Locke, when he came to give his evidence, was sceptical about the whole notion of higher speeds, as he made clear when he was asked whether or not he believed the GWR speeds could be matched on other lines:
In answering that question I may say that I do not exactly know what velocity could be obtained upon the Great Western, not having experience as to that line; but I have no doubt that we could, if it were safe, run our expresses upon either line at 50 m.p.h.; they now travel at 40 m.p.h. Our time to Southampton is two hours and it is 78 miles, very nearly 40 m.p.h. including stoppages, and I am quite sure that if it were a matter of necessity we could travel at 50 m.p.h.
Pressed to say whether he would want to run his trains at the higher speed, he was very definite: ‘I am very much opposed to it; I do not think it is safe.’ It is rather strange to find the man who had so much confidence in locomotive development that he could assume locomotives would one day cope with the severe gradients over Shap Fell, being so cautious about the idea of safe running at high speeds at some future date.
All these arguments about speed did not really have much to do with the central question: what to do about a break in gauge on the country’s railways. If the commission thought it was a major problem, then it was clear that one or other of the versions then in use must be given preference. The question to be decided was – which was it to be? In the event the commission decided that in the future 4ft 8½in should be the standard gauge for Britain’s railways. Brunel was disappointed, and it is hard not to sympathise with him. He had, he thought, demonstrated the superiority of his system, and the commissioners had lavished praise on it.
The Commission was very clear in its final report that there should be no expansion of the Great Western system. But when the results were made law by Act of Parliament, it soon became clear that the legislature had been lax in framing the rules, so that Brunel was able to go on building extensive branch lines, based on the system already in place. To Locke this was absurd. He felt that the only answer to the problem was a unified system. As time went on, and nothing changed, he decided to set out the case for standardisation based on the Stephenson gauge. He wrote a pamphlet in the form of a letter to Lord John Russell on ‘the best mode of avoiding the evils of mixed-gauge railways.’ He put his case bluntly: Parliament had got it wrong:
What a result! England, which has given railways to the world, would see France, Belgium, Germany, Italy and the United States advancing in railway enterprise on a uniform plan – the gauge which England furnished to them; and she would stand alone in the anomalous position of having (because one man of great genius disdained to pursue the path pursued by others, and because Parliament, being careless and indifferent to the subject, allowed one powerful company to deviate from the general plan) engraved on her railway a duplication, a complexity and a ruinous expense, of which I am satisfied it would be spared that could they have been foreseen they would never have been tolerated. Why then My Lord should we pursue a policy which is gradually destroying the capital now invested in railways, and why should we lessen the safety of railway travelling? Why was the Gauge Commission appointed, and why are its warnings disregarded.
Locke was not perhaps being entirely fair to Brunel in saying he ‘disdained to follow the path of others.’ George Stephenson had never had to think very much about what would be the best gauge for a national network. He had built his first locomotives for older tramways, which were never intended to interconnect and had no function other than to move coal from colliery to river or canal and were originally only intended for horse-drawn wagons not locomotives. It just happened that his first line had that gauge and he had continued to use it. Brunel, on the other hand, had given great consideration of how to build the best possible railway for express trains connecting major cities. It could well be argued that we would all have been better off with travel on broad gauge, but there was one inescapable fact. There was far more of the network built to the Stephenson gauge than there was to Brunel’s. It was also true that, while it would be comparatively simple, if it seemed necessary in the future to replace the broad gauge, it would be ruinously expensive to expand the standard gauge. A wider track bed would be needed, with all that entailed in expanding cuttings, embankments and tunnels and widening bridges.
Locke also considered the possibility put forward by the Great Western of having a mixed gauge, in other words a third rail could be laid in between the broad gauge lines, so that routes could be used by both types of traffic. He was not enthusiastic about the idea. His argument was simple: why incur the cost of a mixed gauge at all? Simply prevent the broad gauge being laid instead. ‘That there is an evil in the break of gauge is now admitted, and the mixed gauge is put forward to lessen it; but it is evident that the further you push the one gauge into the district of the other, the greater will be the number of breaks, and the greater will be the evil.’ His arguments may have been sound, but the government took no notice. In time the mixed gauge was adopted but not for long. In 1892, the very last of the broad gauge was lifted. As Locke had prophesied a great deal of money had been spent on the expedient but to little purpose in the long term.
There was to be one other disagreement with Brunel. The idea for an atmospheric railway had been around since 1810, but nothing happened until the grandly named, but actually very minor railway, the Birmingham, Bristol & Thames Junction, tried an experiment with Mr Clegg’s ‘Pneumatic Railway’, an idea developed by Clegg and improved by two brothers, Jacob and Joseph Samuda. A short length of track was laid in West London in 1840. The power was supplied by means of a small stationary steam engine, which was used to exhaust the air ahead of a piston in a tube, which would then be pushed along by atmospheric pressure. A flange on top of the piston protruded through a slit in the top of the tube, kept sealed by a leather flap. Various engineers were invited to view the experiment. George Stephenson declared it to be ‘a great humbug’ and Locke was equally unimpressed. Brunel, however, was very taken with the idea, and later decided to use it on the planned extension of the Great Western towards Plymouth by the South Devon Railway.
