 CHAPTER XVI Robert Stevenson's career. The Stevenson's and Brunel. East Coast route to Scotland. Royal Border Bridge Berwick. High Level Bridge, Newcastle. The career of George Stevenson was drawing to a close. He had, for some time, been gradually retiring from the more active pursuit of railway engineering and confining himself to the promotion of only a few undertakings in which he took a more than ordinary personal interest. In 1840, when the extensive main lines in the middle and districts had been finished and opened for traffic, he publicly expressed his intention of withdrawing from the profession. He had reached sixty, and, having spent the greater part of his life in very hard work, he naturally desired rest and retirement in his old age. There was the less necessity for his continuing in harness, as Robert Stevenson was now in full career as a leading railway engineer, and his father had pleasure in handing over to him with the sanction of the company's concern nearly all the railway appointments which he held. Robert Stevenson amply repaid his father's care, the sound education of which he had laid the foundations at school, improved by his subsequent culture, but more than all by his father's example of application, industry, and thoroughness in all that he undertook, told powerfully in the formation of his character, not less than in the discipline of his intellect. His father had early implanted in him habits of mental activity, familiarised him with the laws of mechanics, and carefully trained and stimulated his inventive faculties, the first great fruits of which, as we have seen, were exhibited in the triumph of the rocket at Rain Hill. I am fully conscious in my own mind, said the son, at a meeting of the mechanical engineers at Newcastle in 1858, how greatly my civil engineering has been regulated and influenced by the mechanical knowledge which I derived directly from my father. And the more my experience has advanced, the more convinced I have become that it is necessary to educate an engineer in the workshop. That is emphatically the education which will render the engineer most intelligent, most useful, and the fullest of resources in times of difficulty. Robert Stevenson was but twenty-six years old, when the performances of the rocket established the practicability of steam locomotion on railways. He was shortly after appointed engineer of the Leicester and Swonnington Railway, after which, at his father's request, he was made joint engineer with himself in laying out the London and Birmingham Railway, and the execution of that line was afterwards entrusted to him as sole engineer. The stability and excellence of the works of that railway, the difficulties which had been successfully overcome in the course of its construction, and the judgment which was displayed by Robert Stevenson throughout the whole conduct of the undertaking to its completion, established his reputation as an engineer, and his father could now look with confidence and with pride upon his son's achievements. From that time forward, father and son worked together as one man, each jealous of the other's honour, and on the father's retirement it was generally recognised that in the sphere of railways Robert Stevenson was the foremost man, the safest guide, and the most active worker. Robert Stevenson was subsequently appointed engineer of the Eastern Counties, the Northern and Eastern, and the Blackwall Railways, besides many lines in the Midland and Southern districts. When the speculation of 1844 set in, his services were, of course, greatly in request. Thus, in one session we find him engaged as engineer for not fewer than thirty-three new schemes. Projectors thought themselves fortunate who could secure his name, and he had only to propose his terms to obtain them. The work which he performed at this period of his life was indeed enormous, and his income was large beyond any previous instance of engineering gain. But much of his labour was heavy hack work of an uninteresting character. During the sittings of the committees of parliament, almost every moment of his time was occupied in consultations, and in preparing evidence, or in giving it. The crowded, low-roofed committee rooms of the old houses of parliament were altogether inadequate to accommodate the rush of perspiring projectors of bills, and even the lobbies were sometimes choked with them. To have borne that noisome atmosphere and heat would have tested the constitution of salamanders, and engineers were only human. With brains kept in a state of excitement during the entire day, no wonder their nervous systems became unstrung. Their only chance of refreshment was during an occasional rush to the Bun and Sandwich stand in the lobby, though sometimes even that resource failed them. Then, with mind and body jaded, probably after undertaking a series of consultations upon many bills after the rising of the committees, the exhaustive engineers would seek to stimulate nature by a late, perhaps a heavy dinner. What chance had any ordinary constitution of surviving such an ordeal? The consequence was that stomach, brain, and liver were alike irretrievably injured, and hence the men who bore the brunt of those struggles—Stevensson, Brunel, Locke, and Errington—have already all died, comparatively young men. In mentioning the name of Brunel, we are reminded of him as the principal rival and competitor of Robert Stevenson. Both were the sons of distinguished men, and both inherited the fame and followed in the footsteps of their fathers. The Stevensons were inventive, practical, and sagacious—the Brunels, ingenious, imaginative, and daring. The former were as thoroughly English in their characteristics, as the latter were perhaps as thoroughly French. The fathers and the sons were alike successful in their works, though not in the same degree. Measured by practical and profitable results, the Stevensons were unquestionably the safer men to follow. Robert Stevenson and disembarked Kingdom Brunel were destined often to come into collision in the course of their professional life. Their respective railway districts marched with each other, and it became their business to invade or defend those districts according as the policy of their respective boards might direct. The gauge of seven feet, fixed by Mr Brunel for the Great Western Railway, so entirely different from that of four-foot-eight-and-a-half-inches adopted by the Stevensons on the northern and midland lines, was from the first a great cause of contention. But Mr Brunel had always an aversion to follow any man's lead, and that another engineer had fixed the gauge of a railway or built a bridge or designed an engine in one way, was of itself often a sufficient reason with him for adopting an altogether different course. Robert Stevenson on his part, though less bold, was more practical, preferring to follow the old routes and to tread in the safe steps of his father. Mr Brunel, however, determined that the Great Western should be a giant's road, and that travelling should be conducted upon it at double speed. His ambition was to make the best road that imagination could devise, whereas the main object of the Stevensons, both father and son, was to make a road that would pay. Although, tried by the Stevensons' test, Brunel's magnificent road was a failure so far as the shareholders in the Great Western Company were concerned, the stimulus which his ambitious designs gave to the mechanical invention at the time proved a general good. The narrow gauge engineers exerted themselves to quicken their locomotives to the utmost. They improved and re-improved them. The machinery was simplified and perfected. Outside cylinders gave place to inside. The steadier and more rapid and effective action of the engine was secured, and in a few years the highest speed on the narrow lines went up from 30 to about 50 miles an hour. For this rapidity of progress we are in no small degree indebted to the stimulus imparted to the narrow gauge engineers by Mr. Brunel, and it is well for a country that it should possess such men as he ready to dare the untried and to venture boldly into new paths. Individuals may suffer from the cost of the experiments, but the nation, which is an aggregate of individuals gains, and so does the world at large. It was one of the characteristics of Brunel to believe in the success of the schemes for which he was professionally engaged as engineer, and he proved this by investing his savings largely in the Great Western Railway in the South Devon Atmospheric Line and in the Great Eastern Steamship, with what results are well known. Robert Stevenson, on the contrary, with characteristic caution towards the latter years of his life, avoided holding unguaranteed railway shares, and though he might execute magnificent structures such as the Victoria Bridge across the St. Lawrence, he was careful not to embark any portion of his own fortune in the ordinary capital of those concerns. In 1845 he shrewdly foresaw the inevitable crash that was about to follow the main year of that year, and while shares were still at a premium, he took the opportunity of selling out all that he had. He urged his father to do the same thing, but George's reply was characteristic. No, said he, I took my shares for an investment and not to speculate with, and I am not going to sell them now because folks have gone mad about railways. The consequent was that he continued to hold the sixty thousand pounds which he had invested in the shares of various railways until his death, when they were at once sold out by his son, though at a great depreciation of their original cost. One of the hardest battles fought between the Stephenson's and Brunel was for the railway between Newcastle and Berwick, forming part of the Great East Coast route to Scotland. As early as 1836 George Stephenson had surveyed two lines to connect Edinburgh with Newcastle, one by Berwick and Dunbar along the coast, and the other, more inland, by Carterfell, up the Vale of the Gala, to the northern capital. But both projects laid dormant for several years longer, until the completion of the Midland and other main lines as far north as Newcastle had the effect of again reviving the subject of the extension of the route as far as Edinburgh. On the 18th of June 1844 the Newcastle and Darlington line, an important link of the Great Main Highway to the north, was completely and publicly opened, thus connecting the Thames and the Tyne by a continuous line of railway. On that day the Stephenson's, with a distinguished party of railway men, travelled by express train from London to Newcastle in about nine hours. It was a great event and worthily celebrated. The population of Newcastle held holiday, and a banquet given in the assembly-rooms the same evening assumed the form of an ovation to George Stephenson and his son. Thirty years before, in the capacity of a workman, he had been laboring at the construction of his first locomotive in the immediate neighbourhood. By slow and laborious steps he had worked his way on, dragging the locomotive into notice and raising himself in public estimation until at length he had victoriously established the railway system and went back among his townsmen to receive their greeting. After the opening of this railway the project of the East Coast line from Newcastle to Berwick was revived, and George Stephenson, who had already identified himself with the question and was intimately acquainted with every foot of the ground, was called upon to assist the promoters with his judgment and experience. He again recommended, as strongly as before, the line he had previously surveyed, and on its being adopted by the local committee, the necessary steps were taken to have the scheme brought before Parliament in the ensuing session. The East Coast line was not, however, to be allowed to pass without a fight. On the contrary, it had to encounter a stout in opposition as the Stephenson's had ever experienced. We have already stated that about this time the plan of substituting atmospheric pressure for locomotive steam power in the working of railways had become very popular. Many eminent engineers supported the atmospheric system and a