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Title: Omnibuses and cabs
Their origin and history
Author: Henry Charles Moore
Release date: July 13, 2024 [eBook #74033]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Chapman & Hall, 1902
Credits: Alan, Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OMNIBUSES AND CABS ***
OMNIBUSES AND CABS
OMNIBUSES AND CABS
_THEIR ORIGIN AND HISTORY_
BY
HENRY CHARLES MOORE
_WITH THIRTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONS_
LONDON: CHAPMAN & HALL, LD.
1902
NOTE
It is with great pleasure that I acknowledge my indebtedness to Mr.
George A. Glover, who kindly placed at my disposal much valuable
information concerning the early history of omnibuses and cabs, and
several rare pictures, which are now reproduced for the first time.
I desire, also, to thank Mr. G. A. Thrupp, the venerable author of “The
History of the Art of Coach-Building,” for permitting me to have access
to his interesting collection of illustrations of vehicles, and to
reproduce several engravings dealing with the subject of this book. For
a similar courtesy I am greatly indebted to the Worshipful Company of
Coach Makers and Coach-Harness Makers.
H. C. M.
LONDON,
_August 23, 1901_.
CONTENTS
PART I--OMNIBUSES
CHAPTER I
PAGE
_Carrosses a cinq sous_ invented--Inauguration ceremony--M.
Laffitte’s omnibuses--The origin of the word “omnibus”
as applied to coaches 3
CHAPTER II
George Shillibeer introduces omnibuses into England--The first
omnibus route--Shillibeer’s conductors defraud him--His
plans for preventing fraud--An omnibus library--Shopkeepers
complain of omnibus obstruction 10
CHAPTER III
Shillibeer runs omnibuses in opposition to a railway--Extraordinary
action of the Stamp and Taxes Office--Shillibeer
is ruined--He appeals to the Government for compensation--Government
promises not fulfilled--Shillibeer becomes
an undertaker 28
CHAPTER IV
Introduction of steam omnibuses--The “Autopsy,” the “Era,”
and the “Automaton”--Steam omnibuses a failure 36
CHAPTER V
Some old omnibus names--Story of the “Royal Blues”--Omnibus
racing--Complaints against conductors--Passengers’
behaviour--The well-conducted conductor--The ill-conducted
conductor--The “equirotal omnibus” 46
CHAPTER VI
Twopenny fares introduced--The first omnibus with
advertisements--Penny fares tried--Omnibus improvements--Longitudinal
seats objected to by the police--Omnibus
associations--Newspapers on the “Favorites”--Foreigners
in omnibuses--Fat and thin passengers--Thomas Tilling
starts the “Times” omnibuses--Mr. Tilling at the Derby--Tilling’s
gallery of photographs 62
CHAPTER VII
Compagnie Générale des Omnibus de Londres formed--The
London General Omnibus Company starts work--Businesses
purchased by the Company--It offers a prize of £100
for the best design of an omnibus--The knife-board
omnibus introduced--Correspondence system tried--Packets
of tickets sold--Yellow wheels--The L.G.O.C. becomes
an English Limited Liability Company--The first board of
directors--Present position of the Company--The Omnibus:
a satire--The Omnibus: a play 79
CHAPTER VIII
The opening of Holborn Viaduct--An omnibus is the first
vehicle to cross it--“Viaduct Tommy”--Skid-men 95
CHAPTER IX
A new Company--The London and District Omnibus Company,
Limited--The London Road Car Company, Limited--Its
first omnibuses--The garden seats--The flag and its
meaning--Foreigners’ idea of it--The ticket system--The great
strike--The London Co-operative Omnibus Company--Mr.
Jenkins and advertisements--The Street Traffic Bill--Outside
lamps 100
CHAPTER X
The Motor Traction Company’s omnibus--An electric omnibus--The
Central London Railway--The London County
Council omnibuses--The “corridor ’bus”--The latest omnibus
struggle--Present omnibus routes 119
CHAPTER XI
“Jumpers”--“Spots”--Some curious passengers--Conductors
and coachmen--The Rothschild Christmas-boxes--Mr. Morris
Abrahams and the Omnibus Men’s Superannuation Fund--Horses--Cost
of omnibuses--Night in an omnibus yard 137
CHAPTER XII
Pirate omnibuses--Their history and tricks 164
PART II--CABS
CHAPTER I
The introduction of hackney-coaches--“The world run on
wheels”--The first hackney-coach stand and the oldest
cab rank in England--Sedan chairs introduced--Charles I.
and Charles II. prohibit hackney-coaches--Hackney-coaches
and the Plague--William Congreve--Threatened strike of
hackney-coachmen--Hackney-chariots introduced--Prince
of Wales drives a hackney-coach--Licences--Funeral
coaches ply for hire in the streets--A pedometer for hackney-coaches
suggested--Dickens on hackney-coaches--Origin of
the word “hackney” 181
CHAPTER II
Cabs introduced into England--Restrictions placed upon them--A
comical-looking cab--Dickens on cabs--Hackney-coachmen
wish to become cabmen--The cab business a
monopoly--Restrictions are removed--_The Cab_ paper--The
Boulnois cab invented--The “minibus”--The “duobus”--Bilking--A
peer’s joke 205
CHAPTER III
Hansom invents a cab--Chapman designs and patents the
present hansom--Francis Moore’s vehicles--The Hansom
patent infringed--Litigation a failure--Pirate cabs called
“shofuls”--The “Clarence” or four-wheeler introduced--An
unpleasant fare--The decoration of cabs--Cabmen compelled
to wear badges--The “Tribus”--The “Curricle Tribus”--The
“Quartobus” 216
CHAPTER IV
A strike--Cabmen’s revenge on Members of Parliament--Cab
radius altered--Cabmen object to knocking at doors--The
King of Cabmen--Nicknames--A lady feared by cabmen--The
kilometric reckoner--Lord John Russell and “Palace
Yard Jack”--Cab fares altered--A strike against the introduction
of lamps--Another strike--The Cab-drivers’ Benevolent
Association--The London Cabmen’s Mission--The
Hackney Carriage Proprietors’ Provident Institution--The
Cabmen’s Shelter Fund 231
CHAPTER V
Cab show at Alexandra Palace--Forder’s cab--The strike of
1894--Cabmen become organ-grinders--The Asquith award--Boycotting
the railway stations--The “Bilking Act” 249
CHAPTER VI
Gentlemen cabmen--An applicant’s nerve--The doctor-cabby--John
Cockram--A drunken cabman’s horse 258
CHAPTER VII
The Shrewsbury and Talbot cabs--The Court hansom--The
Parlour four-seat hansom--Electric cabs introduced--The
“taxameter”--Empty cabs--Number of cabs in London--Cab
fares--Two-horse cabs 267
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
SHILLIBEER’S FIRST OMNIBUS 13
SHILLIBEER’S THIRD OMNIBUS 19
GURNEY’S STEAM CARRIAGE 37
THE “AUTOPSY” STEAM OMNIBUS 39
THE “ERA” STEAM OMNIBUS 40
THE “AUTOMATON” STEAM OMNIBUS 44
ADAMS’S EQUIROTAL OMNIBUS 61
A KNIFE-BOARD OMNIBUS 65
OMNIBUS BUILT BY ROCK AND GOWAR 69
TILLING’S FOUR-HORSE “TIMES” 75
RICHMOND CONVEYANCE COMPANY OMNIBUS 91
RICHMOND CONVEYANCE COMPANY OMNIBUS. END VIEW 93
THE FIRST VEHICLE TO CROSS HOLBORN VIADUCT 98
THE LONDON ROAD CAR COMPANY’S FIRST OMNIBUS 103
A ROAD CAR COMPANY OMNIBUS, 1901 107
A METROPOLITAN RAILWAY “UMBRELLA” OMNIBUS, 1901 109
A RED “FAVORITE.” 1901 110
HACKNEY-COACH. ABOUT 1680 189
HACKNEY-COACH. ABOUT 1800 194
LONDON CAB OF 1823, WITH CURTAIN DRAWN 207
THE “COFFIN-CAB” 210
BOULNOIS’S CAB 214
THE FIRST HANSOM 217
AN IMPROVED HANSOM 219
FRANCIS MOORE’S VEHICLE 221
THE FIRST FOUR-WHEELED CAB 225
THE TRIBUS. BACK VIEW 229
THE TRIBUS. SIDE VIEW 230
JOHN COCKRAM 261
PARLOUR’S HANSOM 269
ELECTRIC CAB 272
PART I
_OMNIBUSES_
OMNIBUSES AND CABS
CHAPTER I
_Carrosses a cinq sous_ invented--Inauguration ceremony--M. Laffitte’s
omnibuses--The origin of the word “omnibus” as applied to coaches.
Omnibuses, under the name of _carrosses a cinq sous_, were started
in Paris in 1662. The leading spirits in this enterprise were the
Duc de Rouanès, Governor of Poitou, the Marquis de Sourches, Grand
Prévôt, the Marquis de Crénan, Grand Cup-bearer, and Blaise Pascal,
the author of “Lettres Provinciales.” The idea was Pascal’s, but
not being sufficiently wealthy to carry it out unaided, he laid the
matter before his friend the Duc de Rouanès, who suggested that a
company should be formed to start the vehicles. Pascal consented to
this being done, and the Duc de Rouanès set to work at once to prevail
upon members of the aristocracy to take shares in the venture. The
Marquis de Sourches and the Marquis de Crénan he induced to take an
active part in the management and, best of all, he obtained from Louis
XIV. a decree authorising the establishment of _carrosses a cinq
sous_. Seven vehicles to carry eight passengers each, all inside,
were built, and on March 18th, 1662, they began running. The first
one was timed to start at seven o’clock in the morning, but an hour
or two earlier a huge crowd had assembled to witness the inauguration
ceremony, which was performed by two Commissaires of the Châtelet,
attired in their official robes. Accompanying them were four guards
of the Grand Prévôt, twenty men of the City Archers, and a troop of
cavalry. The procession, on arriving at the line of route, divided into
two parts, one Commissaire and half of the attendants proceeded to the
Luxembourg, and the others to the Porte St. Antoine. At the latter
place three of the twopenny-halfpenny coaches were stationed, the other
four being at the Luxembourg. Each Commissaire then made a speech,
in which he pointed out the boon that _carrosses a cinq sous_ would
be to the public, and laid great stress on the fact that they would
start punctually at certain times, whether full or empty. Moreover, he
warned the people that the king was determined to punish severely any
person who interfered with the coaches, their drivers, conductors, or
passengers. The public was also warned that any person starting similar
vehicles without permission would be fined 3000 francs, and his horses
and coaches confiscated.
At the conclusion of his address the Commissaire commanded the
coachmen to advance, and, after giving them a few words of advice and
caution, presented each one with a long blue coat, with the City arms
embroidered on the front in brilliant colours. Having donned their
livery, the drivers returned to their vehicles and climbed up to their
seats. Then the command to start was given, and the two vehicles drove
off amidst a scene of tremendous enthusiasm. The first coach each way
carried no passengers--a very unbusinesslike arrangement--the conductor
sitting inside in solitary state. But the next two, which were sent
off a quarter of an hour after the first, started work in earnest,
and it need scarcely be said that there was no lack of passengers.
The difficulty experienced was in preventing people from crowding in
after the eight seats were occupied. At the beginning of every journey
the struggle to get into the coach was repeated, and many charming
costumes were ruined in the crush. Paris, in short, went mad over its
_carrosses a cinq sous_, and the excitement soon spread to the suburbs,
sending their inhabitants flocking to the city to see the new vehicles.
But very few of the visitors managed to obtain a ride, for day by day
the rush for seats became greater. The king himself had a ride in one
coach, and the aristocracy and wealthy classes hastened to follow his
example, struggling with their poorer brethren to obtain a seat. Many
persons who possessed private coaches drove daily to the starting-point
and yet failed to get a ride in one for a week or two.
Four other routes were opened in less than four months, but at last
the fashionable craze came to an end, and as soon as the upper classes
ceased to patronise the new coaches the middle and lower classes found
that it was cheaper to walk than to ride. The result was that Pascal,
who died only five months after the coaches began running, lived long
enough to see the vehicles travelling to and fro, half, and sometimes
quite, empty.
For many months after Pascal’s death the coaches lingered on, but every
week found them less patronised, and eventually they were discontinued.
They had never been of any real utility, and were regarded by the
public much in the same light as we regard a switchback railway.
After the failure of the _carrosses a cinq sous_, a century and a
half elapsed before vehicles of the omnibus class were again tried in
Paris, but one or two feeble and unsuccessful attempts to start them in
England were made in the year 1800. A vehicle with six wheels and drawn
by four horses was the most noticed of these ventures.
In 1819 Monsieur Jacques Laffitte, the banker-politician, who became,
later, the Minister of Louis Philippe, introduced the vehicles now
called “omnibuses” into Paris. They carried sixteen or eighteen
passengers, all inside, and the fare was twopence halfpenny from one
side of Paris to the other. From the day that they began running they
were highly successful, and the first year’s profits, it is said,
repaid the outlay.
Monsieur Laffitte must not, however, be given the credit of applying
the name “omnibus” to the vehicles which he introduced, for it belongs
to Monsieur Baudry, a retired military officer. In 1827 Baudry was the
proprietor of some hot-water baths in the suburbs of Nantes, and for
the convenience of his patrons ran a vehicle at fixed hours to and from
the town. This coach, which was similar in build to the Parisian ones,
he named the “Voiture des Bains de Richebourg,” but quickly came to the
conclusion that the title was too long, and therefore endeavoured to
think of a more suitable one.
It happened that just at that time a local grocer named Omnès caused
considerable amusement in the town by painting over his shop “Omnès
Omnibus.” No sooner did Baudry see this than he declared that he had
found the very word which he required, and straightway renamed his
vehicle “L’Omnibus.” Later, he started lines of omnibuses at Paris and
Bordeaux, but they were not very successful, and the severe winter of
1829, which made forage very dear and the streets almost impassable,
ruined him completely and drove him to commit suicide. But before he
died he had made the word “omnibus” familiar to Parisians. Many of
the vehicles belonging to other proprietors bore the inscription
“Enterprise Générale des Omnibus,” which, while not making people
believe that the coach so inscribed was one of Baudry’s, ensured its
being called an Omnibus.
CHAPTER II
George Shillibeer introduces omnibuses into England--The first omnibus
route--Shillibeer’s conductors defraud him--His plans for preventing
fraud--An omnibus library--Shopkeepers complain of omnibus obstruction.
Laffitte’s omnibuses were so exceedingly well managed that they
continued to prosper in spite of the many new lines started in
opposition to them. With a view to maintaining the superiority of
his omnibuses over those of his rivals, Laffitte decided to have two
vehicles built which should eclipse in comfort and appearance any
others on the streets. He gave the order to Mr. George Shillibeer, a
well-known Parisian coach-builder. Shillibeer had been a midshipman
in the British Navy, but quitted the service and went to Hatchett’s,
in Long Acre, to learn coach-building. Later, he started business for
himself in Paris, and as English carriages were then becoming very
fashionable, he met with considerable success, and built carriages and
coaches for the most influential men of the day.
While executing Laffitte’s order it occurred to Shillibeer that he
might, with considerable advantage to himself, start omnibuses in
London. He decided to do so, and, disposing of his business, returned
to London and took premises at Bury Street, Bloomsbury, whence he made
it known that he was about to introduce “a new vehicle called the
omnibus.” The word “omnibus” was received with marked disapproval by
every person to whom Shillibeer spoke concerning his new venture. “If
one vehicle is to be called an omnibus, what are two or more to be
called?” people said to him.
“Omnibuses,” Shillibeer replied promptly, but his questioners
were horrified, and to their dying days preferred to call them
“Shillibeers.” Some people called them “omnis,” and Mr. Joseph Hume,
speaking years later in the House of Commons, created much laughter by
referring seriously to the vehicles as “omnibi.”
The route which Shillibeer chose for his first omnibus was from the
Yorkshire Stingo at Paddington, along the New Road to the Bank. The New
Road was the name by which Marylebone, Euston and Pentonville Roads
were then known.
Three or four short-stage-coaches had been running on that road for
many years, but as they took three hours to get from Paddington to the
City, and charged two shillings for outside seats and three shillings
for inside ones, they were not patronised by able-bodied people, who
usually preferred to walk. Moreover, the short-stage-coaches were
uncomfortably loaded with luggage, which they collected and delivered
every journey.
On the morning of July 4, 1829, Shillibeer’s two new omnibuses began
to run. A large crowd assembled to witness the start, and general
admiration was expressed at the smart appearance of the vehicles, which
were built to carry twenty-two passengers, all inside, and were drawn
by three beautiful bays, harnessed abreast. The word “Omnibus” was
painted in large letters on both sides of the vehicles. The fare from
the Yorkshire Stingo to the Bank was one shilling; half way, sixpence.
Newspapers and magazines were provided free of charge. The conductors,
too, came in for considerable notice, for it had become known that they
were both the sons of British naval officers--friends of Shillibeer.
These amateur conductors had resided for some years in Paris, and
were, therefore, well acquainted with the duties of the position which
they assumed. The idea of being the first omnibus conductors in England
pleased them greatly, and prompted them to work their hardest to make
Shillibeer’s venture a success. They were attired in smart blue-cloth
uniforms, cut like a midshipman’s; they spoke French fluently, and
their politeness to passengers was a pleasing contrast to the rudeness
of the short-stage-coach guards--a most ill-mannered class of men.
[Illustration: SHILLIBEER’S FIRST OMNIBUS.]
Each omnibus made twelve journeys a day, and was generally full.
So great a success were they that the takings averaged a hundred
pounds a week. Nevertheless, Shillibeer had much to contend with. The
short-stage-coach proprietors, disliking competition, endeavoured to
incite the populace against Shillibeer by declaring that he was a
Frenchman, and ought not to be allowed to run his foreign vehicles
in England. Moreover, the aristocratic and wealthy residents of
Paddington Green objected strongly to the omnibuses coming into
their select neighbourhood, and petitioned the local authorities to
prevent their doing so. And when they found that their endeavours
were futile, they declared solemnly that Paddington Green was doomed.
If they saw the neighbourhood to-day, they would consider, no doubt,
that their prophecy was fulfilled, although, as a matter of fact,
it was railways and not omnibuses that, from a residential point of
view, ruined the neighbourhood. But the threatened doom of Paddington
Green did not deter the sentimental poke-bonneted young ladies, who
resided in the charming suburb, from spending a considerable amount
of their time in watching the omnibuses start. In the middle of the
day many of them were in the habit of taking a ride to King’s Cross
and back, for the sole purpose of improving their French by conversing
with the conductors. That praiseworthy amusement was short-lived,
however, for as soon as the omnibuses were in good working order, the
gentlemen-conductors relinquished their posts and were succeeded by
paid officials.
The new conductors were dressed in dark velvet suits, and as far as
politeness was concerned were all that could be desired. Unfortunately
they became possessed of the belief, not yet quite extinct, that to
rob an omnibus proprietor was no sin. The amount of money handed in
to Shillibeer grew less daily--a very suspicious decrease, considering
that people living on the road which the omnibuses travelled declared
that the vehicles were as well patronised as ever. Shillibeer therefore
made arrangements with various trustworthy people to ride in his
omnibuses, as ordinary passengers, and check the number of people
carried and the amount of fares which they paid. For a few days every
journey that the omnibuses made there was a male or female passenger
watching the conductors, and from their reports Shillibeer discovered
that the two men were, between them, robbing him to the extent of £20 a
week. This was corroborated by the conductors themselves, whose style
of living had become decidedly luxurious. In their time of affluence
they did not forget their poorer friends, and one night, after work
was finished, they treated a number of them to a champagne supper at
the Yorkshire Stingo. The whole party became hilariously drunk, and
while in that condition the hosts threw discretion to the winds, and
bragged loudly that they made £10 each a week out of the omnibuses, in
excess of their pay. Among their guests were detectives employed by
Shillibeer, who repeated the confession of fraud to their employer,
with the result that the first professional omnibus conductors were
discharged. Shillibeer’s leniency, due to his anxiety not to have his
omnibuses mixed up in any scandal, encouraged succeeding conductors to
steal. Shillibeer was at his wits’ end what to do, when a man called on
him with a patent register guaranteed to put a stop to the conductors’
pilferings. The register was designed to be placed underneath the
omnibus, and people entering or leaving the vehicle trod on a plate
fixed in the step, the register recording every person who stepped upon
it. Shillibeer liked the idea, and bought one of the registers on the
condition that the inventor acted as conductor until its reliability
had been proved thoroughly.
For two weeks everything went well, and the conductor was anticipating
an order for a second register, when a gang of men, in sympathy
with the discharged conductors, attacked the omnibus while it was
standing outside the Yorkshire Stingo, smashed the patent register
with sledge-hammers, and half murdered its inventor. Shillibeer, who
had paid £300 for the demolished register, did not order another one
to be made, but tried a new and less expensive check, which was in
use in the Paris omnibuses. A specially made clock was fixed in a
prominent position in each omnibus, with a notice beneath it informing
the public that it was the conductor’s duty to move the hand a certain
distance whenever a passenger entered, and requesting that any neglect
of that duty should be reported to the proprietor. But, in spite of
that appeal, the conductors neglected persistently to act according
to instructions, and not one report of their breach of duty was ever
received by Shillibeer from an ordinary passenger. Some of them,
indeed, amused themselves by turning the hand round until the register
showed that the omnibus had carried an impossible number of people.
This amusement was getting very popular when Shillibeer put an end to
it by removing the clocks and trusting to his conductors’ honour--a
confidence which was proved, time after time, to be entirely misplaced.
[Illustration: SHILLIBEER’S THIRD OMNIBUS.]
But, in spite of all obstacles, Shillibeer prospered, and in less than
nine months had twelve omnibuses at work. A few of these were two-horse
omnibuses carrying twelve passengers inside and two outside. Some ran
from Paddington to the Bank, _viâ_ Oxford Street and Holborn. On all
these new vehicles “Shillibeer” was painted in large letters on the
sides, instead of “Omnibus.”
The Post Office authorities were the first to copy Shillibeer’s
vehicles. They had four built, resembling the originals in every
respect save the painting and lettering. On September 23, 1829, these
vehicles--accelerators they were called--started at half-past eight in
the morning from the back of the General Post Office for the western
and north-western districts. Each accelerator carried twelve or
thirteen letter-carriers, who were put down at various points to begin
their delivery.
A little later, Shillibeer’s brother-in-law started some omnibuses
which ran along the Caledonian Road, and were known as “Caledonians.”
These, too, were successful, and many years later became the property
of Mr. Wilson, the once famous Islington omnibus proprietor. Wilson’s
“Favorites” were known to every Londoner, and the “Caledonians” were
merged into them. At the present day the “Favorites” belong to the
London General Omnibus Company, Limited, and on their way from the
Nag’s Head, Holloway, to West Kensington and Fulham traverse their
original road.
In 1832, wishing to still further increase the number of his
omnibuses, Shillibeer took into partnership Mr. William Morton, a
Southwell publican, who sold his business to join him. The partnership
was dissolved in January, 1834, Morton taking as his share of the
business the whole of the New Road omnibuses. He failed, however, to
make them pay, and sold them at a great loss. Eventually he became
so reduced in circumstances that he applied for, and obtained, a
position as an omnibus conductor, but was discharged for drunkenness,
and, in a fit of despondency, committed suicide at his lodgings in
Little Carlisle Street, Edgware Road. At the inquest, Shillibeer’s
enemies--of whom he had a large number among short-stage-coach
proprietors--endeavoured to prove that the deceased had been swindled
over his omnibus partnership. But these charges were shown to be the
outcome of jealousy and petty spite, and it was proved that, in giving
over the New Road omnibuses to his late partner, Shillibeer had behaved
with great generosity, for that was the only line on which there was
no opposition. The omnibuses were paying excellently at the time of
the dissolution of partnership, but Morton mismanaged them. The person
to whom he sold them soon made them as remunerative as they had been
under Shillibeer’s management. In fact, the New Road route was the best
patronised, and, in 1837, there were fifty-four omnibuses on that road.
The fares were then sixpence any distance.
In the same year that Shillibeer took Morton into partnership, there
were several lines of omnibuses running in opposition to him, for the
old short-stage-coach proprietors were now alive to the fact that there
was much money to be made out of omnibuses; but the original vehicles
had the reputation of being excellently conducted, and, consequently,
were preferred by the public. Aware of this, the proprietors of some
opposition omnibuses had the impudence to paint on the panels of their
vehicles the word “Shillibeer.” Shillibeer then named his omnibuses
“Shillibeer’s Original Omnibuses.”
Some of the opposition proprietors, however, were men of sufficient
enterprise to object to remaining mere imitators of Shillibeer, and
tried their hardest to make their omnibuses more attractive than those
of their great rival. One man made all his coachmen wear a wooden ring
on each arm with strings attached to them which ran along each side
of the roof of the omnibus and out at the back to the conductor. The
passenger would then pull the cord or tell the conductor which side he
wished to be put down, and if it were the near side the left string
would be pulled; but if the passenger desired to get out on the off
side the conductor would pull the right string, and the coachman would
drive across the road and come to a standstill on what is now the
wrong side of the road. It seems strange that such a proceeding should
have been allowed in London, but the arrangement was very popular with
passengers, who grumbled and wrote letters to the proprietors if the
strings were absent or defective. Very soon after the introduction of
such strings there were few omnibuses in London without them, and they
remained in fashion for many years.
Many omnibuses had clocks fixed in them for the convenience of
passengers, and to ensure conductor and coachman keeping their time.
Bells did not come into use until many years later. When a conductor
wanted his coachman to stop he usually shouted to him. When he wished
him to go on he shouted again or banged the door.
Mr. Cloud, who ran omnibuses from the White Horse, Haymarket, to
Chelsea and Hammersmith--fares one shilling and half a crown--eclipsed
Shillibeer in one respect. Shillibeer supplied his patrons with
newspapers and magazines; Cloud provided his with books by well-known
authors. A little bookcase, well filled, was fixed in each of his
omnibuses at the end near the horses. Books were expensive in those
days, and many people rode to Hammersmith and back for the sole purpose
of reading a particular one which they knew to be in the omnibus
library. But this admirable innovation was abused shamefully by the
passengers, who appeared to consider it no sin to purloin the volumes.
Disgusted at the dishonesty of his patrons, Mr. Cloud announced
publicly that, in consequence of the thefts, his libraries would be
discontinued. The bookcases were removed, and in place of each a seat
was fixed, thereby enabling the omnibus to accommodate thirteen inside
passengers instead of twelve. Other omnibus proprietors decided that
their vehicles should also carry thirteen passengers, but provided no
additional accommodation. A conductor would tell a person that there
was room inside, but when the passenger entered he would find the six
seats on either side occupied. If he happened to be a stout party,
the burning question was on which side ought he to sit. The matter was
generally settled by the new-comer flopping down on some one’s lap.
Then a quarrel would ensue. As late as 1882 an omnibus with a seat in
front of the fareboard was running from Oxford Circus to Hendon, _viâ_
Kilburn. It was a most uncomfortable seat, but, nevertheless, it was
nearly always occupied, for the conductor, being a very amusing fellow,
had a knack of quickly soothing passengers who protested against
sitting on a small, cramped seat.
Soon after the removal of the bookcases, some of the Hammersmith
omnibuses acquired the habit of loitering, and thereby obstructing
the streets. By Act of Parliament, the police had the power to take
into custody the driver of any public vehicle who obstructed the high
road and refused to move on. One morning they exercised their power
by pulling two omnibus-drivers from their boxes and taking them to
the police-station. The following day the drivers were fined forty
shillings or a month’s imprisonment. For a few days there was no
loitering on the Hammersmith Road. But one Saturday evening an omnibus
pulled up at Knightsbridge in such a position as to obstruct the
traffic. A policeman shouted fiercely to the driver to move on, but
the coachman calmly shook his head and would not budge an inch. Two
policemen promptly rushed forward to pull him from his seat and take
him into custody, but, to their astonishment, found that he was chained
to the box and the chain fastened by a huge padlock. Their attempts
to remove him were useless. Then several other omnibuses came along,
and pulled up close to the first one. The drivers of these were also
chained to their boxes, and amused themselves and the crowd by chaffing
the police and shaking their chains at them. After remaining at
Knightsbridge for some considerable time, they drove away in triumph,
only, however, to be fined a few days later.
About this time shopkeepers began to complain that omnibuses prevented
their customers driving up to their doors in their carriages, and Mr.
Shufflebotham, a silk mercer of Ludgate Hill, championing their cause,
applied for summonses against twenty-four conductors for loitering.
Under an old Act of Parliament, any stage-coach driver taking up or
setting down passengers in the streets was liable to a penalty of not
less than £5. All the conductors were fined, but public opinion was by
no means favourable to the shopkeepers, and further attempts to prove
that private carriages had a greater right to the public streets than
omnibuses failed completely. On one occasion an alderman had before him
a hundred and twenty conductors charged with the fearful offence--in
tradesmen’s eyes--of stopping their omnibuses a few moments in front
of a shop when a carriage was waiting to pull up there. The alderman
discharged every one of the defendants, and his action was so popular
that, until a year or two ago, no one had the impudence to suggest that
the days of class legislation should be restored--that omnibuses which
carry twenty-six passengers should be turned out of the main streets to
make room for private carriages with their burden of four.
On January 7, 1832, a new Stage-Coach Act came into force. It had been
passed specially to permit omnibuses and short-stage-coaches to take up
and set down passengers in the streets.
CHAPTER III
Shillibeer runs omnibuses in opposition to a railway--Extraordinary
action of the Stamp and Taxes Office--Shillibeer is ruined--He
appeals to the Government for compensation--Government promises not
fulfilled--Shillibeer becomes an undertaker.
Shortly after dissolving partnership with Morton, Shillibeer
relinquished his metropolitan business and began to run omnibuses
from London to Greenwich and Woolwich, placing twenty vehicles on
the road. It was a very bold step, considering that a railway from
London to Greenwich had been decided upon; but there were many people
who believed that the railway was doomed by his action. In fact, the
following song, entitled “Shillibeer’s Original Omnibus _versus_ the
Greenwich Railroad,” which expressed that opinion, was sold extensively
in the streets.
“By a Joint-Stock Company taken in hand,
A railroad from London to Greenwich is plann’d,
But they’re sure to be beat, ’tis most certainly clear,
Their rival has got the start--George Shillibeer.
“I will not for certainty vouch for the fact,
But believe that he means to run over the Act
Which Parliament pass’d at the end of last year,
Now made null and void by the new Shillibeer.