When it was time to examine the whole scheme before the Act was passed, opinion among the engineers was divided. Brunel was backed by William Cubitt and Vignoles, but opposed by both George and Robert Stephenson and Locke. The proposed railway would have needed a series of stationary engines to exhaust the tube and Locke and Robert Stephenson had already, quite early in their careers, expressed their views on the shortcomings of any such arrangement in their pamphlet examining their suggested use on the Liverpool & Manchester. Neither of them saw any reason to change their minds now. The witnesses were examined in April 1845 by the House of Commons Committee chaired by Hon. Bingham Baring. Although acknowledging the testimony of Locke and the other engineers who had argued against the adoption of the atmospheric system, they gave it their approval and work began on installing it.
The atmospheric railway had teething problems, but for a time seemed to be working well, with top speeds recorded of almost 70mph. But troubles soon appeared of a catastrophic nature. The leather seal, on which the whole system depended, rapidly disintegrated, scarcely more than a year after the first trains had run. Brunel wisely decided not to attempt remedial work, and had to admit the experiment was a failure. The system was dismantled and the line was run by steam locomotives. Today one of the original pumping houses at Dawlish is virtually all that remains as a reminder of the interesting, but fatally flawed, atmospheric railway. Locke had certainly been correct in arguing against the great Brunel; and it never harms one’s reputation to be on the right side of an argument. Locke, meanwhile, had many projects of his own that demanded his full attention.
Chapter Twelve
BACK TO EUROPE
The speed at which railways spread across Europe varied greatly from country to country. In Spain development was hindered by the political situation. When Ferdinand VII died in 1833 he had decreed that the succession should pass to
his daughter, but as she was still an infant, his fourth wife, Maria Cristina, would act as the Regent. She favoured a modest degree of liberalism and reform. There was, however, a powerful section of the community whose motto was ‘God, Country and King’ and who preferred the old system of autocratic monarchy. They wanted the succession to pass instead to Ferdinand’s brother Carlos. As the matter could not be settled by peaceful agreement – which is scarcely surprising since the same argument between autocracy and democracy rumbled on right up to the devastating Civil War of the twentieth century – the two sides took up arms. The first Carlist War lasted from 1833 to 1840 and was not a time when anyone was thinking about railway construction. With the defeat of the Carlist forces an uneasy peace descended on the country and progressive voices were heard demanding modernisation and change. The most obvious candidate for modernisation had to be making a start at developing a railway system.
Rather bizarrely the first steam railway in the Spanish empire was not built in Spain itself but in Cuba in 1837, mainly serving the extensive sugar plantations. It was only in 1845 that a native of Barcelona called Roca who lived in London put forward a proposal for a short line northward from Barcelona to the port of Mataró. He must have been aware that after years of Civil War it was going to be difficult to raise capital in Spain, but he was equally well aware that railways had been built in France with the active co-operation of the London & South Western Railway. He approached the Company and spoke enthusiastically about the economic riches the line would bring and was able to convince the chairman, William Chaplin, and other members of the Board that it was a scheme worth their consideration.
Locke was asked to visit Spain and assess the position, both in regard to how simple the line would be to build and whether or not it was likely to prove profitable. The first question was easily answered as the route lay along the flat coastal plain and would require only minor engineering works: there were mountain streams to cross and one short tunnel. And he was satisfied that it would be commercially successful. Agreement was reached: the cost was estimated at £200,000, half of which Roca was to raise in Spain; the other half would be supplied by English investors. But just as things looked all set to go, there were further rumblings of discontent in Spain, and once again the Carlists began agitating for a change in the monarchy. Hostilities broke out in 1846 in what became known as the Second Carlist War but was little more than a series of local skirmishes.
One decision that was more to do with politics than engineering was the decision to build the lines to a broad gauge, nominally 5ft 6in (1672mm). It was clearly not a gauge Locke would have chosen, but the Spanish government saw it as a defensive measure. France was an old enemy, and with the change in gauge, the French could not bring troops across the border by train. Others have said that the choice was made because it would have allowed larger engines to be used in the mountainous regions of Spain, but that was not an argument that would have held much weight for the man who would build lines over Shap Fell.
The line was duly laid out and work was finally able to get under way in 1847. That was progress of a sort, for other proposed lines in the country had simply fizzled out before anything had been done. Other promoters had called in George Stephenson who set about prospecting a far more ambitious route. The grandly named Royal North of Spain Railway was to link San Sebastian to Bilbao and down through central Spain to Madrid. Nothing came of the scheme for a good many years. It was to be one of the elder Stephenson’s last major surveys. The rigours of travelling through Spain, often with no better form of transport than the back of a mule, proved too taxing for a man in his mid-sixties. He developed pleurisy on the way home, and retired to his home, Tapton House in Chesterfield. Meanwhile, Locke was happy to entrust the oversight of the Spanish line to his older brother Joseph’s son, William Locke. It must have seemed an ideal opportunity for the young man to win his spurs on a comparatively simple route. It was to turn out to be far more troublesome than anyone had anticipated.