strong party in Parliament, headed by the Prime Minister, were greatly disposed in its favour. Mr Brunel warmly espoused the atmospheric principle and his persuasive manner as well as his admitted scientific ability unquestionably exercised considerable influence in determining the views of many leading members of both houses. Among others, Lord Hoik, one of the members for Northumberland, adopted the new principle and possessing great local influence, he succeeded in forming a powerful confederacy of the landed gentry in favour of Brunel's atmospheric railway through that county. George Stephenson could not brook the idea of seeing the locomotive for which he had fought so many stout battles pushed to one side, and that, in the very county in which its great powers had been first developed. Nor did he relish the appearance of Mr Brunel as the engineer of Lord Hoik's scheme, in opposition to the line which had occupied his thoughts, and being the object of his strenuous advocacy for so many years. When Stephenson first met Brunel in Newcastle, he good-naturedly shook him by the collar and asked what business he had north of the time. George gave him to understand that they were to have a fair stand-up fight for the ground, and shaking hands before the battle like Englishmen, they parted in good humour. A public meeting was held at Newcastle in the following December, when, after a full discussion of the merits of the respective plans, Stephenson's line was almost unanimously accepted as the best. The rival projects went before Parliament in 1845, and a severe contest ensued. The display of ability and tactics on both sides was great. Robert Stephenson was examined at great length as to the merits of the locomotive line, and Brunel at equally great length as to the merits of the atmospheric system. Mr Brunel, in his evidence, said that after numerous experiments he had arrived at the conclusion that the mechanical contrivance of the atmospheric system was perfectly applicable, and he believed that it would likewise be more economical in most cases than locomotive power. In short, said he, rapidity, comfort, safety, and economy are its chief recommendations. But the locomotive again triumphed. The Stephenson coastline secured the approval of Parliament, and the shareholders in the atmospheric company were happily prevented from investing their capital in what would unquestionably have proved a gigantic blunder. Four less than three years later, the whole of the atmospheric tubes which had been laid down on other lines were pulled up and the materials sold, including Mr Brunel's immense tube on the South Devon Railway, to make way for the working of the locomotive engine. George Stephenson's first verdict of It Won't Do was thus conclusively confirmed. Robert Stephenson used afterwards to describe with great gusto an interview which took place between Lord Hoic and his father at his office in Great George Street during the progress of the bill in Parliament. His father was in the outer office where he used to spend a good deal of his spare time, occasionally taking a quiet wrestle with a friend when nothing else was stirring. On the day in question George was standing with his back to the fire when Lord Hoic called to see Robert. Oh! thought George. He has come to try and talk Robert over about that atmospheric gimmick, but I'll tackle his lordship. Come in, my lord! said he. Robert's busy, but I'll answer your purpose quite as well. Sit down here, if you please. George began. Now, my lord, I know very well what you have come about. It's that atmospheric line in the north. I will show you in less than five minutes that it can never answer. If Mr Robert Stephenson is not at liberty, I can call again, said his lordship. He's certainly occupied on important business just at present, was George's answer, but I can tell you far better than he can what nonsense the atmospheric system is. Robert's good natured you see, and if your lordship were to get a long side of him you might talk him over, so you've been quite lucky in meeting with me. Now, just look at the question of expense. And he then proceeded in his strong Doric to explain his views in detail, until Lord Hoic could stand it no longer and he rose and walked towards the door. George followed him downstairs to finish his demolition of the atmospheric system, and his parting words were, You may take my word for it, my lord, it will never answer. George afterwards told his son with glee of the settler he had given Lord Hoic. So closely were the Stephensons identified with this measure, and so great was the personal interest which they were both known to take in its success, that on the news of the triumph of the bill reaching Newcastle, a sort of general holiday took place, and the workmen belonging to the Stephensons Locomotive factory, upwards of eight hundred in number, walked in procession through the principal streets of the town, accompanied with music and banners. It is unnecessary to enter into any description of the works on the Newcastle and Berwick Railway. There are no fewer than a hundred and ten bridges of all sorts on the line, some under, and some over it, but by far the most formidable piece of masonry work on this railway is at its northern extremity, where it passes across the tweed into Scotland, immediately opposite the formerly redoubtable castle of Berwick. Not many centuries had passed since the district amidst which this bridge stands was the scene of almost constant warfare. Berwick was regarded as the key of Scotland and was fiercely fought for, sometimes held by a scotch and sometimes by an English garrison. Though strongly fortified it was repeatedly taken by assault. On its capture by Edward I Boecius says that seventeen thousand persons were slain, so that its streets ran with blood like a river. Within sight of the ramparts a little to the west is Halledon Hill, where a famous victory was gained by Edward III over the Scottish army under Douglas, and there is scarcely a foot of ground in the neighbourhood, but has been the scene of contention in days long past. In the reign of James I and Charles I, a bridge of fifteen arches was built across the tweed at Berwick, and in our own day a railway bridge of twenty-eight arches has been built a little above the old one, but at a much higher level. The bridge built by the kings out of the national resources cost fifteen thousand pounds, and occupied twenty-four years and four months in the building. The bridge built by the railway company with funds drawn from private resources cost a hundred and twenty thousand pounds, and was finished in three years and four months from the day of laying the foundation stone. This important viaduct, built after the design of Robert Stevenson, consists of a series of twenty-eight semicircular arches, each sixty-one feet and six inches in span, the greatest height above the bed of the river being a hundred and twenty-six feet. The hole is built of ashlar with the hearting of rubble, accepting the river parts of the arches which are constructed with bricks laid in cement. The total length of the work is two thousand one hundred and sixty feet. The foundations of the piers were got in by cofferdams in the ordinary way. Naysmith's steam hammer being extensively used in driving the piles. The bearing piles, from which the foundations of the piers were built up, were each capable of carrying seventy tons. Another bridge of still greater importance, necessary to complete the continuity of the east coast route, was the masterwork erected by Robert Stevenson, between the north and south banks of the Tine at Newcastle, commonly known as the High Level Bridge. Mr. R. W. Brandley, George Stevenson's early friend, is entitled to the merit of originating the idea of this bridge as it was eventually carried out, with a central terminus for the northern railways in the Castle Garth. The plan was first promulgated by him in eighteen forty-one, and in the following year it was resolved that George Stevenson should be consulted as to the most advisable site for the proposed structure. A prospectus of a high-level bridge company was issued in eighteen forty-three, the names of George Stevenson and George Hudson appearing on the Committee of Management, Robert Stevenson being the consulting engineer. The project was eventually taken up by the Newcastle and Darlington Railway Company, and an act for the construction of the bridge was obtained in eighteen forty-five. The rapid extension of railways had given an extraordinary stimulus to the art of bridge building. The number of such structures erected in Great Britain alone since eighteen thirty, having been above twenty-five thousand, or more than all that had before existed in the country. Instead of the erection of a single large bridge, constituting as formally an epoch in engineering, hundreds of extensive bridges of novel design were simultaneously constructed. The necessity which existed for carrying rigid loads, capable of bearing heavy railway trains at high speeds over extensive gaps free of support, rendered it obvious that the methods which had up to that time been employed for bridging space were altogether insufficient. The railway engineer could not, like an ordinary road engineer, divert his road and make choice of the best point for crossing a river or a valley. He must take such ground as lay in the line of his railway, be it bog or mud or shifting sand. Navigable rivers and crowded thoroughfares had to be crossed without interruption to the existing traffic, sometimes by bridges at right angles to the river or road, sometimes by arches more or less oblique. In many cases great difficulty arose from the limited nature of the headway, but as the level of the original road must generally be preserved, and that of the railway was in a measure fixed and determined, it was necessary to modify the form and structure of the bridge in almost every case in order to comply with the public requirements. Novel conditions were met by fresh inventions, and difficulties of the most unusual character were one after another successfully surmounted in executing these extraordinary works. Iron has been throughout the sheet anchor of the engineer. In its different forms of cast or wrought iron it offered a valuable resource, where rapidity of execution, great strength and cheapness of construction in the first instance were elements of prime importance, and by its skillful use the railway architect was enabled to achieve results which thirty years ago would scarcely have been thought possible. In many of the early cast iron bridges the old form of the arch was adopted, the stability of the structure depending wholly on compression, the only novel feature being the use of iron instead of stone, but in a large proportion of cases the arch with the railway over it was found inapplicable, in consequence of the limited headway which it provided. Hence it early occurred to George Stevenson, when constructing the Liverpool and Manchester railway, to adopt the simple cast iron beam for the crossing of several roads and canals along that line, this beam resembling in some measure the lintel of the early temples, the pressure on the abutments being purely vertical. One of the earliest instances of this kind of bridge was that erected over Water Street Manchester in 1829, after which cast iron girders with their lower webs considerably larger than their upper were ordinarily employed where the span was moderate, and wrought iron tie rods below were added to give increased strength where the span was greater. The next step was the contrivance of arched beams or bowstring girders firmly held together by horizontal ties to resist the thrust instead of abutments. Numerous excellent specimens of this description of bridge were erected by Robert Stevenson on the original London and Birmingham railway, but by far the grandest work of this kind, perfect as a specimen of modern constructive skill, was the high level bridge which we owe to the genius of the same engineer. The problem was to throw a railway bridge across the deep ravine which lies between the towns of Newcastle and Gateshead, at the bottom of which flows the navigable