing hard bumping of the carriage-ends when the train was pulled up, and hence the contrivance of buffer-springs and spring-frames. For the purpose of stopping the train, brakes on an improved plan were also contrived, with new modes of lubricating the carriage-axles, on which the wheels revolved at an unusually high velocity. In all these contrivances Mr. Stephenson's inventiveness was kept constantly on the stretch; and though many improvements in detail have been effected since his time, the foundations were then laid by him of the present system of conducting railway traffic. As a curious illustration of the inventive ingenuity which he displayed in contriving the working of the Liverpool line, we may mention his invention of the Self-acting Brake. He early entertained the idea that the momentum of the running train might itself be made available for the purpose of checking its speed. He proposed to fit each carriage with a brake which should be called into action immediately on the locomotive at the head of the train being pulled up. The impetus of the carriages carrying them forward, the buffer-springs would be driven home, and, at the same time, by a simple arrangement of the mechanism, the brakes would be called into simultaneous action; thus the wheels would be brought into a state of sledge, and the train speedily stopped. This plan was adopted by Mr. Stephenson before he left the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, though it was afterward discontinued; and it is a remarkable fact, that this identical plan, with the addition of a centrifugal apparatus, was recently revived by M. Guérin, a French engineer, and extensively employed on foreign railways.
Finally, Mr. Stephenson had to attend to the improvement of the power and speed of the locomotive—always the grand object of his study—with a view to economy as well as regularity in the working of the railway. In the "Planet" engine, delivered upon the line immediately subsequent to the public opening, all the improvements which had up to this time been contrived by him and his son were introduced in combination—the blast-pipe, the tubular boiler, horizontal cylinders inside the smoke-box, the cranked axle, and the fire-box firmly fixed to the boiler. The first load of goods conveyed from Liverpool to Manchester by the "Planet" was eighty tons in weight, and the engine performed the journey against a strong head wind in two hours and a half. On another occasion, the same engine brought up a cargo of voters from Manchester to Liverpool, during a contested election, within a space of sixty minutes. The "Samson," delivered in the following year, exhibited still farther improvements, the most important of which was that of coupling the fore and hind wheels of the engine. By this means the adhesion of the wheels on the rails was more effectually secured, and thus the full hauling power of the locomotive was made available. The "Samson," shortly after it was placed upon the line, dragged after it a train of wagons weighing a hundred and fifty tons at a speed of about twenty miles an hour, the consumption of coke being reduced to only about a third of a pound per ton per mile.
The rapid progress thus made will show that the inventive faculties of Mr. Stephenson and his son were kept fully on the stretch; but their labors were amply repaid by the result. They were, doubtless, to some extent stimulated by the number of competitors who about the same time appeared as improvers of the locomotive engine. But the superiority of Stephenson's locomotives over all others that had yet been tried induced the directors of the railway to require that the engines supplied to them by other builders should be constructed after the same model. Mr. Stephenson himself always had the greatest faith in the superiority of his own engines over all others, and did not hesitate strongly to declare it. When it was once proposed to introduce the engines of another maker on the Manchester and Leeds line, he said, "Very well; I have no objection; but put them to this fair test. Hang one of ——'s engines on to one of mine, back to back. Then let them go at it; and whichever walks away with the other, that's the engine."
The engineer had also to seek out the proper men to maintain and watch the road, and more especially to work the locomotive engines. Steadiness, sobriety, common sense, and practical experience were the qualities which he especially valued in those selected by him for that purpose. But where were the men of experience to be found? Very few railways were yet at work, and these were almost exclusively confined to the northern coal counties; hence a considerable proportion of the drivers and firemen employed on the Liverpool line were brought from the neighborhood of Newcastle. But he could not always find skilled workmen enough for the important and responsible duties to be performed. It was a saying of his that "he could engineer matter very well, and make it bend to his purpose, but his greatest difficulty was in engineering men." He often wished that he could contrive heads and hands on which he might rely, as easily as he could construct railways and manufacture locomotives. As it was, Stephenson's mechanics were in request all over England—the Newcastle workshops continuing for many years to perform the part of a training-school for engineers, and to supply locomotive superintendents and drivers, not only for England, but for nearly every country in Europe—preference being given to them by the directors of railways, in consequence of their previous training and experience, as well as because of their generally excellent qualities as steady and industrious workmen.
The success of the Liverpool and Manchester experiment naturally excited great interest. People flocked to Lancashire from all quarters to see the steam-coach running upon a railway at three times the speed of a mail-coach, and to enjoy the excitement of actually traveling in the wake of an engine at that incredible velocity. The travelers returned to their respective districts full of the wonders of the locomotive, considering it to be the greatest marvel of the age. Railways are familiar enough objects now, and our children who grow up in their midst may think little of them; but thirty years since it was an event in one's life to see a locomotive, and to travel for the first time upon a public railroad.
In remote districts, however, the stories told about the benefits conferred by the Liverpool Railway were received with considerable incredulity, and the proposal to extend such roads in all directions throughout the country caused great alarm. In the districts through which stage-coaches ran, giving employment to large numbers of persons, it was apprehended that, if railways were established, the turnpike roads would become deserted and grown over with grass, country inns and their buxom landladies would be ruined, the race of coach-drivers and hostlers would become extinct, and the breed of horses be entirely destroyed. But there was hope for the coaching interest in the fact that the government were employing their engineers to improve the public high roads so as to render railways unnecessary. It was announced in the papers that a saving of thirty miles would be effected by the new road between London and Holyhead, and an equal saving between London and Edinburg. And to show what the speed of horses could accomplish, we find it set forth as an extraordinary fact that the "Patent Tally-ho Coach," in the year 1830 (when the Birmingham line had been projected), performed the entire journey of 109 miles between London and Birmingham—breakfast included—in seven hours and fifty minutes! Great speed was also recorded on the Brighton road, the "Red Rover" doing the distance between London and Brighton in four hours and a half. These speeds were not, however, secured without accidents, for there was scarcely a newspaper of the period that did not contain one or more paragraphs headed "Another dreadful coach accident."