“His elegant omnis, which now throng the road,
Up and down every hour most constantly load;
Across all the three bridges how gaily appear,
The _Original Omnibus_--George Shillibeer.
“These pleasure and comfort with safety combine,
They will neither blow up nor explode like a mine;
Those who ride on the rail-road might half die with fear--
You can come to no harm in the safe Shillibeer.
“How exceedingly elegant fitted, inside,
With mahogany polished--soft cushions--beside
Bright brass ventilators at each end appear,
The latest improvements in the new Shillibeer.
“Here no draughts of air cause a crick in the neck,
Or huge bursting boiler blows all to a wreck,
But as safe as at home you from all danger steer,
While you travel abroad in the gay Shillibeer.
“Then of the exterior I safely may say
There never was yet any carriage more gay,
While the round-tire wheels make it plainly appear
That there’s none run so light as the smart Shillibeer.
“His conductors are famous for being polite,
Obliging and civil, they always act right,
For if just complaint only comes to his ear,
They are not long conductors for George Shillibeer.
“It was meant that they all should wear dresses alike,
But bad luck has prompted the tailors to strike.
When they go to their work, his men will appear
_À la Française, Conducteur à Mons. Shillibeer_.
“Unlike the conductors by tailors opprest,
His horses have all in new harness been drest:
The cattle are good, the men’s orders are clear,
Not to gallop or race--so says Shillibeer.
“That the beauties of Greenwich and Deptford may ride
In his elegant omni is the height of his pride--
So the plan for a railroad must soon disappear
While the public approve of the new Shillibeer.”
But, unfortunately for Shillibeer, the plan for the Greenwich railway
did not disappear. It was carried out, and when, in 1835, the railway
was opened, the earnings of Shillibeer’s omnibuses began to decrease
ominously. For a time Shillibeer struggled on manfully, but the fight
with the railway was an expensive one, and getting into arrears
with his payments to the Stamp and Taxes Office, his omnibuses were
seized and not permitted to be worked until the money was paid. This
unreasonable action on the part of the Stamp Office was repeated three
or four times, and the heavy expenses and hindrance to business caused
thereby brought about Shillibeer’s failure.
Acting on the advice of his many sympathisers, Shillibeer appealed, in
1838, to the Lords of the Treasury for compensation for the injustice
done to him, with the result that, shortly after, he was offered the
position of Assistant Registrar of Licences, created by the Bill
just passed for the better regulation of omnibuses in and near the
Metropolis. This Act, the second one dealing with omnibuses, made it
compulsory that the words “Metropolitan Stage Carriage,” the Stamp
Office number, and the number of passengers that each vehicle was
licensed to carry should be painted, in a conspicuous manner, both
on the inside and outside of every omnibus. Drivers and conductors
were compelled to wear numbered badges, so as to afford means of
identification in case of misconduct. Licences were not to be
transferred or lent under a penalty of £5, and the omnibus proprietors
were forbidden, under a penalty of £10, to allow any unlicensed person
to act as driver or conductor, except in the case of sudden illness of
the licensed man.
Shillibeer had been led to believe that he would receive the
appointment of Registrar of Licences, and was, therefore, greatly
disappointed when the Assistant Registrarship was offered him. He
declined it, and renewed his applications to the Lords of the Treasury
for compensation for the loss he had suffered through the almost
criminal stupidity of the Stamp and Taxes Office.
At length their Lordships appointed their Financial Secretary, Mr.
Gordon, to inquire into his case, and that gentleman’s investigation
of the facts proved to their complete satisfaction that Shillibeer had
been cruelly wronged by the Stamp and Taxes Office. Thereupon, they
promised Shillibeer that he should receive a Government appointment, or
a sum of money, that would compensate him for the loss he had suffered.
Mr. Gordon was then instructed to apply to the Marquis of Normanby
and the Right Hon. Henry Labouchere, the heads of two Government
departments, to appoint Shillibeer Inspector-General of Public
Carriages, or to give him an appointment on the Railway Department
at the Board of Trade. Unfortunately both of these applications were
unsuccessful. Mr. Gordon then applied for and obtained for Shillibeer
the promise of one of the twenty-five appointments of Receiver-General
of County Courts, which were just then being established. But once
again Shillibeer was doomed to disappointment. Mr. Gordon resigned
his position of Secretary to the Lords of the Treasury, but, before
ceasing his duties, he told Shillibeer that, if the Miscellaneous
Estimates for the year had not been made up, his name would have been
placed in them for a grant of £5000. Moreover, he promised to impress
upon his successor the necessity of seeing that Shillibeer received
his appointment and grant. He received neither. His claims were not
disputed, but unjustly ignored.
At last Shillibeer came to the conclusion that it was useless to place
reliance in Government promises. He, therefore, started business as an
undertaker, in premises adjoining Bunhill Fields Burial-ground, and the
following advertisement appeared continually in the daily papers and
elsewhere:--
“_Aux Étrangers. Pompes._
“Funèbres sur le systeme de la Compagnie Générale des Inhumations
et Pompes Funèbres à Paris. Shillibeer’s, City Road, near Finsbury
Square, où l’on parle Français. Every description of funerals, from
the most costly to the most humble, performed much lower than any
other funeral establishment. Catholic fittings from Paris. Gentlemen’s
funerals from 10 guineas. Tradesmen’s and artisans’, £8, £6, and £4.”
In a few years Shillibeer was well known as an undertaker, and gave
evidence before the Board of Health on the subject of the scheme for
extra-mural sepulture. But his success as an undertaker, which must
have been very gratifying to him after losing many thousands of pounds
as an omnibus proprietor, robbed him of posthumous fame by preventing
his name becoming as much a household word as is Hansom’s. For several
years after his pecuniary interest in omnibuses had ceased the vehicles
which he had introduced into England were called “Shillibeers” more
frequently than “Omnibuses,” but as soon as his “Shillibeer Funeral
Coaches” became well advertised, people did not like to say that
they were going for a ride in a Shillibeer, in case they might be
misunderstood. So the word “Shillibeer,” which would in time have
superseded “Omnibus,” and been spelt with a small “s,” was discarded,
and is now almost forgotten.
Shillibeer was also associated with Mr. G. A. Thrupp, the author of
“The History of the Art of Coachbuilding,” Mr. John Peters, Mr. Robson,
and Mr. Lewis Leslie in efforts to obtain a reduction of the heavy
taxes on carriages. Mr. Thrupp has described Shillibeer to me as a
big, energetic man, with a florid complexion, and brisk both in his
movements and his speech.
Shillibeer died at Brighton on August 22, 1866, aged sixty-nine, and it
is not to our credit that we have done nothing to perpetuate the memory
of one to whom we owe as delightful a form of cheap riding as could be
desired.
CHAPTER IV
Introduction of steam omnibuses--The “Autopsy,” the “Era,” and the
“Automaton”--Steam omnibuses a failure.
Some years before Shillibeer introduced omnibuses into England, a
number of experienced engineers had devoted themselves to the invention
of steam carriages, and so satisfied were they with their achievements
that they felt justified in predicting that horse-drawn vehicles
were doomed. Once more, however, we see the truth of the saying that
threatened institutions live long for the elimination of the horse is
still an event of the distant future. Sir Charles Dance, Dr. Church,
Colonel Maceroni, Messrs. Frazer, Goldsworthy Gurney, Hancock, Heaton,
Maudsley, Ogle, Redmond, John Scott Russell, Squire, and Summers were
the leading men interested in the building of steam carriages, but few
of them produced vehicles which are deserving of being remembered.
Mr. (afterwards Sir) Goldsworthy Gurney was the first to invent a
steam carriage that ran with anything like success. His “Improved
Steam Carriage”--an ordinary barouche drawn by an engine instead of
horses--accomplished some very creditable journeys, including a run
from London to Bath and back at the rate of fifteen miles an hour.
[Illustration: GURNEY’S STEAM CARRIAGE.]
The first real steam omnibuses, the “Era” and “Autopsy,” were invented
by Walter Hancock, of Stratford, and placed on the London roads
in 1833. Hancock had invented steam carriages before Shillibeer’s
omnibuses were introduced, but the “Autopsy” and the “Era” were the
first which he constructed with the idea of entering into competition
with the popular horse-drawn vehicles. The “Era” was the better omnibus
of the two, and the most flattering things were said and predicted of
it. Enthusiasts declared that omnibuses of the “Era” type would enable
passengers to be carried at a cheaper rate and greater speed than by
Shillibeer’s vehicles.
[Illustration: THE “AUTOPSY” STEAM OMNIBUS.]
The “Era” ran from Paddington to the Bank, the same route as the
horse-drawn omnibuses, and carried fourteen passengers, the fare being
sixpence all the way. It travelled at the rate of ten miles an hour,
and consumed from 8 to 12 lbs. of coke, and 100 lbs. of water per
mile. But, in spite of what the enthusiasts of the day wrote, the
“Era” was by no means a success, for it broke down continually, and
frequently a considerable time elapsed before it could resume the
journey. Our grandfathers, who took life more leisurely than we, did
not appear to be greatly annoyed at these collapses. An hour’s delay in
reaching their destination was of little consequence to those who could
afford to live in the suburbs, and as the steam omnibuses--when they
did run--were guided easily and escaped collisions, they were perfectly
satisfied, assuring themselves that in a few years, at the most, some
means would be found for making the vehicles stop only when required.
Moreover, they were a novelty, and as such were patronised for a
time. Unfortunately for Hancock, the eccentricities of the “Autopsy”
and “Era” increased as the months went on, although the two vehicles
continued to run after all the steam omnibuses by other makers had been
taken off the roads. Nevertheless, Hancock was not dispirited, and in
July, 1835, started his last, and best, steam omnibus--the “Automaton.”
This was a larger vehicle than his previous ones, being built to carry
twenty-two passengers, and to travel at an average speed of thirteen
miles an hour. On its trial trip to Romford and back, it did not,
however, succeed in attaining a better average than eleven miles an
hour. Certainly faster travelling was not desirable in London streets,
but on one occasion the “Automaton” was driven at full speed along the
Bow Road, and covered a mile at the rate of twenty-one miles an hour.
And that record run was the more remarkable as, when it was made, the
omnibus carried twenty passengers.
[Illustration: THE “ERA” STEAM OMNIBUS.]
Mr. Hancock was delighted with the working of the “Automaton,” and,
on the strength of its performance, forgot all his previous failures
and wrote light-heartedly: “Years of practice have now put all doubts
of the economy, safety, and superiority of steam travelling on common
roads at rest, when compared with horse travelling; and I have now in
preparation calculations founded upon actual practice, which, when
published, will prove that steam locomotion on common roads is not
unworthy the attention of the capitalist, though the reverse has been
disseminated rather widely of late by parties who do not desire that
this branch of improvement should prosper against the interests of
themselves.”
The “parties” referred to were the London horse-drawn omnibus
proprietors, who, according to the steam omnibus owners, indulged in
various tricks for making their rivals’ vehicles come to grief. Their
chief offence was said to be covering the roads with loose stones
some inches deep, a proceeding well calculated to injure the steam
omnibuses. Unfortunately for the steam omnibus people’s story, there
is no explanation given of how it was that their rivals were permitted
to interfere with the public roads. But how the rumour arose is easily
explained. The inventors of steam carriages had proclaimed loudly that
their vehicles would not wear out the road as quickly as ordinary
carriages, for they had wide tyres and, of course, no horses’ hoofs.
But, before long, the local authorities came to the conclusion that
the reverse was the case--that the steam carriages damaged the roads
much more quickly than horse-drawn ones did--and grew anxious to put
a stop to the increase of such vehicles. Gloucester had shown them in
1831 how that could be done. A steam carriage ran between Gloucester
and Cheltenham twice a day for three months, but when the local
authorities discovered that it was cutting up the roads, they came to
the conclusion that strong measures would have to be adopted to put an
end to the nuisance. So they strewed with loose stones nearly two feet
deep the road which the horseless vehicle traversed, and in trying to
pass over this obstruction the steam carriage was disabled.
Other towns in England and Scotland hastened to follow the example
of Gloucester, and in a few months the number of steam carriages in
Great Britain was reduced considerably. Then Parliament passed a sheaf
of local Turnpike Bills, imposing exceedingly heavy tolls upon steam
carriages, with the result that soon all such vehicles had ceased to
run in the provinces.
But no such thing as strewing the roads with loose stones was ever
adopted in London, and Hancock’s omnibuses had as fair a trial as
any reasonable being could desire. The “Automaton,” the best steam
omnibus ever built, was, unmistakably a failure, although Hancock,
by publishing some statistics of its first five months at work, gave
people the impression that it was a great success. In the 712 journeys
which it made it carried 12,761 passengers--not a remarkable number,
considering that it ran under favourable circumstances. That is to
say, that when it was found that the interest in the “Automaton” was
waning on one route, it was put immediately to another. The majority
of journeys were from the City to Islington and back, but on some
days the omnibus ran to Paddington, and on others to Stratford. One
morning, on its way to the Bank, it came into collision with a waggon
at Aldgate, and Hancock, in his report of its performances, declared
that to be the only accident worth mentioning. Apparently occasional
break-downs did not count.
[Illustration: THE “AUTOMATON” STEAM OMNIBUS.]
But the public’s patronage of the “Automaton” grew less as time
went on. People soon found that riding in horse omnibuses was far
more enjoyable. Moreover, they discovered that they were much more
reliable, the falling of a horse and a minute or two’s delay caused
thereby, being the worst that ever happened to them. The “Automaton,”
however, could not even be relied upon to start when desired.
In spite of loss of patronage, the “Automaton” dragged on its existence
until 1840, when the Turnpike Acts were enforced in London, and gave
Hancock the opportunity of discontinuing his steam omnibus and posing
as an ill-used man.
And so came to an end the first attempt to run horseless omnibuses in
London.
CHAPTER V
Some old omnibus names--Story of the “Royal Blues”--Omnibus
racing--Complaints against conductors--Passengers’ behaviour--The
well-conducted conductor--The ill-conducted conductor--The “Equirotal
Omnibus.”
While Hancock’s steam omnibuses were endeavouring to win public
support, horse omnibuses were in a very flourishing condition, and
their proprietors were opening new lines in all the chief parts of
London.
In 1837 there were fourteen omnibuses running from Blackheath to
Charing Cross; twenty-seven from Chelsea to Mile End Gate; forty-one
from Piccadilly to Blackwall; nineteen from Hampstead to Holborn,
Charing Cross, and the Bank; seventeen from the Angel, Islington, to
the Elephant and Castle; and twenty-five from Edgware Road (the spot
where Sutherland Avenue now joins Maida Vale) to the Bank. There were
also many omnibuses running into the City from Putney, Kew, Richmond,
Deptford, Greenwich, Lewisham, Holloway, Highbury, Hornsey, Highgate,
Hackney, Homerton, Clapton, Enfield, Edmonton, Peckham, Brixton,
Norwood, Kennington, Dulwich, Streatham, and elsewhere.
At that time it was the fashion to give each omnibus line a distinctive
name, and people soon understood that a “Favorite” went to Islington,
an “Eagle” to Pimlico, and so on. The chief lines were the “Favorites,”
the “Eagles,” the “Wellingtons,” the “King Williams,” the “Napoleons,”
the “Victorias,” the “Nelsons,” the “Marlboroughs,” the “Hopes,” “Les
Dames Blanches,” the “Citizens,” the “Emperors,” the “Venuses,” and
the “Marquess of Westminsters.” At the present day the “Atlases,” the
“Favorites,” the “Paragons,” the “Royal Blues,” and the “Times,” are
the only omnibuses which have names.
The “Eagles” were green omnibuses, and ran from the “Compasses,”
at Pimlico, to Blackwall, _viâ_ Piccadilly. They belonged to a Mr.
John Clark, and old ’busmen declare that one day, as an “Eagle” was
passing Hyde Park Corner, Her Majesty Queen Victoria, then unmarried,
overtook it, and by some means or other her long habit was caught by
the handle of the open door. Clark, who, so the story runs, was acting
as conductor on that occasion, released it instantly, and Her Majesty
graciously thanked him for his promptitude. In commemoration of this
incident, Clark had the omnibus painted blue, and substituted for the
word “Eagle” on the panels, the words “Royal Blue.” Moreover, he had a
picture of Her Majesty on horseback painted on the panel of the door.
After a time he called all his omnibuses on that line “Royal Blues,”
but the original “Royal Blue” was the only one that bore a picture of
the Queen.
But the first half of the above story is not correct. What really
happened is as follows:--Clark was driving one of his omnibuses by
Hyde Park Corner, when suddenly Her Majesty approached on horseback.
He endeavoured to pull out of the way, but, as the road was partially
blocked, it was not an easy thing to do. However, being an excellent
whip, he succeeded, and the Queen, who had witnessed his efforts, most
graciously bowed to him as she rode by.
For many years the picture of the Queen painted on the Royal Blue
omnibus was one of the sights pointed out to visitors to London.
Eventually, wishing to preserve the picture, Clark had it cut out of
the omnibus door and framed, and it is now in the possession of his
daughter.
The “Royal Blues,” which were among the first omnibuses sold to the
London General Omnibus Company, now run from Victoria to King’s Cross
_viâ_ Piccadilly and Bond Street.
The “Favorites” were named after a Parisian line of omnibuses called
_Les Favorites_. The drivers and conductors wore dark blue suits with
brass buttons. These omnibuses had, as at present, the word “Favorite”
painted in large letters along the panels, and an opposition proprietor
imitated them as closely as he dared by having “Favor me” painted
on the sides of his omnibus. But the most formidable rivals of the
“Favorites” were the “Hopes,” and the racing between these omnibuses
became decidedly exciting. A “Favorite” and a “Hope” would start
together from the corner opposite the Angel, and race madly down the
City Road to the Bank. But the accidents which they caused in their
wild career became so appallingly numerous that the Islington Vestry
offered a reward to any one giving such information as would lead to
the conviction of any driver. This action certainly checked the racing
proclivities of the Islington omnibus drivers, but in other parts
of London racing flourished for many years. Down the Haymarket from
Coventry Street was a favourite racing-ground. Then, as now, there was
a cab-rank in the centre of the road, and two omnibuses would race
down, one each side of it and frequently come into collision with each
other at the end. Many passengers encouraged the coachmen to race,
and when accidents occurred to the horses or omnibuses, frequently
subscribed to pay for the damage.
Some of the omnibus proprietors possessed very inferior stock, and the
horses to be seen pulling their vehicles were a disgrace to London. A
story is told of a coachman out of work who applied to one of these
proprietors for a job.
“Ever driven a ’bus before?” the proprietor asked.
“Yes, sir. I drove a Kingsland ’bus.”
“H’m. Discharged, I suppose.”
“No, sir. I left because I wanted a change.”
“How many accidents have you had?”
“None at all, sir.”
“Smart coachman! Have you let many horses down?”
“Never let one down, sir.”
“Get out of my yard,” shouted the proprietor, fiercely; “you’re no good
to me. I want a man who’s had plenty of practice at getting horses up.
Mine are always falling down.”
About this time, the latter part of the thirties, omnibus conductors
began to fall into disrepute. The chief complaints against them,
apart from their ordinary rudeness to passengers, were that when
they were wanted to stop the omnibus they were always busy talking
to the coachman along the roof, and that they banged the doors too
violently whenever a person entered or got out. Others complained of
their shouting unnecessarily, and of standing at the door gazing in
at the passengers, thereby preventing fresh air from coming in, and
polluting the atmosphere with their foul breath. Moreover, the “cads,”
as the conductors were now called, were not at all careful to keep
objectionable people out of their omnibuses, and one passenger, an
old lady, had an exciting experience. She entered an omnibus, and the
door was banged behind her in the usual nerve-shattering way. “Right
away, Bill!” the conductor shouted, and before the poor old lady had
recovered from the shock of the door slamming, the omnibus started,
and she was pitched into the far dark corner, and fell against some
men sitting there, who answered her timid apologies with an outburst
of the vilest language imaginable. The old lady, horrified at their
abuse, began to rebuke them, but stopped short, terrified, when she
discovered that her fellow-passengers were three villainous-looking
convicts, chained together and in charge of a warder. She screamed to
the conductor to stop the omnibus, but the conductor was, as usual,
talking to the driver, and did not heed her cries. Then she opened
the door to get out, and, in her excitement, fell into the road. The
conductor jumped down, picked her up, demanded the fare, and got it.
“Right away, Bill!” he shouted, and the omnibus drove on, leaving the
old lady, bruised and trembling, in the middle of the road.
While many people were complaining of the omnibus conductors’
behaviour, a large number of regular riders declared that it was but
little worse than that of many passengers, and in January, 1836, the
_Times_ published the following guide to behaviour in omnibuses:--
OMNIBUS LAW.
1. Keep your feet off the seats.
2. Do not get into a snug corner yourself, and then open the windows
to admit a northwester upon the neck of your neighbour.
3. Have your money ready when you desire to alight. If your time is
not valuable, that of others may be.
4. Do not impose on the conductor the necessity of finding you change;
he is not a banker.
5. Sit with your limbs straight, and do not let your legs describe an
angle of forty-five, thereby occupying the room of two persons.
6. Do not spit upon the straw. You are not in a hog-sty, but in an
omnibus, travelling in a country which boasts of its refinement.
7. Behave respectfully to females, and put not an unprotected lass to
the blush because she cannot escape from your brutality.
8. If you bring a dog, let him be small and confined by a string.
9. Do not introduce large parcels; an omnibus is not a van.
10. Reserve bickerings and disputes for the open field. The sound of
your own voice may be music to your own ears--not so, perhaps, to
those of your companions.
11. If you will broach politics or religion, speak with moderation;
all have an equal right to their opinions, and all have an equal right
not to have them wantonly shocked.
12. Refrain from affectation and conceited airs. Remember you are
riding a distance for sixpence which, if made in a hackney-coach,
would cost you as many shillings; and that should your pride elevate
you above plebeian accommodations, your purse should enable you to
command aristocratic indulgences.
Excellent advice, undoubtedly, and some of it might be taken to heart,
with good results, by hundreds of omnibus passengers of to-day.
As time passed, the behaviour of the conductors grew worse. This was
due chiefly to the indifference of the omnibus proprietors. If their
conductors paid in a certain amount daily, they were quite satisfied
with them, and by no means thankful to passengers who complained of
their misbehaviour. The omnibus proprietor of this period was a much
lower class of man than George Shillibeer. In most cases he himself
had been a driver or conductor, and, on becoming an employer, his
chief anxiety was to prevent his men growing rich at his expense.
Knowing from experience what an omnibus could earn in various seasons
and weather, he took every precaution possible to guard against
his men retaining as large a portion of the earnings as he himself
had pocketed when a conductor. The men who paid daily the sum he
demanded were the conductors he preferred, and these usually were the
passenger-swindling, bullying specimens, and thoroughly deserved their
name--“cads.”
In January, 1841, the _Times_ printed the following description of two
classes of conductors:--
THE WELL-CONDUCTED CONDUCTOR
1. Never bawls out “Bank--Bank--City--Bank!” because he knows that
passengers are always as much on the look-out for him as he is for
them, so that these loud and hideous shouts are quite unnecessary.
2. Never bangs the omnibus door after he has let a passenger in or
out, but makes it a rule to shut it as quietly as possible.
3. Always takes care that there are two check strings or straps
running along the roof of the omnibus, on the inside, and
communicating with the arms of the driver by two large wooden or
other rings which are easily slipped on and off.
4. Is careful also to have a direction conspicuously placed inside the
omnibus, announcing to the passengers that if they wish to be set down
on the right hand they will pull the right-hand check-string or strap,
and if they wish to be set down on the left hand they will pull the
left-hand check-string. By this arrangement the passenger is set down
exactly where he wishes to be, and all the bawling is prevented.
5. Never stands at the omnibus door staring in upon the passengers,
but sits down upon the seat provided for him outside. In this way
he knows that he gains a double advantage: he is saved the fatigue
of standing during a whole journey, and by looking backwards as the
driver looks forwards, persons who wish to ride are more easily seen
than if the driver and conductor are both looking the same way.
6. Never allows the driver to go on till the passengers are safely
seated, and always directs him to pull up close either to the right or
left hand of the street or road.
THE ILL-CONDUCTED CONDUCTOR
1. Always bawls out
“Bank--Bank--City--Bank--Bank--Bank--City--City--Bank--Bank--Bank!” by
which disgusting noise his own lungs are injured, the public peace is
disturbed, and not any advantage gained.
2. Always bangs the door so violently that if you are sitting next the
door you are likely to be deafened for life.
3. Never provides any check-string, but compels the passengers who
want to be set down to use their sticks, canes, and umbrellas, and
loud shouts into the bargain, thereby creating a most intolerable
nuisance.
4. Always takes up and sets down his passengers in the middle of the
street; by which rudeness they are sometimes bespattered with mud and
always exposed to danger.
5. Always stands at the door of the omnibus staring in upon the
passengers, particularly after he has been eating his dinner of
beefsteak, strong onions, and stale beer; and generally has some cad
or other crony standing and talking with him. The air that would
otherwise circulate through the omnibus, in the way of ventilation, is
obstructed and poisoned.
6. Always bawls out “All right!” before the passengers have taken
their seats, by which gross carelessness great inconvenience and even
danger are often occasioned.
But it was not only of the drivers and conductors that the public
complained. The officials at the inquiry offices stationed at the
starting-point of each line, were denounced as being utterly unfitted
for the positions they occupied. All were rude, and most of them
possessed but little intelligence. One afternoon, about twenty minutes
past four, a gentleman entered the omnibus office at the George and
Blue Boar, Holborn, and inquired of the clerk whether omnibuses started
from there to a certain railway-station.
“Yes,” was the reply.
“At what hours?”
“One hour before each train.”
“Then I’m just in time to catch the 5.30 one.”
“It’s all down in writing on that there board.”
The traveller turned to the board, and, finding the 5.30 train entered
upon it, went out into the street to await the arrival of the omnibus.
But after pacing up and down for a quarter of an hour, and seeing no
sign of a conveyance, he returned to the office and enquired when it
would arrive.
“It’s gone,” the official said.
“Then it didn’t start from here,” the traveller declared. “I’ve been
waiting outside since twenty past four.”
“What train do you want to catch?”
“The half-past five, to be sure. I told you so.”
“Oh, we ain’t got no omnibus to catch that train.”
“But, man, you said that you had one to each train.”
“I told you it was all down in writing on that there board, and
you ought to have seen for yourself there ain’t no omnibus for the
half-past five.”
The traveller again turned to the board, and after glancing at it,
declared angrily, “There’s nothing of the kind stated here!”
The official pointed to a small cross against the 5.30 train, and said
triumphantly, “This here mark means there ain’t no omnibus.”
“Well, how was I to know that?”
“Most gentlemen, when they sees it, asks me what the deuce it means,
and I tells them.”
“But what do the others do?”
The clerk did not condescend to answer, but took out his pocket-knife
and busied himself in peeling an apple.
While the public was busily denouncing the behaviour of ’busmen, a
quaint vehicle, named the “equirotal omnibus,” was placed on the
streets. The inventor, Mr. W. B. Adams, maintained that all vehicles
should have four large wheels, instead of two large and two small, and
his omnibus was constructed on that principle. It was built in two
parts, which were joined together in the middle by a flexible leather
passage, to enable it to turn easily. “It will turn with facility
in the narrowest streets, without impeding the passage along the
interior,” Mr. Adams declared, “as the flexible sides move in a circle.
With this omnibus two horses will do the work of three; there will be
great facility of access and egress; perfect command over the horses;
increased ease to the passengers; greater head-room and more perfect
ventilation; greater general durability and absence of the usual
rattling noise, accompanied by entire safety against overturning.”
In spite of Mr. Adams’s recommendation, the “equirotal omnibus” did not
become popular, and had but a short career.
[Illustration: ADAMS’S EQUIROTAL OMNIBUS.]
CHAPTER VI
Twopenny fares introduced--The first omnibus with
advertisements--Penny fares tried--Omnibus improvements--Longitudinal
seats objected to by the police--Omnibus associations--Newspapers
on the “Favorites”--Foreigners in omnibuses--Fat and thin
passengers--Thomas Tilling starts the “Times” omnibuses--Mr. Tilling
at the Derby--Tilling’s gallery of photographs.
On October 21, 1846, a line of omnibuses was started from Paddington
to Hungerford Market, Charing Cross, with twopenny fares for short
distances. Hitherto the lowest fare had been fourpence. In the same
year advertisements appeared for the first time in an omnibus.
Mr. Frederick Marriott, of 335, Strand, who started the practice,
registered an omnibus, with advertisements displayed on the roof
inside, as an article of utility with the title of a “publicity
omnibus.” Possibly Mr. Marriott--who traded under the name of The
Omnibus Publicity Company--reaped little profit from his idea, which
was scarcely one that could be protected, but omnibus proprietors are
deeply indebted to him, for advertisements are as necessary to them
as they are to newspaper and magazine proprietors. Nevertheless, an
important newspaper made an amusing slip some years ago about omnibus
advertisements. A money-lender advertised in certain omnibuses, and
the newspaper in question, becoming aware of the fact, made some very
strong remarks concerning the proprietor’s conduct in permitting such
advertisements to appear. The omnibus proprietor wrote at once to the
Editor, pointing out the inconsistency of his paper, which censured
him on one page for publishing a money-lender’s advertisement, and
contained, on another, four advertisements of a similar nature. This
letter was not published, and nothing more was said on either side.
Penny fares were introduced in 1849 by some omnibuses running from
the Bank to Mile End. For a penny a passenger could ride the whole
distance. These omnibuses had but a brief career.
In 1850 several attempts were made to improve the style of omnibuses,
with the result that in January, 1851, the knife-board omnibus became
general. It was not, however, like the knife-board omnibuses which we
still see occasionally, for it carried only nine outside passengers.
Two sat on either side of the coachman, and the other five on an
uncomfortable seat, about a foot high, running the length of the
omnibus. They climbed up at the back on the right-hand side of the
door, and sat with their faces to the road. There were no seats on
the near side, but occasionally, when passengers were numerous, the
conductor would permit men to sit there, with their legs dangling down,
over a little rail, in front of the windows. But he always extracted
a promise from such passengers that if they smashed the windows they
would pay for them. That was a very necessary precaution, as the glass
was not of the substantial description now in use.
[Illustration: A KNIFE-BOARD OMNIBUS.]