River Tine. Along and up the sides of the valley, on the Newcastle bank especially, run streets of old-fashioned houses clustered together in the strange forms peculiar to the older cities. The ravine is of great depth, so deep and so gloomy looking towards dusk, that local tradition records that when the Duke of Cumberland arrived late in the evening at the brow of the hill overlooking the Tine on his way to Culloden, he exclaimed to his attendance, on looking down into the black gorge before him, for God's sake don't think of taking me down that cold pit at this time of night. The road down the Gateshead High Street is almost as steep as the roof of a house, and up the Newcastle side, as the street there is called, it is little better. During many centuries the traffic north and south passed along this dangerous and difficult route over the old bridge which crosses the river in the bottom of the valley. For about thirty years the Newcastle Corporation had discussed various methods of improving the communication between the towns, and a discussion might have gone on for thirty years more, but for the advent of railways, when the skill and enterprise to which they gave birth speedily solved the difficulty and bridged the ravine. The local authorities adroitly took advantage of the opportunity and insisted on the provision of a road for ordinary vehicles and foot passengers in addition to the railroad. In this circumstance originated one of the striking peculiarities of the High Level Bridge, which serves two purposes, being a railway above, and a carriage roadway underneath. The breadth of the river at the point of crossing is five hundred and fifteen feet, but the length of the bridge and viaduct between the Gateshead station and the terminus on the Newcastle side is about four thousand feet. It springs from Pipewell Gate Bank on the south directly across to Castle Garth, where nearly fronting the bridge stands the fine old Norman Keep of the Newcastle, now eight hundred years old, and a little beyond it is the spa of St. Nicholas Church, with its light and graceful gothic crown, the whole forming a grand architectural group of unusual historic interest. The bridge passes completely over the roofs of the houses, which fill both sides of the valley, and the extraordinary height of the upper parapet, which is about a hundred and thirty feet above the bed of the river, offers a prospect of the passing traveller, the like of which is perhaps nowhere else to be seen. Far below are the queer chairs and closes, the wines and lanes of old Newcastle, the water is crowded with pudgy black coal keels, and when there is a partial dispersion of the great smoke clouds, which usually obscure the sky, the funnels of steamers and the masts of shipping may be seen far down the river. The old bridge lies so far beneath it that the passengers crossing it seem like so many bees passing to and fro. The first difficulty encountered in building the bridge was in securing a solid foundation for the piers. The dimensions of the piles to be driven were so huge that the engineer found it necessary to employ some extraordinary means for the purpose. He called Naismith's Titanic steam hammer to his aid. The first occasion we believe on which this prodigious power was employed in bridge pile driving. A temporary staging was erected for the steam engine and hammer apparatus, which rested on two keels, and not withstanding the newness and stiffness of the machinery, the first pile was driven on the 6th of October 1846 to a depth of thirty-two feet in four minutes. Two hammers of thirty hundred weight each were kept in regular use, making from sixty to seventy strokes a minute, and the results were astounding to those who had been accustomed to the old style of pile driving by means of the ordinary pile frame, consisting of slide, ram, and monkey. By the old system the pile was driven by a comparatively small mass of iron descending with great velocity from a considerable height, the velocity being in excess and the mass deficient and calculated, like the momentum of a cannonball, rather for destructive than impulsive action. In the case of the steam pile driver, on the contrary, the whole weight of a heavy mass is delivered rapidly on a driving block of several tons weight placed directly above the head of the pile. The weight never ceasing and the blows being repeated at the rate of a blow a second until the pile is driven home. It is a curious fact that the rapid strokes of the steam hammer evolves so much heat that on many occasions the pile head burst into flames during the process of driving. The elastic force of steam is the power that lifts the ram, the escape, permitting its entire force to fall upon the head of the driving block, while the steam above the piston on the upper part of the cylinder, acting as a buffer or recoil spring, materially enhances the effect of the downward blow. As soon as one pile was driven, the traveller, hovering overhead, presented another, and down it went into the solid bed of the river, with almost as much ease as a lady sticks pins into a cushion. By the aid of this powerful machine, pile driving, formally among the most costly and tedious of engineering operations, became easy, rapid, and comparatively economical. When the piles had been driven, and the cofferdams formed and puddled, the water within the enclosed spaces was pumped out by the aid of powerful engines, so as, if possible, to lay bare the bed of the river. Considerable difficulty was experienced in getting in the foundations of the middle pier, in consequence of the water, forcing itself through the quicksand beneath, as fast as it was removed. This fruitless labour went on for months, and many expedients were tried. Chalk was thrown in in large quantities outside the piling, but without effect. Cement concrete was at last put within the cofferdam, until it set, and the bottom was then found to be secure. A bed of concrete was laid up to the level of the heads of the piles, the foundation course of stone blocks being commenced about two feet below low water, and the building proceeded without further difficulty. It may serve to give an idea of the magnitude of the work, when we state that four hundred thousand cubic feet of ashlar, rubble, and concrete were worked up in the piers, and four hundred and fifty thousand cubic feet in the land arches and approaches. The most novel feature of the structure is the use of cast and wrought iron in forming the double bridge, which admirably combines the two principles of the arch and suspension. The railway being carried over the back of the ribbed arches in the usual manner, while the carriage-road and footpaths, forming a long gallery or aisle, are suspended from these arches by wrought iron vertical rods, with horizontal tie-bars to resist the thrust. The suspension bolts are enclosed within spandrel pillars of cast iron, which give great stiffness to the superstructure. This system of longitudinal and vertical bracing has been much admired, for it not only accomplishes the primary object of securing rigidity in the roadway, but at the same time, by its graceful arrangement, heightens the beauty of the structure. The arches consist of four main ribs, disposed in pairs with a clear distance between the two inner arches of twenty feet four inches, forming the carriage-road, while between each of the inner and outer ribs there is a space of six feet two inches constituting the footpaths. Each arch is cast in five separate lengths or segments, strongly bolted together. The ribs spring from the horizontal plates of cast iron bedded and secured on the stone piers. All the abutting joints were carefully executed by machinery, the fitting being of the most perfect kind. In order to provide for the expansion and contraction of the iron arching, and to preserve the equilibrium of the piers without disturbance or racking of the other parts of the bridge, it was arranged that the ribs of every two adjoining arches resting on the same pier should be secured to the springing plates by keys and joggles. Whilst on the next piers on either side, the ribs remained free and were at liberty to expand or contract according to the temperature, a space being left for the purpose. Hence each arch is complete and independent in itself. The piers having simply to sustain their vertical pressure. There are six arches of one hundred and twenty-five feet span each. The two approaches to the bridge being formed of cast iron pillars and bearers in keeping with the arches. The result is a bridge that for massive solidity may be pronounced unrivaled. It is perhaps the most magnificent and striking of all bridges to which railways have given birth, and has been worthily styled the king of railway structures. It is a monument of the highest engineering skill of our time with the impressive power grandly stamped upon it. It will also be observed that the high-level bridge forms a very fine object in a picture of great interest, full of striking architectural variety and beauty. The bridge was opened on the 15th of August, 1849, and a few days after the royal train passed over it, halting for a few minutes to enable Her Majesty to survey the wonderful scene below. In the course of the following year the queen opened the extensive stone viaduct across the tweed above described by which the last link was completed of the continuous line of railway between London and Edinburgh. Over the entrance to the Berwick station, occupying the site of the once redoubtable border fortress, so often the deadly battleground of the ancient Scots and English, was erected an arch under which the royal train passed, bearing in large letters of gold the appropriate words The Last Act of the Union. The warders at Berwick no longer look out from the castle walls to describe the glitter of southern spears, the bell tower from which the alarm was sounded of old, though still standing, is deserted. The only bell heard within the precincts of the old castle being the railway porter's bell announcing the arrival and departure of trains. You see the Scotch Express pass along the bridge and speed southwards on the wings of steam, but no alarm spreads along the border now. Northumbrian beaves are safe. Chevy Chase and Otterburn are quiet sheep pastures. The only men at arms on the battlements of Annick Castle are of stone. Barbara Castle has become an asylum for shipwrecked mariners, and the Norman Keep at Newcastle has been converted into a museum of antiquities. The railway has indeed consummated the Union. CHAPTER XVII Robert Stevenson's Tubular Bridges at Menai and Conway We have now to describe briefly another great undertaking begun by George Stevenson and taken up and completed by his son, in the course of which the latter carried out some of his greatest works. We mean the Chester and Hollyhead Railway. Completing the railway connection with Dublin has the Newcastle and Berwick line completed the connection with Edinburgh. It will thus be seen how closely Telford was followed by the Stevensons in perfecting the highways of their respective epochs, the former by means of turnpike roads, and the latter by means of railways. George Stevenson surveyed a line from Chester to Hollyhead in 1838, and at the same time reported on the line through North Wales to Port Dinflin, proposed by the Irish Railway Commissioners. His advice was strongly in favour of adopting the line to Hollyhead as less costly and presenting better gradients. A public meeting was held at Chester in January 1839 in support of the latter measure, at which he was present to give explanations. Mr. Uniac, the Mayor, in opening the proceedings, said that Mr. Stevenson was present, ready to answer any questions which might be put to him on the subject, and it was judiciously remarked that it would be better that he should be asked questions than required to make a speech, for though a very good engineer, he was a bad speaker. One of the questions then put to Mr. Stevenson, related to the mode by which he proposed to haul the passenger carriages over the Menai suspension bridge by horse-bar, and he was asked whether he knew the pressure the bridge was capable of sustaining. His answer