The practicability of railway locomotion being now proved, and its great social and commercial advantages ascertained, the extension of the system was merely a question of time, money, and labor. A fine opportunity presented itself for the wise and judicious action of the government in the matter, the improvement of the internal communications of a country being really one of its most important functions. But the government of the day, though ready enough to spend money in improving the old turnpike roads, regarded the railroads with hostility, and met them with obstructions of all kinds. They seemed to think it their duty to protect the turnpike trusts, disregarding the paramount interest of the public. This may possibly account for the singular circumstance that, at the very time they were manifesting indifference or aversion to the locomotive on the railroad, they were giving every encouragement to the locomotive on turnpike roads. In 1831, we find a Committee of the House of Commons appointed to inquire into and report upon—not the railway system, but—the applicability of the steam-carriage to common roads; and, after investigation, the committee were so satisfied with the evidence taken, that they reported decidedly in favor of the road locomotive system. Though they ignored the railway, they recognized the steam-carriage.
But even a Report of the House of Commons, powerful though it be, can not alter the laws of gravity and friction; and the road locomotive remained, what it ever will be, an impracticable machine. Not that it is impossible to work a locomotive upon a common road, but to work it to any profit at all as compared with the locomotive upon a railway. Numerous trials of steam-carriages were made at the time by Sir Charles Dance, Mr. Hancock, Mr. Gurney, Sir James Anderson, and other distinguished gentlemen of influence. Journalists extolled their utility, compared with "the much-boasted application on railroads."[75] But, notwithstanding all this, and the House of Commons' Report in its favor, Stephenson's first verdict, pronounced on the road locomotive many years before, when he was only an engine-wright at Killingworth, was fully borne out by the result, and it became day by day clearer that the attempt to introduce the engine into general use upon turnpike roads could only prove a delusion and a snare.
Although the Legislature took no initiative step in the direction of railway extension, the public spirit and enterprise of the country did not fail it at this juncture. The English people, though they may be defective in their capacity for organization, are strong in individualism, and not improbably their admirable qualities in the latter respect detract from their efficiency in the former. Thus, in all times, their greatest national enterprises have not been planned by officialism and carried out upon any regular system, but have sprung, like their Constitution, their laws, and their entire industrial arrangements, from the force of circumstances and the individual energies of the people. Hence railway extension, like so many other great English enterprises, was now left to be carried out by the genius of English engineers, backed by the energy of the British public.
The mode of action was characteristic and national. The execution of the new lines was undertaken entirely by joint-stock associations of proprietors, after the manner of the Stockton and Darlington, and Liverpool and Manchester companies. These associations are conformable to our national habits, and fit well into our system of laws. They combine the power of vast resources with individual watchfulness and motives of self-interest; and by their means gigantic undertakings, which elsewhere would be impossible to any but kings and emperors with great national resources at command, were carried out by the co-operation of private persons. And the results of this combination of means and of enterprise have been truly marvelous. Within the life of the present generation, the private citizens of England engaged in railway extension have, in the face of government obstructions, and without taking a penny from the public purse, executed a system of communications involving works of the most gigantic kind, which, in their total mass, their cost, and their public utility, far exceed the most famous national undertakings of any age or country.
Mr. Stephenson was, of course, actively engaged in the construction of the numerous railways now projected by the joint-stock companies. During the formation of the Manchester and Liverpool line he had been consulted respecting many projects of a similar kind. One of these was a short railway between Canterbury and Whitstable, about six miles in length. He was too much occupied with the works at Liverpool to give this scheme much of his personal attention; but he sent his assistant, Mr. John Dixon, to survey the line, and afterward Mr. Locke to superintend the execution of the works. The act was obtained in 1826, and the line was opened for traffic in 1830. It was partly worked by fixed engine-power, and partly by Stephenson's locomotives, similar to the engines used upon the Stockton and Darlington Railway.
But the desire for railway extension principally pervaded the manufacturing districts, especially after the successful opening of the Liverpool and Manchester line. The commercial classes of the larger towns soon became eager for a participation in the good which they had so recently derided. Railway projects were set on foot in great numbers, and Manchester became a centre from which main lines and branches were started in all directions. The interest, however, which attaches to these later schemes is of a much less absorbing kind than that which belongs to the early history of the railway and the steps by which it was mainly established. We naturally sympathize more with the early struggles of a great principle, its trials and its difficulties, than with its after stages of success; and, however gratified and astonished we may be at its results, the interest is in a great measure gone when its triumph has become a matter of certainty.
The commercial results of the Liverpool and Manchester line were so satisfactory, and, indeed, so greatly exceeded the expectations of its projectors, that many of the abandoned projects of the speculative year 1825 were forthwith revived. An abundant crop of engineers sprang up, ready to execute railways of any extent. Now that the Liverpool and Manchester line had been made, and the practicability of working it by locomotive power had been proved, it was as easy for engineers to make railways and to work them as it was for navigators to find America after Columbus had made the first voyage. Mr. Francis Giles himself took the field as a locomotive railway engineer, attaching himself to the Newcastle and Carlisle and London and Southampton projects. Mr. Brunel appeared, in like manner, as the engineer of the line projected between London and Bristol; and Mr. Braithwaite, the builder of the "Novelty" engine, as the engineer of a line from London to Colchester.
