Death, Dynamite and Disaster

by Rosa Matheson

  When the engine came into contact with the mass of earth it was immediately forced off the track and onto the side, dragging the tender and most of the train after it. The engine remained upright. The ‘next truck which contained the passengers was thrown athwart the lines and in an instant was overwhelmed by the trucks behind which were tossed up in the air by the violence of the collision and fell with fearful force upon it’.9It was, reported the Bristol Mercury, ‘a scene of destruction and horror of the most lamentable and heart-rending character’ and The Times quoted one eyewitness as saying, ‘the scene was horrible in the extreme’.

  Miraculously, neither the driver nor the fireman sustained any injury; ‘the conductor was thrown from his seat over the bank with great violence but was unhurt as was the guard … other officers of the company were saved by leaping from their places’. The papers praised the driver stating, ‘Much credit is due to the engineer who with great presence of mind shut off the steam before he leapt from the engine, by which an explosion was prevented.’

  The Western Times reported another ‘miraculous’ escape – that of a mother and her infant. Both were ‘flung out’. After regaining her feet it had taken the distraught woman a full ten minutes to locate her child, who was eventually found lying between two of the dead under the carriage. Mother and child were ‘very little hurt’, declined to go to the hospital and eventually travelled on to Bath, where they were to spend Christmas with friends.10 Mrs Carpenter, her husband and sister-in-law were also, amazingly, relatively unhurt. Mrs Carpenter said, ‘we felt a shock, were tossed against each other, and up into the air and down again, then the carriage broke all to pieces and we found ourselves down on the ground among the luggage.’ She said, ‘I don’t know how my husband got out … then he dragged me out and my sister-in-law. The persons who sat on the right and left of me were both killed.’11

  Many of the passengers spoke of being ‘flung out’ (in fact, the accident report says they all were). Being ‘flung out’ was a potential hazard in any third-class GWR carriage. At that time they were basic, open, wooden trucks with board seating, which was a development from the earliest trucks. The evolution of the railways had been driven by the need to deliver coal, and passengers were very much an afterthought. When the railways arrived, nobody had considered that the common masses would be likely customers. Third-class rolling stock developed directly from the coal wagon, and the earliest versions were devoid of any seating at all (these were generally known as ‘Stanhopes’). It was only after some time that a handrail was provided to which the intrepid third-class traveller could cling.12

  Frederick Smith, Inspector General of Railways, who conducted the Board of Trade investigation, was scathing in his report with regard to the carriages of the train. They were, he said, ‘not of such construction as the public have a right to expect.’ He pointed out that the seating was 18in high, but the sides and ends of the truck were just 24in, a mere 6in higher – scant protection of any kind. One could have as easily fallen out as been flung out!

  Once the news reached London, a train was despatched from Paddington carrying the company engineer, Isambard Kingdom Brunel, along with Mr Saunders, one of the secretaries, and Superintendent Mr S. Clarke, as well as 100 workmen to enable the rescue and deal with the problems. The work to extricate the dead was difficult, hampered no doubt by the amount of heavy, wet earth around. The accident happened at around 6.30 a.m. but the bodies were not recovered until almost two hours later, despite ‘every possible assistance being rendered’. Most of the victims were artisans, stonemasons on their way to Cheltenham or Gloucester. They were principally employed by the building firm, Grissel and Peto (Thomas Grissel and his cousin Samuel Moreton Peto) and were working on the Houses of Parliament, Woolwich Dockyard, and other projects. They had all left London as a result of a ‘strike’13 affecting their work. (Strikes had become commonplace during 1841, as the Chartists and political reformers became more angry and radicalised, resorting to taking more robust ‘direct action’.)

  Eight men lost their lives at the time of the accident. Once extricated they were carried to a nearby workmen’s hut to await identification and the coroner. They were placed under the protection of railway policeman, Austin, ‘whose task was to wash them and place them in coffins’. Some of the deceased were identified by Grissel and Peto’s company foreman, Mr Allen – including Charles Williams (32), and George Mabbot, from Gloucester. Others were identified by their fathers, such as Charles Griffith Sweetland (30), residing at Gloucester, another stonemason but not recognised by Mr Allen; and Richard Ralph (40), whose family home was at Harwill, about 2 miles from Steventon Station on the Great Western Railway, and whose aged father had been expecting him home for Christmas.