was that he had not yet made any calculations, but he proposed getting data which would enable him to arrive at an accurate calculation of the actual strain upon the bridge during the late Gale. He had, however, no hesitation in saying that it was more than twenty times as much as the strain of a train of carriages and a locomotive engine. The only reason why he proposed to convey the carriages over by horses was in order that he might, by distributing the weight, not increase the wave emotion. All the train would be on at once, but distributed. This he thought better than passing them linked together by a locomotive engine. It will thus be observed that the practicability of throwing a rigid railway bridge across the States had not yet been contemplated. The Dublin Chamber of Commerce passed resolutions in favour of Stevenson's line after hearing his explanation of its essential features. The project, after undergoing much discussion, was at length embodied in an act passed in 1844, and the work was brought to a successful completion by his son, with several important modifications, including the grand original feature of the tubular bridges across the Menai Straits and the estuary of the Conway. Accepting these great works, the construction of this line presented no unusual features, though the remarkable terrace cut for the accommodation of the railway under the steep slope of Penman Mall is worthy of a passing notice. About midway between Conway and Bangor, Penman Mall forms a bold and almost precipitous headland, at the base of which in rough weather the ocean dashes with great fury. There was not space enough between the mountain and the strand for the passage of the railway, hence in some places the rock had to be blasted to form a terrace, and in others sea walls had to be built up to the proper level on which to form an embankment of sufficient width to enable the road to be laid. A tunnel, 10.5 chains in length, was cut through the headland itself, and on its east and west side the line was formed by a terrace cut out of the cliff, and by embankments protected by sea walls, the terrace being three times interrupted by embankments in its course of about 1.25 miles. The road lies so close under the steep mountain face that it was even found necessary at certain places to protect it against possible accidents from falling stones by means of a covered way. The terrace on the east side of the headland was however in some measure protected against the roll of the sea by the mass of stone run out from the tunnel, and forming a deep shingle bank in front of the wall. The part of the work which lies on the westward of the headland, penetrated by the tunnel, was exposed to the full force of the sea, and the formation of the road at that point was attended with great difficulty. While the sea wall was still in progress, its strength was severely tried by a strong north-westerly gale, which blew in October 1846 with a spring tide of 17 feet. On the following morning it was found that a large portion of the rubble was irreparably injured, and 200 yards of the wall were then replaced by an open viaduct, with the piers placed edgeway to the sea, the openings between them being spanned by ten cast iron girders each 42 feet long. This accident induced the engineer to alter the contour of the sea wall, so that it should present a diminished resistance to the force of the waves. But the sea repeated its assaults, and made further havoc with the work, entailing heavy expenses and a complete reorganization of the contract. Increased solidity was then given to the masonry, and the face of the wall underwent further change. At some points outwards were constructed, and piles were driven into the beach about 15 feet from the base of the wall, for the purpose of protecting its foundations and breaking the force of the waves. The work was at length finished after about three years' anxious labour, but Mr Stevenson confessed that if a long tunnel had been made in the first instance through the solid rock of Penman Mauer, a saving of from 25,000 to 30,000 pounds would have been affected. He also said that he had arrived at the conclusion that in railway works engineers should endeavour as far as possible to avoid the necessity of contending with the sea. But if he were ever again compelled to go within its reach, he would adopt instead of retaining walls and open viaduct, placing all the pier's edgeways to the force of the sea, and allowing the waves to break upon a natural slope of beach. He was ready enough to admit the errors he had committed in the original design of this work, but he said he had always gained more information from studying the causes of failure and endeavouring to surmount them than he had done from easily won successes. While many of the latter had been forgotten, the former were indelibly fixed in his memory. But by far the greatest difficulty which Robert Stevenson had to encounter in executing this railway was in carrying it across the Straits of Menai and the estuary of the Conway, where, like his predecessor Telford, when forming his high road through north Wales, he was under the necessity of resulting to new and altogether untried methods of bridge construction. At Menai the waters of the Irish Sea are perpetually vibrating along the precipitous shores of the strait, rising and falling from 20 to 25 feet at each successive tide, the width and depth of the channel being such as to render it available for navigation by the largest ships. The problem was to throw a bridge across this wide chasm, a bridge of unusual span and dimensions, of such strength as to be capable of bearing the heaviest loads at high speeds, and at such uniform height throughout as not in any way to interfere with the navigation of the strait. From an early period Mr Stevenson had fixed upon the spot where the Britannia Rock occurs, nearly in the middle of the channel, as the most eligible point for crossing. The water width from shore to shore at high water there being about 1,100 feet. His first idea was to construct the bridge of two cast iron arches, each of 350 feet span. There was no novelty in this idea, for as early as the year 1801 Mr Renney prepared a design of a cast iron bridge across the strait at the Swilly Rocks, the great centre arch of which was to be 450 feet span, and at a later period in 1810 Telford submitted a design of a similar bridge at Inithymoch, with a single cast iron arch of 500 feet. But the same objections which led to the rejection of Renney's and Telford's designs proved fatal to Robert Stevenson's, and his iron arched railway bridge was rejected by the Admiralty. The navigation of the strait was under no circumstances to be interfered with, and even the erection of scaffolding from below to support the bridge during construction was not to be permitted. The idea of a suspension bridge was dismissed as inapplicable, a degree of rigidity and strength, greater than could be secured by any bridge constructed on the principle of suspension, being considered an indispensable condition of the proposed structure. Various other plans were suggested, but the whole question remained unsettled, even down to the time when the company went before Parliament in 1844 for power to construct the proposed bridges. No existing kind of structure seemed to be capable of bearing the fearful extension to which rigid bridges of the necessary spans would be subjected, and some new expedient of engineering therefore became necessary. Mr Stevenson was then led to reconsider a design which he had made in 1841 for a road bridge over the River Lee at Wehr, with a span of 50 feet, the conditions only admitting of a platform 18 or 20 inches thick. For this purpose a wrought iron platform was designed, consisting of a series of simple cells formed of boiler plates riveted together with angle iron. The bridge was not however carried out after this design, but was made of separate wrought iron girders composed of riveted plates. Returning to his first idea of this bridge, Mr Stevenson thought that a stiff platform might be constructed with sides of strongly trust framework of wrought iron, braced together at top and bottom with plates of light material, riveted together with angle iron, and that such a platform might be suspended by strong chains on either side to give it increased security. It was now, said Mr Stevenson, that I came to regard the tubular platform as a beam, and that the chains should be looked upon as auxiliaries. It appeared nevertheless that without a system of diagonal struts inside, which of course would have prevented the passage of trains through it, this kind of structure was ill-suited for maintaining its form, and would be very liable to become lozzin shaped, besides the rectangular figure was deemed objectionable from the large surface which it presented to the wind. It then occurred to him that circular or elliptical tubes might better answer the intended purpose, and in March 1845 he gave instructions to two of his assistants to prepare drawings of such a structure, the tubes being made with a double thickness of plate at top and bottom. The results of the calculations made as to the strength of such a tube were considered so satisfactory that Mr Stevenson says he determined to fall back on a bridge of this description on the rejection of his design of the two cast iron arches by the parliamentary committee. Indeed, it became evident that a tubular wrought iron beam was the only structure which combined the necessary strength and stability for a railway with the conditions deemed essential for the protection of the navigation. I stood, says Mr Stevenson, on the verge of a responsibility from which I confess I had nearly shrunk. The construction of a tubular beam of such gigantic dimensions on the platform elevated and supported by chains at such a height did at first present itself as a difficulty of a very formidable nature. Reflection, however, satisfied me that the principles upon which the idea was founded were nothing more than an extension of those daily in use in the profession of the engineer. The method, moreover, of calculating the strength of the structure which I had adopted was of the simplest and most elementary character, and whatever might be the form of the tube, the principle on which the calculations were founded, was equally applicable and could not fail to lead to an equally accurate result. Mr Stevenson accordingly announced to the directors of the railway that he was prepared to carry out a bridge of this general description and they adopted his views, though not without considerable misgivings. While the engineer's mind was still occupied with the subject, an accident occurred to the Prince of Wales' iron steamship at Blackwall, which singularly corroborated his views as to the strength of wrought iron beams of large dimensions. When this vessel was being launched, the cleat on the bow gave way, in consequence of the bolts breaking, and let the vessel down so that the bilge came in contact with the wharf, and she remained suspended between the water and the wharf for a length of about a hundred and ten feet, but without injury to the plates of the ship, satisfactorily proving the great strength of this form of construction. Thus Mr Stevenson became gradually confirmed in his opinion that the most feasible method of bridging the strait at Menai and the river at Conway was by means of a hollow beam of wrought iron. As the time was approaching for giving evidence before Parliament on the subject, it was necessary for him to settle some definite plan for submission to the committee. My late revered father says he, having always taken a deep interest in the various proposals which had been considered for carrying a railway across the Menai Straits, requested me to explain fully to him the views which led me to suggest the use of a tube, and also the nature of the calculations I had made in reference to it. It was during this personal conference that Mr William Fairburn accidentally called upon me, to whom I had also explained the principle of the structure I had proposed, he had once acquiesced in their truth and expressed confidence in the feasibility of my