The first lines, however, which were actually constructed subsequent to the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway were in connection with it, and principally in the county of Lancaster. Thus a branch was formed from Bolton to Leigh, and another from Leigh to Kenyon, where it formed a junction with the main line between Liverpool and Manchester. Branches to Wigan on the north, and to Runcorn Gap and Warrington on the south of the same line, were also formed; and a continuation of the latter, as far south as Birmingham, was shortly after projected, under the name of the Grand Junction Railway.
The last-mentioned line was projected as early as the year 1824, when the Liverpool and Manchester scheme was under discussion, and Mr. Stephenson then published a report on the subject. The plans were deposited, but the bill was thrown out on the opposition of the land-owners and canal proprietors. When engaged in making the survey, Stephenson called upon some of the land-owners in the neighborhood of Nantwich to obtain their assent, and was greatly disgusted to learn that the agents of the canal companies had been before him, and described the locomotive to the farmers as a most frightful machine, emitting a breath as poisonous as the fabled dragon of old; and telling them that if a bird flew over the district when one of these engines passed, it would inevitably drop down dead! The application for the bill was renewed in 1826, and again failed; and at length it was determined to wait the issue of the Liverpool and Manchester experiment. The act was eventually obtained in 1833, by which time the projectors of railways had learned the art of "conciliating" the landlords—and a very expensive process it proved. But it was the only mode of avoiding a still more expensive Parliamentary opposition.
When it was proposed to extend the advantages of railways to the population of the midland and southern counties of England, an immense amount of alarm was created in the minds of the country gentlemen. They did not relish the idea of private individuals, principally residents in the manufacturing districts, invading their domains, and they every where rose up in arms against the "new-fangled roads." Colonel Sibthorpe openly declared his hatred of the "infernal railroads," and said that he "would rather meet a highwayman, or see a burglar on his premises, than an engineer!" Mr. Berkeley, the member for Cheltenham, at a public meeting in that town, re-echoed Colonel Sibthorpe's sentiments, and "wished that the concoctors of every such scheme, with their solicitors and engineers, were at rest in Paradise!" The impression prevailed among the rural classes that fox-covers and game-preserves would be seriously prejudiced by the formation of railroads; that agricultural communications would be destroyed, land thrown out of cultivation, land-owners and farmers reduced to beggary, the poor-rates increased through the number of persons thrown out of employment by the railways, and all this in order that Liverpool, Manchester, and Birmingham shop-keepers and manufacturers might establish a monstrous monopoly in railway traffic.
The inhabitants of even some of the large towns were thrown into a state of consternation by the proposal to provide them with the accommodation of a railway. The line from London to Birmingham would naturally have passed close to the handsome town of Northampton, and was so projected. But the inhabitants of the place, urged on by the local press, and excited by men of influence and education, opposed the project, and succeeded in forcing the promoters, in their survey of the line, to pass the town at a distance. The necessity was thus involved of distorting the line, by which the enormous expense of constructing the Kilsby Tunnel was incurred. Not many years elapsed before the inhabitants of Northampton became clamorous for railway accommodation, and a special branch was constructed for them. The additional cost involved by this forced deviation of the line could not have amounted to less than half a million sterling; the loss falling, not upon the shareholders only, but upon the public.
Other towns in the south followed the example of Northampton in howling down the railways. When the first railway through Kent was projected, the line was laid out so as to pass by Maidstone, the county town. But it had not a single supporter among the townspeople, while the land-owners for many miles round continued to oppose it. A few years later the Maidstone burgesses, like those of Northampton, became clamorous for a railway, and a branch was formed for their accommodation. In like manner, the London and Bristol (afterward the Great Western) Railway was vehemently opposed by the people of the towns through which the line was projected to pass; and when the bill was thrown out by the Lords—after £30,000 had been expended by the promoters—the inhabitants of Eton assembled, under the presidency of the Marquis of Chandos, to rejoice and congratulate themselves and the country upon its defeat. Eton, however, has now the convenience of two railways to the metropolis.
During the time that the works of the Liverpool and Manchester line were in progress, our engineer was consulted respecting a short railway proposed to be formed between Leicester and Swannington, for the purpose of opening up a communication between the town of Leicester and the coal-fields in the western part of the county. Mr. Ellis, the projector of this undertaking, had some difficulty in getting the requisite capital subscribed for, the Leicester townspeople who had money being for the most part interested in canals. George Stephenson was invited to come upon the ground and survey the line. He did so, and then the projector told him of the difficulty he had in finding subscribers to the concern. "Give me a sheet," said Stephenson, "and I will raise the money for you in Liverpool." The engineer was as good as his word, and in a short time the sheet was returned with the subscription complete. Mr. Stephenson was then asked to undertake the office of engineer for the line, but his answer was that he had thirty miles of railway in hand, which was enough for any engineer to attend to properly. Was there any person he could recommend? "Well," said he, "I think my son Robert is competent to undertake the thing." Would Mr. Stephenson be answerable for him? "Oh yes, certainly." And Robert Stephenson, at twenty-seven years of age, was installed engineer of the line accordingly.
The requisite Parliamentary powers having been obtained, Robert Stephenson proceeded with the construction of the railway, about sixteen miles in length, toward the end of 1830. The works were comparatively easy, excepting at the Leicester end, where the young engineer encountered his first stiff bit of tunneling. The line passed under ground for a mile and three quarters, and 500 yards of its course lay through loose running sand. The presence of this material rendered it necessary for the engineer, in the first place, to construct a wooden tunnel to support the soil while the brick-work was being executed. This measure proved sufficient, and the whole was brought to a successful termination within a reasonable time. While the works were in progress, Robert kept up a regular correspondence with his father at Liverpool, consulting him on all points in which his greater experience was likely to be of service. Like his father, Robert was very observant, and always ready to seize opportunity by the forelock. It happened that the estate of Snibston, near Ashby-de-la-Zouch, was advertised for sale, and the young engineer's experience as a coal-viewer and practical geologist suggested to his mind that coal was most probably to be found underneath. He communicated his views to his father on the subject. The estate lay in the immediate neighborhood of the railway; and if the conjecture proved correct, the finding of the coal must necessarily prove a most fortunate circumstance for the purchasers of the land. He accordingly requested his father to come over to Snibston and look at the property, which he did; and after a careful inspection of the ground, he arrived at the same conclusion as his son.