These new outside seats were very popular with the public, but the
police objected to them, on the ground that the climbing up to them
was dangerous. The police were undoubtedly in the right, as many
accidents testified later, and when they summoned Mrs. Sophia Gaywood
for having such seats on the roof of one of her Bayswater omnibuses,
they obtained a conviction. But Mrs. Gaywood, like most ladies who
have been omnibus proprietors, before and since her time, was rather
fond of litigation, and appealed against the conviction. Mr. Wilson of
Islington, and other leading omnibus proprietors, gave evidence in her
favour, and finally the appeal was allowed and the conviction quashed.
On March 13, 1851, a new patent omnibus was placed on the Bayswater
and Charing Cross road. Each passenger had a seat entirely to himself,
and every seat was shut off and as secluded as a private box at the
theatre. But its career was short. So was that of the London Conveyance
Company, which ran omnibuses to the Bank, _viâ_ Holborn. This Company’s
vehicles had the initials L.C.C. painted on them, but not in such large
letters as the London County Council have on their omnibuses.
In October of the same year a meeting of London omnibus proprietors
was held at the Duke of Wellington, Bathurst Street, Argyle Square,
to consider a suggestion made by Mr. Crawford, the originator of the
Hungerford and Camden Town Association--now known as the Camden Town
Association--for choosing and working new routes at cheap fares.
The Hungerford and Camden Town Association, and one or two similar
bodies, had come into existence a few years previously through the
omnibus proprietors arriving at the conclusion that it would be more
remunerative to cease their fierce struggles one with another, and
to work harmoniously together. They ran their omnibuses at regular
intervals, and the coachmen and conductors were strictly ordered to
keep their time. It was an excellent idea, although it afforded little
satisfaction to lawyers, many of whom had grown prosperous on the
quarrels of omnibus proprietors.
But a reduction in legal expenses was by no means the only saving
effected by the amalgamation. Office and management expenses were
reduced considerably. The conductors, instead of being engaged by the
various proprietors, were now employed and controlled by the secretary
of the Association.
At the meeting at the Duke of Wellington new lines were decided upon,
the most important one being from Bayswater to the Bank--fourpence
all the way, with intermediate twopenny fares. Twenty omnibuses, the
majority built by Messrs. Rock and Gowar, were placed on that road,
and were successful from the day of starting. The Associations now in
existence are--
Atlas and Waterloo Omnibus Association.
Camden Town ” ”
John Bull ” ”
King’s Cross and Barnsbury Omnibus Association.
King’s Cross and Victoria Omnibus Association.
Victoria Station Omnibus Association.
Westminster ” ”
Nearly all of the above were in existence before the London General
Omnibus Company was started. The Atlas and Waterloo is the largest of
the Associations, and its omnibuses run as far south as Gipsy Hill
and north as Finchley. Moreover, it claims, and its claim cannot be
disputed, to have the prettiest omnibus route in London. That route is
from Oxford Circus to Hendon, _viâ_ Finchley Road, Child’s Hill and
Golder’s Green.
[Illustration: OMNIBUS BUILT BY ROCK AND GOWAR.]
The chief proprietors having omnibuses in some, or all, of the above
Associations are: The London General Omnibus Co., Ltd.; The Star
Omnibus Co., London, Ltd.; The Associated Omnibus Co., Ltd.; The
London Omnibus Carriage Co., Ltd.; Thos. Tilling, Ltd.; Birch Bros.,
Ltd.; and Messrs. Cane, Clinch, French, Glover, and Hearn. The
Associated Omnibus Co., Ltd., was formed last year to acquire and carry
on the businesses of The Omnibus Proprietors, Ltd., Mr. John Watkins
and Mr. P. Willing Tibbs.
The London Road Car Company, Ltd., and Messrs. Balls Bros, work in
friendly opposition to the above Associations.
The “times” in these Associations are very valuable, and when any
are placed on the market--which rarely happens--they are snapped
up immediately. Until he has bought his “times,” no proprietor is
recognized in the omnibus business.
In November, 1851, newspapers were placed in the “Favorite” omnibuses
for the convenience of passengers. A rack was fixed at the end opposite
the door, with a printed notice beneath, asking passengers to replace
the papers when done with, and put a penny in the money-box provided
for that purpose. It was soon seen that the British public had not
changed, in the matter of forgetfulness, since Shillibeer and Cloud’s
omnibus days. The passengers were continually taking papers away with
them, and it was very rarely that the money-box was found to contain
anything more valuable than buttons.
In the year of the Great Exhibition, when London was crowded with
foreigners, the number of omnibuses was increased considerably; but
there were not too many, and proprietors and conductors grew rich in a
few months. Many of the conductors fared better than their masters, and
when the Exhibition was at an end settled down to some other business
with a comfortable sum in hand to give them a good start. Of course,
the conductors did not obtain the money in a legitimate manner. The
way in which they did obtain it is, however, no secret. Every morning,
before starting work, they provided themselves with a quantity of
pence, half-pence, and small pieces of silver, for change. Then their
chief aim was to fill their omnibuses with foreigners, and give them
wrong change when they alighted. If a foreigner gave one of those
conductors half a crown for a four-penny fare, the latter would count
out two sixpences and four half-pence, put them in the man’s hand,
shout out “Right away, Bill!” jump on the step and drive off, leaving
the poor fellow puzzling his brain to understand the change. On other
occasions the conductor would tell the foreigners that they had reached
their destination before they had gone half-way, and the unsuspecting
aliens would get out, paying the full fare without a murmur.
Quarrels among the passengers were of everyday occurrence, and the
cause of the discord was, almost invariably, the windows. There were
usually five windows on each side of the omnibus, which could be opened
or closed according to the passenger’s fancy. An arrangement better
calculated to breed discord could scarcely have been made. The quarrels
concerning them were usually somewhat ludicrous--from the fact that
the ten windows rattled fearfully, compelling the disputants to yell
at each other to make themselves heard. One day a Frenchman and an
Italian chanced to be sitting side by side in an omnibus. The Italian
pulled up a window just behind them. The Frenchman promptly, and
indignantly, lowered it. The Italian excitedly pulled it up again, and
this ding-dong performance was continued for some little time, greatly
to the amusement of the other passengers. At last, the Frenchman grew
desperate, and shattered the glass with his elbow, exclaiming, “Now,
Monsieur, you can have ze window up if you likes!”
Many Londoners objected strongly to the overcrowding of omnibuses
during the time of the Exhibition, and some, who knew the law, insisted
upon having their proper amount of space, no matter who suffered in
consequence. The law had declared that every passenger was entitled
to sixteen inches of room on the seat; that he might measure it, and
any person hindering him from doing so was liable to a penalty of £5.
Consequently, many cantankerous people carried yard-measures in their
pockets, and insisted upon having their full space. Certainly, sixteen
inches is not much room for any man or woman, and a large proportion
of the passengers could not possibly squeeze themselves into it; and,
because of their inability to do so, quarrels between thin and stout
people were of everyday occurrence.
In the year of the Great Exhibition was started the first of
Tilling’s omnibuses. There have been many English proprietors who
have conducted their businesses successfully and honourably, but none
came so prominently before the public as George Shillibeer and Thomas
Tilling. Both men had interesting careers, but there the similarity
ends. Shillibeer, if not a rich man, was very well-to-do when he
started his famous omnibuses, and yet he was driven at last into the
bankruptcy court, and finished his omnibus career under a financial
cloud. Tilling, however, began work without capital, and with but one
solitary horse for his stock-in-trade, yet by hard work he achieved
success and built up the large business so well known to all Londoners.
By 1851, four years after his modest start, he had prospered to an
extent which enabled him to put on the road his first omnibus. It was
called the “Times,” and ran from Peckham to Oxford Circus. At the
present day there are some twenty-four “Times” omnibuses on that road.
Tilling’s “Times” are excellently horsed, and share with the John Bull
Association’s omnibuses the honour of being the fastest travelling
omnibuses in London. Tilling’s four-horsed “Times” doing its first
morning journey to the West End is the most picturesque omnibus sight
in England.
[Illustration: TILLING’S FOUR-HORSE “TIMES.”]
When the first “Times” had proved a success, Mr. Tilling started
omnibuses on other roads, and before many years had elapsed there
was no name better known to South Londoners than his. At that period
it was the morning custom of South London omnibuses to go round the
streets, in the district from which they started, to pick up their
regular riders at their houses; but Mr. Tilling would not conform to
this practice. He made it known that his omnibuses would not collect
passengers, but would start from a certain place at a stated time, and
people understood that if they wanted to travel by them they would have
to go to the starting-place.
Mr. Tilling was by no means an omnibus proprietor only. Before he had
been established many years he was the owner of coaches, cabs, wedding
carriages, and, in short, carried on the ordinary business of a job
master. On Derby Day he had, usually, as many as two hundred horses on
the course, and although he was present at Epsom thirty consecutive
years, he had always so much to attend to that he never once saw the
great race run. In fact, on one occasion, when he got back to Peckham,
he surprised his chief clerk, who had been in the office all day, by
asking what horse had won. After that it need scarcely be said that
Mr. Tilling did not indulge in betting. Indeed, betting and swearing
were practices which he would not tolerate among his men, although he
was one of the most considerate employers that ever lived. Unspoiled
by success, unostentatiously charitable and simple in his tastes, he
was held in the highest esteem by every man in his employ, and when he
died, in 1893, the loss was felt by each of them to be a personal one.
There exists, at Messrs. Tilling’s chief offices, a good-sized room
containing a pleasing testimony to the interest which the founder of
the firm took in his employees. Mr. Tilling, many years ago, ordered
that a photograph should be taken, and hung in that room, of every man
who had been in his employ for twenty years. As other men completed
their twenty years’ service their photographs were taken and added to
the collection, and now--for the practice is still maintained--the
walls are covered with them.
Many of the men whose photographs adorn the room have been in the
Tillings’ employ for nearly half a century. One of their “Times”
coachmen, whose face is very familiar to frequenters of Regent Street,
has driven an omnibus through that thoroughfare for over forty years.
His brother has been in the same employ for a still longer period. The
office also has its representatives of long service, one gentleman
having been engaged there nearly forty years.
Mr. Tilling, as already stated, began business with one horse, but
the limited liability company which bears his name has now a stud of
over four thousand, and possesses one hundred and sixty omnibuses. The
horse with which Mr. Tilling started business was a grey, and for many
years, in fact until he was compelled by his customers’ requirements
to break the rule, he would purchase no horses that were not of that
colour.
CHAPTER VII
Compagnie Générale des Omnibus de Londres formed--The London General
Omnibus Company starts work--Businesses purchased by the Company--It
offers a prize of £100 for the best design of an omnibus--The
knife-board omnibus introduced--Correspondence system tried--Packets
of tickets sold--Yellow wheels--The L.G.O.C. becomes an English
Limited Liability Company--The first board of directors--Present
position of the Company--The Omnibus: a satire--The Omnibus: a play.
In 1855 the most important event in the history of English omnibuses
occurred, for on December 4 of that year a “Société en Commandite”
was established in Paris with the title of the “Compagnie Générale
des Omnibus de Londres,” for the purpose of running omnibuses in
London and its suburbs. The directors of this Society, or Company,
were sufficiently astute to refrain from making it known to the London
public that the enterprise was a French one. They chose an English
name for public use, and the earliest notices of their contemplated
operations were headed the “London Omnibus Company.” Apparently they
were unaware that a company of that name had existed and come to a
disappointing end, but doubtless this was intimated to them, for the
name was changed speedily--before they started work--to the “London
General Omnibus Company.” Moreover, as the first managers of the
company were well-known London omnibus proprietors, there was nothing
to make the public suspect that the company was not an English one.
Monday, January 7, 1856, was the day selected by the London
General Omnibus Company for taking over and beginning to work the
old-established businesses which they had purchased. On that morning
Wilson’s Islington and Holloway “Favorites” came out of the yards with
“London General Omnibus Company” painted on them. The company could
not possibly have started work under more auspicious circumstances,
for Mr. Wilson was the largest omnibus proprietor in London, and his
vehicles, which were known all over the Metropolis, had the reputation
of being exceedingly well conducted. The property which Wilson sold
to the Company consisted of fifty omnibuses and five hundred horses,
and his employees, numbering about one hundred and eighty men, passed
into the service of the new Company. On the same day Mr. Leonard
Willing and his partners--the former the oldest omnibus proprietor in
London--transferred to the Company the Stoke Newington, Kingsland and
Dalston lines, consisting of twenty-two omnibuses, two hundred horses,
and seventy men.
In a few days several other lines passed into the hands of the Company,
making it the owner of one hundred and ninety-eight vehicles and
nineteen hundred and forty horses, and the employer of six hundred
and seventy men. Of the vehicles purchased seven were four-horse
mails, five running to Woodford and two to Barnet. The Company had
hoped to start work with five hundred omnibuses, but many of the
well-established proprietors could not be persuaded to sell their
businesses, and consequently the London General Omnibus Company had to
be content, for a time, with three hundred.
The proprietors who did dispose of their businesses, and retired
altogether from omnibus proprietorship were: Messrs. Bennet, Breach,
Chancellor, Clark, Forge, Fox, Hartley, Hawtrey, Hinckley, Horne, Hunt,
Johnson, Kerrison, Macnamara, Martin, Proome, Roads, Seale, Smith,
Webb, Westropp, Williams, Willing, Wilson, and Woodford.
One of the Company’s first concerns was to obtain an improved omnibus,
and with that end in view the directors offered a prize of £100 for the
best plan of one suited to their requirements. There were seventy-four
competitors, and the results of their efforts were displayed, in
February, 1856, at the Company’s office, 454, Strand. The two best
plans were sent in respectively by Mr. R. F. Miller and Mr. Wilson, but
the judges, Messrs. George Godwin, Joseph Wright, and Charles Manby,
were by no means pleased with the work submitted to them, and reported
to the directors:--
“We have first to express our regret that although many of the
propositions display considerable ingenuity and offer here and there
improvements, we do not find any one design of supereminent merit, or
calculated in its present shape to afford that increased amount of
comfort and accommodation your company, with praiseworthy foresight,
desires to give the public, and which, moreover, will doubtless be
looked for at your hands.
“Inasmuch, however, as we are required to select one of the designs
as the best of those submitted, considered with regard to your
stipulations and wants, we beg leave to point out the design No. 64
sent in by Mr. Miller, of Hammersmith. Inquiry of Mr. Miller, and the
examination of a full-sized omnibus built by him (after arriving at
this determination) have shown us that if his intentions were more
completely expressed in his drawing than is the case, the design would
be more worthy of the premium.
“We must repeat that we find no design that we can recommend for
adoption intact, or which, to speak truly, is worth the premium
offered; but there are points about some of them which, being combined,
would aid in producing what you and the public desire--a light,
commodious, and well-ventilated omnibus.
“GEORGE GODWIN,
“JOSEPH WRIGHT,
“CHARLES MANBY.”
Mr. Miller was awarded the prize, but the directors, acting on the
advice contained in the judges’ report, had their new omnibuses
built from a design which combined the best suggestions of several
competitors.
In 1857 further improvements were made in the construction of
omnibuses, the most important being the placing of five more seats on
the roof, thereby making accommodation for fourteen outside passengers.
These seats were placed on the near side, and made the “knife-board”
omnibus, which has now almost entirely disappeared from London streets,
but may be found passing the eventide of its existence in sleepy
country towns and populous watering-places.
Before the London General Omnibus Company was a year old it introduced
the system of “correspondence,” which in Paris had proved profitable to
the proprietors and convenient to the public. It was the Company’s idea
that a passenger might be able to travel from any part of London to
another for sixpence. The passenger would get into the omnibus starting
from the neighbourhood in which he resided and ride in it until another
of the Company’s omnibuses, going in the direction he wished to travel,
crossed the road, when he would change into it. By that arrangement
people were able to ride from Bow to Hammersmith or from Starch Green
to Peckham for sixpence--a tremendous ride for the price, and cheaper
than it is at the present day.
The London General Omnibus Company was now increasing rapidly, by
purchase and by starting new lines, the number of its omnibuses,
and in November, 1857, when the “correspondence” system was at its
height, it possessed five hundred and ninety-five on the roads. For
these omnibuses, with horses, harness, and good will, the Company
paid £400,000--nearly £700 per omnibus. With an increased number of
omnibuses the advantages of “corresponding” became greater, and upwards
of four thousand people daily showed their appreciation of the system
by “corresponding” at the Company’s offices opened for that purpose in
Oxford Circus, Cheapside, and Bishopsgate. “The system is only in its
infancy,” the directors declared at that period, and promised that it
would be improved greatly. Difficulties, however, arose in the working
of the system, which, after a time, was discontinued, never to be tried
again.
While the London General Omnibus Company was giving the
“correspondence” system a trial, it was making other attempts to win
the favour of the public. On the first day of 1857 it began the sale
of packets of omnibus tickets, allowing a reduction of ten per cent, on
every purchase of £1, and so greatly was this innovation appreciated
that on the inauguration day ten thousand tickets were sold at the
Company’s Strand office alone. Later the sales increased considerably,
and many linen-drapers in a large way of business purchased thousands
of tickets at a time, and retailed them to their customers at a reduced
rate. To ladies whose purchases reached a certain sum they presented
tickets free of charge.
Evidently the directors found, after a time, that the practice
of selling tickets was not sufficiently remunerative, for it was
discontinued. The directors were astute men of business, and while they
neglected nothing that would conduce to the efficiency of their service
and the comfort of their patrons, they made a number of alterations
which reduced to a considerable extent the working expenses of their
omnibuses. One of these alterations caused a complete revolution in
the colour of omnibus wheels. When the Company started work, omnibus
wheels were painted the same colour as the body of the vehicles, and
consequently it was necessary to keep a stock of red, blue, green,
brown, white, yellow, and chocolate wheels. The directors, however,
soon came to the conclusion that if all the wheels were painted one
colour it would not be necessary to keep so large a stock in reserve.
Therefore they had the wheels of all their omnibuses painted yellow,
and the other proprietors, seeing the convenience and saving to be
derived from such an arrangement, followed their example, and to-day
nearly every omnibus in London, with the exception of those belonging
to the railway companies, has yellow wheels.
In the autumn of 1858 it was decided to convert the “Compagnie
Générale des Omnibus de Londres” into an English Limited Liability
Company, and for that purpose the French Society was dissolved and
the London General Omnibus Company, Limited, started to take over
its property, good will, existing engagements and liabilities. The
latter was registered on November 16, 1858, as a Limited Liability
Company, with a nominal capital of £700,000, divided into 175,000
shares of £4 each. The head office of the Company was, of course, in
London--454, Strand--but a branch office was opened in Paris, where
French shareholders could obtain any information which they required,
and where a duplicate transfer-book was kept for the registering of
transfers of shares held in France. The number of directors was to be
not more than twelve nor less than nine, and at least four of them were
to be Frenchmen. The first Board of Directors of the London General
Omnibus Company, Limited, was constituted as follows:--
Anthony Nicholas Armani, Esq.
M. Felix Carteret.
Edwin Chadwick, Esq., C.B.
William Halliday Cosway, Esq.
William Stratford Dugdale, Esq.
M. le Comte de Lantivy.
Arthur Macnamara, Esq.
William Sheldon, Esq.
Reginald Thornton, Esq.
M. François Frederic Toché.
M. Antoine Vacossin.
James Willing, Esq.
In his early days Mr. Willing was a man of many businesses. Among other
things he was the owner of several toll-gates, the proprietor of many
omnibuses, and an advertising contractor. One day he would be found
standing at a toll-gate, collecting money from passing vehicles, and
the following one he would be seen driving an omnibus. While acting
as a ’bus driver he was able to keep a sharp eye on his advertising
business, and was frequently annoyed to see that his bills, which were
being posted as he drove Citywards, were covered by other people’s
bills when he returned an hour or two later. To put a stop to that
annoyance he started the protected hoardings, which are now so numerous
throughout the land.
At the present time there are only two French directors of the London
General Omnibus Company, the number of shareholders resident in France
having decreased to seven hundred. The office in Paris is still
maintained. The number of English shareholders is seventeen hundred.
From the day that the London General Omnibus Company became an English
concern, it has enjoyed almost unbroken prosperity. During the
half-year ending June 30, 1901, 101,109,572 passengers were carried
by its 1373 omnibuses, which ran 15,965,602 miles. The number of
horses which it possessed was 16,714. The oats, maize, beans, and peas
consumed by the company’s horses in six months weighed 25,299 tons.
The Company builds its own omnibuses at its works at Highbury. Its
stables are dotted all over London, and some of the newly erected ones
are enormous places. Those at Dollis Hill, which accommodate over six
hundred horses, are at present surrounded by fields, and so far away
from public-houses and other delights of London civilization, that the
’busmen, in disgust, have named it “Klondyke.”
From “Klondyke” and many other omnibus stables, a large number of
horses have been sent to the seat of war in South Africa. Some time
ago the Government made an arrangement with various omnibus companies
for the purchase of a certain number of horses in time of war. For
each horse the Government pays, in time of peace, 10_s._ per annum.
The average price paid for each horse claimed for active service was
£60. The horses taken were well seasoned and accustomed to hard work.
The sudden requisitioning of many hundreds of their best animals
caused the various omnibus companies considerable inconvenience. The
daily journeys of many of their omnibuses were reduced in number, and
coachmen and conductors were consequently unable to earn their usual
wages.
[Illustration: RICHMOND CONVEYANCE COMPANY OMNIBUS.]
Two years after the formation of the London General Omnibus Company
there were about 1200 omnibuses in London, only a small proportion
of which worked on Sundays. On the majority of roads they ran on
week-days at intervals of five minutes, the fares being, in most
cases, from twopence to ninepence. Many of the omnibus lines in
existence at that time have been altered or curtailed in consequence
of railway competition. Among these are the following long-distance
routes:--Stratford and Oxford Street, Brentford and St. Paul’s,
Greenwich and Charing Cross, Richmond, Kew and Bank, Finchley and
Bank, Angel and Hampton Court. The Richmond Conveyance Company had
some excellent omnibuses, which ran from Richmond to the Bank, _viâ_
Mortlake, Barnes, Hammersmith, and Piccadilly. They were built by Mr.
H. Gray of Blackfriars.
[Illustration: RICHMOND CONVEYANCE COMPANY OMNIBUS. END VIEW.]
In the early sixties it began to be recognized that, for men, the best
way to see London was from the top of an omnibus. An anonymous poet
published, in 1865, a satire on life seen from an omnibus roof. It was
entitled “The Omnibus.” Here are a few lines from it--
“August four-wheeler! Rolling Paradise!
Thou Juggernaut to dawdling men and mice!
Thou blissful refuge to the footsore cit!
Thou boast of science and inventive wit!
To thee, in pride careering o’er the stones,
The homeward labourer drags his weary bones.
The burdened porter, staggering on the road,
Climbs up thy hulk and there forgets his load.
For thee the merchant his dull desk forsakes,
And leaves Cornhill to night, and thieves, and rakes.
The lover finds thee pensioner of bliss,--
By thee he speeds to reap the promised kiss.
On thy ‘outside,’ no muff can plead his qualms,
And us forbid to colour our meerschaums;
Thy ramparts hold we by an ancient lease,
And there unchallenged, smoke the pipe of peace.
All hail! thou kindest gift of human sense!
Thou envy of the wretch--who lacks three-pence!
All hail! thou huge, earth-born leviathan!
Thou rattling, rambling, two-horse caravan!
Thou dry-land ship, breasting in scorn the waves
Of traffic’s whirlpool that round Cheapside raves.
Behind thee, competition lies,
And jealousy but breathes a curse and dies.
Poor Francis Train just hissed at thee his spite,
Then, with his ‘Tramways’ sank in endless night;
And jobbing railways, near thy presence found,
Smitten with shame, hide, fuming ‘Under-ground.’
Though trampled curs may curse thee with a bark,
And godless cabmen call thee--‘Noah’s Ark;’
Majestic vehicle! much slandered friend,
To lowest Tophet we their libels send,
And chaunt thy praises to the City’s end.
An eighth world-wonder thine arrival bodes,
Thou greatest, best, Colossus of our roads.”
Some years prior to the publication of the above satire, a farcical
comedy, entitled “The Omnibus,” had been produced at the Theatre Royal,
Covent Garden. A man and his wife, seeking rural quietude, take a
house in a charming suburb, only to find that omnibuses run to it from
London. Nearly every omnibus brings them a load of visitors, who drive
the poor man to distraction.
CHAPTER VIII
The opening of Holborn Viaduct--An omnibus is the first vehicle to
cross it--“Viaduct Tommy”--Skid-men.
After a frost or a slight fall of rain, asphalted Victoria Street
and Tottenham-court Road, innocent of sand until many poor horses
have slipped and fallen and struggled and strained to rise again, are
a saddening sight to horse-lovers. But those, and other notorious
streets, at their worst never present such a sight as was witnessed
daily on Holborn Hill in the first half of the 19th century. It was a
cruel, heart-breaking hill for horses to climb, and people who lived
on the spot declared that from morning until night, in all weathers,
piteous sights were always to be seen. Year after year the cruelty
of compelling horses to pull heavily-laden vehicles up the hill
was denounced by hundreds of Londoners, and, eventually, the City
Corporation put an end to the pitiful sight by building the Holborn
Valley Viaduct. The chief stone was laid by Mr. Thomas Henry Fry,
chairman of the Improvement Committee of the Corporation, on June 3,
1867, and on Saturday, November 6, 1869, the Viaduct was opened by
Queen Victoria, who came, accompanied by Princess Louise, straight from
Blackfriars Bridge, where she had just performed a similar ceremony. In
spite of the weather, which threatened at first to be a repetition of
the previous day, when London was enveloped in a fog, the crowd was the
largest which had ever assembled to greet Her Majesty. On the Viaduct,
the tiers of seats erected on either side were filled with a brilliant
gathering invited by the Corporation. After the Queen had opened the
bridge and departed, and the Corporation’s guests had dispersed, the
work of clearing away the stands and preparing for the real opening to
the public was begun.
Punctually at nine on Monday morning the barrier across the roadway was
removed, and at once there was a rush of vehicles whose drivers were
eager for the honour of being first across the Viaduct. Thomas Grayson,
driving one of the London General Omnibus Company’s “City-Atlas”
omnibuses, whipped up his horses and won an exciting race amidst
the enthusiastic cheers of his passengers. In commemoration of this
event, Grayson’s regular riders presented him with a new whip, on the
handle of which was inscribed the occasion of its presentation. Some
of the riders, proud of having been present on the memorable morning,
expressed a wish to have a photograph of the omnibus, and Grayson had
one taken. In it he is to be seen sitting upright on the box, holding
the presentation whip in his hand and driving the pair of horses with
which he won the race. Grayson had a large number of copies of this
photograph printed, with the following record on the back of each:--
First over the Holborn Viaduct,
On November 8, 1869,
at 9 a.m.
Copies may be had of the Driver,
THOMAS GRAYSON,
1, Victoria Place,
Kilburn.
These photographs Grayson offered for sale at sixpence a copy, and the
whole stock was soon purchased by the St. John’s Wood people--to whom
he was already well known--and his fellow ’busmen. The latter promptly
and unanimously dubbed him “Viaduct Tommy,” and by that name he was
known as long as he lived. No London omnibus driver was ever so well
known as “Viaduct Tommy” became, for, as he drove along the streets,
quite conscious that he was a public character, other ’bus drivers
would say to the passengers sitting beside them, “That’s ‘Viaduct
Tommy,’” and the story of his achievement would follow.
[Illustration: THE FIRST VEHICLE TO CROSS HOLBORN VIADUCT.]
“Viaduct Tommy” continued to drive an omnibus for about a score of
years after he became famous, and when, at last, he retired he was not
forgotten. The people in the neighbourhood where he resided, during the
latter years of his life, took pride in pointing him out to strangers,
many of whom, when they heard the story, went up to the old man and
had a chat with him about the great event of his life.
Every innovation for the public good ruins a few people who prospered
under the old order of things, and the building of Holborn Viaduct was
no exception to the rule. A number of men had for years made a living
by putting the skids on vehicles before they started down the hill, and
one of them, who was largely patronised by omnibus men, earned every
day between twelve and fifteen shillings. But when the Viaduct was
opened their occupation was gone.
CHAPTER IX
A new Company--The London and District Omnibus Company--The London
Road Car Company, Limited--Its first omnibuses--The garden seats--The
flag and its meaning--Foreigners’ idea of it--Ticket system--The great
strike--The London Co-operative Omnibus Company--Mr. Jenkins and
advertisements--The Street Traffic Bill--Outside lamps.
In May, 1878, several influential City men came to the conclusion
that there was an opening in London for a new omnibus company, and,
believing that the venture would be very profitable, they decided
to start one. Remembering, perhaps, where Shillibeer and the London
General Omnibus Company received their inspiration, the promoters
deputed one of their number to visit Paris, to inspect the omnibuses
at work in that city and to take particular notice of the new vehicles
being displayed at the Exhibition by the Paris Omnibus Company.
After a stay at Paris, this gentleman proceeded to other Continental
capitals, and made himself acquainted with the latest improvements
in the omnibuses at work in those cities. On his return to London,
with a stock of useful ideas, the formation of the new London company
was proceeded with at once. The prospectus was drawn up, Memorandum
and Articles of Association were prepared, a Board was formed, and
everything was proceeding satisfactorily, when quarrels broke out among
the proposed Directors. One of them was the owner of a patent omnibus,
and proprietorship invested it, in his eyes, with an excellence and
superiority over all other omnibuses which his colleagues could not
perceive. They refused his request to make this patent omnibus the
vehicle of the new company, and that was the cause of the first
quarrel. The second, which followed it closely, was also of a personal
nature, one man being convinced that he was the best qualified of
the Board to become Managing Director, while the others expressed
quite a contrary opinion. The result of these quarrels was that the
scheme for a new London omnibus company was withdrawn, and not brought
forward again until two years had elapsed. Everything went smoothly
at the second attempt, and on August 3, 1880, the London and District
Omnibus Company, Limited, was incorporated, under the Companies
Act, with a capital of £200,000, divided into 20,000 shares of £10
each. On April 7, 1881, the name of the Company was changed to the
London Road Car Company, Limited. Six days later the Company began
work in a very modest way with three omnibuses, which ran between
Hammersmith and Victoria. These omnibuses, all drawn by three horses,
were very different from those which the Company now possesses, and in
appearance were rather ungainly. The front wheels were very small, and
the back ones large. There was no door, or staircase, at the back of
the omnibus, and all passengers had to get on the vehicle just behind
the coachman. It was found, however, that many accidents occurred
to passengers whilst entering and alighting, and, consequently, an
alteration was decided upon. The omnibus was turned right about, the
back being made the front. The old wheels, which had a crank action,
were removed, and ordinary ones substituted. The coachman was promoted
to a seat on top of the omnibus, but the door remained unaltered. The
steps were considerably improved.