project, giving me at the same time some facts relative to the remarkable strength of iron steamships, and invited me to his works at Millwall to examine the construction of an iron steamship which was then in progress. The date of this consolation was early in April 1845, and Mr Fairburn states that on that occasion Mr Stevenson asked whether such a design was practicable and whether I could accomplish it, and it was ultimately arranged that the subject should be investigated experimentally to determine not only the value of Mr Stevenson's original conception of a circular or egg-shaped wrought iron tube supported by chains, but that of any other tubular form of bridge which might present itself in the prosecution of my researches. The matter was placed unreservedly in my hands. The entire conduct of the investigation was entrusted to me, and as an experimenter I was to be left free to exercise my own discretion in the investigation of whatever forms or conditions of the structure might appear to be best calculated to secure a safe passage across the straits. Mr Fairburn then proceeded to construct a number of experimental models for the purpose of testing the strength of tubes of different forms. The short period which elapsed, however, before the bill was in committee, did not admit of much progress being made with those experiments, but from the evidence in chief given by Mr Stevenson on the subject on the fifth of May following, it appears that the idea which prevailed in his mind was that of a bridge with openings of 450 feet, afterwards increased to 460 feet, with a roadway formed of a hollow wrought iron beam about 25 feet in diameter, presenting a rigid platform suspended by chains. At the same time he expressed the confident opinion that a tube of wrought iron would possess sufficient strength and rigidity to support a railway train running inside of it without the help of chains. While the bill was still in progress, Mr Fairburn proceeded with his experiments. He first tested tubes of a cylindrical form, in consequence of the favorable opinion entertained by Mr Stevenson of the tubes in that shape, extending them subsequently to those of an elliptical form. He found tubes thus shaped more or less defective, and proceeded to test those of a rectangular kind. After the bill had received the royal assent on the 30th of June 1845, the directors of the company, with great liberality, voted a sum for the purpose of enabling the experiments to be prosecuted, and upwards of 6,000 pounds were thus expended to make the assurance of their engineer doubly sure. Mr Fairburn's tests were of the most elaborate and eventually conclusive character, bringing to light many new and important facts of great practical value. The due proportions and thickness of the top and bottom and sides of the tubes were arrived at after a vast number of trials, one of the results of the experiments being the adoption of Mr Fairburn's invention of rectangular hollow cells in the top of the beam for the purpose of giving it the requisite degree of strength. About the end of August it was thought desirable to obtain the assistance of a mathematician, who should prepare a formula by which the strength of a full-sized tube might be calculated from the results of the experiments made with tubes of smaller dimensions. Professor Hodgkinson was accordingly called in, and he proceeded to verify and confirm the experiments which Mr Fairburn had made, and afterwards reduced them to the required formula. Mr Stevenson's time was so much engrossed with his extensive engineering business that he was, in great measure, precluded from devoting himself to the consideration of the practical details. The results of the experiments were communicated to him from time to time, and were regarded by him as exceedingly satisfactory. It would appear, however, that while Mr Fairburn urged the rigidity and strength of the tubes without the aid of chains, Mr Stevenson had not quite made up his mind upon the point. Mr Hodgkinson also was strongly inclined to retain them. Mr Fairburn held that it was quite practicable to make the tubes sufficiently strong to sustain not only their own weight, but in addition to that load two thousand tons equally distributed over the surface of the platform, a load ten times greater than they will ever be called upon to support. It was thoroughly characteristic of Mr Stevenson, and of the caution with which he proceeded in every step of this great undertaking, probing every inch of the ground before he set down his foot upon it, that he should, early in 1856, have appointed his able assistant, Mr Edwin Clark, to scrutinise carefully the results of every experiment, and subject them to a separate and independent analysis, before finally deciding upon the form or dimensions of the structure or upon any mode of procedure connected with it. At length, Mr Stevenson became satisfied that the use of auxiliary chains was unnecessary, and that the tubular bridge might be made of such strength as to be entirely self-supporting. While these important discussions were in progress, measures were taken to proceed with the masonry of the bridges simultaneously at Conway and the Menai Straits. The foundation stone of the Britannia Bridge was laid on the 10th of April 1846, and on the 12th of May following that of Conway Bridge was laid. Suitable platforms and workshops were also erected for proceeding with the punching, fitting and riveting of the tubes, and when these operations were in full progress, the neighbourhood of the Conway and Britannia Bridges presented scenes of extraordinary bustle and industry. About fifteen hundred men were employed on the Britannia Bridge alone, and they mostly lived upon the ground in wooden cottages erected for the occasion. The iron plates were brought in ship loads from Liverpool, Anglesey marble from Penmont, and red sandstone from Runcorn in Cheshire, as wind and tide and shipping and convenience might determine. There was an unremitting clank of hammers, grinding a machinery and blasting of rock going on from morning till night. In fitting the Britannia tubes together, not less than two million bolts were riveted, weighing some nine hundred tonnes. The Britannia Bridge consists of two independent continuous tubular beams, each one thousand five hundred and eleven feet in length, and each weighing four thousand six hundred and eighty tonnes. Independent were the cast iron frames inserted at their bearings on the masonry of the towers, the central of which is known as the Great Britannia Tower, two hundred and thirty feet high, built on a rock in the middle of the straight. The side towers are eighteen feet less in height than the central one, and the abutment thirty five feet lower than the side towers. The design of the masonry is such as to accord with the form of the tubes, being somewhat of an Egyptian character, massive and gigantic rather than beautiful, but bearing the unmistakable impress of power. The bridge has four spans, two of four hundred and sixty feet over the water, and two of two hundred and thirty feet over the land. The weight of the larger spans, at the points where the tubes repose on the masonry, is not less than one thousand five hundred and eighty seven tonnes. On the central tower the tubes rest solid, but on the land towers and abutments they lie on roller beds, so as to allow of expansion and contraction. The road within each tube is fifteen feet wide, and the height varies from twenty three feet at the ends to thirty feet at the centre. To give an idea of the vast size of the tubes by comparison with other structures, it may be mentioned that each length, constituting the main spans, is twice as long as the London Monument is high, and if it could be set on end in St Paul's Churchyard it would reach nearly a hundred feet above the cross. The Conway Bridge is in most respects similar to the Britannia, consisting of two tubes of four hundred feet span placed side by side, each weighing one thousand one hundred and eighty tonnes. The principle adopted in the construction of the tubes and the mode of floating and raising them were nearly the same as the Britannia Bridge, though the general arrangement of the plates is in many respects different. It was determined to construct the shorter outer tubes of the Britannia Bridge on scaffoldings in the position in which they were permanently to remain, and to erect the larger tubes upon wooden platforms at high water mark on the Knaven shore, from whence they were to be floated in pontoons. The floating of the tubes on pontoons from the places where they had been constructed to the recesses in the masonry of the towers, up which they were to be hoisted to the positions they were permanently to occupy, was an anxious and exciting operation. The first part of this process was performed at Conway, where Mr. Stevenson directed it in person, assisted by Captain Claxton, Mr. Brunel, and other engineering friends. On the 6th of March, 1848, the pontoons bearing the first great tube of the upline were floated round quietly and majestically into their place between the towers in about twenty minutes. Unfortunately, one of the sets of pontoons had become slightly slewed by the stream by which the Conway end of the tube was prevented from being brought home, and five anxious days to all concerned intervened before it could be set in place. In the meantime, the presses and raising machinery had been fitted in the towers above, and the lifting process was begun on the 8th of April, when the immense mass was raised eight feet, at the rate of about two inches a minute. On the 16th, the tube had been raised and finally lowered into its permanent bed. The rails were laid along it, and on the 18th, Mr. Stevenson passed through with the first locomotive. The second tube was proceeded with on the removal of the first from the platform, and was completed and floated in seven months. The rapidity with which this second tube was constructed was in no small degree owing to the Jacquard punching machine, contrived for the purpose by Mr. Roberts of Manchester. This tube was finally fixed in its permanent bed on the 2nd of January, 1849. The floating and fixing of the Great Britannia Tubes was a still more formidable enterprise, though the experience gained at Conway rendered it easy, compared with what it otherwise would have been. Mr. Stevenson superintended the operation of floating the first in person, giving the arranged signals from the top of the tube on which he was mounted, the active part of the business being performed by a numerous core of sailors under the immediate direction of Captain Claxton. Thousands of spectators lined the shores of the strait on the evening of the 19th of June, 1849. On the land, attachments being cut, the pontoons began to float off, but one of the capstones having given way from excessive strain, the tube was brought home again for the night. By next morning the defective capstone was restored, and all was in readiness for another trial. At half past seven in the evening the tube was afloat, and the pontoons swung out into the current like a monster pendulum, held steady by the shore guidelines, but increasing in speed to an almost fearful extent as they neared their destined place between the piers. The success of this operation, says Mr. Clark, depended mainly on properly striking the butt beneath the angle sitar on which, as upon a centre, the tube was to be veered round into its position across the opening. This position was determined by a twelve-inch line, which was to be paid out to a fixed mark from the Llanfair capstone. The coils of the rope unfortunately overrode each other upon this capstone, so that it could not be paid out. In resisting the motion of the tube, the capstone was bodily dragged out of the platform by the action of the poles, and the tube was in imminent danger of being carried away by the stream, or the pontoons crushed upon the rocks. The men at the capstone were all knocked down, and some of them thrown into the water, though they made every exertion to arrest the motion of the capstone bars. In this dilemma, Mr. Rolf, who had charge of the capstone with great presence of mind, called the