The large manufacturing town of Leicester, about fourteen miles distant, had up to that time been exclusively supplied with coal brought by canal from Derbyshire, and the Stephensons saw that the railway under construction from Swannington to Leicester would furnish a ready market for any coals which might be found at Snibston. Having induced two of his Liverpool friends to join him in the venture, the Snibston estate was purchased in 1831, and shortly after Stephenson removed his home from Liverpool to Alton Grange, for the purpose of superintending the sinking of the pit.
Sinking operations were immediately begun, and proceeded satisfactorily until the old enemy, water, burst in upon the workmen, and threatened to drown them out. But by means of efficient pumping-engines, and the skillful casing of the shaft with segments of cast iron—a process called "tubbing,"[76] which Stephenson was the first to adopt in the Midland Counties—it was eventually made water-tight, and the sinking proceeded. When a depth of 166 feet had been reached, a still more formidable difficulty presented itself—one which had baffled former sinkers in the neighborhood, and deterred them from farther operations. This was a remarkable bed of whinstone or greenstone, which had originally been poured out as a sheet of burning lava over the denuded surface of the coal measures; indeed, it was afterward found that it had turned to cinders one part of the seam of coal with which it had come in contact. The appearance of this bed of solid rock was so unusual a circumstance in coal-mining that some experienced sinkers urged Stephenson to proceed no farther, believing the occurrence of the dike at that point to be altogether fatal to his enterprise. But, with his faith still firm in the existence of coal underneath, he fell back on his old motto of "Persevere!" He determined to go on boring; and down through the solid rock he went until, twenty-two feet lower, he came upon the coal measures. In the mean time, however, lest the boring at that point should prove unsuccessful, he had commenced sinking another pair of shafts about a quarter of a mile west of the "fault," and, after about nine months' labor, he reached the principal seam, called the "main coal."
The works were then opened out on a large scale, and George Stephenson had the pleasure and good fortune to send the first train of main coal to Leicester by railway. The price was immediately reduced there to about 8s. a ton, effecting a pecuniary saving to the inhabitants of the town of about £40,000 per annum, or equivalent to the whole amount then collected in government taxes and local rates, besides giving an impetus to the manufacturing prosperity of the place, which has continued to the present day. The correct principles upon which the mining operations at Snibston were conducted offered a salutary example to the neighboring colliery owners. The numerous improvements there introduced were freely exhibited to all, and they were afterward reproduced in many forms all over the Midland Counties, greatly to the advantage of the mining interest.
Nor was Mr. Stephenson less attentive to the comfort and well-being of those immediately dependent upon him—the work-people of the Snibston Colliery and their families. Unlike many of those large employers who have "sprung from the ranks," he was one of the kindest and most indulgent of masters. He would have a fair day's work for a fair day's wages, but he never forgot that the employer had his duties as well as his rights. First of all, he attended to the proper home accommodation of his work-people. He erected a village of comfortable cottages, each provided with a snug little garden. He was also instrumental in erecting a church adjacent to the works, as well as Church schools for the education of the colliers' children; and with that broad catholicity of sentiment which distinguished him, he farther provided a chapel and a school-house for the use of the Dissenting portion of the colliers and their families—an example of benevolent liberality which was not without a salutary influence upon the neighboring employers.
STEPHENSON'S HOUSE AT ALTON GRANGE.
Robert Stephenson.
Engraved by W. Hall, after a photograph by Claudet.
NEW YORK, HARPER & BROTHERS.
Of the numerous extensive projects which followed close upon the completion of the Liverpool and Manchester line and the locomotive triumph at Rainhill, that of a railway between London and Birmingham was the most important. The scheme originated at the latter place in 1830. Two committees were formed, and two plans were proposed. One was of a line to London by way of Oxford, and the other by way of Coventry. The object of the promoters of both schemes being to secure the advantages of railway communication with the metropolis, they wisely determined to combine their strength to secure it. They resolved to call George Stephenson to their aid, and requested him to advise them as to the two schemes which were before them. After a careful examination of the country, Stephenson reported in favor of the Coventry route. The Lancashire gentlemen, who were the principal subscribers to the project, having confidence in his judgment, supported his decision, and the line recommended by him was adopted accordingly.
At the meeting of gentlemen held at Birmingham to determine upon the appointment of the engineer for the railway, there was a strong party in favor of associating with Stephenson a gentleman with whom he had been brought into serious collision in the course of the Liverpool and Manchester undertaking. When the offer was made to him that he should be joint engineer with the other, he requested leave to retire and consider the proposal with his son. The two walked into St. Philip's church-yard, which adjoined the place of meeting, and debated the proposal. The father was in favor of accepting it. His struggle heretofore had been so hard that he could not bear the idea of missing so promising an opportunity of professional advancement. But the son, foreseeing the jealousies and heartburnings which the joint engineership would most probably create, recommended his father to decline the connection. George adopted the suggestion, and, returning to the committee, announced to them his decision, on which the promoters decided to appoint him the engineer of the undertaking in conjunction with his son.