The Company now possesses 455 omnibuses, or “cars,” as it prefers to
call them, and a stud of 5206 horses, not including those used in the
Jobbing Department.
[Illustration: THE LONDON ROAD CAR COMPANY’S FIRST OMNIBUS.]
In the matter of outside accommodation for passengers, the improved
omnibuses of the London Road Car Company were far in advance of those
belonging to all other companies and proprietors. In place of the
ordinary uncomfortable longitudinal seats, which so frequently led
to squabbles between people sitting back to back, the London Road
Car Company had the now common and popular garden seats. It was an
innovation which met with unqualified approval from the public. To
ladies it was a boon which they had never even expected, so accustomed
were they to being relegated to the inside of omnibuses. To clamber to
the top of the knife-board omnibuses was an impossibility with most of
them, and the athletic few who did not find the task an arduous one
were rewarded by being considered exceedingly unladylike. In fact,
until the London Road Car Company started work, it was an unusual
sight to see a female on the top of an omnibus. But now, when the
weather is fine, few ladies ride inside if there be room for them on
the roof. Truly, the fair sex should be very grateful to the London
Road Car Company. Pickpockets, certainly, were deeply indebted to it,
for the backs of the garden seats were open, and afforded them special
facilities for the exploration of ladies’ pockets. After a time this
defect was altered.
The popularity of the garden-seat omnibuses did not benefit the
London Road Car Company alone, for other companies and proprietors,
following its example, built all their new omnibuses with similar
seats and staircases. Many of their knife-board omnibuses--too new
to be discarded--were converted into the popular style of vehicle.
Some of these converted omnibuses were, it must be confessed, a
ghastly failure, for, although there was no fault to be found with
the staircase, the arrangement on the roof was not only inconvenient,
but highly dangerous. The gangway was raised, sometimes almost to a
level with the outside rail, and passengers had to be very careful, in
stepping down from it to take their seats, that they were not pitched
head-first into the road. Fortunately, the worst specimens of these
converted omnibuses have long since disappeared from the London streets.
It is surprising that garden-seat omnibuses were not introduced into
London long before the Road Car Company was formed, as they had been in
use in some Continental cities for thirty years.
At the outset of its career, the London Road Car Company adopted, as
a distinctive sign, the diminutive Union Jack which flies at the fore
of all its omnibuses. This flag was intended, also, to intimate to the
public that the Company was floated with British capital, but, as very
few Londoners were aware of the French origin of the London General
Omnibus Company, the hint was not generally understood. Strangely
enough, this appeal to the patriotism of Englishmen, has resulted
in the Company receiving a large amount of support from foreigners
visiting London. They imagine that the Union Jack is a sign that the
omnibuses are State-subsidised vehicles, and, to avoid falling into
the hands of the dreaded pirates--for the London pirates’ notoriety
has reached the chief Continental cities--they will ride in no omnibus
which does not carry a flag. Sometimes they stand for a long while
looking for an omnibus with the Union Jack flying, to discover,
eventually, that there are no Road Car omnibuses on that route. One
French lady stood at Marble Arch for more than half an hour before a
policeman could convince her that no “’bus with a flag” ran to what she
called Crick-le-Wood.
[Illustration: A ROAD CAR COMPANY OMNIBUS, 1901.]
The London Road Car Company’s flags have on several occasions been
utilised for arousing the enthusiasm of London crowds. On Sunday,
September 24, 1899, a few unpatriotic Englishmen desecrated the
plinth of Nelson’s Column by expressing therefrom sympathy with Great
Britain’s enemies. The reception accorded to them was, naturally,
very hostile, and, while the excitement was at its height, a Road Car
omnibus passed slowly through the crowd. A passenger, riding on top of
the omnibus, no sooner discovered the meaning of the angry shouts,
than he pulled the flagstaff from its socket, and waved aloft the
little Union Jack. Loud cheers greeted his action, and the pro-Boer
orators were taught speedily that Londoners had a healthy objection to
their foolish, un-English ravings.
Another innovation of the London Road Car Company was the ticket
system, which, although it had been in use on trams for many years,
had not, hitherto, been tried on omnibuses. Tickets had certainly been
issued on the omnibuses belonging to the Metropolitan Railway, which
ran from Portland Road Station to Piccadilly Circus, but it was on a
different system entirely. The Metropolitan Railway omnibuses of those
days were not like those in use at the present day. They were larger,
and the inside was divided into two compartments, the first-class
being the portion near the horses. The compartments were separated by
a curtain. These omnibuses were patronised chiefly by people residing
in the suburbs, tickets being issued at the Metropolitan Railway
stations to carry passengers through by train and ’bus to Piccadilly
Circus. The conductor collected the railway tickets on the omnibus,
and issued other tickets to passengers who had not come by train.
These omnibuses were drawn by three horses harnessed abreast. At the
present day, almost the only omnibuses drawn by three horses abreast
are the red “Favorites”--big, ungainly things, which run from Highgate
and Islington to the City. They carry nearly fifty passengers, but, in
consequence of their size, are not allowed to be in the City after 10
a.m.
[Illustration: A METROPOLITAN RAILWAY “UMBRELLA” OMNIBUS, 1901.]
The ticket system having worked successfully on the London Road Car
Company’s omnibuses, the London General Omnibus Company, and the
companies and proprietors working in conjunction with it, announced,
at the beginning of May, 1891, their intention of adopting it--a
decision which created the greatest indignation among their conductors
and coachmen, whose incomes had for many years been greatly in excess
of the value of their services. Scores of conductors have declared
since, that in those days they made frequently as much as eight or ten
shillings a day beyond their wages, and that, too, after they had paid
their coachman his share of the plunder. The companies and proprietors
were well aware that the men had been in the habit of keeping back a
portion of the daily earnings, but it is doubtful whether they knew
the extent to which the practice had grown, for ’busmen, before the
strike, were too cautious to talk of what they earned. It was only
years after that they began to speak regretfully, and yet with pride,
of the prosperous days which preceded the introduction of the ticket
system. However, the companies and proprietors promised the men an
increase in their wages, to atone for the pilferings which had been
winked at. But the additional money promised--two shillings a day--did
not make the men’s income anything like as large as that to which they
were accustomed, and, in their wrath, they vowed to strike. On the
night of Saturday, May 6, 1891, after the majority of omnibuses had
finished running, large meetings of ’busmen were held in various parts
of London, and, amidst intense enthusiasm, the men pledged themselves
not to return to work until their grievance had been satisfied. The
following morning the strike began all over London, the Road Car
men, who were scarcely interested in the matter, seeing that they had
used tickets for years, ceasing work also. Some men remained loyal to
their employers, but their efforts to take out their omnibuses were
frustrated by the angry mobs of strikers gathered around the stable
gates. Day after day the strike dragged on, and for a week the London
streets looked quite unfamiliar--devoid of the omnibuses which lend so
much life to them. Pirates, of course, did not cease work, but they
were comparatively few in number, and were scarcely noticed. Every day
the pirates contributed to the strike fund, conscious that the longer
the strike lasted, the more profitable it would be for them. It did
not, however, last nearly so long as they had hoped, for, on Sunday,
May 14, the majority of the men returned to work--and to begin issuing
tickets.
[Illustration: A RED “FAVORITE,” 1901.]
But the men who did not go back to work decided to start a Company of
their own. It was called the London Co-operative Omnibus Company, and
all the conductors, coachmen, and horsekeepers employed by it were to
be shareholders in the venture. It started operations with one omnibus,
which created a little sensation in the streets by having a broom
fixed conspicuously at its fore. This broom was a public intimation of
the new Company’s intention to sweep the London General, the Road Car
and other companies and associations off the roads. But, in spite of
its boldness, the London Co-operative Omnibus Company did not prosper.
That single omnibus never had a companion, and, after a brief career,
it disappeared from the roads, and was bought, it is rumoured, by one
of the big companies it was intended to smash.
Shortly after the strike a clergyman, named Jenkins, who had gained
considerable notoriety by, among other eccentricities, persistently
refusing to show his ticket to tramway inspectors, turned his attention
to omnibuses. But as omnibus inspectors have not the power to compel
a passenger to show his ticket, Mr. Jenkins was able to enjoy himself
with impunity. However, after many quarrels with ’busmen about various
trivial matters, he hit, eventually, upon a real grievance. On nearly
all omnibuses a long narrow board bearing some advertisement, such
as “To Swan and Edgar’s,” was fixed, outside, across the middle of
the side windows. Mr. Jenkins, declared, with truth, that the boards
obstructed the view of passengers inside the omnibus, and thereby
frequently caused them to be carried beyond the place where they
wished to alight. On the same grounds he denounced the transparent
advertisements stuck on the side and front windows. His complaint
was warmly supported by the public, and the objectionable boards,
together with the advertisements on the front windows, were ordered to
be removed. The front window advertisements had been abolished but a
very short time when the police authorities compelled the proprietors
to block up those windows by placing on them the route the omnibus
travelled. Consequently the state of affairs, as far as the front
windows were concerned, was worse than before. These route-bills have
since been reduced in size.
While Mr. Jenkins was denouncing omnibus tickets, inspectors and
advertisements, a quarrel occurred between the London General Omnibus
Company and the Camden Town Omnibus Association. The London General
Omnibus Company had become a member of this old-established association
many years previously by purchasing the stock and “times” of retiring
members, and worked amicably with its fellow proprietors until about
1896, when a difference of opinion arose concerning an extension of
a line of omnibuses. The Company severed its connection with the
Association, and at once started working in opposition to it by taking
omnibuses from the Finsbury Park and London Bridge route and running
them on the Camden Town road. This rivalry was continued for several
weeks, but eventually the dispute was settled and the Company rejoined
the Association. Had the quarrel been protracted the other associations
would, in all probability, have sided with the Camden Town body, and
Londoners would have witnessed an exciting, although perhaps not very
edifying, struggle.
The Camden Town omnibus fight was followed quickly by a more prolonged
one on the Putney road. A new line of omnibuses was started by the Era
Association--which was formed by certain proprietors not working in
conjunction with any of the companies or associations--from Fulham to
Charing Cross, _viâ_ West Kensington. Each of these omnibuses carried,
at first, a red flag, fixed by the side of the coachman, bearing the
inscription “No Monopoly.” As their fares were considerably cheaper
than those of other omnibuses, the London General Omnibus Company and
the Road Car Company’s men began to oppose them, and some very amusing
scenes were witnessed in the Brompton Road and Piccadilly. The Era
Association made a stout fight and started omnibuses from Putney to
Charing Cross at the exceedingly low price of twopence for the whole
distance. For a time these omnibuses scarcely ever made a journey
without being full inside and out, but when the two companies lowered
their fares to those of the Era there was a great falling off in the
number of the latter’s passengers. That was, of course, natural, for
when the fares were the same in all omnibuses there was no reason for
a thrifty person to wait until an “Era” came along. After a protracted
struggle the London General Omnibus Company, the Road Car Company, and
the Era raised their fares.
The Era Omnibus Association, which still has some omnibuses on the
roads, deserves credit for having placed a list of fares outside their
vehicles so that would-be passengers could see, before entering,
how much they would have to pay. They did so, of course, to show
that their fares were lower than those of the two companies, but,
nevertheless, it was an innovation which might well be followed by all
omnibus companies and proprietors. If omnibuses were compelled to have
a list of fares displayed on the nearside panel it would be a great
convenience to the public, and would, moreover, do much towards putting
an end to “pirates.” At present visitors to London do not know until
they have entered an omnibus how much they will be charged. If they sit
near the doorway they have to trust to the conductor--for they cannot
read the fares--and if it be a pirate omnibus they will assuredly be
overcharged.
Early in 1899 the Home Secretary, Sir Matthew White Ridley, brought in
a Bill for the better regulation of the street traffic of London, which
proposed to confer upon the police the power to relieve the congested
thoroughfares by diverting omnibuses from them. The Bill was a very
unpopular one, and Metropolitan members of the House of Commons were
bombarded with letters from their constituents urging them to vote
against it. In June Sir J. Blundell Maple, M.P., presented to the Home
Secretary a petition signed by over one hundred thousand regular riders
praying that the Street Traffic Bill, then before Parliament, should
be altered to preclude the possibility of omnibuses being diverted from
the main thoroughfares. Many thousands of signatures were received too
late to be included in the monster petition, which was presented in
the form of a huge volume. This unpopular Bill was withdrawn and, on
October 14, as a compliment to Sir J. Blundell Maple, who had worked
hard to obtain such a result, the ’busmen displayed his racing colours
on their whips and bell-cords. These favours they exhibited for three
days.
In July of the same year the London County Council issued an order that
on and after September 1, every omnibus should carry an outside front
lamp on the offside. Red, green, blue, and yellow lamps had for many
years been displayed by omnibuses running to the more distant suburbs,
but these had to be changed for white ones. When September 1 arrived,
very few of the omnibuses were provided with the necessary lamps, the
demand for which was greater than the supply. Some days’ grace was
allowed, and eventually every omnibus carried an outside lamp.
CHAPTER X
The Motor Traction Company’s omnibus--An electric omnibus--The Central
London Railway--The London County Council omnibuses--The “corridor
’bus”--The latest omnibus struggle--Present omnibus routes
On October 9, 1899, the Motor Traction Company, Limited, placed
an oil-motor omnibus on the roads. No horseless omnibus had been
licensed in London for over sixty years, and, naturally, considerable
interest was taken in the new venture. A trial run over the course,
from Kennington Park to Victoria Station, _viâ_ Westminster Bridge,
had been made a week earlier. On that occasion the weather was very
unpropitious, but the passengers were cheerful and drank success to the
trip in a glass of wine. Then, midst cheers and blowing of trumpets,
the motor omnibus started on its journey. It was a successful run, and,
as already stated, on October 9, the omnibus began to earn money.
In appearance it resembled an ordinary omnibus robbed of its horses
and pole. The driver had a covered seat low down in the front. The
body of the vehicle was painted white, and the lower and storage part
blue. While the omnibus was travelling no great fault could be found
with it, but its warmest admirers could not say truthfully that when it
stopped the sensation was pleasant. It vibrated abominably, and when
I had my first ride on it, I echoed inwardly the hope expressed by a
fellow-passenger that there was no bilious person present.
In the spring of 1900 the motor omnibus was running from Kennington to
Oxford Circus, but, towards the end of the year, it disappeared from
the London streets.
Some months before the Motor Traction Company’s omnibus was placed on
the roads an electric ’bus, belonging to a company which was being
floated, ran, on many afternoons, from Marble Arch to Notting-hill
Gate. It was not licensed, and therefore all rides were free. This
omnibus carried no outside passengers, an omission which would have
doomed it to failure had it entered into competition with other
omnibuses.
The proprietors of horse-drawn omnibuses have been accused of want of
enterprise because they have not yet adopted motor vehicles, against
which they are said to have a prejudice. But these accusations are
absurd. Omnibus proprietors are convinced that when a really reliable
electric ’bus has been invented, it will pay them to adopt it. So far
that omnibus has not been discovered, although for two or three years
the proprietors have examined carefully every vehicle brought before
them.
In the spring of 1900 the Central London Railway was opened, and proved
to be the most formidable rival that omnibuses have had since the
introduction of tramways. The new electric railway runs from Shepherd’s
Bush to the Bank, the fare for the whole journey being twopence. The
omnibus fare for the same distance was fivepence. The London General
Omnibus Company, which has practically a monopoly of the road between
Shepherd’s Bush and Marble Arch, soon felt the effects of the Central
London Railway’s cheap fares and quick travelling, and found it
necessary to transfer many of their Shepherd’s Bush omnibuses to other
routes.
With other electric railways projected, it is said, by some people,
that the long-continued prosperity of omnibuses is drawing to a close.
There seems, however, to be no real reason for such an assertion.
The District and Metropolitan Railways, when first opened, inflicted
greater damage to the omnibuses than the Central London has done, and
yet to-day their directors complain of omnibus competition. Railway
directors bemoaning omnibus competition! Shillibeer was not, after all,
wrong in believing that omnibuses could compete successfully with a
railway.
The prosperity of electric railways by no means implies ruin to
omnibuses. In fact, omnibus proprietors will, no doubt, before long,
regard electric railways as their benefactors, for having removed a
difficulty which has faced them for many years. The rapid growth of the
population of London has made it necessary for the number of omnibuses
to be increased every year, but the streets are already uncomfortably
crowded with vehicles, and it will be impossible to continue adding to
them at the same rate as heretofore. The electric railways, by carrying
a portion of the public, will make an increase of omnibuses unnecessary.
The Central London Railway is not, however, the only formidable rival
of omnibus proprietors which has recently sprung into existence. In
1898 the London County Council, authorised by the Tramways Act of
1896, took over the business of the London Tramways Company, Limited.
This company, having failed to obtain statutory powers to run their
trams over Blackfriars, Waterloo, and Westminster Bridges, started
a service of halfpenny omnibuses connecting their termini with,
respectively, Farringdon Road, Somerset House, and Trafalgar Square.
The London County Council, on taking over the trams, extended the two
latter omnibus routes by running their vehicles along the Strand, thus
connecting their tram terminus south of Westminster Bridge with the
terminus south of Waterloo Bridge. Until then the lowest fare for a
ride along the Strand was a penny, but the County Council omnibuses
took passengers from Trafalgar Square over Waterloo Bridge for a
halfpenny. Naturally they were well patronised, and the old-established
omnibus proprietors found an alarming decrease in their profits.
The two big omnibus companies were the smallest sufferers by this
competition. The London Road Car Company has no omnibuses crossing
the bridges referred to, and the London General Omnibus Company is
less represented in the south of London than in any other part of the
metropolis. The action of the County Council was, therefore, felt
chiefly by individual proprietors, who objected strongly to the rates,
to which they contributed, being used for the purpose of injuring their
business. They contended that the County Council had no more right to
become omnibus proprietors than they had to start business as linen
drapers or tobacconists, and, after taking counsel’s opinion, sought
an injunction to put a stop to the competition. Mr. Justice Cozens
Hardy decided that the County Council were only authorised to purchase
and work tramways, and as they could not confine their omnibuses to
tramway passengers--for omnibuses came under the regulation applying to
hackney-carriages, and were bound to take any passenger who paid his
fare--their service was unlawful. He refused to grant an injunction
pending the hearing of an appeal, but ordered the London County Council
to pay the costs of the action.
In the Appeal Court, Lords Justices Rigby, Vaughan-Williams and
Stirling held that the Council had no power to run the omnibuses, and
dismissed the appeal with costs. An injunction was granted restraining
the London County Council from continuing the omnibuses, the operation
of the injunction being, however, suspended, provided that notice of an
appeal to the House of Lords was given within a month.
After this decision the proprietors offered to take over the London
County Council omnibuses and run them at the same fares and times,
but the offer was declined and the appeal was carried to the House of
Lords. At the time of writing the appeal has not been heard.
To the London County Council belongs the credit of having started
all-night omnibuses, which were a great boon to many scores of workers
in Fleet Street and Covent Garden. It may, however, be taken for
granted that the venture was not a profitable one.
A new omnibus, called “the corridor ’bus,” was placed on the Putney and
Liverpool Street road in 1900, by Mr. William Berg. From the outside
the vehicle appears to be similar to the ordinary omnibus, but the
inside seats are arranged crossways and some of the passengers sit back
to back. The windows are fitted with blinds--a much-needed innovation.
I have heard that one of the smaller omnibus companies intends to adopt
“the corridor ’bus.”
One of the keenest struggles between rival omnibus companies that has
been witnessed for some years began in May last. It originated in
the following way:--some twelve years ago the London General Omnibus
Company opened a line of omnibuses from Kilburn to the Redcliffe Arms,
Fulham Road. These omnibuses, which were painted blue, tapped Harrow
Road, Westbourne Grove, Notting Hill Gate, Kensington High Street,
and Earl’s Court, and, before long, the line became one of the best
patronised in London. But about a week before Whit Monday the London
Road Car Company started a service of twenty-five orange-coloured
omnibuses from Putney to Brondesbury, which traversed the entire route
of the blue ’buses. The London General Omnibus Company immediately
extended the journey of some of its “blues,” making them run from
Brondesbury to Putney, and its drivers at once began to oppose their
“orange” rivals. The London Road Car Company then displayed in its
omnibuses a “No Monopoly” protest, stating that a determined attempt
was being made to run its cars off the road, and appealing to the
public to “rally round the flag.” A few weeks later a leaflet, headed
“No Surrender!” was distributed in the districts through which the
“oranges” and “blues” passed. It bore an illustration of a smart,
well-patronised Putney and Brondesbury Road Car being followed by an
almost empty knife-board omnibus. Beneath this amusing, but somewhat
misleading, illustration were the following lines:--
“Welcome, welcome London Road-Car, beard the mammoth God of Shares,
Pioneers of all improvements, handsome cars and cheaper fares;
No more ‘tubs’ and foreign gee-gees, onward, Road-Car, spread the
light,
No more sixpence any distance after eight on Sunday night.
“‘No more turning back,’ said Buller, to the gallant rank and file;
No white flag was ever hoisted by the ‘Dubs’ from Erin’s isle;
Strike no flag, and give no quarter, for with them it’s ‘outing-dues,’
Good luck to the ‘orange blossoms,’ for we’ve long since had the
‘blues.’
“Stand no nursing, Road-Car drivers, you’ve a right as well as they,
Forward, valiant standard-bearers, bravo “D” and “B” and “J.”
Come to stay’s the public verdict, bull-dog pluck cannot be beat,
Men and masters, pull together, no surrender! no retreat!
“To the public I’m appealing; forward help this gallant band,
’Neath the grand old flag of England in your thousands take your
stand;
Trace to them all known improvements, now, as in the days of yore,
When a change is really needed, they’ll send five-and-twenty more.”
“CEAD A MILLE FAILTHE.”
“D” and “B” and “J” are Mr. Duff, the manager of the Road Car Company,
and Messrs. Bristow and Jones, two other officials.
The London Road Car Company has certainly, during its comparatively
short career, been more enterprising than its rivals in providing
for the comfort of the omnibus-travelling public; but it is scarcely
entitled to much sympathy in connection with the Putney and Brondesbury
struggle, considering that, not many years ago, it meted out to a
small company treatment similar to that of which it now complains. It
compelled that company--which also issued an appeal to the public--to
submit to its terms, in spite of the fact that, unlike the London
General Omnibus Company and other companies who are members of the
various associations, it does not pay compensation for placing its
omnibuses on a route which another company has planned and worked into
success.
It is somewhat surprising that the London General Omnibus Company
and the proprietors associated with it have not thought it advisable
to publish periodically, for the convenience of the public, a list
of their routes. Visitors to London are frequently in need of such a
guide. The following is a list of omnibus lines which run through or
into London.
Acton and Charing Cross (_viâ_ Shepherd’s Bush, Bayswater Road, Oxford
Street, and Regent Street).
Baker-street Station and Victoria (_viâ_ Baker Street, Grosvenor
Square, and Hyde Park Corner).
Baker-street Station and Waterloo (_viâ_ Baker Street, Bond Street,
and Westminster Bridge).
Barnes and Uxbridge Road (_viâ_ Hammersmith Broadway).
Barnes Common and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ Putney Bridge, Walham Green,
Brompton Road, Piccadilly, and Strand).
Barnsbury and Brixton (_viâ_ Liverpool Road, General Post Office, and
Blackfriars Bridge).
Battersea and South Hackney (_viâ_ King’s Road, Chelsea, Sloane
Street, Piccadilly, Strand, Bank, and Bethnal-green Road).
Blackwall and Piccadilly Circus (_viâ_ Commercial Road, Shoreditch,
Bank, and Strand).
Bow and Oxford Circus (_viâ_ Mile End Road, Bank, and Strand).
Brixton and Gracechurch Street (_viâ_ Kennington and London Bridge).
Brixton and Oxford Circus (_viâ_ Kennington, Westminster Bridge, and
Piccadilly Circus).
Brixton and Paddington Station (_viâ_ Kennington, Elephant and Castle,
Blackfriars Bridge, Gray’s-inn Road, Euston Road, and Marylebone Road).
Camberwell and Camden Town (_viâ_ Elephant and Castle, Waterloo
Bridge, Strand, Oxford Circus, and Portland Road.)
Camberwell and Clapham Common (_viâ_ Loughboro’ Junction and Brixton).
Camberwell and King’s Cross (_viâ_ Elephant and Castle, Waterloo
Bridge, and Gray’s-inn Road).
Camberwell and Shoreditch Church (_viâ_ Elephant and Castle, London
Bridge, and Liverpool-street Station).
Camden Town and Kent Road (_viâ_ Elephant and Castle, Waterloo Bridge,
Strand, Oxford Circus, and Portland Road).
Chalk Farm and Victoria (_viâ_ Hampstead Road, Tottenham-court Road,
Charing Cross, and Victoria Street).
Child’s Hill and Charing Cross (_viâ_ Finchley Road, Baker Street,
Wigmore Street, Oxford Circus, and Piccadilly Circus).
Clapham Common and Victoria (_viâ_ Battersea Bridge and
Buckingham-palace Road).
Clapham Junction and Hyde Park (_viâ_ Albert Bridge, King’s Road,
Chelsea, and Sloane Street).
Clapham Junction and Shepherd’s Bush (_viâ_ Albert Bridge, King’s
Road, Sloane Street, Kensington Church, and Notting-hill Gate).
Clapton and Elephant and Castle (_viâ_ Dalston Junction, Kingsland
Road, Shoreditch, and London Bridge).
Clapton and Finsbury-park Station (_viâ_ Stoke Newington, Green Lanes,
and Brownswood Park).
Cricklewood and Charing Cross (_viâ_ Kilburn, Oxford Circus, and
Piccadilly Circus).
Ealing and Tottenham-court Road (_viâ_ Acton, Shepherd’s Bush,
Bayswater Road, and Oxford Street).
Earl’s Court and Elephant and Castle (_viâ_ Cromwell Road, Sloane
Street, Victoria Station, Vauxhall Bridge, and Kennington).
Elephant and Castle and Islington (_viâ_ London Bridge, Bank, General
Post Office, and Goswell Road).
Farringdon Road and Blackfriars Bridge (_viâ_ Ludgate Circus).
Finchley and Charing Cross (_viâ_ East Finchley, Highgate Archway,
Junction Road, Camden Town, Hampstead Road, and Tottenham-court Road).
Finchley and Oxford Circus (_viâ_ Church End, Child’s Hill, Swiss
Cottage, Baker Street, and Wigmore Street).
Finchley Road (North Star) and Fulham Road (_viâ_ Kilburn, Harrow
Road, Westbourne Grove, Notting-hill Gate, Kensington, and
Earl’s-court Road).
Finsbury Park and Kent Road (_viâ_ Highbury Barn, Upper Street, New
North Road, Bank, and Elephant and Castle).
Finsbury Park and Victoria (_viâ_ Seven Sisters’ Road, Camden Road,
Hampstead Road, Tottenham-court Road, Charing Cross, and Victoria
Street).
Fulham and Bethnal Green (_viâ_ Walham Green, King’s Road, Chelsea,
Sloane Square, Victoria Station, Whitehall, Strand, and Bank).
Fulham and Liverpool Street (as above).
Fulham and Oxford Circus (_viâ_ King’s Road, Chelsea, Sloane Street,
and Piccadilly).
Gospel Oak and Victoria (_viâ_ Ferdinand Road, Hampstead Road, Charing
Cross, and Victoria Street).
Gower-street Station and Edgware-road Station (_viâ_ Tottenham-court
Road, Oxford Street, and Edgware Road).
Hammersmith and Caledonian Road (_viâ_ Kensington, Piccadilly,
Tottenham Court Road, and Euston Road).
Hammersmith and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ Kensington, Piccadilly,
Strand, and Bank).
Hammersmith and Walham Green (_viâ_ Fulham).
Hammersmith and Wandsworth (_viâ_ Fulham, Walham Green, and Wandsworth
Bridge).
Hampstead and Oxford Street (_viâ_ Haverstock Hill, Hampstead Road,
and Tottenham-court Road).
Hanwell and Oxford Circus (_viâ_ Ealing, Acton, Shepherd’s Bush,
Bayswater Road, and Oxford Street).
Harlesden and Charing Cross (_viâ_ Kensal Green, Harrow Road,
Paddington Station, Edgware Road, and Oxford Circus).
Hendon and Oxford Circus (_viâ_ Golder’s Hill, Child’s Hill, St.
John’s Wood, Baker-street Station, and Wigmore Street).
Highbury Barn and Putney Bridge (_viâ_ Upper Street, Rosebery Avenue,
Shaftesbury Avenue, Piccadilly, Sloane Street, King’s Road, and
Parsons Green).
Highgate and London Bridge (_viâ_ Holloway Road, Upper Street, and
City Road).
Highgate and Victoria (_viâ_ Junction Road, Camden Town,
Tottenham-court Road, Charing Cross, and Victoria Street).
Holloway and Bayswater (_viâ_ Camden Road, St. John’s-wood Road, Maida
Vale, Westbourne Grove, and Queen’s Road).
Holloway and Fulham (_viâ_ Caledonian Road, Euston Road, Portland
Road Station, Oxford Circus, Piccadilly, South Kensington and West
Kensington).
Hornsey Rise and Sloane Square (_viâ_ Islington, Euston Road, Baker
Street, Park Lane and Sloane Street).
Hornsey Rise and Victoria (_viâ_ Seven Sisters’ Road, Upper Street,
Gray’s-inn Road, Chancery Lane, Strand, and Victoria Street).
Islington and Kensington (_viâ_ Pentonville Road, Euston Road,
Marylebone Road, Westbourne Grove, and Notting-hill Gate).
Kensal Green and London Bridge (_viâ_ Harrow Road, Paddington Station,
Edgware Road, Oxford Street, Holborn, and Bank).
Kentish Town and Elephant and Castle (_viâ_ College Road, Gray’s-inn
Road, Holborn, and Blackfriars Bridge).
Kentish Town and London Bridge (_viâ_ College Road, Gray’s-inn Road,
and Holborn).
Kilburn and Charing Cross (_viâ_ Maida Vale, Oxford Street, and Regent
Street).
Kilburn and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ Maida Vale, Oxford Street,
Holborn, and Bank).
Kilburn and London Bridge (_viâ_ Maida Vale, Oxford Street, Holborn,
and Bank).