visitors on shore to his assistance, and handing out the spare coil of the twelve-inch line into the field at the back of the capstone, it was carried with great rapidity up the field, and a crowd of people, men, women, and children, holding onto this huge cable, arresting the progress of the tube, which was at length, brought safely against the butt and veered round. The Britannia end was then drawn into the recess of the masonry by a chain passing through the tower to a crab on the far side. The violence of the tide abated, though the wind increased, and the angle of the end was drawn into its place beneath the cobbling in the masonry, and as the tide went down, the pontoons deposited their valuable cargo on the welcome shelf at each end. The successful issue was greeted by cannon from the shore, and the hearty chairs of many thousands of spectators, whose sympathy and anxiety were, but too clearly indicated, by the unbroken silence with which the whole operation had been accompanied. By midnight all the pontoons had been got clear of the tube, which now hung suspended over the waters of the strait by its two ends, which rested upon the edges cut in the rock for the purpose at the base of the Britannia and Anglesey Towers respectively, up which the tube had now to be lifted by hydraulic power to its permanent place near the summit. The accuracy with which the gigantic beam had been constructed may be inferred from the fact that after passing into its place a clear space remained between the iron plating and the rock outside of it of only about three-quarters of an inch. Mr. Stevenson's anxiety was of course very great up to the time of performing this trying operation. When he had got the first tube floated at Conway and saw all safe, he said to Captain Morsom, Now I shall go to bed. But the Britannia Bridge was a still more difficult enterprise and cost him many a sleepless night. Afterwards describing his feelings to his friend Mr. Gooch, he said, It was a most anxious and harassing time with me. Often at night I would lie tossing about, seeking sleep in vain. The tubes filled my head. I went to bed with them and got up with them. In the grey of the morning, when I looked across the square it seemed an immense distance across to the houses on the opposite side. It was nearly the same length as the span of my tubular bridge. When the first tube had been floated a friend observed to him, this great work has made you ten years older. I have not slept sound, he replied, for three weeks. Sir F. Head, however, relates that when he revisited the spot on the following morning, he observed sitting on a platform overlooking the suspended tube, a gentleman reclining entirely by himself, smoking a cigar and gazing as if indolently at the aerial gallery beneath him. It was the engineer himself contemplating his newborn child. He had strolled down from the neighbouring village after his first sound and refreshing sleep for weeks, to behold in sunshine and solitude that which, during a weary period of gestation, had been either mysteriously moving in his brain or, like a vision, sometimes of good omen and sometimes of evil, had by night, as well as by day, been flitting across his mind. The next process was the lifting of the tube into its place, which was performed very deliberately and cautiously. It was raised by powerful hydraulic presses, only a few feet at a time, and carefully underbuilt, before being raised to a further height. When it had been got up by successive stages of this kind to about twenty-four feet, an extraordinary accident occurred. During Mr. Stevenson's absence in London, which he afterwards described to the author in, as nearly as possible, the following words, In a work of such novelty and magnitude, you may readily imagine how anxious I was that every possible contingency should be provided for. Where one chain or rope was required, I provided two. I was not satisfied with enough. I must have absolute security, as far as that was possible. I knew the consequences of failure would be most disastrous to the company, and that the wisest economy was to provide for all contingencies at whatever cost. When the first tube at the Britannia had been successfully floated between the piers, ready for being raised, my young engineers were very much elated, and when the hoisting apparatus had been fixed, they wrote to me saying, We are now all ready for raising her. We could do it in a day or in two at the most. But my reply was no. You must only raise the tube inch by inch, and you must build up under it as you rise. Every inch must be made good. Nothing must be left to chance or good luck. Unfortunate it was that I insisted upon this cautious course being pursued, for one day, while the hydraulic presses were at work, the bottom of one of them burst clean away. The cross-head and the chains, weighing more than fifty tons, descended with a fearful crash upon the press, and the tube itself fell down upon the packing beneath. Though the fall of the tube was not more than nine inches, it crushed solid castings, weighing tons as if they had been nuts. The tube itself was slightly strained and deflected, though it still remained sufficiently serviceable. But it was a tremendous test to which it was put, for a weight of upwards of five thousand tons falling even a few inches must be admitted to be a very serious matter, that it stood so well was extraordinary. Clark immediately wrote me an account of the circumstance, in which he said, Thank God you have been so obstinate, for if this accident had occurred without a bed for the end of the tube to fall on, the hole would now have been lying across the bottom of the straits. Five thousand pounds extra expense was caused by this accident, slight though it may seem, but careful provision was made against future failure, a new and improved cylinder was provided, and the work was very soon advancing satisfactorily towards completion. When the Queen first visited the Britannia Bridge on her return from the North in 1852, Robert Stevenson accompanied Her Majesty and Prince Albert over the works, explaining the principles on which the bridge had been built, and the difficulties which had attended its erection. He conducted the royal party to near the margin of the sea, and after describing to them the incident of the fall of the tube, and the reason of its preservation, he pointed with pardonable pride to a pile of stones, which the workmen had there raised to commemorate the event. While nearly all the other marks of the work during its progress had been obliterated, that care had been left standing in commemoration of the caution and foresight of their chief. The floating and raising of the remaining tubes need not be described in detail. The second was floated on the 3rd of December, and set in its permanent place on the 7th of January 1850. The others were floated and raised in due course. On the 5th of March, Mr Stevenson put the last rivet in the last tube, and passed through the completed bridge, accompanied by about a thousand persons, drawn by three locomotives. The bridge was opened for public traffic on the 18th of March. The cost of the whole work was £234,450. The Britannia Bridge is one of the most remarkable monuments of the enterprise and skill of the present century. Robert Stevenson was the master spirit of the undertaking. To him belongs the merit of first seizing the ideal conception of the structure best adapted to meet the necessities of the case, and of selecting the best men to work out his idea, himself watching, controlling, and testing every result by independent check and counter-check. And finally he organised and directed through his assistants the vast band of skilled workmen and labourers who were for so many years occupied in carrying his magnificent original conception to a successful practical issue. As he himself said of the work, the true and accurate calculation of all the conditions and elements essential to the safety of the bridge had been a source not only of mental but of bodily toil, including, as it did, a combination of abstract thought and well-considered experiment adequate to the magnitude of the project. The Britannia Bridge was the result of a vast combination of skill and industry, but for the perfection of our tools and the ability of our mechanics to use them to the greatest advantage, but for the matured powers of the steam engine, but for the improvements in the iron manufacture which enabled blooms to be puddled of sizes before deemed impracticable and plates and bars of immense size to be rolled and forged. But for these the Britannia Bridge would have been designed in vain. Thus it was not the product of the genius of the railway engineer alone, but of the collective mechanical genius of the English nation. 18 George Stevenson's Closing Years, Illness and Death In describing the completion of the series of great works detailed in the preceding chapter, we have somewhat anticipated the closing years of George Stevenson's life. He could not fail to take an anxious interest in the success of his son's designs, and he accordingly paid many visits to Conway and to Menai during the progress of the works. He was present on the occasion of the floating and racing of the first Conway tube, and there witnessed a clear proof of the soundness of Robert's judgment as to the efficiency and strength of the tubular bridge, of which he had at first expressed some doubts. But before the light test could be applied at the Britannia Bridge, George Stevenson's mortal anxieties were at an end, for he had then ceased from all his labours. Towards the close of his life, George Stevenson almost entirely withdrew from the active pursuit of his profession. He devoted himself chiefly to his extensive collures and lineworks, taking a local interest only in such projected railways as were calculated to open up new markets for their products. At home he lived the life of a country gentleman, enjoying his garden and grounds, and indulging his love of nature, which through all his busy life had never left him. It was not until the year 1845 that he took an active interest in horticultural pursuits. Then he began to build new melon-houses, pinearies, and vineries of great extent, and he now seemed as eager to excel all other grows of exotic plants in his neighbourhood, as he had been to surpass the villages of Killingworth in the production of gigantic cabbages and cauliflower's some thirty years before. He had a pine-house built sixty-eight feet in length, and a pinery a hundred and forty feet. Workmen were constantly employed in enlarging them, until at length he had no fewer than ten glass-forcing houses heated with hot water, which he was one of the first in that neighbourhood to make use of for such a purpose. He did not take so much pleasure in flowers as in fruits. At one of the county agricultural meetings he said that he intended yet to grow pine-apples at Tapton as big as pumpkins. The only man to whom he would knock under was his friend Paxton, the gardener to the Duke of Devonshire, and he was so old in the service and so skillful that he could scarcely hope to beat him. Yet his queen pines did take the first prize at a competition with the Duke, though this was not until shortly after his death, when the plants had become more fully grown. His grapes also took the first prize at Rotherham, at a competition open to all England. He was extremely successful in producing melons, having invented a method of suspending them in baskets of wired gauze, which by relieving the stalk from tension, allowed nutrition to proceed more freely, and better enabled the fruit to grow and ripen. He took much pride also in his growth of cucumbers. He raised them very fine and large, but he could not make them grow straight, placed them as he would, notwithstanding all his propping of them and humoring them by modifying the application of heat and the admission of light for the purpose of effecting his object, they would still insist on growing crooked in their own way. At last he had a number of glass cylinders made at Newcastle for the purpose of an experiment. Into these the growing cucumbers were inserted, and then he succeeded in growing them