This line, like the Liverpool and Manchester, was very strongly opposed, especially by the land-owners. Numerous pamphlets were published, calling on the public to "beware of the bubbles," and holding up the promoters of railways to ridicule. They were compared to St. John Long and similar quacks, and pronounced fitter for Bedlam than to be left at large. The canal proprietors, land-owners, and road trustees made common cause against them. The failure of railways was confidently predicted—indeed, it was elaborately attempted to be proved that they had failed; and it was industriously spread abroad that the locomotive engines, having been found useless and highly dangerous on the Liverpool and Manchester line, were immediately to be abandoned in favor of horses—a rumor which the directors of the company thought it necessary publicly to contradict.
Public meetings were held in all the counties through which the line would pass between London and Birmingham, at which the project was denounced, and strong resolutions against it were passed. The attempt was made to conciliate the landlords by explanations, but all such efforts proved futile, the owners of nearly seven eighths of the land being returned as dissentients. "I remember," said Robert Stephenson, describing the opposition, "that we called one day on Sir Astley Cooper, the eminent surgeon, in the hope of overcoming his aversion to the railway. He was one of our most inveterate and influential opponents. His country house at Berkhampstead was situated near the intended line, which passed through part of his property. We found a courtly, fine-looking old gentleman, of very stately manners, who received us kindly, and heard all we had to say in favor of the project. But he was quite inflexible in his opposition to it. No deviation or improvement that we could suggest had any effect in conciliating him. He was opposed to railways generally, and to this in particular. 'Your scheme,' said he, 'is preposterous in the extreme. It is of so extravagant a character as to be positively absurd. Then look at the recklessness of your proceedings! You are proposing to cut up our estates in all directions for the purpose of making an unnecessary road. Do you think for one moment of the destruction of property involved by it? Why, gentlemen, if this sort of thing be permitted to go on, you will in a very few years destroy the noblesse!' We left the honorable baronet without having produced the slightest effect upon him, excepting perhaps, it might be, increased exasperation against our scheme. I could not help observing to my companions as we left the house, 'Well, it is really provoking to find one who has been made a "Sir" for cutting that wen out of George the Fourth's neck, charging us with contemplating the destruction of the noblesse because we propose to confer upon him the benefits of a railroad.'"
Such being the opposition of the owners of land, it was with the greatest difficulty that an accurate survey of the line could be made. At one point the vigilance of the land-owners and their servants was such that the surveyors were effectually prevented taking the levels by the light of day, and it was only at length accomplished at night by means of dark lanterns. There was one clergyman, who made such alarming demonstrations of his opposition, that the extraordinary expedient was resorted to of surveying his property during the time he was engaged in the pulpit. This was managed by having a strong force of surveyors in readiness to commence their operations, who entered the clergyman's grounds on one side the moment they saw him fairly off them on the other. By a well-organized and systematic arrangement, each man concluded his allotted task just as the reverend gentleman concluded his sermon; so that, before he left the church, the deed was done, and the sinners had all decamped. Similar opposition was offered at many other points, but ineffectually. The laborious application of Robert Stephenson was such that, in examining the country to ascertain the best line, he walked the whole distance between London and Birmingham upward of twenty times.
When the bill went before the committee of the Commons in 1832, a formidable array of evidence was produced. All the railway experience of the day was brought to bear in support of the measure, and all that interested opposition could do was set in motion against it. The necessity for an improved mode of communication between London and Birmingham was clearly demonstrated, and the engineering evidence was regarded as quite satisfactory. Not a single fact was proved against the utility of the measure, and the bill passed the committee, and afterward the third reading in the Commons, by large majorities.
It was then sent to the Lords, and went into committee, when a similar mass of testimony was again gone through. But scarcely had the proceedings been opened when it became clear that the fate of the bill had been determined before a word of the evidence had been heard. At that time the committees were open to all peers; and the promoters of the measure found, to their dismay, many of the lords who were avowed opponents of the measure as land-owners, sitting as judges to decide its fate. Their principal object seemed to be to bring the proceedings to a termination as quickly as possible. An attempt at negotiation was made in the course of the proceedings in committee, but failed, and the bill was thrown out on the motion of Earl Brownlow, one of Lady Bridgewater's trustees; but, though carried by a large majority, the vote was far from unanimous.
As the result had been foreseen, measures were taken to neutralize the effect of this decision as regarded future operations. Not less than £32,000 had been expended in preliminary and Parliamentary expenses up to this stage; but the promoters determined not to look back, and forthwith made arrangements for prosecuting the bill in a future session. A meeting of the friends of the measure was held in London, attended by members of both houses of Parliament and by leading bankers and merchants, when a series of resolutions was passed, declaring their conviction of the necessity for the railway, and deprecating the opposition by which it had been encountered. Lord Wharncliffe, who had acted as the chairman of the Lords' Committee, attributed the failure of the bill entirely to the land-owners; and Mr. Glyn subsequently declared that they had tried to smother it by the high price which they demanded for their property. It was determined to reintroduce the bill in the following session (1833), and measures were taken to prosecute it vigorously. Strange to say, the bill on this occasion passed both houses silently and almost without opposition. The mystery was afterward solved by the appearance of a circular issued by the directors of the company, in which it was stated that they had opened negotiations with the most influential of their opponents; that "these measures had been successful to a greater extent than they had ventured to anticipate; and the most active and formidable had been conciliated." An instructive commentary on the mode by which these noble lords and influential landed proprietors had been "conciliated" was found in the simple fact that the estimate for land was nearly trebled, and that the owners were paid about £750,000 for what had been originally estimated at £250,000. The total expenses of carrying the bill through Parliament amounted to the enormous sum of £72,868.