Kilburn and Victoria (_viâ_ Maida Vale, Edgware Road, and Park Lane).
Kilburn and Willesden Junction (_viâ_ Willesden Lane and Harlesden).
Knightsbridge and Battersea Bridge (_viâ_ Sloane Street).
Mile End and West Brompton (_viâ_ Bank, Holborn, Shaftesbury Avenue,
Piccadilly, and Brompton Road).
Moorgate-street Station and London-bridge Station (_viâ_ Bank).
Muswell Hill and Charing Cross (_viâ_ Highgate Archway, Camden Town,
and Tottenham-court Road).
Notting Hill and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ Westbourne Grove, Paddington
Station, Oxford Street, Holborn, and Bank).
Notting Hill and London Bridge (_viâ_ Portobello Road, Westbourne
Grove, Paddington Station, Oxford Street, Regent Street, Strand, and
Cannon Street).
Old Ford and Bank (_viâ_ Bethnal-green Road, and Shoreditch).
Old Ford and Oxford Circus (_viâ_ Bethnal-green Road, Bank, and
Holborn).
Paddington Station and London Bridge (_viâ_ Praed Street, Edgware
Road, Oxford Street, Regent Street, and Strand).
Peckham and Oxford Circus (_viâ_ Camberwell, Westminster Bridge, and
Regent Street).
Peckham and Victoria (_viâ_ Camberwell, Kennington, and Vauxhall
Bridge).
Putney and Brondesbury (_viâ_ Fulham Road, Earl’s Court Road,
Kensington, Notting-hill Gate, Westbourne Grove, Harrow Road, and
Kilburn).
Putney and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ Walham Green, Brompton Road,
Piccadilly, Strand, and Bank).
St. John’s Wood and Camberwell (_viâ_ Baker Street, Oxford Street,
Regent Street, Westminster Bridge, and Elephant and Castle).
St. John’s Wood and Kent Road (as above).
St. John’s Wood and London Bridge (_viâ_ Baker Street, Oxford Street,
Holborn, and Bank).
Shepherd’s Bush, and Burdett Road, Mile End (_viâ_ Bayswater Road,
Oxford Street, Holborn, Bank, and Mile-end Road).
Shepherd’s Bush and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ Bayswater Road, Oxford
Street, Holborn, and Bank).
Shepherd’s Bush and Walham Green (_viâ_ Olympia and West Kensington).
South Hackney and Bank (_viâ_ Hackney Road).
Stamford Hill and Elephant and Castle (_viâ_ Kingsland Road,
Shoreditch, Bank, and London Bridge).
Starch Green and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ Shepherd’s Bush, Bayswater
Road, Oxford Street, Holborn, and Bank).
Stoke Newington and Victoria (_viâ_ Newington Green, Essex Road,
Angel, Gray’s-inn Road, Chancery Lane, Strand, and Victoria Street).
Summer’s Town and Hammersmith (_viâ_ Earlsfield, Wandsworth Bridge,
and Walham Green).
Tollington Park and London Bridge (_viâ_ Seven Sisters’ Road, Upper
Street, City Road, and Bank).
Tollington Park and Victoria (_viâ_ Seven Sisters’ Road, Upper Street,
Gray’s-inn Road, Chancery Lane, Strand, and Victoria Street). Another
route (_viâ_ King’s Cross, Bond Street, and Piccadilly).
Tulse Hill and King’s Cross (_viâ_ Herne Hill, Loughboro’ Junction,
Camberwell Green, Elephant and Castle, Waterloo Bridge, Chancery Lane,
and Gray’s Inn Road).
Turnham Green and Clapham Junction (_viâ_ Goldhawk Road, Bayswater
Road, Notting-hill Gate, Kensington Church, and Sloane Street).
Turnham Green and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ Hammersmith Broadway,
Kensington, Piccadilly, Strand, and Bank).
Victoria and King’s Cross (_viâ_ Hyde Park Corner, Piccadilly, Long
Acre, Southampton Row, and Russell Square). Another route (_viâ_ Hyde
Park Corner, Piccadilly, Bond Street, Oxford Street, Tottenham-court
Road, and Euston Road).
Victoria and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ Victoria Street, Strand, Fleet
Street, and Bank).
Walham Green and Islington (_viâ_ Brompton Road, Piccadilly, Regent
Street, Portland-road Station, Euston Road, and Pentonville Road).
Walham Green and Highbury (_viâ_ Piccadilly, Euston Road, Pentonville
Road, and Upper Street).
Wandsworth and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ King’s Road, Chelsea, Victoria,
Strand, and Bank).
Waterloo Station and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ Blackfriars Bridge and
Bank).
Waterloo Station and Westminster Bridge (_viâ_ Strand).
Westbourne Grove and Victoria (_viâ_ Praed Street, Edgware Road, and
Park Lane).
West Hampstead and Elephant and Castle (_viâ_ Abbey Road, Eyre Arms,
Baker Street, Oxford Street, Regent Street, and Westminster Bridge).
West Hampstead and Fulham Road (_viâ_ Kilburn, Westbourne Grove,
Notting-hill Gate, Kensington, and Earl’s-court Road).
West Kensington and London Bridge (_viâ_ South Kensington, Brompton
Road, Piccadilly, Holborn, and Bank).
West Kensington and Shoreditch (_viâ_ South Kensington, Strand, Bank,
and Liverpool Street).
West Kilburn and Charing Cross (_viâ_ Shirland Road, Edgware Road,
Oxford Street, and Regent Street).
West Kilburn and London Bridge (_viâ_ Shirland Road, Edgware Road,
Oxford Street, Holborn, and Bank).
West Kilburn and Victoria (_viâ_ Shirland Road, Edgware Road, and Park
Lane).
West Norwood and Oxford Circus (_viâ_ Kennington, Westminster Bridge,
and Piccadilly Circus).
Westminster and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ Moreton Street, Great Smith
Street, Whitehall, Strand, and Bank).
Willesden and Charing Cross (_viâ_ Willesden Lane, Salusbury Road,
Shirland Road, Edgware Road, and Oxford Street).
Willesden and Victoria (_viâ_ Willesden Lane, Salusbury Road, Shirland
Road, Edgware Road, and Park Lane).
Wormwood Scrubbs and Liverpool Street (_viâ_ Notting Hill, Westbourne
Grove, Praed Street, Oxford Street, Holborn, and Bank).
Wormwood Scrubbs and London Bridge (_viâ_ Notting Hill, Westbourne
Grove, Praed Street, Oxford Street, Holborn, and Bank).
During the summer months many omnibuses are taken off the City Roads
on Sundays, and run into the suburbs. The chief of these Sunday routes
are:--
Bank and Romford Road (_viâ_ Bow and Stratford).
Charing Cross and Richmond (_viâ_ Kensington, Hammersmith, Chiswick,
and Kew Bridge).
Kensal Green and Richmond (_viâ_ Shepherd’s Bush, Barnes, Mortlake).
Oxford Circus and Hayes Common (_viâ_ Shepherd’s Bush, Acton, Ealing,
and Hanwell).
Oxford Circus and Welsh Harp (_viâ_ Kilburn and Cricklewood).
Stoke Newington and Hadley Woods (_viâ_ Wood Green and Southgate).
Tottenham-court Road and Stonebridge Park (_viâ_ Kensal Green and
Harlesden).
CHAPTER XI
“Jumpers”--“Spots”--Some curious passengers--Conductors and
coachmen--The Rothschild Christmas-boxes--Mr. Morris Abrahams and
Omnibus Men’s Superannuation Fund--Horses--Cost of omnibuses--Night in
an omnibus yard
It is said, frequently, that omnibus companies and proprietors have
received little or no benefit from the introduction of the ticket
system because of the expense connected with the working of it, but
that is a very great mistake. The London General Omnibus Company saves
£100,000 a year by it, and the other companies and associations have
just as much cause for satisfaction. But it must be confessed that at
the outset the ticket system was more or less a farce, the conductors
omitting openly to give tickets and being encouraged in their breach
of duty by the lower class of riders. Some conductors flung away
their rolls of tickets and declared that they had been stolen. Others
placed them under the omnibus wheels to be crushed, and then pretended
that the damage done was the result of an accident. Some of the more
reckless spirits bragged that they had given the tickets to their
children to play with.
The polite inspectors--called by the men “jumpers”--came into
existence with the introduction of tickets, and for some time there
was a considerable amount of excitement about their work, for, while
conductors did not trouble to conceal from passengers the fact that
they were not doing their duty, they seemed to consider it a personal
insult that an inspector should board their omnibuses to see if
passengers had been given tickets. Some conductors assaulted the
unwelcome inspectors, but the police-court magistrates soon proved to
them that it was a very unprofitable step to take, and, in course of
time, the men who wished to retain their posts settled down to issuing
tickets in a proper fashion, and to regarding with comparative calmness
the sudden appearance of an inspector on their step.
“We have to punch tickets in the dark,” one conductor declared
indignantly to a passenger, “and then a ‘jumper’ comes up with an
electric light to see that we’ve punched them in the right section.”
“Perhaps they’ll fix electric lights on top of the ’buses before long,”
the passenger said, consolingly.
“Hope they won’t, guv’nor,” the conductor answered hurriedly.
“Shouldn’t get any more two-shilling pieces for pennies if they did.”
Ticket-inspectors are known to all Londoners, but few people are aware
that the omnibus companies have also private inspectors, whose duty it
is to ride about in their omnibuses, as ordinary passengers, for the
purpose of noting and reporting anything that affects their interests
adversely. These people, who are called “spots” and “wrong ’uns” by the
’busmen, are not beloved by conductors and coachmen, for the simple
reason that they never know when they have one on their omnibus. The
man in evening dress who enters the omnibus in the Strand after the
theatres have closed may be one; so, too, may be the man with a bag
of workman’s tools who rides up to town by the first omnibus. The
daintily dressed young lady who enters at Peter Robinson’s or William
Whiteley’s may, from her seat in the corner, be regarding the conductor
with an interest which is not born of admiration, and the palpably
retired officer who gets in at Piccadilly may be earning a welcome
addition to his income by watching ’busmen’s manœuvres. But it must
be very embarrassing to these “spots” as they sit, unobtrusively, in
the omnibus to see facing them, as an advertisement of Sapolio, Lady
Macbeth’s exhortation, “Out, out, damned spot!”
Private inspectors are by no means a modern addition to the staff of an
omnibus company. Shillibeer, as stated in Chapter II., employed them
a few weeks after he placed the first English omnibuses on the road,
and succeeding omnibus proprietors followed his example. The duties of
these early inspectors were not very arduous, for, as there were only
shilling and sixpenny fares, known as “longs” and “shorts,” and but
two outside seats, it was a simple matter to check the amount received
by a conductor during a journey. The defalcations of conductors were,
by the means of these inspectors, kept from being extensive, but
when omnibuses had been in existence about fifteen years one of the
largest proprietors received reports from his “spot” which he could not
understand. The “spot” would state that a certain omnibus, on a certain
journey, had carried, say, twelve “longs” and sixteen “shorts,” but the
conductor would pay in the fares of fourteen “longs” and seventeen or
eighteen “shorts.” To unravel this mystery the proprietor persuaded a
relation, who was unknown to the ’busmen, to ride in a certain omnibus
on the same journey as his “spot,” and check who was really right.
This man’s reports agreed with the “spot’s.” Both declared that the
conductor had collected less money than he paid in. The amateur “spot”
then rode two journeys in that omnibus when the professional man was
not there, and on those occasions it was found that the conductor paid
in only about three-quarters of the money he received. Eventually the
conductor was arrested for fraud, and confessed how he had been working
his omnibus. He had bribed the proprietor’s clerk to tell him who the
“spot” was, and where he could be seen. As soon as he had received that
information, and taken a good look at the man, he felt that he was
safe from being detected in his fraud. Whenever the “spot” rode in his
omnibus, he paid in more than he received, relying upon getting back
the extra money, and a good bit more, on the journeys when the “spot”
was not present. Why he did not remain satisfied with simply paying in
the exact amount he took on every occasion that the “spot” rode in his
omnibus is a question that occurs to every one who hears the story.
In all probability he considered himself a very smart fellow, and it
is the fate of people possessed of an exaggerated idea of their own
cleverness to make some silly blunder which proves that, after all,
they are but fools.
In the forties and fifties several well-dressed women “spots” were
employed by the omnibus proprietors, and when a conductor suspected any
lady passenger of being one, he generally communicated his suspicion
to the coachman, with the result that when she wished to alight, the
coachman would pull up in the muddiest part of the road, so that she
would be compelled to get her boots and skirt dirty. More often than
not it was a perfectly innocent lady whom the conductor left stranded
in the centre of a crowded, muddy street. These mistakes are still very
common. Conductors are always on the look out for “spots,” and every
day hundreds of innocent passengers are suspected of being private
inspectors because they happen, perhaps unconsciously, to watch the
conductor punching tickets or to glance at his badge number.
Although private inspectors are, naturally enough, very strongly
disliked by ’busmen, they are a great protection to them. There are
always a few cantankerous, cross-grained people riding in omnibuses
somewhere in London who abuse conductors with scarcely any reason, and
threaten, when they have aggravated them into retort, to report them
for impertinence. And sometimes they do report the man, but if a “spot”
happens to be in the omnibus he sends to his employers a full account
of all that occurred. He does not forget to mention the provocation the
conductor received, a point which people who write letters of complaint
have a curious knack of overlooking.
Sometimes conductors get very strange people in their omnibuses. One
night, a year or two ago, a “Favorite” started from Victoria Station
with three inside passengers, two of whom were women. Suddenly the
woman sitting by the door pointed at the one at the other end of the
omnibus and exclaimed dramatically:--
“That woman has stolen my purse.”
“She hasn’t been near you,” the conductor declared; but the woman
repeated the accusation in a louder tone.
The accused woman remained very calm, and it was not until the charge
against her began to get monotonous through repetition that she told
the conductor to stop the omnibus and call a policeman. The conductor
did so.
“That woman has stolen my purse,” the passenger at the door shouted
when the policeman arrived.
The policeman looked from one to the other, and then said:--
“Why, there’s your purse in your lap.”
“Yes, I know,” the accuser admitted.
“Then, what do you mean by sayin’ that lady stole it?”
“I did it out of kindness, constable. The lady has got the hiccoughs,
and I wanted to give her a start.”
To be accused of having the hiccoughs seemed to annoy the woman in
the corner far more than the charge of theft did, and she appealed,
excitedly, to the male passenger to say whether or not she had the
hiccoughs. He answered boldly that there was not the slightest ground
for such an accusation.
“But she was going to have them,” the woman by the door declared, an
assertion which so astonished the policeman that he felt prompt action
was imperative.
“Out you come,” he said sharply, and assisted her to make her exit with
alacrity.
At times the eccentricity of some passengers takes very objectionable
forms. Quite recently a well-dressed little woman jumped into an
omnibus in Fleet Street, pulled a man out of his seat and sat in it
herself, poked her umbrella into another man’s eye, swore horribly at
everybody present for about half a minute, then suddenly got up, jumped
out without paying, and disappeared down a side street. The man whose
eye was injured had to hurry to Charing Cross Hospital.
On another occasion a sane-looking man, sitting on top of an omnibus,
suddenly started throwing pennies at the silk hats of passers-by
and spitting contemptuously at female pedestrians. Before his
fellow-passengers had made up their minds whether to pitch him off the
omnibus or give him into custody, he walked quietly down the steps and
alighted.
Many passengers leave strange things in omnibuses, but I have heard of
only one man who went away without his clothes. A conductor looking
round his omnibus at the end of his day’s work, kicked against a heap
of clothes lying on the roof. While examining the articles by the light
of his lamp he heard a noise above him, and, looking up, beheld a man,
stark naked, climbing into the loft. The poor fellow had gone mad.
But of all the eccentric characters known to ’busmen, the most harmless
and the most amusing is the respectable-looking little man with a black
beard who runs in front of omnibuses, excitedly waving a long stick
above his head. He is about forty years of age, dressed generally in
black clothes, and sometimes carries a pair of gloves in his hand.
He singles out an omnibus, gives a friendly shout to the coachman,
darts in front of the horses, and leads the way through the streets,
coming occasionally to the side of the omnibus to give passengers an
opportunity to throw money to him. He delights in long runs and usually
sticks to the omnibus he takes up with until it reaches the end of its
journey. He has been known to run with an omnibus from Queen’s Road,
Bayswater, through the city, to Burdett Road, E., and then to run back
with another.
An eccentric person, well known to ’busmen in one part of London, is
a gentleman who stands, almost every night, at certain corners where
omnibuses stop and gives a searching look at each one as it comes up.
When he started that practice, ten or fifteen years ago, the ’busmen
thought that he was some omnibus official, but they soon discovered
that he was not. Who or what he has been looking for all these
years neither ’busmen, policemen, nor any one else, know. Sometimes
conductors say to him, “Coming our way, sir?” Whereupon he answers
sharply, “Take your departure.” Usually he allows about a hundred
omnibuses to pass before he enters one, but sometimes he lets the last
go by and then walks home.
Omnibus conductors are, on the whole, a very respectable and
intelligent class of men, and this is scarcely to be wondered at,
for their pay, after one year’s service, is six shillings a day.
These wages cause hundreds of clerks and shopmen to resign their
positions and become conductors. Many men who have been in business for
themselves, but failed to earn a good living, are to be seen wearing
the conductor’s badge and punch. The army, it is pleasing to be
able to say, is very well represented--largely by ex-noncommissioned
officers. They do not wear their medals on their waistcoats, because
they know that to be the practice of old soldiers in straitened
circumstances, and also, alas! of rascally impostors who have never
worn the Queen’s uniform. If the conductors had uniforms, as the
tram-men have, they would wear their medals.
The dissipated down-at-heel gentleman, of the type which sometimes
drives a cab, never becomes an omnibus conductor, for the very good
reason that no company or proprietor would employ him. But the
unfortunate gentleman often does. An Oxford graduate was the conductor
of a West-End omnibus for some considerable time, and a man who was
once the secretary of a flourishing literary society, and a church
organist, is and has been one for some years. And a City man, ruined
in business, became, by the irony of fate, the conductor of the very
omnibus on which he, formerly, rode up to town every morning.
A small proportion of conductors do possibly make occasional mistakes
in their grammar, but that is no reason why a certain writer should
have attributed to them, week after week for some years, a dialect
which they do not speak. Evidently the writer has not troubled to study
conductors, and imagines that they are drawn from the costermonger
class. Conductors, it may be added, do not even say “lidy,” or “lydy,”
although it has become the fashion in novels and articles to make
out that they do. They say “lady” as distinctly as ever the word was
uttered.
Omnibus drivers are, as a body, intellectually inferior to conductors.
They are usually brought up among horses, and, unlike the conductors,
are totally unfitted for any other calling than the one by which they
earn their living. Their wages, which are eight shillings a day,
after one year’s service, enable them to live in comfort and to put
a shilling on a horse in every race of any importance. They have no
ambition but to “back a winner,” and many men who started driving at
the age of twenty-one are not a penny richer after forty years’ regular
work. They continue driving until they become too old, and then they
realise that they have been exceedingly foolish. One driver, who for
more than forty years earned over two guineas a week, now sweeps a
crossing for a living. Many others have died in the workhouse.
As a wit the omnibus driver is greatly overrated. There is nothing
spontaneous about his witticisms, and all drivers let off exactly the
same jokes. These are three from their stock:--
When a coal cart is in front of them: “Now then, short weight, hurry
up!”
When another omnibus remains at a point longer than usual: “Got a bit
of freeehold there?”
When they are driving home to the stables about midnight, and some
would-be passenger hails them: “Not to-night, sir. We have the rest of
the evening to ourselves.”
But it must be admitted that omnibus drivers have the knack of
delivering their remarks in a way that makes a stranger imagine that
they are uttering them for the first time. And that is an art.
At Christmas time there is a great demand among ’busmen for
Rothschild’s racing colours. The drivers attach them to their
whips and the conductors adorn their bell-pulls with them, as a
slight acknowledgment of the welcome Christmas-box--a brace of
pheasants--which they have received for many years from the firm of
Rothschild. Originally these presents were given only to the coachmen
and conductors of omnibuses which passed the Rothschilds’ houses, but
now others receive them as well, and there must be about three thousand
brace distributed every Christmas.
The late Lord Rothschild, who, years ago, gave an annual dinner to the
Hammersmith ’busmen--half the men being entertained on one night and
half on another--was the first of the family to present Christmas-boxes
to them. His gift to every Hammersmith coachman and conductor was a
brace of pheasants, a bottle of wine and six cigars. After a time he
stopped the bottle of wine and cigars and gave five shillings instead.
The Victoria Station Omnibus Association coachmen and conductors also
receive five shillings each as well as the brace of pheasants, and the
reason why they are favoured is, the old ’busmen say, as follows:--One
day, many years ago, in the height of the season, there was a big crowd
gathered in Park Lane, and the traffic was stopped for some time to
keep the road clear for a member of the Royal Family to drive along.
By the fountain the block was so great that pedestrians who desired
to cross the road experienced the greatest difficulty in doing so. A
lady of the Rothschild family came up Hertford Street and wished to
cross over into Hamilton Place, but, naturally, did not venture to pick
her way through the wide stretch of omnibuses, cabs and carriages.
Benjamin West, a conductor of one of the Victoria Station Association’s
omnibuses, saw her, and, recognising her, got off his step and, with
a polite apology for addressing her, asked to be allowed to escort
her across the road. His services were accepted, and he led the way
safely through the maze of horses and vehicles. West then returned to
his omnibus, well satisfied at having been useful to a member of the
family which contains the best friends that ’busmen ever had. But, to
his surprise, he saw the lady turn and speak to the page following her,
in charge of a pug dog, who came running back to West’s omnibus to see
to whom it belonged. He read the inscription on the panel, “Victoria
Station Association,” and then hurried back and reported to his
mistress. The following Christmas every conductor and coachman in the
employ of the Victoria Station Association received from Mr. Leopold
Rothschild five shillings, and the present has been given every year
since.
Many instances of the Rothschilds’ generosity to individual ’busmen
could be given, but it would be indiscreet to mention actions which
were performed privately.
The Rothschilds are not, however, the only Jews from whom London
’busmen have received substantial benefits. The late Messrs. Barney
Barnato and Woolf Joel were very generous to them, and Mr. Morris
Abrahams has placed them under a debt of gratitude by starting, on
October 26, 1897, the Omnibus Men’s Superannuation Fund. Mr. Abrahams,
who is a cousin of the late Mr. Barnato, had for some years taken
a kindly interest in the ’busmen of the neighbourhood in which he
resides, when he was asked to contribute to a fund being raised for the
benefit of an old driver, who was incapacitated from further work. He
did as desired, and was present at the meeting at which the money was
presented to the ’busman. It struck him, however, that this gift was
only postponing the old man’s days of poverty. The money would keep him
for about eighteen months; at the end of that time the man would be
still less able to earn even a few pence. The need of a superannuation
fund was so obvious that Mr. Abrahams rose and suggested to the men
that they should start one, adding that if they would support the
movement he would provide all the money necessary for founding it.
The men received the suggestion with cheers, and raising Mr. Abrahams
aloft, carried him round the room. Finding that the ’busmen would
appreciate a fund of the nature he had suggested, he set to work to
start one. His first step was to instruct two men in the employ of the
London General Omnibus Company to apply for a week’s leave, so that
they might go all over London to ask the ’busmen to appoint a man from
each district to represent them on the committee. The two men obtained
the necessary leave, Mr. Abrahams paying them their usual wages, and
expenses, while away from work. The first general meeting was held at
the Horse Shoe. Six hundred and thirty ’busmen were present, and £40
was collected from them in subscriptions. Mr. Abrahams, who was in the
chair, presented the fund, on behalf of Messrs. Barnato, with £250.
From that day the Omnibus Men’s Superannuation Fund has made rapid
progress, and has now 1300 members and a reserve of £3200. Mr. Abrahams
is the president, Mr. Alfred Rothschild the vice-president, and among
the other supporters of the Fund are the Duke of Cambridge, the Duke
of Westminster, the Earl of Crewe, Lord Rosebery, and many members of
both Houses of Parliament. Mrs. Aubert made a donation of four hundred
guineas, and Mr. Woolf Joel left the Fund £250. The trustees are Mr.
E. R. P. Moon, M.P., and Mr. Lister Drummond, and the committee is
composed of twenty-eight ’busmen; the chairman and vice-chairman are
both ’bus drivers. The Fund gives fifteen shillings a week for life to
any member incapacitated from following his customary employment. The
first recipient was “Fat” Smith, a well-known driver of a Kilburn and
Victoria omnibus. In his young days Smith drove a stage-coach in Wales,
but coming to London in the sixties he obtained a job as an omnibus
driver, and retained it until about three years ago, when old age
compelled him to resign. The Fund has twenty-three pensioners in all,
and the number will soon be increased.
The theatrical profession has given the Fund valuable aid. Mr. George
Alexander lent his theatre for a _matinée_, at which a large number
of the best actors and actresses gave their services. The performance
lasted from half-past two until six, and hundreds of people were
unable to gain admittance. At the conclusion of the performance the
old ’busmen went on the stage and bowed their thanks. Mr. Abrahams has
received promises of further help from theatrical managers, actors and
actresses.
When the Fund had been started a few months the ’busmen decided to
present Mr. Abrahams with a testimonial, and had collected £60 with
which to purchase it when he heard of their action and communicated to
them his intention not to accept the gift. He requested that the money
collected should be returned to the subscribers. But four years later
the men were determined that he should have a testimonial, and on June
27, 1901, they presented him, at a meeting at the Holborn Restaurant,
with an exquisite silver model of an omnibus. Jim Perry, who is
eighty-one years of age, and has driven a London omnibus since 1844, is
faithfully reproduced as the driver of the presentation omnibus. Perry
may be seen any day driving a London General Omnibus Company omnibus
between Baker Street and Victoria Stations. The conductor of the silver
’bus represents J. Baker, a Fulham conductor, known as “Sailor Jack,”
who acts as collector to the Superannuation Fund.
Mr. Abrahams has, without ostentation, given both time and money to the
Fund, and it is to be hoped that London ’busmen will never forget their
indebtedness to him.
At the present day there are about 3700 omnibuses on the London
streets. For each omnibus there is a stud of ten horses, except when
the road on which it works is hilly, and then twelve are required.
The majority of omnibus horses are Canadians, and are purchased at
the London repositories when between five and eight years of age, the
average price paid being £30 per horse. They are then graduated to the
work, and become seasoned in two or three months. When seasoned they
work from four to five hours out of every twenty-four. After working
for about five years they are, generally, unfit for further omnibus
use, and are sold by auction, the purchasers being, in most cases,
farmers. Many horses recover their “straight legs” after a spell of
farm life, and farmers have been known to send up to London as English
bred horses Canadians which they purchased, some months before, as
“fresh from omnibus work.” On several occasions omnibus proprietors
have discovered that their new “English bred horse” is a Canadian which
they had sold, deeming it unfit for further use. It may be asked how it
was that the purchaser did not recognise his old horse before buying
it. But omnibus proprietors in a large way of business are continually
buying horses, and cannot possibly recognise every animal they have
possessed; but their horse-foremen, however, discover the British
farmer’s smartness. In all large studs a number is allotted to every
horse as soon as it is purchased. That number is burnt on the near fore
hoof, and entered, together with the colour and sex of the animal,
in the horse-register book. It is also painted on a slip of zinc and
placed over the stall the horse is to occupy. When the animal dies or
is sold his number plate is destroyed and a fresh one allotted to his
successor.
Each omnibus costs from £150 to £160, and lasts for about twelve years.
It is renovated every year previous to being inspected by the police,
who, on passing it, affix a number plate to the back of the step. The
police have two plates, which they issue on alternate years, so that
a constable can see at a glance whether an omnibus is licensed. For
each plate licence an omnibus proprietor has to pay £2 a year, and also
an annual tax of 15_s._ to the Inland Revenue. Until about ten years
ago the Inland Revenue tax was £2 2_s._, and would in all probability
have remained so had not Mr. John Manley Birch--one of the oldest
established proprietors--sued the Crown for a rebate on the ground
that as omnibuses came under the Hackney Carriage Act he could not
be compelled to pay more than the hackney carriage tax of 15_s._ Mr.
Birch’s action was made a test case and was decided in his favour, one
year’s rebate being allowed.
When an omnibus is no longer fit for London work it is sold at auction,
and becomes, eventually, a summer-house, a workmen’s shed, a cricket
club’s dressing-room or refreshment bar. The London General Omnibus
Company burns its old vehicles.
Until a few years ago it was a common thing for old London omnibuses to
be purchased by colonial and provincial proprietors, and a “Kilburn”
would be found at work at Liverpool, a “Camden Town” at Clacton-on-Sea,
and a “Hammersmith” or “Bayswater” in New Zealand. But municipal
authorities have, in most places, decided that an omnibus which is
unfit to be at work in London must be regarded as unworthy to ply in
their districts, and consequently the value of old omnibuses has fallen
considerably.
English-built omnibuses are acknowledged to be the best obtainable, and
Mr. Christopher Dodson, the well-known London coach-builder, supplies
many of the leading continental proprietors. Mr. Dodson has recently
invented a new staircase, which is more convenient for passengers, and
reduces considerably the risk of accidents. It is already in use on
some of the Road Car Company’s Putney and Brondesbury omnibuses.
The nightly washing of omnibuses is an important matter, and the person
who looks into an omnibus yard during the day would be surprised at
its changed appearance if he were to see it late at night. About 10
o’clock the first omnibus arrives in the yard. On its way from the
finishing point the conductor, lamp in hand, has searched the seats
and floor of his omnibus, and found, perhaps, a stray penny. If he
discovers a parcel, a purse, or anything of any value, he trudges off
with it to the nearest police-station, bearing no grudge against the
careless passenger who has made his walk necessary, for he knows that
he will be rewarded, no matter whether the article is claimed or not.
When the article is not claimed, he receives, eventually, a proportion
of its value. If his search has proved fruitless, he and the coachman
leave their omnibus as soon as it is in the yard, and depart for home,
or the nearest public-house. But before they have quitted the yard the
night men or “washers” have taken out the horses and led them into the
stable. Sometimes they take them upstairs to bed. Then the washers
unharness them and hang up the harness in the gangway. The collars,
however, are hung under the number plates, for it is very necessary
that every horse should have his own collar. The horses are then
groomed, provided with food and water and secured for the night. The
washers are now ready for the next ’bus, which has probably by this
time entered the yard. From midnight until nearly one o’clock ’bus
follows ’bus in quick succession. Each has its appointed position in
the yard, so that there shall be no hitch in its getting out at the
proper time in the morning. When the last omnibus has entered, the
stable-gates are locked and the men sit down to their supper. It is a
lively meal, and if the day has been a dry one and the ’buses are not
very dirty, they linger over it. If, however, there has been much rain,
they hurry through it, for a wet day means very hard work for them.