perfectly straight. Carrying one of the new products into his house one day, and exhibiting it to a party of visitors, he told them of the expedient he had adopted, and added gleefully, I think I've bothered them now. Mr. Stevenson also carried on farming operations with some success. He experimented on manure and fed cattle after methods of his own. He was very particular as to breed and build in stock-breeding. You see, sir, he said to one gentleman, I like to see the cows back at a gradient, something like this, drawing an imaginary line with his hand, and then the ribs or girders will carry more flesh than if they were so or so. When he attended the county agricultural meetings, which he frequently did, he was accustomed to take part in the discussions, and he brought the same vigorous practical mind to bear on the questions of tillage, drainage, and farm economy, which he had been accustomed to exercise on mechanical and engineering matters. All his early affection for birds and animals revived. He had favorite dogs and cows and horses, and again he began to keep rabbits, and to pride himself on the beauty of his breed. There was not a bird's nest upon the grounds that he did not know of, and from day to day he went round watching the progress which the birds made with their building, carefully guarding them from injury. No one was more minutely acquainted with the habits of British birds, the result of a long, loving, and close observation of nature. At Tapton he remembered the failure of his early experiment in hatching birds' eggs by heat, and he now performed it successfully, being able to secure a proper apparatus for maintaining a uniform temperature. He was also curious about the breeding and fattening of fowls, and when his friend Edward Pease of Darlington visited him at Tapton, he explained a method which he had invented for fattening chickens in half the usual time. Mrs. Stevenson tried to keep bees, but found they would not thrive at Tapton. Many hives perished, and there was no case of success. The cause of failure was a puzzle to the engineer, but one day his acute powers of observation enabled him to unravel it. At the foot of the hill on which Tapton House stands, he saw some bees trying to rise up from amongst the grass laden with honey and wax. They were already exhausted as if with long flying, and then it occurred to him that the height at which the house stood above the bees' feeding round rendered it difficult for them to reach their hives when heavy laden, and hence they sank exhausted. He afterwards incidentally mentioned the circumstance to Mr. Jesse, the naturalist, who concurred in his view as to the cause of failure, and was much struck by the keen observation which had led to its solution. Mr. Stevenson had none of the indoor habits of the student. He read very little, for reading is a habit which is generally acquired in youth, and his youth and manhood had been for the most part spent in hard work. Books weirded him, and sent him to sleep. Novels excited his feelings too much, and he avoided them, though he would occasionally read through a philosophical book on a subject in which he felt particularly interested. He wrote very few letters with his own hand, nearly all his letters were dictated, and he avoided even dictation when he could. His greatest pleasure was in conversation, from which he gathered most of his imparted information. It was his practice when about to set out on a journey by railway, to walk along the train before it started, and to look into the carriages to see if he could find a conversable face. On one of these occasions at the Houston station, he discovered in a carriage a very handsome, manly and intelligent face, which he afterwards found was that of the late Lord Denman. He was on his way down to his seat at Stony Middleton in Derbyshire. Mr. Stevenson entered the carriage, and the two were shortly engaged in interesting conversation. It turned upon chronometry and horology, and the engineer amazed his lordship by the extent of his knowledge on the subject, in which he displayed as much minute information, even down to the latest improvements in watchmaking, as if he had been bred a watchmaker and lived by the trade. Lord Denman was curious to know how a man whose time must have been mainly engrossed by engineering, had gathered so much knowledge on the subject quite out of his own line, and he asked the question. I learnt clockmaking and watchmaking was the answer while a working man at Killingworth, when I made a little money in my spare hours by cleaning the pitman's clocks and watches, and since then I have kept up my information on the subject. This led to further questions, and then Mr. Stevenson told Lord Denman the interesting story of his life, which held him entranced during the remainder of the journey. Many of his friends readily accepted invitations to Tapton House to enjoy his hospitality, which never failed. With them he would fight his battles or again, reverting to his battle for the locomotive, and he was never tired of telling, nor were his auditors of listening to, the lively anecdotes with which he was accustomed to illustrate the struggles of his early career. While walking in the woods or through the grounds, he would arrest his friends' attention by allusion to some simple object, such as a leaf, a blade of grass, a bit of bark, a nest of birds, or an ant carrying its eggs across the path, and descant in glowing terms upon the creative power of the divine mecanition, whose contrivances were so exhaustless and so wonderful. This was a theme upon which he was often accustomed to dwell in reverential admiration, when in the society of his more intimate friends. One night, when walking under the stars and gazing up into the field of suns, each the probable centre of a system forming the milky way, a friend said to him, What an insignificant creature is man, inside of so immense a creation as that. Yes, was his reply, but how wonderful a creature also is man to be able to think and reason, and even in some measure to comprehend works so infinite. A microscope which he had brought down to Tapton was a source of immense enjoyment to him, and he was never tired of contemplating the minute wonders which it revealed. One evening, when some friends were visiting him, he induced them each to puncture their skin so as to draw blood in order that he might examine the globules through the microscope. One of the gentlemen present was a teetotaler, and Mr. Stevenson pronounced his blood to be the most lively of the whole. He had a theory of his own about the movement of the globules in the blood, which has since become familiar. It was that they were respectively charged with electricity, positive at one end and negative at the other, and that thus they attracted and repelled each other, causing a circulation. No sooner did he observe anything new than he immediately set about devising a reason for it. His training in mechanics, his practical familiarity with matter in all its forms, and the strong bent of his mind led him first of all to seek for a mechanical explanation. And yet he was ready to admit that there was something in the principle of life so mysterious and inexplicable which baffled mechanics and seemed to dominate over and control them. He did not care much either for obstruce mechanics, but only for experimental and practical, as is usually the case with those whose knowledge has been self-acquired. Even at his advanced age the spirit of frolic had not left him. When proceeding from Chesterfield Station to Tapton House with his friends he would almost invariably challenge them to erase up the steep path, partly formed of stone steps along the hillside, and he would struggle, as of old, to keep the front place, though by this time his wind greatly failed. He would occasionally invite an old friend to take a quiet wrestle with him on the lawn, to keep up his skill and, perhaps, to try some new knack of throwing. In the evening he would sometimes indulge his visitors by reciting the old pastoral of Damon and Phyllis, or singing his favourite song of John Anderson My Joe. But his greatest glory among those with whom he was most intimate was a crowdy. Let's have a crowdy night, he would say, and forthwith a kettle of boiling water was ordered in with a basin of oatmeal. Taking a large bowl containing a sufficiency of hot water and placing it between his knees he poured in oatmeal with one hand and stirred the mixture of vigorously with the other. When enough meal had been added and the stirring was completed the crowdy was made. It was then sucked with new milk, and Stevenson generally pronounced it capital. It was the diet to which he had been accustomed when a working man, and all the dainties with which he had become familiar in recent years had not spoiled his simple tastes. To enjoy crowdy at his age besides indicated that he still possessed that quality on which no doubt much of his practical success in life had depended a strong and healthy digestion. He would also frequently invite to his house the humbler companions of his early life and take pleasure in talking over old times with them. He never assumed any of the bearings of a great man on such occasions, but treated the visitors with the same friendliness and respect as if they had been his equals, sending them away, pleased with themselves, and delighted with him. At other times needy men who had known him in youth would knock at his door, and they were never refused access. But if he heard of any misconduct on their part he would rate them soundly. One who knew him intimately and private life had seen him exhorting such backsliders and denouncing their misconduct and imprudence with the tears streaming down his cheeks, and he would generally conclude by opening his purse and giving them the help which they needed to make a fresh start in the world. Mr. Stevenson's life at Tapton during his latter years was occasionally diversified with a visit to London. His engineering business, having become limited, he generally went there for the purpose of visiting friends or to see what there was fresh going on. He found a new race of engineers springing up on all hands, men who knew him not, and his London journeys gradually ceased to yield him pleasure. A friend used to take him to the opera, but by the end of the first act he was generally in a profound slumber. Yet on one occasion he enjoyed a visit to the hay market with a party of friends on his birthday to see T. P. Cook in Black Eyed Susan, if that can be called enjoyment which kept him in a state of tears throughout half the performance. At other times he visited Newcastle which always gave him great pleasure. He would, on such occasions, go out to Killingworth and seek up old friends, and if the people whom he knew were too retiring and shrunk into their cottages, he went and sought them there. Striking the floor with his stick and holding his noble person upright, he would say, in his own kind way, Well, and how's all here today? To the last he had always a warm heart for Newcastle and its neighbourhood. Sir Robert Peale, on more than one occasion, invited George Stevenson to his mansion at Drayton, where he was accustomed to assemble round him men of the highest distinction in art, science, and legislation during the intools of his parliamentary life. The first invitation was respectfully declined. Sir Robert invited him a second time, and a second time he declined. I have no great ambition, he said, to mix in fine company, and perhaps should feel out of my element among such high folks. But Sir Robert, a third time, pressed him to come down to Tamworth, early in January, 1845, when he would meet Buckland, Follett, and others well known to both. Well, Sir Robert, said he, I feel your kindness very much and can no longer refuse, I will come down and join your party. Mr. Stevenson's strong powers of observation, together with his native humour and shrewdness, imparted to his conversation at all times, much vigour and originality, and made him to young and old a delightful companion. Though mainly an engineer, he was also a profound thinker on many scientific questions, and there was scarcely a subject