The land-owners having been thus "conciliated," the promoters of the measure were at length permitted to proceed with the formation of their great highway. Robert Stephenson was, with his father's sanction, appointed engineer-in-chief of the line, at a salary of £1500 a year. He was now a married man, having become united to Miss Frances Sanderson in 1829, since which his home had been at Newcastle, near to the works there; but, on receiving his new appointment, he removed with his wife to London, to a house on Haverstock Hill, where he resided during the execution of the Birmingham Railway.
Steps were at once taken to proceed with the working survey, to prepare the working drawings, and arrange for the prosecution of the undertaking. Eighty miles of the line were shortly under construction; the works were let (within the estimates) to contractors, who were necessarily, for the most part, new to such work. The business of railway construction was not then well understood. There were no leviathans among contractors as now, able to undertake the formation of a line of railway hundreds of miles in length; they were, for the most part, men of small capital and slender experience. Their tools and machinery were imperfect; they did not understand the economy of time and piece labor; the workmen, as well as their masters, had still to learn their trade; and every movement of an engineer was attended with outlays, which were the inevitable result of a new system of things, but which each succeeding day's experience tended to diminish.
(Map of London and Birmingham Railway)
The difficulties encountered in the construction of this railway were thus very great, the most formidable of them originating in the character of the works themselves. Extensive tunnels had to be driven through unknown strata, and miles of underground excavation had to be carried out in order to form a level road from valley to valley under the intervening ridges. This kind of work was the newest of all to the contractors of that day. Robert Stephenson's experience in the collieries of the North rendered him well fitted to grapple with such difficulties; yet even he, with all his practical knowledge, could scarcely have foreseen the serious obstacles which he was called upon to encounter in executing the formidable cuttings, embankments, and tunnels of the London and Birmingham Railway. It would be an uninteresting, as it would be a fruitless task, to attempt to describe these works in detail; but a general outline of their extraordinary character and extent may not be out of place.
The length of railway to be constructed between London and Birmingham was 112-1/2 miles. The line crossed a series of low-lying districts, separated from each other by considerable ridges of hills, and it was the object of the engineer to cross the valleys at as high an elevation, and the hills at as low a one as possible. The high ground was therefore cut down, and the "stuff" led into embankments, in some places of great height and extent, so as to form a road upon as level a plane as was considered practicable for the working of the locomotive engine. In some places the high grounds were passed in open cuttings, while in others it was necessary to bore through them in tunnels with deep cuttings at either end.
The most formidable excavations on the line are those at Tring, Denbigh Hall, and Blisworth. The Tring cutting is an immense chasm across the great chalk ridge of Ivinghoe. It is two miles and a half long, and for a quarter of a mile is fifty-seven feet deep. A million and a half cubic yards of chalk and earth were taken out of this cutting by means of horse-runs, and deposited in spoil-banks, besides the immense quantity run into the embankment north of the cutting, forming a solid mound nearly six miles long and about thirty feet high. Passing over the Denbigh Hall cutting, and the Wolverton embankment of a mile and a half in length across the valley of the Ouse, we come to the excavation at Blisworth, a brief description of which will give the reader an idea of one of the most formidable kinds of railway work.
BLISWORTH CUTTING. [By Percival Skelton.]
The Blisworth Cutting is a mile and a half long, in some places sixty-five feet deep, passing through earth, stiff clay, and hard rock. Not less than a million cubic yards of these materials were dug, quarried, and blasted out of it. One third of the cutting was stone, and beneath the stone lay a thick bed of clay, under which were found beds of loose shale so full of water that almost constant pumping was necessary at many points to enable the works to proceed. For a year and a half the contractor went on fruitlessly contending with these difficulties, and at length he was compelled to abandon the adventure. The engineer then took the works in hand for the company, and they were vigorously proceeded with. Steam-engines were set to work to pump out the water; two locomotives were put on, one at either end of the cutting, to drag away the excavated rock and clay; and eight hundred men and boys were employed along the work, in digging, wheeling, and blasting, besides a large number of horses. Some idea of the extent of the blasting operations may be formed from the fact that twenty-five barrels of gunpowder were exploded weekly, the total quantity used in forming this one excavation being about three thousand barrels. Considerable difficulty was experienced in supporting the bed of rock cut through, which overlaid the clay and shale along either side of the cutting. It was found necessary to hold it up by strong retaining walls, to prevent the clay bed from bulging out, and these walls were farther supported by a strong invert—that is, an arch placed in an inverted position under the road—thus binding together the walls on both sides. Behind the retaining walls, a drift or horizontal drain was run to enable the water to escape, and occasional openings were left in the walls themselves for the same purpose. The work was at length brought to a successful completion, but the extraordinary difficulties encountered in executing the undertaking had the effect of greatly increasing the cost of this portion of the railway.
The Tunnels on the line are eight in number, their total length being 7336 yards. The first high ground encountered was Primrose Hill, where the stiff London clay was passed through for a distance of about 1164 yards. The clay was close, compact, and dry, more difficult to work than stone itself. It was entirely free from water; but the absorbing properties of the clay were such that when exposed to the air it swelled out rapidly. Hence an unusual thickness of brick lining was found necessary; and the engineer afterward informed the author that for some time he entertained an apprehension lest the pressure should force in the brick-work altogether, as afterward happened in the case of the short Preston Brook tunnel upon the Grand Junction Railway, constructed by his father. The pressure behind the brick-work was so great that it made the face of the bricks to fly off in minute chips, which covered his clothes while he was inspecting the work. The materials used in the building were, however, of excellent quality, and the work was happily brought to a completion without accident.