  John Pooke (30), of Stoke Cannon near Exeter, was formally identified by his father but his name had already been discovered by a letter in his pocket. It was written to him by his ‘affectionate grandmother’, Mary Pooke, who also resided in Exeter. In it she chides him for not letting his mother know where to write to him, and informs him that ‘all here desire to send you their love’. He is described as wearing a drab great coat, a black frock coat, four waistcoats, a pair of dark trousers, two neckerchiefs, a shirt, a pair of shoes and a pair of gloves.14 Wearing his clothes may have been the easiest way of transporting them, or it may have been his very necessary precaution against travelling slowly whilst exposed to the winter elements. In 1841, it could take anything from nine and a half to twelve hours to travel from Paddington to Bristol. Travelling third class meant that one had little right to anything, as described by The Railway Monitor, ‘As an individual and a traveller you are one of the lower classes, a poor, beggarly, contemptible person, and your comfort and convenience are not to be attended to.’ 15 Punch magazine returned often to the plight of the poor third-class passenger:

  The sorrow of the third class man,

  Whose trembling limbs with snow are whitened o’er,

  Who for his fare has paid you all he can:

  Cover him in and let him freeze no more.

  This dripping hat my rootless pen bespeaks;

  So does the puddle reaching to my knees;

  [Some companies bored holes in the floor to combat this problem.]

  Behold my pinched red-nose, my shrivelled cheeks;

  You should not have carriages such as these.

  This was no exaggeration. There were stories of people being found frozen to death once the train arrived at its destination.

  Joseph Hands (26), was not a stonemason but a painter, residing at Clarence Gardens, Regent Street. He had been on his way home to Cheltenham for the holiday. He was initially identified by a quarterly ticket for December 1841, issued by the Wesleyan Methodist Society, with his name on it. He was travelling with his friend, Jabez Cleeve (several different spellings of this surname), who lived in Cannon Row, Westminster. He, too, had a card for December from the Wesleyan Methodist Society, and was initially thought to be a preacher, perhaps because he was ‘respectably dressed’. He was identified as a stonemason by Mr Allen and by Joseph’s father, who had to identify the badly mutilated body of his son.There was also a ‘labouring man, dressed like a “waggoner” but not yet identified’, who was probably William Thomas, another stonemason. He and Charles Sweetland had been working on the Temple Church.

  The early third-class waggons give a particular interpretation of ‘air-conditioned’, being totally exposed to the elements. This one is a later development since there is obviously some seating arrangement. Most railway companies believed that this class of passenger had no rights whatsoever.

  Those who went to the hospital and had to be detained were: Thomas Wheeler (30), a newspaper reporter, from London who had contusions to the face, whilst his wife, Ann, had a broken arm, and contusions to head and back; John Sainsbury, a navigator from Lambeth who had severe contusions all over his body; another with all over body contusions was Anthony Batten (43), a saddler, who lived in Maryleb
one. Many, if not all, of the passengers suffered from ‘contusions’ of some kind. (Commonly known as bruises, contusions come in three different grades. The most common are soft tissue bruising, which we all experience at some time; then there are muscle contusions and, more seriously, bone contusions.)

  Two of the more severe cases were: Thomas Hughes (15), an apprentice painter residing at Hammersmith. He sustained concussion to the brain, contusions to the face and injury to the abdomen. He was described as ‘a bad case’; and Richard Wolley (name found on a letter in his pocket), another stonemason. He suffered a compound fracture of the skull. He was operated on immediately, the surgeons performing a procedure known as ‘trepanning’ (opening the skull), but remained unconscious. Days later it was reported that he had contracted erysipelas (an infection of the skin that appears as a red, hot, swollen rash), but that this had been successfully combated and he was, surprisingly, still improving. However, a report in The Examiner, on 1 January 1842, reported that he had always been ‘despaired of’ and had died on the Tuesday. This brought the final count of the dead to nine.