of speculation or a department of recondite science, on which he had not employed his faculties in such a way as to have formed large and original views. At Drayton the conversation usually turned upon such topics, and Mr. Stevenson freely joined in it. On one occasion an animated discussion took place between himself and Dr. Buckland on one of his favourite theories as to the formation of Cole, but the result was that Dr. Buckland, a much greater master of tongue-fence than Mr. Stevenson, completely silenced him. Next morning, before breakfast, when he was walking in the grounds deeply pondering, Sir William Follett came up and asked what he was thinking about. Why, Sir William, I'm thinking over that argument I had with Buckland last night. I know I'm right, and that if I only had the command of words which he has, I'd have beaten him. Let me know all about it, said Sir William, and I'll see what I can do for you. The two sat down in an arbor, and the astute lawyer made himself thoroughly acquainted with the points of the case, entering into it with all the zeal of an advocate about to plead the dearest interests of his client. After he had mastered the subject, Sir William rose up, rubbing his hands with glee, and said, Now I am ready for him. Sir Robert Peel was made acquainted with the plot. Other droidly introduced the subject of the controversy after dinner. The result was that in the argument which followed, the man of science was overcome by the man of law, and Sir William Follett had at all points the mastery over'd not to Buckland. What do you say, Mr. Stevenson? asked Sir Robert, laughing. Why, said he, I will say only this, that of all the powers above and under the earth, there seems to me no power so great as the gift of the gab. Once Sunday, when the party had just returned from church, they were standing together on the terrace near the hall, and observed in the distance a railway train flashing along, tossing behind it a long white plume of steam. Now, Buckland, said Stevenson, I have a poser for you. Can you tell me what is the power that is driving that train? Well, said the other, I suppose it is one of your big engines. But what drives the engine? No, very likely a canny newcastle driver. What do you say to the light of the sun? How can that be? asked the doctor. It is nothing else, said the engineer. It is light, bottled up in the earth for tens of thousands of years, light, absorbed by plants and vegetables, being necessary for the condensation of carbon during the process of their growth, if it be not carbon in another form, and now, after being buried in the earth for long ages in fields of coal, that latent light is again brought forth and liberated, made to work as in that locomotive for great human purposes. During the same visit, Mr. Stevenson, one evening, repeated his experiment with blood drawn from the finger, submitting it to the microscope, in order to show the curious circulation of the globules. He set the example by pricking his own thumb, and the other guests, by turn, in like manner, gave up a small portion of their blood for the purpose of ascertaining the comparative liveliness of their circulation. When Sir Robert Beale's turn came, Mr. Stevenson said he was curious to know how the blood globules of a great politician would conduct themselves. Sir Robert held forth his finger for the purpose of being pricked, but once and again he sensitively shrunk back, and at length the experiment, as far as he was concerned, was abandoned. Sir Robert Beale's sensitiveness to pain was extreme, and yet he was destined, a few years after, to die a death of the most distressing agony. In 1847, the year before his death, Mr. Stevenson was again invited to join a distinguished party at Drayton Manor, and to assist in the ceremony of formally opening the Trent Valley Railway, which had been originally designed and laid out by himself many years before. The first sword of the railway had been cut by the Prime Minister in November 1845, during the time when Mr. Stevenson was abroad on the business of the Spanish railway. The formal opening took place on 26 June 1847, the line having been thus constructed in less than two years. What a change had come over the spirit of the landed gentry, since the time when George Stevenson had first projected a railway through that district. Then they were up in arms against him, characterising him as the devastator and spoiler of their estates. Now he was hailed as one of the greatest benefactors of the age. Sir Robert Peale, the chief political personage in England, welcomed him as a guest and a friend, and spoke of him as the chief among practical philosophers. A dozen members of Parliament, seven baronettes, with all the landed magnates of the district, assembled to celebrate the opening of the railway. The clergy were there to bless the enterprise, and to bid all hail to railway progress as enabling them to carry on with greater facility those operations in connection with religion which were calculated to be so beneficial to the country. The army, speaking through the mouth of General Accourt, acknowledged the vast importance of railways as tending to improve the military defences of the country, and representatives from eight corporations were there to acknowledge the great benefits which railways had conferred upon the merchants, tradesmen, and working classes of their respective towns and cities. In the spring of 1848 Mr. Stevenson was invited to Whittington House near Chesterfield, the residence of his friend and former pupil Mr. Swannick, to meet the distinguished American, Emerson. Upon being introduced they did not immediately engage in conversation, but presently Stevenson jumped up, took Emerson by the collar, and giving him one of his friendly shakes asked how it was, but in England we could always tell an American. This led to an interesting conversation, in the course of which Emerson said how much he had been everywhere struck by the haildust and comeliness of the English men and women, and then they diverged into a further discussion of the influences which air, climate, moisture, soil, and other conditions exercised upon the physical and moral development of a people. The conversation was next directed to the subject of electricity, upon which Stevenson launched out enthusiastically, explaining his views by several simple and striking illustrations. From thence it gradually turned to the events of his own life, which he related in so graphic a manner as completely to rivet the attention of the American. Afterwards Emerson said that it was worth crossing the Atlantic to have seen Stevenson alone. He had such a native force of character and vigor of intellect. The rest of Mr. Stevenson's days were spent quietly at Tapton, amongst his dogs, his rabbits, and his birds. When not engaged about the works connected with his collaries, he was occupied in horticulture and farming. He continued proud of his flowers, his fruits, and his crops, and the old spirit of competition was still strong within him. Although he had for some time been in delicate health and his hands shook from nervous affection, he appeared to possess a sound constitution. Emerson had observed of him that he had the lives of many men in him. But perhaps the American spoke figuratively, in reference to his vast stores of experience. It appeared that he had never completely recovered from the attack of pleurisy, which seized him during his return from Spain. As late, however, as the 26th of July, 1848, he felt himself sufficiently well to be able to attend a meeting of the Institute of Mechanical Engineers at Birmingham, and to read to the members his paper on the fallacies of the Rotatory Engine. It was his last appearance before them. Shortly after his return to Tapton, he had an attack of intermittent fever, from which he seemed to be recovering, when a sudden effusion of blood from the lungs carried him off on the 12th of August, 1848, in the 67th year of his age. When all was over, Robert wrote to Edward Pease, with deep pain I inform you as one of his oldest friends, of the death of my dear father this morning at twelve o'clock, after about ten days' illness from severe fever. Mr. Starbuck, who was also present, wrote, The favourable symptoms of yesterday morning were towards evening followed by a serious change for the worse. This continued during the night, and early this morning it became evident that he was sinking. At a few minutes before twelve today he breathed his last. All that the most devoted and unremitting care of Mrs. Stevenson, and the skill of medicine could accomplish, has been done, but in vain. George Stevenson's remains were followed to the grave by a large body of his workpeople, by whom he was greatly admired and beloved. They remembered him as a kind master, who was ever ready actively to promote all measures for their moral, physical and mental improvement. The inhabitants of Chesterfield evinced their respect for the deceased by suspending business, closing their shops and joining in the funeral procession, which was headed by the corporation of the town. Many of the surrounding gentry also attended. The body was interred in Trinity Church, Chesterfield, where a simple tablet marks the great engineer's last resting place. The statue of George Stevenson, which the Liverpool and Manchester and Grand Junction companies had commissioned, was on its way to England when his death occurred, and it served for a monument, though his best monument will always be his works. The statue referred to was placed in St George's Hall, Liverpool. A full-length statue of him by Bailey was also erected a few years later, in the noble vestibule of the London and Northwestern Station in Euston Square. A subscription for the purpose was set on foot by the Society of Mechanical Engineers, of which he had been founder and president. A few advertisements were inserted in the newspapers inviting subscriptions, and it is a notable fact that the voluntary offerings included an average of two shillings each from 3,150 working men, who embraced this opportunity of doing honour to their distinguished fellow workmen. But unquestionably, the finest and most appropriate statue to the memory of George Stevenson is that erected in 1862, after the design of John Lough at Newcastle-upon-Tine. It is in the immediate neighbourhood of the Literarian Philosophical Institute, to which both George and his son Robert were so much indebted in their early years, close to the great Stevenson locomotive factory established by the shrewdness of the father, and in the vicinity of the high-level bridge, one of the grandest products of the genius of the sun. The head of Stevenson, as expressed in this noble work, is massive, characteristic, and faithful, and the attitude of the figure is simple yet manly and energetic. It stands on a pedestal at the respective corners of which are sculptured the recumbent figures of a pitman, a mechanic, an engine driver, and a plate layer. The statue appropriately stands in a very thorough affair of working men, thousands of whom see it daily as they pass to and from their work, and we can imagine them, as they look up to Stevenson's manly figure, applying to it the words addressed by Robert Nicoll to Robert Burns, with perhaps still greater appropriateness. Before the proudest of the earth, we stand with an uplifted brow, like us, thou wasst a toiling man, and we are noble now. The portrait, prefixed to this volume, gives a good indication of George Stevenson's shrewd, kind, honest, manly face. His fair, clear countenance was ruddy, and seemingly glowed with health. The forehead was large and high, projecting over the eyes, and there was that massive breadth across the lower part, which is usually observed in men of eminent constructive skill. The mouth was firmly marked, and shrewdness and humour looked there as well as in the keen grey eye. His frame was compact, well-knit, and rather spare. His hair became grey at an early age, and towards the close of his life it was of a pure silky whiteness. He dressed neatly in black, wearing a white neck-cloth, and his face, his person, and his deportment at once arrested attention, and marked the gentleman.