At Watford the chalk ridge was penetrated by a tunnel about 1800 yards long, and at Northchurch, Lindslade, and Stowe Hill there were other tunnels of minor extent. But the chief difficulty of the undertaking was the execution of that under the Kilsby ridge. Though not the largest, this is in many respects one of the most interesting works of the kind. It is about two thousand four hundred yards long, and runs at an average depth of about a hundred and sixty feet below the surface. The ridge under which it extends is of considerable extent, the famous battle of Naseby having been fought upon one of the spurs of the same high ground, about seven miles to the eastward.
LINE OF THE SHAFTS OVER KILSBY TUNNEL. [By Percival Skelton.]
Previous to the letting of the contract, the character of the underground soil was fairly tested by trial shafts, which indicated that it consisted of shale of the lower oolite, and the works were let accordingly. But they had scarcely been commenced when it was discovered that, at an interval between the two trial-shafts, which had been sunk about two hundred yards from the south end of the tunnel, there existed an extensive quicksand under a bed of clay forty feet thick, which the borings had escaped in the most singular manner. At the bottom of one of these shafts, the excavation and building of the tunnel were proceeding, when the roof at one part suddenly gave way, a deluge of water burst in, and the party of workmen with the utmost difficulty escaped with their lives. They were only saved by means of a raft, on which they were towed by one of the engineers swimming with the rope in his mouth to the lower end of the shaft, out of which they were safely lifted to the daylight.
The works were of course at that point immediately stopped. The contractor who had undertaken the construction of the tunnel was so overwhelmed by the calamity that, though he was relieved by the company from his engagement, he took to his bed and shortly after died. Pumping-engines were erected for the purpose of draining off the water, but for a long time it prevailed, and sometimes even rose in the shaft. The question arose whether, in the face of so formidable a difficulty, the works should be proceeded with or abandoned. Robert Stephenson sent over to Alton Grange for his father, and the two took serious counsel together. George was in favor of pumping out the water from the top by powerful engines erected over each shaft, until the water was fairly mastered. Robert concurred in that view, and, although other engineers who were consulted pronounced strongly against the practicability of the scheme and advised the abandonment of the enterprise, the directors authorized him to proceed, and powerful steam-engines were ordered to be constructed and delivered without loss of time.
In the mean time Robert suggested to his father the expediency of running a drift along the heading from the south end of the tunnel, with the view of draining off the water in that way. George said he thought it would scarcely answer, but that it was worth a trial, at all events until the pumping-engines were got ready. Robert accordingly gave orders for the drift to be proceeded with. The excavators were immediately set to work, and they had nearly reached the quicksand, when one day, while the engineer, his assistants, and the workmen were clustered about the open entrance of the drift-way, they heard a sudden roar as of distant thunder. It was hoped that the water had burst in—for all the workmen were out of the drift—and that the sand-bed would now drain itself off in a natural way. Instead of which, very little water made its appearance, and on examining the inner end of the drift, it was found that the loud noise had been caused by the sudden discharge into it of an immense mass of sand, which had completely choked up the passage, and thus prevented the water from draining off.
The engineer now found that nothing remained but to sink numerous additional shafts over the line of the tunnel at the points at which it crossed the quicksand, and endeavor to master the water by sheer force of engines and pumps. The engines, which were shortly erected, possessed an aggregate power of 160 horses; and they went on pumping for eight months, emptying out an almost incredible quantity of water. It was found that the water, with which the bed of sand extending over many miles was charged, was in a great degree held back by the particles of the sand itself, and that it could only percolate through at a certain average rate. It appeared in its flow to take a slanting direction to the suction of the pumps, the angle of inclination depending upon the coarseness or fineness of the sand, and regulating the time of the flow. Hence the distribution of the pumping power at short intervals along the line of the tunnel had a much greater effect than the concentration of that power at any one place. It soon appeared that the water had found its master. Protected by the pumps, which cleared a space for engineering operations—carried on, as it were, amid two almost perpendicular walls of water and sand on either side—the workmen proceeded with the building of the tunnel at numerous points. Every exertion was used to wall in the dangerous parts as quickly as possible, the excavators and bricklayers laboring night and day until the work was finished. Even while under the protection of the immense pumping power above described, it often happened that the bricks were scarcely covered with cement ready for the setting ere they were washed quite clean by the streams of water which poured from overhead. The men were accordingly under the necessity of holding over their work large whisks of straw and other appliances to protect the bricks and cement at the moment of setting.
The quantity of water pumped out of the sand-bed during eight months of this incessant pumping averaged two thousand gallons per minute, raised from an average depth of 120 feet. It is difficult to form an adequate idea of the bulk of water thus raised, but it may be stated that if allowed to flow for three hours only, it would fill a lake one acre square to the depth of one foot, and if allowed to flow for an entire day it would fill the lake to over eight feet in depth, or sufficient to float a vessel of a hundred tons' burden. The water pumped out of the tunnel while the work was in progress would be nearly equivalent to the contents of the Thames at high water between London and Woolwich. It is a curious circumstance, that notwithstanding the quantity of water thus removed, the level of the surface in the tunnel was only lowered about two and a half to three inches per week, showing the vast area of the quicksand, which probably extended along the entire ridge of land under which the railway passed.