  Thomas Hawkins from Fishponds, Bristol, again a stonemason employed at Woolwich Dockyard, sustained a dislocation of his big toe, part of which had to be amputated. James Stapleton (31), and William Baldwin (53), also stonemasons returning to Cheltenham, sustained a dislocation of the shoulder and a fracture of the ribs respectively.

  The three injured women, identified as travelling alone, were all servants: Elizabeth Barnes (20), residing in the City, had a laceration of the scalp and a contusion of the back; Elizabeth Carpenter (29), from Blackfriars Road, had contusions to her legs; whilst Hannah Cooper (40,) of Kennington Common, suffered dislocation of the bones of the right foot. It may have been Elizabeth Carpenter or Hannah Cooper who was found in ‘a kneeling position … entreating to be extricated’. It was found that she was pinioned, possibly by the main beam of the truck on her legs but, because of the balance of the soil, it was a dangerous process to extricate her and it took an hour and a half before the poor woman was released.

  The inquest was opened that same afternoon in a small inn named ‘Shepherd’s House’. This was a common practice at the time, and the jury comprised twelve people from Sonning. The coroner was Mr James May.

  Mr Edward May, surgeon, reported that he had been sent for and arrived at the cutting at approximately 8 a.m. He saw, at that time, eight dead bodies. He believed they had all died instantaneously. All the bodies had sustained injuries. The first had both arms and legs broken; in the second case, both legs were fractured; the third had similar injuries; the forth displayed a fractured skull; the fifth, fractured ribs; the sixth, fractured ribs and collarbone; the seventh, compound fractures of both thighs, together with fractured ribs and pelvis; the eighth had a fractured chest and other injuries. He finished by adding that, of course, he ‘need not say that those injuries exhibited were the cause of death’.

  Thomas Reynolds, the engineer, (now known as ‘the engine driver’ or ‘driver’) took them through his journey. He stated that he met with no obstruction until he came near to a wooden bridge which crosses the railway; here an obstruction was caused by the slipping of the embankment through which the railway was cut. The consequence was that the engine was ‘turned off’ the line and ‘the carriages turned over’. At the time that this happened, the train was going at its ‘usual speed’, namely 16–18 miles an hour (this was a good rate for a goods train, but not, perhaps the ‘undue velocity’ that, it was suggested, he might have undertaken since he was running approximately ten minutes late). When the accident occurred it was very dark and he could see hardly anything. He confirmed he had been shown the ‘all was right’ lamp by the policeman about half a mile before the slip. He had noticed previous slips in the vicinity but did not think them of any consequence.

  When George Hansam, the guard, gave his evidence he confirmed that the morning was very dark, and declared the ‘engine man was perfectly sober’ and ‘there could be no grounds for attaching blame to him’. (The engine man was always the one first looked at for blame.) He stated that he believed the earth fell as they were passing because he was nearly ‘smothered from the quantity of earth that fell’, but, as it was so dark, and he could not see, he could not be sure. He also said the engine and tender had passed beyond the slip before stopping.

  Mr Thomas Bertram was Brunel’s assistant engineer, and it was his responsibility to check this section of the line between Reading and Paddington. He told the Court that he did this on a daily basis, travelling down and back. There had been a slip a short time since, but he had taken the necessary steps to prevent any ‘evil consequence’. He went on to say that there were employed foremen along the line, whose duty it was ‘to report direct to him constantly the state of the works’ and, if it was urgent, to take the necessary action themselves. So he was quite sure that the slip was a new one. Brunel was also of this opinion. He told the court that he had seen the previous slip and that the ‘usual methods had been applied’. That is, leaving the slip open to drain, so he did not ‘apprehend any danger from it’. After the accident, he had pointed out to Mr Bertram the drain which had been cut round the previous slip, and which ‘was quite apart from the new one’.

