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 simple 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 then 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, Mr. Stephenson reported in favour of the Coventry route, when the Lancashire gentlemen, who were the principal subscribers to the project, having every confidence in his judgment, supported his decision, and the line recommended by him was adopted accordingly.

At the meeting of the promoters held at Birmingham to determine on the appointment of the engineer for the railway, there was a strong party in favour of associating with Mr. 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 father was in favour 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, he 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 landowners. 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, landowners, 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 favour of horses—a rumour 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 favour 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 honourable baronet without having produced the slightest effect upon him, excepting perhaps, it might be, increased exasperation against our scheme. 1 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 landowners 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-organised 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 upwards 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 afterwards 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 it had been evident, from the opening of the proceedings, that the fate of the bill had been determined before even a word of the evidence had been heard. At that time the committees were open to all peers; and the promoters of the bill found, to their dismay, many of the lords who were avowed opponents of the measure as landowners, 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 indeed made in the course of the proceedings in committee, but failed, and the bill was thrown out.

As the result had been foreseen, measures were taken to neutralise 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 the next session. Strange to say, the bill then passed both Houses silently and almost without opposition. The mystery was afterwards 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 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 landowners having thus been “conciliated,” the promoters of the measure were permitted to proceed with the formation of their great highway. Robert Stephenson was, with the sanction of his father, appointed sole engineer; and steps were at once taken by him to make the working survey, to prepare the working drawings, and arrange for the construction of the railway. Eighty miles of the road were shortly under contract, having been let within the estimates; and the works were in satisfactory progress by the beginning of 1834.

The difficulties encountered in their construction were 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 the works in detail; but a general outline of their extraordinary character and extent may not be out of place.

Rugby to Watford

The length of railway to be constructed between London and Birmingham was 112½ 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, and the hills at as low, elevations 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, whilst in others it was necessary to bore through them in tunnels with deep cuttings at each 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 2½ miles long, and for ¼ of a mile is 57 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 6 miles long and about 30 feet high. Passing over the Denbigh Hall cutting, and the Wolverton embankment of 1½ mile 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 difficult kinds of railway work.

Blisworth Cutting

The Blisworth Cutting is one of the longest and deepest grooves cut in the solid earth. It is 1½ mile long, in some places 65 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 each end of the cutting, to drag away the excavated rock and clay; and 800 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 25 barrels of gunpowder were used weekly; the total quantity exploded in forming this one cutting being about 3,000 barrels. Considerable difficulty was experienced in supporting the bed of rock cut through, which overlaid the clay and shale along each 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 further 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 provided to enable the water to run off, 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 forming the cutting 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 afterwards informed the author that for some time he entertained an apprehension lest the pressure should force in the brickwork altogether. It was so great that it made the face of the bricks to fly off in minute chips which covered his clothes whilst he was inspecting the work. The materials used in the building were, however, of excellent quality; and the tunnel was happily brought to a completion without any 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 in England. It is about 2400 yards long, and runs at an average depth of about 160 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.

Previous to the letting of the contract, the character of the underground soil was examined by trial-shafts. The tests 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 200 yards from the south end of the tunnel, there existed an extensive quicksand under a bed of clay 40 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 Shafts over Kilsby Tunnel

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 then 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 then presented itself, 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 favour of pumping out the water from the top by powerful engines erected over each shaft, until the water was mastered. Robert concurred in that view, and although other engineers pronounced strongly against the practicability of the scheme and advised its abandonment, the directors authorised 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 were very soon close upon the sand bed. One day, when 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 prevented the water from flowing away.

The engineer now found that there was nothing for it but to sink numerous additional shafts over the line of the tunnel at the points at which it crossed the quicksand, and endeavour to master the water by sheer force of engines and pumps. The engines erected, possessed an aggregate power of 160 horses; and they went on pumping for eight successive 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 to a certain 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 spot. It soon appeared that the water had found its master. Protected by the pumps, which cleared a space for the engineering operations—carried on in the midst, as it were, of 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 labouring 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 incessant pumping, averaged 2,000 gallons per minute, raised from an average depth of 120 feet. It is difficult to form an adequate idea of the bulk of the 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 one entire day it would fill the lake to over eight feet in depth, or sufficient to float vessels of 100 tons burthen. 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 thus removed, the level of the surface of the water in the tunnel was only lowered about 2½ to 3 inches per week, proving 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 encountered at Kilsby. The original estimate for the tunnel was only £99,000; but before it was finished it had cost more than £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 works were finished it was 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 complete them without the assistance of the Company, and many became bankrupt.

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 300,000—according to Herodotus, by 100,000—men. It required for its execution twenty years, and the labour 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 labour 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 whilst the Egyptian work was executed by a powerful monarch concentrating upon it the labour 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 labourers who executed this formidable work were in many respects a remarkable class. The “railway navvies,” as they are 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. 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 earthwork, 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 though 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-coloured 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 encased 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 on 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 12 and even 16 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 labour—such as working horse-barrow runs, in which accidents are of constant occurrence—has always been most in request amongst them, the danger seeming to be one of its chief recommendations.

Working, eating, drinking, and sleeping together, and daily exposed to the same influences, these railway labourers soon presented a distinct and well-defined character, strongly marking them from the population of the districts in which they laboured. 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 parlour. 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 openhanded 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 trousers, 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 scaffoldings removed, leaving only the immense masses of dÉbris around the line of shafts which extend along the top of the tunnel.

In illustration of the extraordinary working energy and powers of endurance of the English navvies, we may mention that when railway-making extended to France, the English contractors for the works took with them gangs of English navvies, with the usual plant, which included wheelbarrows. These the English navvy was accustomed to run out rapidly and continuously, piled so high with “stuff” that he could barely see over the summit of his load, the gang-board along which he wheeled his barrow. While he thus easily ran out some 3 or 4 cwt. at a time, the French navvy was contented with half the weight. Indeed, the French navvies on one occasion struck work because of the size of the English barrows, and there was an Émeute on the Rouen Railway, which was only quelled by the aid of the military. The consequence was that the big barrows were abandoned to the English workmen, who earned nearly double the wages of the Frenchmen. The manner in which they stood to their work was matter of great surprise and wonderment to the French countrypeople, who came crowding round them in their blouses, and, after gazing admiringly at their expert handling of the pick and mattock, and the immense loads of “dirt” which they wheeled out, would exclaim to each other, “Mon Dieu, voila! voila ces Anglais, comme ils travaillent!”