The ’buses have to be swept and swabbed, the wheels, the body, and
the windows have to be cleaned, the brass work polished, the cushions
brushed, and the aprons shaken and sponged. For some hours the yard is
full of noise and bustle.
At five o’clock the coachbuilder’s men arrive to test the wheels and
thoroughly overhaul each omnibus, and in the event of their discovering
any defect they repair it immediately. The coachbuilder’s men are
followed by the veterinary surgeon, who examines the horses; and if he
thinks that any of them should have a rest he gives instructions to
that effect to the foreman.
About seven o’clock the coachman and conductor of the omnibus which
came in first on the previous night arrive, the former carrying his
whip and rug, the latter with his little tin box--which contains his
bell-punch and tickets--under his arm. In a few minutes the bus leaves
the yard for its starting point. ’Bus after ’bus now passes out, and by
ten o’clock the yard has a deserted appearance, fowls and geese being
almost in sole possession, until the first change of horses is made.
CHAPTER XII
Pirate Omnibuses--Their History and Tricks.
Pirate omnibusmen--the pests of the streets of London--although not
quite so numerous as once they were, continue, practically unchecked,
to defraud ladies, children, foreigners and other unsuspecting persons
whom they succeed in enticing into their travelling plunder-traps.
The disreputable doings of these rascals have been the cause of a
very large proportion of the complaints which have been made against
omnibuses during the last seventy years.
One of the secrets of Shillibeer’s early success was the care which
he took to impress upon every man he employed the importance of
politeness towards all passengers, and the seriousness with which
he regarded any breach of that rule. But, in 1839, it was noticed
that this high standard of politeness was not maintained by two or
three conductors of the new omnibuses running from Paddington to
the Bank, _viâ_ Oxford Street. They overcharged passengers, and met
any protests with a torrent of abuse. Frequently, when females only
were in the omnibus, they brought their journey to an end before they
reached their advertised destination, compelling the passengers to
walk a considerable distance after paying their fares. Shillibeer was
inundated with complaints, and at once took steps to make it known that
the omnibuses referred to were not his property, although they bore his
name and were painted and lettered in imitation of his vehicles. These
were the first pirate omnibuses. To let the public know which really
were his vehicles, Shillibeer at once had painted on them “Shillibeer’s
Original Omnibus.” In a few days the same inscription appeared on some
of the pirates with the word “not” preceding it in very small letters.
When Shillibeer started his ill-fated Greenwich omnibuses the pirates
followed in his wake, and soon made their presence known by their
impudent cheating and bullying of passengers. One night, in April,
1836, some people returning to London saw what they believed to be
one of Shillibeer’s omnibuses ready to start. They entered it and
sat down to wait until it was full. Within a quarter of an hour all
the seats were occupied. But even then the omnibus did not start,
for the conductor, in the bullying manner of his class, demanded the
fares before the journey began. The passengers, anxious to get home,
produced their money and tendered the usual fare--a shilling each. With
a volley of oaths the conductor declared that the fare that night was
eighteenpence. The passengers refused to pay the extra sixpence and
threatened to report the conductor to Shillibeer for extortion and foul
language, if he did not start the omnibus at once.
“Right away, Charlie,” the conductor shouted; but there was something
in the way he uttered those three words which gave the coachman the tip
what to do, for he drove off immediately, not towards London, but down
a back street to a deserted part of Greenwich, where he pulled up.
Again the conductor demanded eighteenpence from each person, and some
were disposed to pay it; but the people who were the first to enter
the omnibus declined most emphatically to submit to the extortion, and
prevailed upon their fellow-passengers to be equally firm. Soon some
of them wished that they had not been so firm, for when the conductor
found that he could not obtain more than the proper fare he bawled out,
“It’s no good, Charlie. Let ’em walk to London.”
The coachman got down from his box, took out his horses and went off
with them at a trot, the conductor following with the omnibus lamp in
his hand. In great indignation the passengers quitted the dark omnibus
and wended their way back to the main street, vowing to let Shillibeer
have a full account of everything that had occurred. But when on the
following day they called on Shillibeer in a body, and complained of
the men’s behaviour, they were met with the inquiry, “What was the
number of the omnibus?”
“588,” was the answer in chorus.
“Gentlemen, that is not one of my omnibuses,” Shillibeer replied; but
he experienced some difficulty in convincing the deputation that he
spoke the truth. Some of his hearers were determined not to let the
matter rest there, and when they had satisfied themselves that the
omnibus in which they had had such an unpleasant experience was not a
Shillibeer, they published abroad, on their own responsibility, that
omnibus No. 588 was a pirate. Their caution against that particular
omnibus brought forth a large number of warnings against other pirates,
and the nefarious practices of the objectionable vehicles being
proved beyond all doubt, the Government passed a second Omnibus Bill,
compelling drivers and conductors to be licensed. But legislation did
not succeed in checking to any great extent the fraudulent doings of
the pirates.
The first real check they received came, a few years later, from the
proprietors of respectably-conducted omnibuses, whose vehicles were
imitated just as Shillibeer’s had been. These proprietors were now in
a position to assert themselves, having just formed themselves into
Associations. The associated proprietors started a crusade against
pirates, and subjected them daily to a rigorous course of “nursing,”
which is not such a harmless performance as it sounds, consisting as it
does of two omnibuses working together to prevent a third from making a
profitable journey. One of the Association’s omnibuses would keep just
in front of the pirate, and the other close behind it, with the result
that, there being three omnibuses where one would have been sufficient,
none of them earned enough to pay expenses. The Associations were
quite prepared to lose money, and when the pirates understood this
they changed their tactics quickly. Whenever a pirate found it was
going to be “nursed,” it would turn off the main road and wander about
the back streets until its “nurses” had gone on. Then it would make
another start in a clear road. To render that proceeding profitless,
the Associations told off an omnibus to follow each pirate wherever it
went. The result was that two omnibuses, sometimes empty, sometimes
carrying mixed loads of amused, frightened, and indignant passengers,
were frequently to be seen careering along quiet back streets with
scarcely a yard dividing them. This state of things had existed for
a few weeks, when a pirate owner heard something which caused him
considerable uneasiness, and prompted him to keep a close watch on his
men. The following morning he witnessed his omnibus begin its daily
struggle, and eventually disappear down a side street closely followed
by its “nurse.” He then walked to a quiet little inn some three miles
away, arriving there in time to discover the rival ’busmen enjoying
themselves at a friendly game of skittles, while their omnibuses stood
empty in the road.
On one occasion a pirate scored off its opponents in a novel way.
Having made several ineffectual attempts to obtain passengers, it
started off into the country, followed by its “nurse.” When they
had travelled some miles the driver of the respectable omnibus was
surprised by seeing a gate suddenly closed in front of his horses,
preventing him from following the pirate. At the same moment a gate
clanged behind him, and, looking round, he discovered that he had been
trapped. He had, in fact, followed the pirate on to its proprietor’s
little farm. “’Ere you are, and ’ere you’ll stay,” the irate owner
declared, with many oaths; while the pirate driver, with taunting
shouts of laughter, whipped up his horses and started back to town. The
farmer omnibus-proprietor made no attempt to detain the Association’s
men, but its omnibus and horses he held prisoners until the following
morning, releasing them one hour after his own omnibus had started out.
In 1855 the London General Omnibus Company came into existence, and
had been established but a very short time when the pirates were
repainted and lettered in close imitation of its omnibuses. They have
continued to imitate them, but not always with impunity, ever since,
and many thousands of people have entered pirates firmly believing
they were the Company’s vehicles. Nine or ten years ago the pirates’
audacity in imitating the general appearance of the London General
omnibuses was at its height, and certainly the imitations of their
decoration and lettering were excellent enough to deceive all but the
very wary. Unable to paint “London General Omnibus Company, Limited,”
on their panels, they had in its place some inscription which might, at
a glance, be taken for it. The favourite one was “London General Post
Office, Lothbury.”
There are also many pirates who lure passengers into their omnibuses by
having them painted to resemble the London Road Car Company’s vehicles.
The pirate is naturally of a roving disposition, and by no means
restricts itself to one route: a “Kilburn” may be seen at Blackwall,
or a “Bayswater” at Bethnal Green. But Oxford Circus is the place best
loved by pirates, and any day of the week they can be seen walking to
and fro, ready to begin their journey as soon as they see a number of
ladies waiting on the pavement.
During shopping hours pirates are continually running to and from
Oxford Circus, but it is interesting to notice that the name of their
destination very rarely appears on them. “Regent Circus” is put up
instead, and the public having doubts as to which really is Regent
Circus, the pirates obtain passengers for both Oxford Circus and
Piccadilly Circus, and turn them out at whichever they like. It is
a great pity that the local authorities do not have the name Regent
Circus, which is still displayed at Oxford Circus, removed, for it
affords the pirate-omnibus men an excuse for painting on their vehicles
a destination which is misleading. The Oxford Street shopkeepers
should, in the interests of their customers, see to this, and,
remembering that the police stated in court a few years ago that one,
at least, of the pirate omnibuses which frequented Oxford Circus was
worked in collusion with pickpockets, insist upon a closer watch being
kept on the pests.
In the summer many pirates run to Kew Gardens on Sundays, and the
exorbitant fares they charge--they collect them on alighting--spoil
the day’s pleasure of many a poorly-paid clerk. Some pirates run on to
Hampton Court, and a trick of theirs on these occasions should always
be borne in mind. When one of them gets well beyond Richmond, and all
fares have been paid--they collect them on these vehicles soon after
crossing Richmond Bridge--a horse is supposed to fall lame, and the
coachman declares, with many expressions of regret, that he cannot go
any further. The passengers are wondering what they shall do, when
another pirate omnibus comes along. The driver of the first omnibus
calls out to the driver of the second, “You’ll take these ladies and
gentlemen on for me, won’t you, Jack?” Jack answers in the affirmative,
and the passengers change into his omnibus, quite believing that
it belongs to the same proprietor as the other. It generally does,
but, nevertheless, when they have driven on another mile or two, the
conductor comes round for fares, and, in spite of indignant protests,
they have to pay. By that time the first omnibus is back at Richmond
picking up fares for London. In the evening it will make a shorter
journey on a different road.
Two or three bullies always ride on the long-distance pirate omnibuses,
and their fellow-travellers, as a rule, have not the slightest
suspicion that they are not ordinary passengers. Of course they pay
the second fare without a murmur, and if any other passenger does not
follow their example they express great astonishment that any one could
be so mean as to attempt to _swindle_ a poor ’bus conductor. Generally
that contemptuous speech has the desired effect--the passenger submits
to being cheated. But sometimes a man is smart enough to guess that the
indignant passengers are friends of the conductor, and is rash enough
to say so. If he looks the kind of man that can be frightened, the
bullies discard their _rôle_ of being disinterested passengers, and
join the conductor in swearing at him and threatening him alternately
with personal violence and the police. Frequently those threats cause
the passenger and his friends to pay up without any further complaints;
but sometimes the bullies meet with a surprise--the passengers threaten
them. Now, the pirate conductor, although frequently a big beery-faced
fellow, is usually a cowardly cur, and his dislike of a thrashing is
exceeded only by his abhorrence of police courts and magistrates.
Therefore he changes his tone, and requests the passengers to get out
if they will not pay; and naturally they oblige him.
Decoy women are another speciality of pirate omnibuses starting for a
long Sunday run into the country. Showily dressed, these women take
their seats on top of the omnibus at its starting place with the idea
of giving an air of respectability to the vehicle. If the omnibus fills
up quickly they pretend to remember that they have left something at
home--their money perhaps--and must of course go back for it; but, if
it does not fill, they go for the ride.
A few pirates cater on Sunday mornings for the lowest of the lower
classes by running a few miles out to some suburban public-house. There
are no restrictions as to behaviour in these omnibuses. A passenger may
smoke, spit and swear, inside or out, to his heart’s content. Moreover,
he may take in with him dogs, ferrets, rats, birdcages and beer. The
conductor smokes a clay pipe and talks, with the air of an authority,
of sporting matters. Several passengers offer him drinks from their
private bottles. He accepts them all, and yet never forgets to collect
the fares inside before going on top.
A few years ago I gave the following answer, to the oft-repeated
question, “How can you tell a pirate?” “No pirates issue tickets;
therefore, before entering an omnibus, see if the conductor has a
ticket-punch or roll of tickets. If he has you may enter his ’bus
assured that it belongs to one of the London Companies or Associations.
It is not, however, suggested that _every_ omnibus which does not issue
tickets is a pirate, for Messrs. Balls Brothers’ Brixton omnibuses,[1]
and a few others, are exceptions.”
[1] Messrs. Balls Brothers adopted the ticket system on August 26, 1901.
Unfortunately, the pirate conductors read my advice, and some of them
quickly rendered it nugatory by wearing punches and holding packets of
tickets in their hands so that every one might see them. The punches
differed, however, in appearance from those used by the Companies and
Associations.
A similar dodge was very common among pirates immediately after the
great strike, when the ticket system was in its infancy and conductors
of the various companies carried rolls of paper tickets. The pirate
conductors provided themselves with ticket-rolls, but once passengers
were safe in their omnibuses they never troubled to tear off and issue
the tickets. One old lady, deceived by a pirate’s appearance, entered
it, in the belief that it was one of the London General’s omnibuses,
and ensconced herself comfortably in the far corner. After a time
the conductor entered, collected her fare and returned to the door
without giving her a ticket. For a few moments the old lady eyed him
sorrowfully. Then she said in a tone of gentle reproof, “Conductor, you
haven’t given me a ticket.”
“Want a ticket, lady?” the conductor replied cheerfully. “’Ere you are,
then; take a bloomin’ yard of ’em,” and tearing off a long string of
tickets dropped it in coils in the astonished passenger’s lap.
But the favourite reply of pirate conductors when asked for a ticket
is, “We don’t have to give tickets. We’re honest men on these ’buses.”
In conclusion, I would point out that the London General, the Road Car,
and the other Companies and Associations described in Chapter VI.,
between them cover the whole of London, and there is, therefore, not
the slightest necessity for any one to enter a pirate. All the would-be
passenger has to do is to refrain from placing the slightest reliance
on the colour of the omnibus, but to see that it bears on the panels
the name of one of the Companies or Associations which I have mentioned.
Visitors to London should take note of the fact that Christmas Eve is
the day on which pirates reap a big harvest.
PART II
_CABS_
CHAPTER I
The introduction of hackney-coaches--“The world run on
wheels”--The first hackney-coach stand and the oldest cab rank
in England--Sedan chairs introduced--Charles I. and Charles II.
prohibit hackney-coaches--Hackney-coaches and the Plague--William
Congreve--Threatened strike of hackney-coachmen--Hackney-chariots
introduced--Prince of Wales drives a hackney-coach--Licences--Funeral
coaches ply for hire in the streets--A pedometer for hackney-coaches
suggested--Dickens on hackney-coaches--Origin of the word “hackney.”
There are, at the present day, many old people who remember and speak
with affection of the old hackney-coach. They admit that it was a
lumbering thing, and that the horses were generally sorry specimens
fully qualified for the knacker’s yard; but they add, emphatically,
that no vehicles now plying for hire in the streets of London can
compare with it for cosiness and comfort. It was furnished luxuriously,
and was as comfortable as a hammock, even when travelling on roads that
would shake a modern cab to pieces before it had journeyed half a mile.
Hackney-coaches were established in London early in the seventeenth
century, and soon became so well patronised that, in 1623, the Thames
watermen, who had long enjoyed the monopoly of carrying the public,
became alarmed and complained loudly that they were being ruined.
Apparently they wished the hackney-coaches to be suppressed, but the
new vehicles were far too popular to be treated in that fashion.
John Taylor, the waterman-poet, bewailed their introduction in a
pamphlet entitled, “The world run on wheels.” He did not denounce
private coaches, his anger being aroused “only against the caterpillar
swarm of hirelings. They have undone my poor trade whereof I am a
member: and though I look for no reformation yet I expect the benefit
of an old proverb, ‘Give the losers leave to speak.’... This infernal
swarm of trade-spellers have so overrun the land that we can get no
living upon the water; for I dare truly affirm that in every day in any
term, especially if the Court be at Whitehall, they do rob us of our
livings and carry 500 fares daily from us.”
“I have heard,” he continued, “of a gentlewoman who sent her man
to Smithfield from Charing Cross to hire a coach to carry her to
Whitehall; another did the like from Ludgate Hill to be carried to see
a play at Blackfriars.”
One is tempted to believe that Taylor was exaggerating in the hope of
checking by ridicule the growing fashion for hackney-coach riding.
“It is,” he declared in the same pamphlet, “a most uneasy kind of
passage in coaches on the paved streets of London, wherein men and
women are so tost, tumbled, jumbled, rumbled, and crossing of kennels,
dunghills, and uneven ways.”
In spite of the protests of the Thames watermen and their friends,
hackney-coaches grew in popular favour. Until 1634, they stood for hire
in the yards of the principal inns, but in that year Captain Baily,
a retired mariner, made an experiment. He had four superior coaches
built, and stationed them for hire at the Maypole in the Strand, where
St. Mary’s Church now stands. The cab rank at the side of St. Mary’s
Church is, therefore, the oldest in England. Baily’s drivers, attired
in livery, were instructed as to the charges they should make for
driving people to various parts of the town. So successful was this
venture that other hackney-coachmen began to take up their stand at
the same place and carry passengers at Captain Baily’s rates. Soon the
rank became so crowded that the practice of driving slowly along the
streets plying for hire was begun by hackney-coachmen who could not
find room for their vehicles at the stand.
Garrard mentions this innovation in a letter to Lord Strafford:--
“I cannot omit to mention any new thing that comes up amongst us,
though never so trivial: here is one Captain Baily, he hath been a
sea-captain, but now lives on the land, about this city, where he tries
experiments. He hath erected, according to his ability, some four
hackney-coaches, put his men in livery, and appointed them to stand at
the Maypole in the Strand, giving them instructions at what rates to
carry men into several parts of the town, where all day they may be
had. Other hackney-men seeing this way, they flocked to the same place,
and perform their journeys at the same rate; so that sometimes there
are twenty of them together, which disperse up and down, that they
and others are to be had everywhere, as watermen are to be had by the
waterside. Everybody is much pleased with it; for, whereas, before,
coaches could not be had but at greater rates, now a man may have one
much cheaper.”
Charles I. did not, however, regard hackney-coaches with favour, and
endeavoured to check Captain Baily’s enterprise by granting to Sir
Sanders Duncomb the sole right to let on hire sedan chairs, which,
until then, were unknown in England. The patent stated:--
“Whereas the streets of our cities of London and Westminster and their
suburbs are of late so much encumbered with the unnecessary multitude
of coaches, that many of our subjects are thereby exposed to great
danger and the necessary use of carts and carriages for provisions much
hindered: and Sir Sanders Duncomb’s petition representing that in many
parts beyond sea, people are much carried in chairs that are covered,
whereby few coaches are used among them: wherefore we have granted
to him the sole privilege to use, let, or hire a number of the said
covered chairs for fourteen years.”
Sedan chairs did not prove to be formidable rivals to the
hackney-coaches, but they added considerably to the congestion of the
streets. For this congestion the hackney-coaches were blamed, and on
January 19, 1635, a proclamation was made “to restrain the multitude
and promiscuous use of coaches about London and Westminster.”
The proclamation was to the effect that “hackney-coaches were not only
a great disturbance to his Majesty, his dearest consort the Queen,
the nobility and others of place and degree in their passage through
the streets; but the streets themselves were so pestered and the
pavements so broken up, that the common passage is thereby hindered
and made dangerous; and the prices of hay, provender, etc., thereby
made exceeding dear. Wherefore we expressly command and forbid that
no hackney-coaches or hired carriages be used or suffered in London,
Westminster, or the suburbs thereof, except they be to travel at
least three miles out of the same. And also that no person shall go
in a coach to the said streets except the owner of the coach shall
constantly keep up four able horses for our service when required.”
This proclamation was either withdrawn or ignored, for in the
following year there were many hackney-coaches plying for hire in
London and Westminster, and the rivalry between hackney-coachmen and
sedan-chairmen was humorously depicted in a pamphlet entitled, “Coach
and Sedan pleasantly disputing for place and precedence.”
In 1654, Parliament limited the number of hackney-coaches in London
and Westminster to three hundred, with two horses apiece. It was also
ordained that the government and regulation of hackney-coaches should
be in the hands of the Court of Aldermen, and for the expense of
regulating them, a tax of twenty shillings a year was placed on every
vehicle.
A few months after the Restoration hackney-coaches were forbidden, by
a proclamation dated October 18, 1660, to ply for hire in the streets.
But that this edict was evaded we have the authority of the delightful
Samuel Pepys. Writing under the date of November 7 he states:--
“Notwithstanding that this was the first day of the king’s proclamation
against hackney coaches coming into the streets to stand to be hired,
yet I got one to carry me home.”
In 1661 they numbered four hundred. They were small, narrow vehicles,
drawn by two horses, on one of which sat the driver, wearing spurs
and carrying a short whip. It was found, however, that they were very
destructive to the paving-stones, and a tax of £5 a year was therefore
placed on all hackney-coaches, the money thus obtained being expended
on the repairing and cleansing of the roads.
During the Plague infected persons were frequently conveyed to the
Pest-houses in hackney-coaches. Defoe mentions this in his “Journal of
the Plague Year.” In the “Orders conceived and published by the Lord
Mayor and Alderman of the City of London, concerning the infection of
the plague, 1665,” appears the following order:--“That care be taken of
hackney-coachmen, that they may not (as some of them have been observed
to do), after carrying of infected persons to the Pest-house, and other
places, be admitted to common use, till their coaches be well aired,
and have stood unemployed by the space of five or six days after such
service.”
[Illustration: HACKNEY-COACH. ABOUT 1680.]
After the Great Fire, when the streets were widened, more commodious
vehicles came into use, the majority being disused family coaches which
had been sold cheaply by the nobility and gentry. Their coats of arms
were not removed from the panels, and such coaches as bore the heraldic
devices of the most aristocratic houses invariably received the
greatest patronage. In 1694 some masked women hired a coach decorated
with a well-known coat of arms, and went for a drive in Hyde Park.
It is recorded that their behaviour was disgraceful, and that they
deliberately insulted some very distinguished people who were riding in
their private coaches. What they said or did will never be known, but
from that day hackney-coaches were prohibited from entering Hyde Park.
In the same year a tax of £4 per annum was placed on hackney-coaches,
and the cost of a licence became £50. The licence held good for
twenty-one years. The same Act of Parliament ordained that the number
of hackney-coaches should not exceed seven hundred.
In the early part of the following year William Congreve, the poet, was
appointed a Commissioner for Licensing Hackney-Coaches, at the moderate
salary of £100 a year, and retained the position until October, 1707.
Possibly the Hackney-Coach Licence Office was not loved by Congreve,
and when he left it each day he banished all thought of it until the
morrow. The idea of writing anything about it, in all probability
never occurred to him. “Who would be interested in hearing anything
concerning that dull, wearisome office?” he might have asked had any
one made the suggestion, and possibly very few people of that day would
have troubled to read anything on the subject. But to us an account of
his duties, with some description of the hackney-coach proprietors and
drivers with whom he came into contact daily, would be of more than
ordinary interest.
Early in the eighteenth century several thieves, not sufficiently
daring to attack stage-coaches, cut through the backs of
hackney-coaches, snatched off the passengers’ wigs and decamped with
them.
In 1711 Parliament once more altered the regulations concerning
hackney-coaches. The annual tax of £4 was changed to a weekly one of
five shillings, and the number of licences was increased to eight
hundred. The fares which the hackney-coachmen were authorised to charge
were fixed at a shilling for one mile and a half, eighteenpence for two
miles, and sixpence for every additional mile or portion of a mile.
Under the new regulations hackney-coaches enjoyed almost unbroken
prosperity for over fifty years, and, on the whole, gave satisfaction
to the public. There was, however, one occasion on which they became
very unpopular. A few days prior to the coronation of George III.,
the hackney-coach and the sedan-chair men agreed that unless they
were allowed to charge greatly increased prices on Coronation day,
they would refuse to take out their coaches and chairs. This decision
created considerable indignation among people who wished to ride
but did not possess vehicles of their own, and the Lords of the
Privy Council issued a proclamation that all hackney-coachmen and
sedan-chairmen were to be out with their coaches and chairs at four
o’clock in the morning of Coronation day; they were, moreover, warned
that if they demanded more than the ordinary fares, or failed to
perform their duties properly, they would be punished with the utmost
severity. This proclamation did not have the desired effect. The men
decided to defy the authorities, and would certainly have done so had
not a well-known sedan-chair maker advised them to go to work and trust
to the generosity of the public. He assured them that he had been told
by numerous regular users of hackney-coaches and sedan-chairs that
they were perfectly willing to pay, unasked, considerably more than
the legal fares. So the men went to work, and the majority reaped a
splendid harvest. Some people declined to pay more than the usual fare,
but they were not sufficiently numerous to prevent the day being a
memorable one for hackney-coachmen.
In 1768 there were a thousand hackney-coaches licensed to stand for
hire in the streets. Of these only 175 were allowed to ply for hire on
Sundays.
By an Act of George III. a commission was formed for the management
of hackney-coaches and the receipt of duties. Stands were appointed
in various parts of London, and coachmen were forbidden to wait for
hire at any other places. Men were also licensed to water the horses
at the various stands. These men were known as “watermen,” “caddies”
or “cads,” and wore, slung round their necks, a brass label bearing
a number. Besides watering the horses they looked after them while
the coachmen drank in the taproom or slept on their boxes, and, also,
opened the coach doors and lowered the steps for hirers. Every coachman
before driving off a rank paid the waterman one halfpenny.
One clause of this Act appears, nowadays, very snobbish. It made a
hackney-coachman liable to a penalty of £5 for “not giving way to
persons of quality and gentlemen’s coaches.”
[Illustration: HACKNEY-COACH. ABOUT 1800.]
As time went on, hackney-coaches continued to increase in number,
but were never allowed to become sufficiently numerous to make
competition very keen. At the end of the eighteenth century they were
most luxurious. The majority originally cost some £700 or £800 each,
and were purchased from the brokers by hackney-coach proprietors at a
trifle above breaking-up prices, varying, according to the condition
of the vehicles, from £25 to £50. To illustrate their commodiousness,
a well-known coachbuilder, now dead, was fond of telling the following
story. When he was a youngster, he had a difference with another boy
in Old Palace Yard and proceeded to settle it in the time-honoured
British fashion, much to the delight of the hackney-coachmen on the
rank. To their intense disgust, however, an energetic member of the
newly-established police force appeared on the scene and stopped the
fight. Only for a time though, for one of the men bundled the boys into
his own hackney-coach and told them to fight it out there. They did;
the sport-loving, many-caped coachmen crowding round and watching them
through the windows.
Early in the nineteenth century a more lightly built hackney-coach,
named a “chariot,” which was introduced many years previously, became
popular. It carried two inside passengers and had room for a third
on the box seat. The driver usually rode on the near-side horse, but
some men drove from the box. In 1814 there were two hundred licensed
chariots in London, and for a few years the number increased rapidly.
Some of the chariots licensed in 1815 had accommodation for three
inside passengers.
With the young bloods of the day hackney-coachmen were great
favourites, chiefly because they looked on with marked approval while
their fares wrenched off a knocker, assaulted a policeman, or kissed a
pretty girl. Moreover, their memory was most defective when necessary.
One night a hackney-coachman was called to the British Coffee House
in Cockspur Street to take up the Prince of Wales, afterwards George
IV. The First Gentleman of Europe was in one of his lively moods and
commanded the coachman to get down and let him drive. The astonished
driver began to make excuses, but the Prince cut them short by seizing
the man and pitching him bodily through the open window into the coach.
Then, quickly mounting the box, he drove off at an exciting speed.
Questioned later as to how His Royal Highness acquitted himself, the
hackney-coachman replied, “The Prince isn’t such a bad driver. Indeed,
he drove very well for a prince; but he didn’t take the corners and
crossings careful enough for a regular jarvey.”
Hackney-coachmen prided themselves on being dashing fellows, and no
self-respecting member of the profession was ever without at least one
adoring lady-love. Just as nowadays servant-girls of all ages, sizes
and shapes, are consumed with one great desire--to have a soldier to
“walk out with,” so the girls of that class sixty to a hundred years
ago considered it the summit of happiness to be seen leaning on the arm
of a hackney-coachman. As a rule, the hackney-coachman had plenty of
girls to choose from, and, that being the case, he was naturally rather
particular about whom he selected for the honour of being allowed to
cook his meals for the remainder of his life.
Hackney-coachmen were not licensed. Any man might drive a
hackney-coach, but the proprietor, himself licensed, was held
responsible for the actions of his men. No person could obtain a
licence to possess a hackney-coach unless he was recommended by
a peer, a Member of Parliament, or some other influential being;
consequently, a large number of hackney-coach proprietors were men
who had been gentlemen’s servants. And in the interests of these men
the hackney-coach business was not allowed to become overcrowded. The
number of licence-plates issued never exceeded one thousand, in spite
of the fact that, in the early part of last century, the public were
complaining constantly that there were not sufficient hackney-coaches
plying for hire.
The hackney-coach fares were, at this period, one shilling a mile, and
sixpence extra for every additional half-mile or part of half a mile.
The waiting fare was three shillings an hour for the first three
hours, and two shillings for every additional hour or part of an hour.
For the licence-plate affixed to the vehicle the proprietor had to pay
ten shillings a week.
In compliance with a legal requirement every driver was paid a small
salary, generally nine shillings a week, but that formed a very
insignificant portion of his income, for, like the cabman of to-day,
he could keep all that he earned beyond the hire money due to the
proprietor.
Mourning coaches, commonly called “black coaches,” bore licence-plates,
and when not engaged at funerals plied for hire in the streets. The
number of these vehicles was limited, but every undertaker kept
in reserve many for which he had no licences, as, in the event of
requiring more coaches for a funeral than he possessed licences, he
had the power to go to any rank and remove from the hackney-coaches
standing there as many licence-plates as he wanted. These plates he
would affix to his unlicensed vehicles, and for the loan of each would
have to pay the hackney-coachman waiting fare.