  Thomas Bottrill was one of those employed to report on the line, and he stated that he had seen the cutting where the slip had taken place at 5 p.m. the previous evening, and it was fine. George Higg, who worked under Bottrill, confirmed that he had walked that section every day, and had done so at least five times that day, and seen nothing that looked like a problem. He usually walked that particular spot at around 6 a.m. each morning, but on that particular day, the train had not arrived at that time (it was ten minutes behind time). Whilst none could say when the landslide actually occurred, it was suggested that it must have been between the period of 4 a.m. and 6.30 a.m., as the ‘up-night’ mail left Bristol at 1 a.m. and passed though the cutting at 4 a.m. without any mishap. The foreman of the jury, Mr Miller, requested that the inquest be adjourned, as it had been intimated that there had indeed been a slippage at this very place, some two or three weeks earlier, which would have a bearing on the case, and that the matter should be investigated thoroughly since it was ‘most desirable the public mind to be set right on this point’.

  The Inquest resumed on the Monday, when passenger John Williams, a stonemason who lived at Cheltenham, gave his tragic testimony. He told that he had been travelling with his son, Charles (24), also a stonemason. His son was in the first carriage and he in the second when suddenly there was a ‘dreadful shock’ and he found himself on the ground. Coming to his senses, he looked for his son. What the poor man saw would test the strongest. He found his son ‘hanging by the neck under one of the wheels, the wheel on his throat. He was quite dead as was another laying near him.’

  Thomas Carpenter, of Gray Street, Blackfriars, and John N(?), of Hanham near Bristol, told how the train had proceeded in ‘a regular manner’. However, when the engine was stopped by the falling earth, ‘the carriages in the rear were forced over those that preceded them and the shock was so great they were thrown out.’ There then followed much discussion about the position of the passenger carriages, and whether the passengers had been placed in danger by being put immediately behind the engine. Interestingly, a witness had told how the passenger trucks of the luggage train travelling on the day following the accident, had their positions as eighth and ninth from the engine. The Times reported, ‘In the present instance it appears clear that if the passenger trucks had been the last in the train, no lives would have been lost, because not one of the luggage carriages were off the line.’

  There had been a lot of debate in the papers, and questions in Parliament about the position of passenger carriages (always third class) on luggage and mail trains, as these were particularly heavy trains and, indeed, whether passenger trucks should be part of ‘goods’ trains at all. The GWR was one of only two railway companies that did this.
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  In September, just a few months before this accident, a passenger travelling on the GWR’s ‘up-mail’ early morning train (which was involved in another accident because of a slippage at an embankment before Wootton Bassett) had written to The Times, stating that he believed the only reason he was alive was because he was in a carriage further back. (The line-up was the Rising Star coupled to the Tiger, then two second-class carriages, followed by a first-class carriage.) He believed the double-headed engines took the brunt of the force of hitting the earth. The carriages before him had telescoped, one into the other, and the first carriage, between the engine in front and the carriage behind, was where the injured passengers were. He also wrote:

  I observed on my way up a luggage train in which the passengers are placed next the engine – now if any accident should happen to the engine, all who should have the misfortune to be there would for a certainty be killed by the tremendous weight which is following them. Why are passengers put before and not behind the luggage trucks?16

  Brunel gave detailed information about the reasoning behind the positioning on the fateful day. It was, he said, standard practice to put passenger trucks next to the engine, ‘because of the danger to which a luggage train is considered most liable – that is being overtaken by another train in consequence of it being slower.’ (i.e. being hit in the rear-end by the following train – ‘rear-end’ shunts were notorious in the railway world.) Mr Saunders supported Brunel, remarking that ‘the general opinion of scientific and practical men, and even of the Inspector-General, was the best place for passengers in luggage trains was next to the engine’. A very heated letter appeared in The Times in response to this testimony, stating that it would appear that ‘low-class passengers are placed in unnecessarily dangerous positions [whilst] … luggage is more protected’. It was a view shared by many.