Everything seemed straightforward. The familiar team was working together again, with Locke in overall charge as Chief Engineer and with Brassey as the main contractor, who arrived in Spain with his own navvy army. Joseph Locke took a house in Barcelona for a time to keep an eye on things. But the Carlists had not yet given up hope of changing the political landscape. Devey, in his biography, describes those who operated in the area as ‘vagrant freebooters’ who were using their support of Carlos as a pretext to ‘deprive the traveller of his purse in the name of legitimacy.’ They may well have seen themselves as guerrillas waging a just war. Whichever interpretation is correct, they were undoubtedly a real source of trouble for the railway builders.
Problems began when the railway company received a demand for about £1,200, which they said was a tax due to them as the legitimate authority of the country, together with a threat of dire consequences if payment was not made. Not surprisingly, no payment was made and shortly afterwards one of the timber bridges was burned down. This was a nuisance rather than a calamity, but a far more serious event happened shortly afterwards. A band of some 200 men appeared in the district led by a man called Borjes, who appears to have been a mercenary. On this occasion, they stopped a train, ordered the English driver to uncouple the engine and robbed the passengers. They had obviously received some sort of intelligence, as they were asking for Locke and his nephew and were clearly disappointed not to have a chance to kidnap the pair of them.
It seems that the area through which the railway was being constructed had been the haunt of smugglers and brigands, who did not look kindly on its arrival. For the former it brought too many prying eyes into the region, and it severely disrupted the trade of the latter. It is far easier to hold up a horse-drawn coach than it is to stop a railway train. It was not difficult to find recruits to join Borjes in attacking the Company and he soon hit upon a new plan. One of the company employees, called Alexander Floricourt, had the job of train guard for the Barcelona Railway Company and one of his tasks was to collect the money from the different stops along the line and bring it back to headquarters. A band of 100 men descended on Mataró where they found Floricourt in a café. If they had hoped to find him with the money on him they were disappointed, so they decided the next best thing was to take the man himself and demand a ransom.
Floricourt was forced to write to William Locke pleading for the money to be paid. Locke resisted the request on the grounds that if he once gave in, other abductions would follow. He was hopeful, however, that the unfortunate man would be rescued, as there were now large numbers of troops from the legitimate army searching for Borjes and his men. The guerrillas were forced to scatter as the troops scoured the neighbourhood and, in the confusion, Floricourt was able to make his escape after sixteen days in captivity. Borjes eventually also managed to escape, leaving Spain for Italy, where he promptly offered his services to another rebellion in Naples. He was killed there in battle.
The line was opened in 1848. Locke had specified the use of the Crewe locomotives for use on the line. The first locomotive to be delivered from Britain was a 2-2-2 engine Mataró and a working replica of the locomotive still runs in Spain. The line was a commercial success, and there was a major increase in railway construction in Spain in the 1950s, helped by legislation that made the country more attractive to foreign investors.
Although Locke was not directly involved again in Spanish railways one of his old and trusted assistants was. Alfred Jee had worked with Locke on some of his most important projects, from the early days on the Grand Junction and on to the vast project of driving the Woodhead tunnel. In 1851 Jee had gone to Spain to survey a line running south from Santander to join the Castile Canal. He moved to Spain to live, learned the language and became a key figure in the development of the railway, not only setting out the line but also organising and designing rolling stock. On the grand opening day, 30 August 1858, Jee was given the honour of driving the engine for the ceremonial run, with his broth
er joining him on the footplate. Everything was going well until the train set off across an embankment. There was a sudden subsidence, the engine was derailed and rolled down the bank. Alfred was instantly crushed to death and his brother died shortly afterwards in hospital. Locke greatly mourned the loss of his old assistant and the event ended his last, if tenuous, connection with Spain. In the meantime he had been kept busy in other parts of Europe.
The Netherlands was comparatively slow to move into the railway age. They already had a very sophisticated transport system for both passengers and goods, based on the extensive canal network. Canals, however, do have a problem: they freeze over in winter, and there was a dramatic demonstration of how disastrous that could be during the harsh winter of 1844, when nothing could be moved on the system for four months. The idea of railway construction had begun before that with a plan put forward by an army officer, W.A. Bake, who proposed a route from Amsterdam to Cologne via Arnhem. This proved too ambitious and faced strong opposition from the powerful shipping lobby. A little later a more modest plan was proposed for a line from Amsterdam to Rotterdam and that too might have been lost had not the king given it his enthusiastic support. Even then it proved to be only a tentative start when a trial single-track line was laid from Amsterdam to Haarlem. It was modest in length but broad in track with a 1.945 metre gauge. Opened in 1839 it proved sufficiently successful for the more ambitious plans to be taken off the shelf and dusted down. A new company, the Nederlandsche Rhinjsporweg-Maatschappij – the Dutch-Rhenish railway – was formed.
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