In the first quarter of the last century, hackney-coach proprietors
were blackmailed systematically by two or three men who made a
comfortable living as common informers. One of these fellows would
stroll into a hackney-coach yard, greet the proprietor in a very
friendly way and have a chat with him on any topic of the day. The
conversation always ended, however, in one way--with a request by
the informer that the proprietor would lend him half a sovereign. In
most cases the proprietor, knowing who the man was, complied with the
request at once, and nothing more would be seen of the borrower for a
month or two. But if the proprietor refused the “loan,” he received,
in the course of a day or two, a summons for some irregularity in
connection with his drivers, his vehicles, or his horses. The informer
received one-half of every fine that was imposed. These blackmailers
flourished long after the introduction of cabs, and when at last their
nefarious business was stopped, they were succeeded by blackmailers
of another class. Strange as it may seem, forty years ago it was a
common thing for the proprietors of a large number of horses to submit
to being blackmailed by men whose duty it was to keep an eye on their
studs.
In 1822, an order was issued compelling hackney-coachmen to take
to the office of the Registrar of Licences all articles found in
their vehicles. The losers, on applying at the office, had their
property restored to them, upon payment of a small fee to be given
to the coachman. It is said, however, that valuable articles lost in
hackney-coaches were very rarely recovered; it was only minor things
that were taken to the office. Hackney-coachmen had, some years
previously, been considered an honest set of men, but they had sadly
deteriorated, as had also their vehicles. A correspondent of the
_London Magazine_, signing himself “Jehu,” gave, in 1825, the following
description of a hackney-coach:--
“A hackney-coach--fogh! Who can be a gentleman and visit in a
hackney-coach? Who can, indeed? to predicate nothing of stinking wet
straw and broken windows, and cushions on which the last dandy has
cleaned his shoes, and of the last fever it has carried to Guy’s, or
the last load of convicts transported to the hulks.”
He was also troubled about the hackney-coachmen’s extortion, and
suggested this method of checking it. “Is there any valid reason why a
hackney-coach should not have a pedometer visible to the unfortunate
freight? to be noted on entering, to be noted on exiting, as effectual
against fraudulent space as a watch is against fraudulent time, with
shillings on the dial plate where there are hours; and where there
are minutes, sixpences. It would not cost £2, it would save endless
altercations, it would save typographying a table of hackney-coach
fares, it would save a man’s money and temper, and go far towards
saving the souls of hackney-coachmen born, or to be born--and the
trouble of the commissioners. Our invention is the best of all possible
inventions, and therefore it will not be adopted.”
“Jehu” did not make a mistake--his suggestion was not adopted, and
hackney-coachmen, soured by the rivalry of the newly introduced
omnibuses and cabs, became more extortionate and abusive than ever they
had been.
A few proprietors, believing that the new vehicles were doomed to
failure, kept their hackney-coaches in good repair and made it a rule
to have respectable men for drivers, but these clean coaches were
not numerous enough to prevent hackney-coaches as a body from being
termed dirty and disreputable. In “Sketches by Boz,” Dickens gives the
following description of a hackney-coach of the early thirties:--
“There is a hackney-coach stand under the very window at which we are
writing; there is only one coach on it now, but it is a fair specimen
of the class of vehicles to which we have alluded--a great, lumbering,
square concern of a dingy yellow colour (like a bilious brunette), with
very small glasses, but very large frames; the panels are ornamented
with a faded coat of arms, in shape something like a dissected bat,
the axle-tree is red, and the majority of the wheels are green. The
box is partially covered by an old great-coat, with a multiplicity of
capes, and some extraordinary-looking clothes; and the straw, with
which the canvas cushion is stuffed, is sticking up in several places,
as if in rivalry with the hay which is peering through the chinks in
the boot. The horses, with drooping heads, and each with a mane and
tail as scanty and straggling as those of a worn-out rocking-horse,
are standing patiently on some damp straw, occasionally wincing and
rattling the harness; and, now and then, one of them lifts his mouth to
the ear of his companion, as if he were saying, in a whisper, that he
should like to assassinate the coachman. The coachman himself is in
the watering-house; and the waterman, with his hands forced into his
pockets as far as they can possibly go, is dancing the ‘double shuffle’
in front of the pump, to keep his feet warm.”
A writer in the _Monthly Magazine_ gives a less graphic but more
denunciatory account of the hackney-coaches of that period.
“Nothing in nature or art can be so abominable as those vehicles at
this hour. We are quite satisfied that, except an Englishman, who will
endure anything, no native of any climate under the sky would endure a
London hackney-coach; that an Ashantee gentleman would scoff at it; and
that an aboriginal of New South Wales would refuse to be inhumed within
its shattered and infinite squalidness. It is true that the vehicle has
its merits, if variety of uses can establish them. The hackney-coach
conveys alike the living and the dead. It carries the dying man to the
hospital, and when doctors and tax-gatherers can tantalize no more, it
carries him to Surgeons’ Hall and qualifies him to assist the ‘march of
mind’ by the section of body. If the midnight thief finds his plunder
too ponderous for his hands, the hackney-coach offers its services, and
is one of the most expert conveyances. Its other employments are many,
and equally meritorious, and doubtless society would find a vacuum in
its loss. Yet we cordially wish that the Maberley brain were set at
work upon this subject, and some substitute contrived.”
Hackney-coaches died hard. In 1841, there were four hundred plying
for hire, but before the Great Exhibition of 1851, nearly all
the proprietors who possessed sufficient capital had sold their
hackney-coaches at breaking-up prices, and started cabs. Nevertheless,
as late as 1858, hackney-coaches were to be seen occasionally in the
streets.
The origin of the word “hackney” cannot be decided. In all probability
it was derived from the old French word “_hacquenèe_,” which was
applied to horses--and sometimes coaches--let on hire. The claim that
Hackney was the first place where coaches could be hired, and gave its
name to the vehicles, does not bear investigation.
CHAPTER II
Cabs introduced into England--Restrictions placed upon them--A
comical-looking cab--Dickens on cabs--Hackney-coachmen wish to become
cabmen--The cab business a monopoly--Restrictions are removed--_The
Cab_ paper--The Boulnois cab invented--The “minibus”--The
“duobus”--Bilking--A peer’s joke.
Nearly one hundred years have elapsed since Londoners, growing
dissatisfied with the lumbering hackney-coaches plying for hire in the
metropolis, began to advocate the introduction of the _cabriolet de
place_, which for some considerable time had been exceedingly popular
in Paris. Unfortunately, the hackney-coach proprietors had been granted
the sole right of carrying people within the bills of mortality--an
area which contained the most thickly populated parts of London and
nearly all the places of entertainment--and naturally they protested
strongly against the introduction of what might prove to be formidable
rivals to their slow-travelling vehicles. But in 1805 cabriolet
promoters received a slight encouragement, Messrs. Bradshaw and
Rotch--the latter a member of Parliament--obtaining licences for nine
of their vehicles on the condition that they never entered within the
bills of mortality. In appearance the cabriolet resembled the modern
gig, and carried two people only, the driver sitting side by side
with his fare. In consequence of the limited area in which they were
allowed to ply for hire, the new vehicles attracted little attention,
but, on April 23, 1823, twelve fully-licensed cabriolets, built by Mr.
David Davies, were placed on the streets. They were announced as being
“introduced to the public in honour of his Majesty’s birthday.” These
cabriolets were a decided improvement upon their predecessors, as each
one had accommodation for two passengers. The driver, whose proximity
to his fare had proved to be the reverse of a pleasure to riders, was
relegated to a comical-looking seat built out on the off side, between
the body of the vehicle and the wheel. The hood strongly resembled a
coffin standing on end, and earned for the vehicle the nickname of
“coffin-cab.” The fore part of the hood could be lowered as required,
and there was a curtain which could be drawn across to shield the rider
from wind or rain. The fare was eightpence a mile and fourpence
for every additional half-mile or part of half a mile. Each vehicle
carried, in a leather pocket made for the purpose, a book of fares for
the convenience of hirers.
[Illustration: LONDON CAB OF 1823, WITH CURTAIN DRAWN.]
In a short time cabriolets became very popular, and a topical song of
the period contains the following verse:--
“In days of old when folks got tired,
A hackney coach or a chariot was hired;
But now along the streets they roll ye
In a _shay_ with a cover called a cabrioly.”
The French name of the vehicle was soon abbreviated to “cab,”
and, although the word was at first considered deplorably vulgar,
convenience triumphed quickly over the objections of purists.
To be able to travel cheaply and quickly was a pleasing novelty to
Londoners, but many of them lived to regret having trusted themselves
in a cab, for the drivers, proud of being able to pass hackney and
private coaches, were fond of showing their superior speed, and while
doing so frequently ran against street posts or collided with other
vehicles; and when either of these things happened, or the horse fell,
the “fare” was usually pitched forward into the road. This danger,
coupled with the difficulty of climbing into a cab, prevented old men
and women from patronising the new vehicle. They remained satisfied
with hackney-coaches, but young and middle-aged men--“dandies” and
shopmen striving to imitate them--gloried in cabs, and many of them
boasted of the number of times they had been thrown out of them.
Dickens on several occasions mentioned the cabs of this period.
Describing, in “Sketches by Boz,” morning in the streets of London, he
wrote--
“Cabs, with trunks and band-boxes between the drivers’ legs and outside
the apron, rattle briskly up and down the streets on their way to the
coach-offices or steam-packet wharfs; and the cab-drivers and hackney
coachmen who are on the stand polish up the ornamental part of their
dingy vehicles--the former wondering how people can prefer ‘them wild
beast cariwans of homnibuses to a riglar cab with a fast trotter,’ and
the latter admiring how people can trust their necks into one of ‘them
crazy cabs, when they can have a ’spectable ’ackney cotche with a pair
of ’orses as von’t run away with no vun;’ a consolation unquestionably
founded on fact, seeing that a hackney-coach horse never was known
to run at all, ‘except,’ as the smart cabman in front of the rank
observes, ‘except one, and _he_ run back’ards.”
[Illustration: THE “COFFIN-CAB.”]
“Talk of cabs!” the great novelist wrote in his article on
Hackney-Coach Stands. “Cabs are all very well in cases of expedition,
when it’s a matter of neck or nothing, life or death, your temporary
home or your long one. But, besides a cab’s lacking that gravity of
deportment which so peculiarly distinguishes a hackney-coach, let it
never be forgotten that a cab is a thing of yesterday, and that he was
never anything better. A hackney-cab has always been a hackney-cab,
from his first entry into public life; whereas a hackney-coach is a
remnant of past gentility, a victim to fashion, a hanger-on of an old
English family, wearing their arms, and, in days of yore, escorted by
men wearing their livery, stripped of his finery, and thrown upon the
world, like a once smart footman when he is no longer sufficiently
juvenile for his office, progressing lower and lower in the scale of
four-wheeled degradation, until at last it comes to--_a stand_!”
The growing popularity of the cabs soon thoroughly alarmed the
hackney-coachmen, who at first had jeered at the new vehicle and
prophesied a short career for it. They endeavoured to get their
licence-plates transferred to cabs, but were unsuccessful, for the cab
proprietors of that period were men of good social position--some
of them occupying Government appointments--and all the influence
which they could command was exerted to keep the trade in their own
hands. In spite of the protests of the hackney-coach proprietors this
monopoly existed for nearly ten years, and many of the aristocratic
cab owners amassed money rapidly. They did not believe in having a
large number of cabs, even of their own, on the streets, and for some
months there were only fifty. Afterwards the number was raised to one
hundred, and in 1831, to one hundred and fifty. In Paris in the same
year, there were nearly two thousand five hundred of them! In 1832,
when the number of London cabs reached one hundred and sixty-five, the
disgraceful monopoly was put an end to, and, all restrictions being
removed, hackney-coach proprietors were at last enabled to transfer
their licences from their coaches to cabs. In a few weeks there were
several hundred cabs, and other two-wheel vehicles, plying for hire in
the streets.
A paper called _The Cab_ was started immediately, but the title was
chosen simply to attract attention, as, although the publication
bore on the front page a small and blurred illustration of a cab,
its contents were literary odds and ends. In the “Answers to
Correspondents” column, a cabman’s MS. was declined with thanks. Its
non-publication is to be regretted.
Some months later a new cab, invented and patented by Mr. William
Boulnois, father of Mr. Edmund Boulnois, M.P., was placed on the
streets. It was a two-wheeled closed vehicle, constructed to carry
two passengers sitting face to face. The driver sat on a small and
particularly unsafe seat on the top of it, and the door was at the
back. It was, in fact, so much like the front of an omnibus that it was
well known as “the omnibus slice.” Its popular name was “the back-door
cab.” Superior people called it a “minibus.” This cab was quickly
followed by a very similar, although larger, vehicle invented by Mr.
Harvey. It was called a “duobus,” a name frequently applied to Mr.
Boulnois’s cab.
A young man of good family, who had squandered a fortune, conceived the
idea of earning his living by driving a back-door cab of his own. His
friends having supplied him with the necessary capital, he created a
sensation by appearing one morning in the Haymarket driving a superbly
fitted and splendidly horsed cab. The result of his first morning’s
work was very satisfactory, and the young cabman was in high spirits.
But driving to the stables, his horse stumbled and fell, and, taken by
surprise, the unfortunate young cabman was pitched head-first into the
road, and killed on the spot.
[Illustration: BOULNOIS’S CAB.]
But the driver’s unsafe seat was not the only weak point about the
back-door cab. The facilities it offered for alighting without paying,
soon made “bilking” a popular amusement with a certain class of people.
A somewhat rackety young peer proved, for a wager, how easy it was to
“bilk” a cabman. He hailed a cab outside his club and told the cabby
to drive him to a certain address at Hammersmith. Just before he
arrived at his destination he got out unobserved, and from a distance
watched cabby’s surprise and wrath on discovering his vehicle to be
empty. After a time the cabman started back for town, and the youthful
lord, seizing his opportunity, re-entered the cab, and shouted almost
immediately, in well-assumed anger, “Hi, you rascal! Where are you
driving me? I told you to take me to Hammersmith.” The cabman,
speechless with astonishment, turned round and made for Hammersmith
once more, only however to discover on arriving there, that his “fare”
had disappeared again. He became convinced that his cab was haunted,
and this belief was strengthened, as he drove back through Kensington
by discovering suddenly that his fare was sitting calmly in his vehicle
as if nothing had happened. Cabby did not utter a word, for he was too
frightened to address his “fare,” but drove to the club, where he had
picked him up, as quickly as possible. There the young peer alighted,
and, without the slightest explanation, paid the cabman five times his
fare.
CHAPTER III
Hansom invents a cab--Chapman designs and patents the
present hansom--Francis Moore’s vehicles--The Hansom patent
infringed--Litigation a failure--Pirate cabs called “shofuls”--The
“Clarence” or four-wheeler introduced--An unpleasant fare--The
decoration of cabs--Cabmen compelled to wear badges--The “Tribus”--The
“Curricle Tribus”--The “Quartobus.”
The prevalence of “bilking” made the back-door cab such an unprofitable
vehicle that a new style of cab became imperative.
[Illustration: THE FIRST HANSOM.]
At the close of 1834, Mr. Joseph Aloysius Hansom, the architect of the
old Birmingham Town Hall and founder of _The Builder_, patented a cab
designed by himself. The body of this vehicle was almost square and
hung in the centre of a square frame. The frame enclosed the whole of
the body, passing over and under it. The driver sat on a small seat on
the top at the front. The doors were also at the front, one on each
side of the cabby’s feet. The wheels were seven feet six inches in
height--a trifle taller than the vehicle itself--and were attached to
the sides of the frame by a pair of short axles. This extraordinary
vehicle Mr. Hansom himself drove from Hinckley in Leicestershire to
London, much to the wonder of the inhabitants of the various towns
and villages through which he passed, and to the amusement of the
stage-coach drivers and waggoners whom he met on the road. Mr. Hansom,
who was financed by Mr. William Boulnois, the inventor of the back-door
cab, also registered another cab, the body of which resembled the one
just mentioned in every respect, except that the doors were at the
sides, and passengers had to enter the vehicle _through_ the wheels,
which were without felloes, naves, and spokes, the rotary action
being produced by a somewhat complicated arrangement of zones and
friction rollers. This cab never plied for hire in the streets, but the
first-mentioned one, after the wheels had been reduced considerably in
size, and one or two minor alterations made, was thought so highly of
that a company was formed to purchase Mr. Hansom’s rights for £10,000.
An old print of this cab represents the passenger exclaiming:--
“The sweet little cherub that sits up aloft
Takes care of the fate of poor Jack.”
Not a penny of the £10,000 was, however, paid to Hansom, for it was
found, as soon as the cabs were placed on the streets, that they were
far from being perfect.
[Illustration: AN IMPROVED HANSOM.]
The only money Hansom received, directly or indirectly, from his
invention was £300, presented to him some time later for services
rendered to the company at a critical period. But although he reaped
very little pecuniary benefit from his invention, posterity has been
generous in connecting his name with a cab which is far superior to
the one which he invented. If the cab known to us as the “Hansom”
were called the “Chapman,” it would be more in accordance with
historical accuracy. Mr. John Chapman, the projector of the Great
Indian Peninsular Railway, was, when Mr. Hansom patented his cab, the
secretary of the Safety Cabriolet and Two-wheel Carriage Company. He
discovered quickly the weak points in Hansom’s cab, and, setting to
work, invented a far superior one. The driver’s seat was placed at
the back, the sliding window still in use was introduced, and the
framework under the body of the vehicle was constructed to rest on the
ground when tilted forwards or backwards. A cranked axle passing under
the body of the cab was also introduced.
This cab was patented by Mr. Chapman and Mr. Gillett, who financed him,
in December, 1836.
The company which owned Hansom’s cab purchased Messrs. Chapman and
Gillett’s patent, and in a very short time placed fifty of the new
cabs on the streets. From the first they were a great success, and for
sixty-six years they have remained in public favour. The only important
alteration made during those years was the introduction of the straight
axle, which necessitated the cutting away of the body of the cab
beneath the passenger’s seat. This improvement was made very soon after
the first Chapman or Hansom appeared on the streets. The side windows
of hansoms were, until the fifties, very small--about one foot by eight
inches.
[Illustration: FRANCIS MOORE’S VEHICLE.]
Hansom’s cab, before being improved by Chapman, bore a strong
resemblance to a vehicle of which there is an illustration in Pennant’s
“London,” published in 1790. This vehicle is represented as having
just passed under Temple Bar, on which are fixed the gruesome heads
of traitors. Knight mentions, in his work on London, having seen
a print, dated early in the nineteenth century, of a very similar
conveyance, which was described as “the carriage of the ingenious
Mr. Moore.” That the vehicle in Pennant was built by Francis Moore,
of Cheapside, a well-known coachbuilder, there can be no doubt.
The difficulty is to decide which conveyance the Pennant picture
represents. The _Gentleman’s Magazine_ for 1771 contains the following
paragraph:--“Oct. 30. One of Mr. Moore’s carts to carry the mail, upon
a new construction, was drawn to the General Post Office. The wheels
are eight feet eight inches high, and the body is hung in the same
manner as his coal carts, covered with wood, and painted green; the
driver is to sit on the top.”
Moore patented a two-wheel carriage in June, 1786, and another in
1790. The specifications of the latter show that it was hung on two
large wheels. The door, however, was at the back, and the driver had a
separate seat at the front, but not on the top of the vehicle. It is
very probable that Hansom saw Francis Moore’s carriages, and that the
cab, which has made his name a household word, was an improvement upon
the conveyance depicted in Pennant.
Hansom’s original cabs, when not plying for hire, stood on premises
which now form a part of the Baker Street Bazaar.
In 1836, hackney-coaches, “outrigger” cabriolets, and back-door cabs
were still plying for hire, but the immediate and continued success of
Chapman’s cab prompted the proprietors of those decaying vehicles to
start similar conveyances. Cabs painted and lettered in close imitation
of the new patented vehicle were soon as plentiful as the real ones.
Some proprietors, who prided themselves on being very smart, always had
the word “not” painted in very small letters before the inscription,
“Hansom’s Patent Safety,” believing that this would save them from
being prosecuted. They were mistaken, for the company made a determined
effort to protect its rights, and commenced legal proceedings against
the infringers of its patent. In every case the company was successful,
and heavy damages were awarded it, but the victories were barren ones,
for on almost every occasion the infringer of the patent turned out to
be a man of straw. So when the Company had spent £2000 in lawsuits, and
had succeeded only in obtaining payment of one fine of £500, it came to
the conclusion that the wisest thing it could do would be to refrain
in future from litigation. That was a splendid thing for the “pirate”
cabs, who now dispensed with the word “not,” and appeared similar in
every respect to the real “Hansoms,” as the Chapmans were called. When
the company took over Chapman’s cabs it had painted on them “Hansom’s
Patent Safety,” so that the public might know that the conveyances
belonged to the same firm as the cab which Hansom invented. And the
result of this absurd action on the part of the company is that Hansom
enjoys the fame which belongs by right to Chapman.
Although few people could distinguish a real hansom from its many
imitators, the Company’s drivers knew the difference, and treated
“pirate” cabs with the utmost contempt. They called them “shofuls,”
and many ingenious explanations of the origin of that word have been
published during the last fifty years. Some people declared that a
hansom closely resembled a shovel, while others explained that two
persons in a cab made it a “show full.” As a matter of fact, “shoful”
was a slang word for “counterfeit” among the lower class Jews, and
was conferred by the many Jewish employés of the Company upon those
vehicles which infringed Hansom’s or Chapman’s patent. In course of
time it became the slang term for all hansoms, but the word is now very
rarely heard.
The first four-wheeler was placed upon the streets, just as Chapman’s
cab appeared, by the General Cabriolet Conveyance Company. It was
built by Mr. David Davies, the builder of the cabriolets of 1823, was
called a “covered cab,” and carried two passengers inside and one
on the box seat. The doors were at the sides. This cab was quickly
improved upon, and the “Clarence,” our much-abused “growler,” was the
result. Lord Brougham was highly pleased with the new vehicle, and in
1840 he instructed his coachbuilder--Mr. Robinson of Mount Street--to
make him one of a superior description. Hence the brougham.
[Illustration: THE FIRST FOUR-WHEELED CAB.]
Elderly and sober-minded people showed a marked preference for riding
in clarences, and hansoms soon became considered the vehicles of
the fast and disreputable. This reputation has not been lived down
entirely, for, at the present day, there are some old ladies who
will on no account enter a hansom, and shake their heads sorrowfully
when they see their grand-daughters doing so. It must be confessed
that hansoms figured in police-court cases much more frequently than
the four-wheelers did. A well-known cab proprietor, who died a few
years ago, had, in his youth, an exceedingly unpleasant experience
while driving a hansom. One night he was hailed by two men who were
supporting between them a sailor, who was, apparently, in an advanced
state of intoxication. They placed the sailor in the cab, and then,
turning to the cabman, told him to drive to a certain quiet place some
distance away and wait for them there. They explained that they had a
brief call to make and could not take the drunken man with them, but
they would follow on in less than a quarter of an hour, and inspired
confidence by paying a portion of the fare in advance. Cabby drove
off and all went well until reaching a toll-gate. As the keeper came
out of the toll-house he caught sight of the sailor, and, thinking
that something was the matter with him, he went closer and peered into
his face. Then he ran to the horse’s head, and seizing it, exclaimed
sharply to the cabman, “Hallo! young fellow, you’ve got a stiff ’un in
there.”
“Go on; he’s only drunk,” the cabman replied. But the toll-keeper
was not satisfied with the explanation, and detained the cab until a
policeman arrived. The sailor was then examined, and it was at once
evident that not only was he dead, but that he had been so for several
days. It was, in fact, a body-snatching job, and the rascals engaged
in it had dressed the corpse in sailor’s clothes to get it through the
streets without attracting attention. Instructed by the police, the
cabman drove to the place where he had been told to await the men,
but they did not appear to claim the body. They had evidently kept a
distant watch on the cab.
In the thirties and forties cabs were painted in most startling and
conflicting colours, the proprietors considering, apparently, that the
greater the contrast the more effective the result. A miniature white
horse, symbolic of the House of Hanover, was painted on the majority of
hansoms. On the sides of four-wheelers were depicted strange monsters
unknown to heraldry, zoology, or mythology. These were in imitation
of the armorial bearings so conspicuous on the panels of the old
hackney-coaches, which, as already stated, were generally discarded
family coaches.
In 1838, cabmen were compelled by Act of Parliament to take out a
licence and wear a badge. On the day of the distribution of badges,
many of the cabmen, attired in their best clothes, took a holiday. Some
half a dozen of them walked along the Strand with their badges fixed
conspicuously on their chests. A crowd soon collected around them, and
in it were two Frenchmen, one apparently showing the other the sights
of London. The latter inquired who the cabmen were, and an Englishman,
who understood French, was surprised to hear the following reply:--
“They are gentlemen who have been decorated by the Government in honour
of Her Majesty’s coronation.”
A new hansom, the “Tribus,” patented by Mr. Harvey of Lambeth House,
Westminster-bridge Road, was placed on the streets in 1844, but it was
not well patronised and was soon withdrawn. The “Tribus” carried three
passengers, and the entrance was at the rear, the driver’s seat being
removed further to the “offside.” The cabman was thus able to open
or shut the door without descending from his seat. There were five
windows to the vehicle, two being in front, one on each side, and one
behind--beneath the driver’s seat. Small safety wheels--such as can be
seen at the present day attached to many omnibuses--were fixed to the
front of the “Tribus” to prevent the vehicle pitching forward in the
event of the horse falling, a shaft breaking, or a wheel coming off.
[Illustration: THE TRIBUS. BACK VIEW.]
Mr. Harvey also patented the “Curricle Tribus,” a vehicle similar to
the “Tribus,” with the exception that it was drawn by two horses
abreast, did not possess safety wheels, and could be converted at
pleasure into an open carriage. The “Curricle Tribus,” however, never
plied for hire.
[Illustration: THE TRIBUS. SIDE VIEW.]
Another unsuccessful cab was the “Quartobus,” a four-wheeler with
accommodation for four inside passengers. It was introduced in 1844,
and Mr. Okey, the inventor, described it as “hung on four wheels, the
coupling being very close for easy draft.”
CHAPTER IV
A strike--Cabmen’s revenge on Members of Parliament--Cab
radius altered--Cabmen object to knocking at doors--The King
of Cabmen--Nicknames--A lady feared by cabmen--The kilometric
reckoner--Lord John Russell and “Palace Yard Jack”--Cab fares
altered--A strike against the introduction of lamps--Another
strike--The Cab-drivers’ Benevolent Association--The London Cabmen’s
Mission--The Hackney Carriage Proprietors’ Provident Institution--The
Cabmen’s Shelter Fund.
The cabmen’s reputation for being extortionate is by no means of
recent growth, but frequently men have been accused wrongfully. In
1853, a cabman was charged with demanding more than his legal fare,
the complainant declaring that although the distance travelled was
only three miles the defendant had charged as if it were five. Cabby
was sentenced to a month’s imprisonment, but before his time expired a
gentleman interested himself in his case, and paid to have the distance
officially measured. It was seven miles!
In the same year the Government imposed fresh regulations upon cabs,
and the fares, which had been eightpence a mile, and fourpence for
every additional half a mile, or portion of half a mile, were reduced
to sixpence for every mile, and for any part of a mile over and above
any number of miles completed. Mr. Thompson of Southampton Row, a
proprietor in a large way of business, had introduced those fares two
years previously.
The new regulations and the reduction of fares created great
indignation among both cab proprietors and cab drivers. The latter were
particularly enraged with the Members of Parliament, and hit upon a
way of expressing publicly their feelings towards them. When the House
rose on the night of July 26, and the members hurried out to go home,
they were astonished to see all the cabmen drive quickly away with
empty cabs. Some of them ran after the cabs; but the drivers declined
in most unparliamentary language to take them, and as many of the
honourable gentlemen who could not get a lift in friends’ carriages
had to walk home. The following morning there was not a cab to be
seen in the streets of London, for the cabmen were on strike. Members
of Parliament soon felt the want of cabs, and the Sergeant-at-Arms
personally asked Mr. Gamble, an omnibus proprietor, to oblige them by
running an omnibus for their sole convenience between the House and the
clubs. But Mr. Gamble, who was also a cab proprietor, and not just then
very well disposed towards Members of Parliament, declined to accede
to their request. The strike, however, only lasted for four days, for
when the men saw that the police permitted unlicensed vehicles to ply
for hire they returned to work. Nevertheless, they gained something by
the strike, for their grievances were investigated without delay, and
the following alterations made. The cab radius, which for twenty-four
years had been three miles from the General Post Office, was changed
to four miles from the statue of Charles I. at Charing Cross, and the
cabman was empowered to charge one shilling for every mile, or part of
one, which he should be required to drive beyond the radius, providing
that the cab was discharged beyond it. Moreover, the tax on each cab
was reduced from ten shillings a week to a shilling a day.
The success which attended the first cab strike of any importance
incited cabmen to think of other grievances, and from that year to
this they have never been without a good supply of them. Some were
reasonable, but the majority were imaginary or frivolous. Of the
latter nothing need be said. Of the former, one of the chief was that
passengers expected cabmen to get down and ring the bell or knock
at the door of the house where they wished to alight. For years the
cabmen’s objection to performing this duty was a source of continual
squabbles, and consequent police-court cases. But at length one
magistrate decided that cabmen were not obliged to ring bells or knock
at doors. Other magistrates agreed with him and cabmen were jubilant.
But an old gentleman, who used cabs daily, objected strongly to the
new arrangement and determined to teach the cabmen a lesson. One cold
winter’s evening, he hired a cab and rode home--a shilling distance. On
arriving at his destination, he requested the cabman to knock at the
street door. But cabby declined to do so. “This is a free country,” he
said, “and knocking at doors ain’t no part of my duty.”
“Very well, then,” the old gentleman replied, looking at his watch,
“by the law of this free country I sentence you to remain idle, in
the cold, for fourteen minutes, without any addition to your fare.”
Then he went indoors and did not send out his shilling until fourteen
minutes had elapsed, for he knew that no waiting fare could be charged
until fifteen minutes had passed. Afterwards he informed the London
newspapers of what he had done, and suggested that their readers should
follow his example. Hundreds did, and the squabbles between cabmen
and their “fares” became more frequent than ever. For some years the
quarrel dragged on, but finally people ceased from commanding cabmen to
knock at doors, and when they particularly wished it done they asked
for it as a favour.