The cost of the line was greatly increased by the difficulties thus encountered at Kilsby. The original estimate for the tunnel was only £99,000; but by the time it was finished it had cost about £100 per lineal yard forward, or a total of nearly £300,000. The expenditure on the other parts of the line also greatly exceeded the amount first set down by the engineer, and, before the railway was complete, it had been more than doubled. The land cost three times more than the estimate, and the claims for compensation were enormous. Although the contracts were let within the estimates, very few of the contractors were able to finish them without the assistance of the company, and many became bankrupt. Speaking of the difficulties encountered during the construction of the line, Robert Stephenson subsequently observed to us: "After the works were let, wages rose, the prices of materials of all kinds rose, and the contractors, many of whom were men of comparatively small capital, were thrown on their beam-ends. Their calculations as to expenses and profits were completely upset. Let me just go over the list. There was Jackson, who took the Primrose Hill contract—he failed. Then there was the next length—Nowells; then Copeland and Harding; north of them Townsend, who had the Tring cutting; next Norris, who had Stoke Hammond; then Soars; then Hughes: I think all of these broke down, or at least were helped through by the directors. Then there was that terrible contract of the Kilsby Tunnel, which broke the Nowells, and killed one of them. The contractors to the north of Kilsby were more fortunate, though some of them pulled through only with the greatest difficulty. Of the eighteen contracts in which the line was originally let, only seven were completed by the original contractors. Eleven firms were ruined by their contracts, which were relet to others at advanced prices, or were carried on and finished by the company. The principal cause of increase in the expense, however, was the enlargement of the stations. It appeared that we had greatly under-estimated the traffic, and it accordingly became necessary to spend more and more money for its accommodation, until I think I am within the mark when I say that the expenditure on this account alone exceeded by eight or ten fold the amount of the Parliamentary estimate."
The magnitude of the works, which were unprecedented in England, was one of the most remarkable features in the undertaking. The following striking comparison has been made between this railway and one of the greatest works of ancient times. The great Pyramid of Egypt was, according to Diodorus Siculus, constructed by three hundred thousand—according to Herodotus, by one hundred thousand—men. It required for its execution twenty years, and the labor expended upon it has been estimated as equivalent to lifting 15,733,000,000 of cubic feet of stone one foot high; whereas, if the labor expended in constructing the London and Birmingham Railway be in like manner reduced to one common denomination, the result is 25,000,000,000 of cubic feet more than was lifted for the Great Pyramid; and yet the English work was performed by about 20,000 men in less than five years. And while the Egyptian work was executed by a powerful monarch concentrating upon it the labor and capital of a great nation, the English railway was constructed, in the face of every conceivable obstruction and difficulty, by a company of private individuals out of their own resources, without the aid of government or the contribution of one farthing of public money.
The laborers who executed these formidable works were in many respects a remarkable class. The "railway navvies,"[77] as they were called, were men drawn by the attraction of good wages from all parts of the kingdom; and they were ready for any sort of hard work. Many of the laborers employed on the Liverpool line were Irish; others were from the Northumberland and Durham railways, where they had been accustomed to similar work; and some of the best came from the fen districts of Lincoln and Cambridge, where they had been trained to execute works of excavation and embankment. These old practitioners formed a nucleus of skilled manipulation and aptitude which rendered them of indispensable utility in the immense undertakings of the period. Their expertness in all sorts of earth-work, in embanking, boring, and well-sinking—their practical knowledge of the nature of soils and rocks, the tenacity of clays, and the porosity of certain stratifications—were very great; and, rough-looking as they were, many of them were as important in their own department as the contractor or the engineer.
During the railway-making period the navvy wandered about from one public work to another, apparently belonging to no country and having no home. He usually wore a white felt hat with the brim turned up, a velveteen or jean square-tailed coat, a scarlet plush waistcoat with little black spots, and a bright-colored kerchief round his Herculean neck, when, as often happened, it was not left entirely bare. His corduroy breeches were retained in position by a leathern strap round the waist, and were tied and buttoned at the knee, displaying beneath a solid calf and foot incased in strong high-laced boots. Joining together in a "butty gang," some ten or twelve of these men would take a contract to cut out and remove so much "dirt"—as they denominated earth-cutting—fixing their price according to the character of the "stuff," and the distance to which it had to be wheeled and tipped. The contract taken, every man put himself to his mettle; if any was found skulking, or not putting forth his full working power, he was ejected from the gang. Their powers of endurance were extraordinary. In times of emergency they would work for twelve and even sixteen hours, with only short intervals for meals. The quantity of flesh-meat which they consumed was something enormous; but it was to their bones and muscles what coke is to the locomotive—the means of keeping up the steam. They displayed great pluck, and seemed to disregard peril. Indeed, the most dangerous sort of labor—such as working horse-barrow runs, in which accidents are of constant occurrence—has always been most in request among them, the danger seeming to be one of its chief recommendations.
KILSBY TUNNEL. [North End.]
Working together, eating, drinking, and sleeping together, and daily exposed to the same influences, these railway laborers soon presented a distinct and well-defined character, strongly marking them from the population of the districts in which they labored. Reckless alike of their lives as of their earnings, the navvies worked hard and lived hard. For their lodging, a hut of turf would content them; and, in their hours of leisure, the meanest public house would serve for their parlor. Unburdened, as they usually were, by domestic ties, unsoftened by family affection, and without much moral or religious training, the navvies came to be distinguished by a sort of savage manners, which contrasted strangely with those of the surrounding population. Yet, ignorant and violent though they might be, they were usually good-hearted fellows in the main—frank and open-handed with their comrades, and ready to share their last penny with those in distress. Their pay-nights were often a saturnalia of riot and disorder, dreaded by the inhabitants of the villages along the line of works. The irruption of such men into the quiet hamlet of Kilsby must, indeed, have produced a very startling effect on the recluse inhabitants of the place. Robert Stephenson used to tell a story of the clergyman of the parish waiting upon the foreman of one of the gangs to expostulate with him as to the shocking impropriety of his men working during Sunday. But the head navvy merely hitched up his trowsers and said, "Why, Soondays hain't cropt out here yet!" In short, the navvies were little better than heathens, and the village of Kilsby was not restored to its wonted quiet until the tunnel-works were finished, and the engines and scaffolding removed, leaving only the immense masses of débris around the line of shafts which extend along the top of the tunnel.