Another grievance of cabmen, before shelters were built for their
convenience, was the action of the police in summoning them for leaving
their cabs outside coffee-shops while having their dinner. “The King
of Cabmen,” a well-dressed, important-looking individual, whom the
public believed to be an aristocrat, although he was really the son of
a London tailor, protested publicly against their action by dining _al
fresco_ in the leading thoroughfares. He would pull up outside some
public-house or dining place in the Strand, Oxford Street, Haymarket,
Regent Street, or Piccadilly, spread a very clean table-cloth over the
top of his cab, and have his dinner brought out to him. Frequently he
dined outside West-end clubs, his dinner being sent out by members
who sympathised with him. “The King of Cabmen” was also known as
“Nonpareil.” When sixpenny fares were introduced, “Nonpareil” took a
prominent part in denouncing the action of the Government, and whenever
a passenger offered him sixpence he haughtily suggested tossing him
“double or quits.”
Cabmen have always been fond of bestowing nicknames upon their
comrades, and at the present day there are men named “Busy Bee,” “Dan,
the policeman,” “Engineer Charley,” “Piggy,” “Nicodemus,” “Bill King
about Jermyn Street,” “Harry of Halfmoon Street,” “Father Christmas,”
“Hospital Jack,” “Rhoderic Dhu,” “Old Pickles,” “Topsy,” “Bustler,”
“Old London,” “Australian Jack,” “Candle-dipper,” “Mr. Smith,”
“Doctor,” “Sloane Square Sailor Jack,” and “Joe in the Copper.” Cabmen
also bestow nicknames upon their masters, the cab proprietors, and,
in the majority of cases, they are of an uncomplimentary nature.
Those existing at the present day must remain unknown beyond the
circle of cabmen, but there is no harm in publishing nicknames applied
to proprietors long since dead. “Whooping-cough Bill” was so named
because he filled up pauses in his conversation with nervous little
coughs. “Pious Tommy” would allow no swearing in his yards. “Jack the
giant-killer” was barely five feet two in height. “Darling Joey” had
been married three times. “Skin ’em alive” never allowed his men any
credit, and “Boozey Bill” was a teetotaler. Cab proprietresses usually
were named from something striking about their personal appearance.
“Ginger Sal” needs no explanation. “Beautiful Kate” was exceedingly
plain, and “Fairy Emma” was so stout that she could scarcely walk.
Another woman, very good-looking, but domineering and detested by all
cabmen who had business transactions with her, was known throughout
London as “The Queen of Hell.”
There was another woman, not an owner of cabs, who was feared by all
the cabmen of London, and consequently had more uncomplimentary names
bestowed upon her than any other woman ever had. Mrs. Prodgers, the
lady in question, obtained considerable fame through her constant
squabbles with cabmen. Possessing an extensive and unique knowledge of
cab law and London mileage, she made a point of travelling the full
distance to which her shilling entitled her, with the result that
cabmen who did not know her usually demanded more than the legal fare.
Her reply was to take his number, and apply for a summons against
him. Frequently she summoned men who took what she offered without
demur, for she had practically appointed herself an inspector of cabs
and cabmen, and was as successful in discovering breaches of the
hackney-carriage regulations as the most energetic paid official could
have been. After a time she became so dreaded that the warning cry of
“Mother Prodgers” would send every cab within hail dashing away up side
streets to escape her. Even now there are scores of cabmen who cannot
hear her name mentioned without fuming with indignation.
The conditions of a cabman’s employment were, and still are, calculated
to encourage extortion. The cabby paid the owner a certain amount for
the loan of his cab, and his profits did not begin until he had earned
the hire money. Therefore, when a cabman, after waiting for hours on
the rank, obtained a “fare,” the temptation to overcharge was very
great. It was his first job that day, and it might be his last. He was
grateful for an extra shilling or sixpence, but if it were not offered
to him he endeavoured to obtain it by indulging in scathing remarks or
vulgar abuse. The fact that a cabman has a wife and children to support
may be considered extenuating circumstances, but it is poor consolation
for the unfortunate victims of his extortion.
With the idea of protecting the public against overcharge, an endeavour
was made, in 1858, to get attached to cabs a patent machine named
“The Kilometric Register,” which would indicate the number of miles
travelled and the fare to be paid. But the cabmen objected strongly to
such an innovation, and it was not made.
Lord John Russell was in the habit of riding home every night from the
House of Commons in a cab. The distance was short, and the cabmen all
knew that he paid a shilling for his ride. But one night a cabman,
well known as “Palace Yard Jack,” was surprised to find that Lord John
had placed a sovereign in his hand instead of a shilling. He saw
that the statesman had made a mistake, but having had a spell of bad
luck, and being in great need of a new pair of boots, he did not call
his lordship’s attention to the coin. But on the following night, as
“Palace Yard Jack” was sitting on his cab, Lord John Russell walked up
to him, and said:--
“You drove me home last night, I think.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“What did I give you?”
“A sovereign, my lord.”
“Well, what have you done with it?”
“Bought a new pair of boots; and”--sticking out his feet--“look, my
lord, they’re Russells, not Wellingtons.”
Lord John Russell smiled and walked away, leaving “Palace Yard Jack” to
boast of his smartness.
In 1860 there were upwards of 4300 licensed cabs in London, and 200
cabstands.
Three years later Mr. Thomas Tilling started four cabs, and at the
present day his successors, Thomas Tilling, Limited, possess over sixty.
The minimum cab fare of one shilling was introduced in 1867. For that
sum a passenger could ride two miles, the fare for any additional
distance ridden being sixpence a mile or part of a mile. This abolition
of sixpenny fares gave great satisfaction to cabmen; but another
regulation filled them with indignation. In December, 1867, Parliament
gave power to the Chief Commissioner of Police to insist upon all cabs
carrying, between sunset and sunrise, “at least one lamp properly
trimmed and lighted.” Hansoms, or the majority of them, had for many
years carried a lamp, but the proprietors and drivers of four-wheelers
protested strongly against being put to the expense while vans and
private carriages were permitted to be without lights. The hansom
drivers supported the four-wheeler men, and on December 3 the whole
of the cabmen went on strike. A promise was immediately made that the
Police order should not be enforced, and on December 5 the men returned
to work. However, two years later Parliament passed an Act compelling
all cabs to carry a lighted lamp from sunset to sunrise.
The next strike began in September, 1868, and was an attempt to compel
the Railway Companies to abolish the “privilege” system and admit all
cabs to their termini. It was, however, shortlived and unsuccessful.
On January 1, 1870, a new regulation, compelling all cab proprietors
to display inside their vehicles a list of fares, came into force.
Four-wheelers were to have them fixed or painted on their doors;
hansoms, facing the passengers. By the same Act the cost of licences
was reduced from £19 and £17 to £2 2_s._
In the same year the Cab-drivers’ Benevolent Association was founded,
to make some provision for deserving aged or infirm cabmen unable to
earn their living. The late Marquis of Townshend, a staunch friend of
cabmen, took an active part in establishing it, and for many years it
was known among cabbies as “The Marquis’s Society.” The objects of the
Association, of which His Majesty the King is patron, are (1) to give
annuities of £20 each to aged cab-drivers who from infirmity are unable
to earn their living; (2) to grant loans, without interest, to members
requiring such aid, and to give temporary assistance to those who may
be in distress through unavoidable causes; (3) to give legal assistance
to members who may be unjustly summoned to the police-courts.
In 1900 the Society had sixty-five annuitants, and also granted small
loans to seventy-six members, nearly the whole of which were repaid.
Cabmen becoming members while under thirty years of age pay an annual
subscription of 5_s._ and an entrance fee of 2_s._ If over thirty the
entrance fee is 3_s._ There is also a Widow and Orphan Relief Fund, for
which an additional subscription of 2_s._ a-year has to be paid.
At the annual meeting of the Society in March, 1900, Benjamin
Heppelthwaite, aged 74, was elected one of the annuitants; but,
feeling that he was still able to work, he waived his right to the
annuity, which was then given to the highest unsuccessful candidate.
Heppelthwaite’s generous behaviour did not go unrewarded. The chairman,
Viscount Duncannon, at once announced that he would give Heppelthwaite,
for the next twelve months, a sum equal to the annuity which he had
refused in favour of a weaker friend.
In 1871 the London Cabmen’s Mission was started in premises adjoining
the King’s Cross Station of the Metropolitan Railway, and during
the thirty years of its existence has done much to improve the moral
character of cabmen. Religious services for cabmen and their families
are held at the hall at King’s Cross on four days in each week, and
the missionary also visits the men on the ranks to talk with them and
distribute bright, wholesome magazines.
We read, frequently, in the daily papers, of cabmen being drunk while
at work, and it will, therefore, surprise many people to hear that
there is a large number of total abstainers among London cab-drivers.
During the summer months a cabmen’s Gospel Temperance meeting is held
every Sunday evening on the stand outside King’s Cross Railway Station.
The speakers and singers are all cabmen. Last year they held, at the
same spot, an open-air Harvest Festival. Fruit, flowers, vegetables and
bread were displayed on the temporary platform, and a cabman sang, “Oh,
what shall the harvest be?” At the conclusion of the service the fruit,
flowers, and other gifts, were taken in cabs and given to a Rescue Home.
The London Cabmen’s Mission also distributes among the men, woollen
mufflers, cuffs and hosiery--presents which are greatly appreciated.
One lady subscriber gave the Mission six dozen sun-bonnets for
cab-horses, and thereby added to the comfort of the animals and the
gaiety of the streets.
Another very excellent society, the “Hackney Carriage Proprietors’
Provident Fund,” was founded, by the late Mr. Herbert Rymill, in April,
1873. It was started to establish a fund for providing annuities of £26
to aged, decayed, or disabled cab proprietors or their widows, and to
afford temporary relief to its members or to the widows and children
of deceased members. It was registered under the Friendly Societies
Acts in July, 1878, and in January, 1887, its title was changed to the
“Hackney Carriage Proprietors’ Provident Institution.” For an annual
subscription of £1 1_s._ a member is able to make provision against
misfortune. Many a cab proprietor has, through no fault of his own,
been reduced from comfortable circumstances to want. One of his horses
may have contracted glanders in consequence of the driver foolishly
permitting it to drink at a public trough; the disease spreads through
his stables and a number of his horses have to be destroyed. To a
wealthy cab proprietor this is a serious loss, but to a man who
owns only three or four cabs it would mean ruin but for the “Hackney
Carriage Proprietors’ Provident Institution’s” assistance in helping
him to tide over his difficulties. And it must be remembered that the
majority of cab proprietors are small owners; on December 31, 1900,
there were 2782 licensed cab proprietors in London, and of these 2207
owned from one to five vehicles.
The “Hackney Carriage Proprietors’ Provident Institution” had been
in existence barely two years when the “Cabmen’s Shelter Fund” was
started. Its object was to provide for cabmen on the ranks a place
where they could obtain protection from the weather, and purchase good,
wholesome food at moderate prices.
On February 6, 1875, the first shelter for London cabmen was opened
in Acacia Road, St. John’s Wood, by the Hon. Arthur Kinnaird, M.P.,
Vice-President of the Society. Among the crowd which had assembled to
witness the ceremony were some thirty or forty cabmen who came, as
representatives of their class, to do honour to the occasion. By the
end of the year the Society had placed thirteen shelters in various
parts of the Metropolis, and, at the present time, it possesses
forty-three, a dozen of which are open day and night. Many of these
were presented to the Society; the one in Palace Yard, Westminster,
by members of both Houses of Parliament, and those at Pont Street,
Belgrave Square, St. George’s Square, S.W., Clapham Common, Kensington
Crescent, Royal Crescent, Uxbridge Road, Piccadilly, Warwick Road,
Maida Vale, and the one near the Oratory, Brompton Road, by residents
in those neighbourhoods. The shelter at Portland Road Station was
presented by the residents of Richmond. The remainder were either
erected by the Fund or presented to it by various individuals. The
entire cost of the new shelter now being erected in the Haymarket has
been defrayed by Sir Squire Bancroft.
The forty-three shelters maintained by the Society are used daily by
nearly four thousand cabmen. The attendants in charge of the various
shelters make their living by selling provisions to the frequenters,
and cooking, at a charge of one penny, any food they may bring in.
Every shelter is divided into two compartments--a mess-room and a small
kitchen. The mess-rooms are supplied with newspapers, and some of them
possess small libraries.
In the mess-rooms the following rules are displayed:--
1. This Shelter is the property of the Cabmen’s Shelter Fund and is
for the use of CAB-DRIVERS solely.
2. The Drivers of the FIRST TWO CABS on the rank are not to enter the
Shelter.
3. No bad language, card-playing, betting, or gambling allowed.
4. The Attendant in charge is authorised to sell Tea, Coffee, and
Bread and Butter to the Drivers using the Shelter only, at prices as
per Tariff.
5. The Attendant is instructed to see that the above Rules are
strictly kept.
Any complaints as to attendance, quality of refreshments sold, etc.,
etc., must be made to the Hon. Sec., and will be at once attended to.
The Committee appeal to the good sense and feeling of the Drivers to
help in maintaining the respectability of this Shelter, and by every
means in their power to prevent its being damaged.
During one of the recent cab strikes an attempt was made at some
shelters to prevent non-strikers from using them. This was, of course,
in direct opposition to the rules of the Society, and the strikers were
taught that the shelters are for all cab-drivers.
CHAPTER V
Cab show at Alexandra Palace--Forder’s cab--The strike of 1894--Cabmen
become organ-grinders--The Asquith award--Boycotting the railway
stations--The “Bilking Act.”
On October 4, 1875, a Cab and Cab-Horse Show was opened at the
Alexandra Palace, and attracted a large number of people to Muswell
Hill. The first prize for the most convenient and best appointed
hansom cab was awarded to Messrs. Forder, who also exhibited one of
the same type which they had built for the Prince of Wales. Two years
previously, a cab built by this firm had been awarded the Gold Medal
of the Society of Arts, and this identical hansom won at the Alexandra
Palace the second prize for vehicles which had been at work for not
less than six months. Forder’s cab had been working in the London
streets for two years.
In the class for horses which had been at cab work for not less than
eight years, during which they must have been the property of the
exhibitor, the first prize was won by Mrs. Ruth Farmer, whose bay mare,
aged twenty, had been in constant work for seventeen years.
Prizes were also offered for cabmen who had retained their badges
and been exempt for the longest period from any charge of cruelty to
animals, reckless driving, drunkenness or any other offence, and who
had constantly driven for upwards of ten years. The winner of the first
prize had been a cab-driver for forty-six years.
The long service and good conduct prize was awarded to a cabman who
had been for thirty-five years in the service of his master, and the
Temperance prize was won by a driver who had been a teetotaler for
twenty-nine years.
Strikes, and threats to strike, have been exceedingly numerous since
1853. On some occasions the cabmen objected to Government regulations,
and on others their quarrels were with the cab proprietors. It had been
the complaint of cabmen, for very many years, that the prices charged
by proprietors for the hire of their cabs were too high, and in May,
1894, they determined to make a strenuous effort to get them reduced.
On the morning of May 10 they held a meeting in a hall at Bell Street,
Edgware Road, to discuss the advisability of striking, in the event
of the cab owners refusing to accede to their demands, the chief of
which was that the hiring-price of 16_s._ or 17_s._ a day should be
reduced by three shillings. The meeting was enthusiastic, and decided,
promptly, to strike unless the cab proprietors made the reduction which
they wanted. Negotiations were then opened with the cab proprietors,
who refused, however, to comply with the men’s request, pointing out,
in support of their decision, that, as a large number of cabmen never
worked more than four or five days a week, it was evident that they
made a very good living, and could, if they liked, make a still better
one.
In consequence of the cab proprietors’ attitude, a mass meeting was
held at midnight on May 14 at the Novelty Theatre, and the place was
so crowded that an overflow meeting had to be held in the street.
The resolution, pledging the men to strike, was moved and carried
with tremendous enthusiasm by both meetings. The following morning
the strike began, but, contrary to the expectation of most people,
there were many cabs plying for hire. The majority of these belonged
to proprietors in a small way of business who had submitted to the
Union’s demands and were permitted, therefore, to run. Men who drove
their own cabs were also allowed to work, but both class of vehicles
had to affix the Union’s labels on their windows. The former bore the
legend, “Fair-priced cab,” while the latter carried an announcement
that they were working by permission of the Union. Three thousand Union
labels were issued, and, as far as the public was concerned, the strike
was not very serious. There was a little difficulty at the railway
stations on the first day about getting sufficient cabs, and some
people complained that they could not procure them after the theatres
closed. Considering, however, that nearly nine thousand cabs were kept
off the streets, it is truly surprising that far greater inconvenience
was not caused to the public. Many people said it was a conclusive
sign that at ordinary times there are far too many cabs in London. Of
course, the cabs which were permitted by the Union to run earned plenty
of money, but the drivers were not allowed to keep all of it. Those who
worked were expected to contribute towards the support of those who
did not, and, for once in a way, that was a perfectly fair arrangement.
Certain of the men on strike were sent out daily by the Union to sell
tickets to the men at work. These tickets were of various prices, and
the colour indicated their value. When a cabman bought one he stuck it
in his hat, so that his fellowmen might see to what extent he was doing
his duty. But selling tickets was by no means the only way in which the
Union raised money to carry on the strike. Cabmen were sent out with
street organs, and for many days ground out music from morning till
night with very satisfactory results--from a pecuniary point of view.
’Busmen chaffed them unmercifully about these organs for many months
after, and an argument between a cabby and a ’busman invariably ended
in the latter advising the former to take his cab home and bring out
his organ.
When the strike had lasted for nearly a month, a Board of Conciliation
was formed to settle, if possible, the dispute. Cab proprietors and
strikers were both represented, the Home Secretary (Mr. H. H. Asquith)
acting as mediator. After a few meetings had been held at the House of
Commons, Mr. Asquith made his award, which was as follows:--
June 4 to July 15, 6 weeks at 16_s._ per day.
July 16 “ “ 22, 1 “ “ 15_s._ “ “
“ 23 “ “ 29, 1 “ “ 14_s._ “ “
“ 30 “ August 5, 1 “ “ 13_s._ “ “
August 6 “ “ 12, 1 “ “ 12_s._ “ “
“ 13 “ “ 19, 1 “ “ 11_s._ “ “
“ 20 “ October 21, 9 “ “ 10_s._ “ “
October 22 “ “ 28, 1 “ “ 11_s._ “ “
“ 29 “ January 14, 11 “ “ 12_s._ “ “
January 15 “ April 1, 11 “ “ 11_s._ “ “
April 2 “ “ 15, 2 “ “ 12_s._ “ “
“ 16 “ May 6, 3 “ “ 13_s._ “ “
May 7 “ “ 20, 2 “ “ 14_s._ “ “
“ 21 “ June 3, 2 “ “ 15_s._ “ “
“The above scale is to regulate the net cash price to be paid per day
by driver to owner for first-class street hansom cabs from this date.
It is to be subject to revision as from the first Monday in April,
1895, if within fourteen days prior to that date notice demanding
revision is given to me by, or on behalf of, either of the parties to
the agreement of this day.”
The award was dated June 11, 1894, and two days later the cabmen went
back to work. On the 27th of the same month Mr. Asquith fixed the
following scale for four-wheeled cabs:--
(1) The net cash price to be paid by driver to owner for best street
iron-tyred four-wheeled cabs, with two horses per day, to be according
to the subjoined scale:--
May 14 to July 22, 10 weeks at 13_s._ per day.
July 23 “ August 12, 3 “ “ 12_s._ “ “
August 13 “ September 9, 4 “ “ 11_s._ “ “
September 10 “ March 26, 28 “ “ 10_s._ “ “
March 27 “ April 9, 2 “ “ 11_s._ “ “
April 10 “ May 14, 5 “ “ 12_s._ “ “
(2) The net cash price to be paid by driver to owner for rubber-tyred
four-wheeled cabs to be in all cases 1_s._ (one shilling) over the
price for iron-tyred four-wheeled cabs.
(3) The net cash price to be paid by driver to owner for four-wheeled
cabs worked on the one-horse principle to be according to the
subjoined scale:--
June 4 to July 29, 8 weeks at 8_s._ per day
July 30 “ April 2, 35 “ “ 6_s._ 6_d._ “ “
April 3 “ May 7, 5 “ “ 7_s._ “ “
May 8 “ June 3, 4 “ “ 7_s._ 6_d._ “ “
(4) The actual amount charged by the Railway Companies for privileged
cabs to be paid by the drivers to the owners in addition to the above.
Londoners were heartily glad when the strike was at an end; not
because they had suffered very much inconvenience from it, but out of
sympathy for the women and children, for strike pay is not magnificent.
Nevertheless, over a thousand men were thankful to receive it for
many weeks after the strike was concluded. These were men who found
themselves out of work through cab proprietors having sold off their
stock and retired from business in disgust. The balance-sheet of
the Cab-drivers’ Union dealing with the strike showed that £8202 was
received, and £8111 spent from the beginning of the strike until July
28.
The next strike began in September, 1896, and aimed at compelling
the Railway Companies to allow all cabs the privilege of entering
their termini to pick up fares. The drivers refused to work for any
proprietor who had privileged cabs, and pressure was put upon the
drivers of the latter vehicles to cease work until the Railways
agreed to the Union’s demands. The number that did so, however, was
comparatively small. Then the strikers made the great mistake of trying
to get the public on their side by inconveniencing it. They refused to
take people into any terminus in which they were not allowed to pick up
fares, but put them down, luggage and all, outside the premises. But,
to their surprise, they found that their fares refused to pay unless
they were taken right into the station. So that plan was discarded
very quickly. The strike dragged on for many weeks, but the average
Londoner only knew that it existed by seeing Union mottoes adorning
the cabmen’s whips. Eventually it died peacefully of sheer weakness.
The year of this futile strike saw the passing of an Act which was
badly needed. Although “bilking” has never been so common as it was
in the days of back-door cabs, there has always been a number of
well-dressed rascals who make a point of swindling cabmen. Usually
they alight at some big shop or institution, telling the cab-driver
that they will be out again in a few minutes and will want to be taken
farther; then they enter the building and pass out by another door into
a different street, leaving the cabman to discover that he has been
“bilked.” The “Bilking Act,” as cabmen call the Act of 1896, made any
person who hired a cab knowing that he could not pay the legal fare,
or intending to avoid payment of it, liable to a fine of 40_s._, in
addition to the fare, or to be imprisoned for a term not exceeding
fourteen days. The whole or part of the fine could be given to the
cabman as compensation.
CHAPTER VI
Gentlemen cabmen--An applicant’s nerve--The doctor-cabby--John
Cockram--A drunken cabman’s horse.
Cab proprietors receive applications for work from all classes of
men. One morning a particularly dissipated-looking fellow strolled
into a cab-yard, not far from King’s Cross, and asked the proprietor
for a job, mentioning that he had driven most things in India from
a pony-trap to a four-in-hand, and did not anticipate the slightest
difficulty in driving a cab. The proprietor observed that it required
some nerve to drive a cab in London. “Nerve!” the applicant exclaimed.
“Well, I don’t think I’m deficient in that. One morning in India I
woke and found a cobra coiled up on my bed. It wasn’t a nice position
to find myself in, but I’d been in many a worse fix and didn’t lose
my presence of mind. I’m a bit of ventriloquist, and as there was
a big image of some old Hindoo god at the other end of the room I
immediately made it speak. As I expected, directly the cobra heard the
voice he slipped off the bed like a shot and went for the idol, while
I seized the opportunity to bolt from the room.” The cab proprietor
congratulated him on his presence of mind, but after appearing to
consult a well-worn book, declared that he had not a single vacancy.
The applicant did not seem very disappointed, and having succeeded in
borrowing twopence, departed.
Many aristocratic, military and professional men have at various
times driven a cab for a livelihood, and usually they have been
reduced to that strait through their own folly; but there have been
cases of young, well-educated men driving cabs for a period until
their prospects in life brightened. Only seven or eight years ago a
student at one of our great London hospitals passed his “final,” and
found himself in the painful position of being a qualified medical
man without any money. Unable to obtain a _locum tenens_ or an
assistantship, he applied for and received a cabman’s licence. Medical
students and their friends made a point of patronising him, and for
some months “the doctor” was one of the best-known cabmen in the West
End. He has now a very good provincial practice, but the money with
which he purchased the nucleus of it was not earned as a cabman. This
“doctor” is not the cabman referred to in Chapter IV. The latter, who
has been a driver for twenty-one years, is an old man.
An ex-cabman who is well known to many hundreds of Londoners is John
Cockram. He was born, in 1833, in French-horn Yard, Holborn, his father
being a cab proprietor in a small way of business. Cockram, senior,
died early in the forties, leaving a widow and four children totally
unprovided for. Moreover, he was deeply in debt to a horse dealer, who
speedily caused the stock-in-trade and household furniture to be seized
and sold. All that was left to the widow was a bed, a Prayer-book, a
Bible, and a watch which had been presented to her by the physician to
George IV., in whose service she had been prior to her marriage. Young
Cockram, although but eleven years of age, became the main support of
his mother, and a few years later she was entirely dependent upon him.
[Illustration: JOHN COCKRAM.]
In 1851 John Cockram became a cab-driver, but as he objected on
religious grounds to Sunday work, it was his ambition to possess a cab
of his own. Having saved £20, he purchased a horse, hired a cab, and
started business on his own account; but, as he followed Mr. Thompson’s
example and accepted sixpenny fares, he became unpopular with cabmen,
and a complaint was made to Sir Richard Mayne, the Chief Commissioner
of Police, that he was driving a cab while under age. But when Sir
Richard Mayne discovered that Cockram was the sole support of his
mother, and, moreover, thoroughly qualified for a cab-driver in every
respect, except age, he declined to prohibit him from driving. However,
there was trouble in store for Cockram. He had been a proprietor for a
very short time when his horse bolted, and the cab was smashed. Again
Cockram had to drive for a master, but this time he refused to drive on
Sundays.
“If you don’t take the cab out on Sunday, you shan’t on Monday,” the
proprietor declared; but Cockram at once offered to pay him 5_s._ every
Saturday night to allow his horse and cab to remain in the yard on the
following day. The proprietor agreed to this arrangement, and Cockram
drove for him for two years, during which time he paid off the money
which he owed for the smashed cab, and began educating himself, while
waiting on the rank, by studying _Cassell’s Popular Educator_.
In 1860 Cockram competed for and won a prize of £20 offered for the
best essay on “Sunday cab-driving, and its influence on the religious,
domestic, and physical condition of those employed.” Cockram wrote his
essay in the streets, using the top of his hansom as a writing-desk.
On the essay being published in book form, George Moore, the
philanthropist, Sir Hope Grant, and Mr. J. T. Delane, the editor of the
_Times_, sent for Cockram, congratulated him on his work, and made
many inquiries concerning Sunday cab work. Colonel H. Knollys mentions
in his “Life of General Sir Hope Grant,” that the General commissioned
Cockram to buy him a cheap cab-horse to use in his private hansom, and
promised him £5 for his trouble. Cockram purchased a horse for £38, but
refused to accept more than £2, his usual charge for such transactions.
Some years later Cockram published a useful little book entitled, “The
Horse in Sickness, and how to treat him.”
In 1862 Cockram and another young driver started business as cab
proprietors. Each had saved £100, and with their joint capital they
purchased seven horses, three cabs, and seven sets of harness. The
partners were of one opinion concerning Sunday work, and a clause was
inserted in their deed of partnership prohibiting either of them from
letting out, or using for their own pleasure, on Sunday, any horse or
vehicle. They prospered, and in 1877, the year in which they sold their
business, they possessed cabs, omnibuses, broughams, traps, and 126
horses.
Since retiring from business Mr. Cockram has been a member of the
Richmond Town Council and the Richmond Board of Guardians, and, in
June, 1895, gave evidence before the Select Committee of the House of
Lords on the Lord’s Day Act.
For many years Cockram has been an active member of the Open Air
Mission, and is frequently called upon to speak at meetings of the
Working Men’s Lord’s Day Rest Association, and kindred societies.
Although now sixty-eight years of age, he is still very energetic, and
when I last saw him--three or four months ago--he was preparing to
start off on his bicycle to hold a service many miles away from London.
Drunkenness has been the ruin of many cabmen, and the cause of numerous
accidents to the cab-riding public. Some people have had very narrow
escapes. Many years ago a lady and gentleman hailed a cab on the Grand
Parade, Portsmouth, and told the cabman to drive them to Landport
Station. They took no particular notice of the cabman, and on arriving
at the station were considerably surprised to see that everybody was
staring at them. On proceeding to pay their fare they discovered that
the cabman’s seat was empty, and the bystanders then informed them that
the cab arrived without any driver. The police took up the matter,
and discovered eventually that when the cabman picked up his fare he
was so intoxicated that before he had driven clear of the High Street
he had rolled from his seat into the middle of the road. The horse of
its own accord had taken the unsuspecting passengers in safety to their
destination.
In London, quite recently, two ladies driving in a hansom had a narrow
escape. They were engrossed in conversation when, suddenly, to their
surprise, they saw a policeman dash at their horse, and, after a few
moments’ struggle, bring it to a standstill. A large crowd collected
immediately, and not until then did the ladies become aware that their
horse had taken fright, that the cabman had been thrown from his seat,
and that for nearly a quarter of a mile the animal had been dashing
madly along uncontrolled. And then they understood that they had had a
narrow escape from being killed.
A four-wheel cab-horse took fright about four years ago near Hyde Park
Corner, and after a short but exciting run crashed into an omnibus. The
cab was damaged, and one of the omnibus horses received a bad cut. The
wounded animal was taken at once to a veterinary surgeon, who examined
the wound as thoroughly as the blood would permit and then sewed it
up. But it did not heal as quickly as he expected, and when three or
four weeks had expired he became convinced that there was some foreign
matter in the wound. So he opened it, and discovered, deeply embedded
in the flesh, the whole of one of the cab-door handles, for which cabby
had made a fruitless search soon after the accident.
CHAPTER VII
The Shrewsbury and Talbot cabs--The Court hansom--The Parlour
four-seat hansom--Electric cabs introduced--The “taxameter”--Empty
cabs--Number of cabs in London--Cab fares--Two-horse cabs.
From the introduction of hansoms and clarences until 1897, no new cab
of any importance was licensed. There were, however, several improved
hansoms placed upon the streets. The most important of these was Earl
Shrewsbury and Talbot’s indiarubber-tyred Forder-built cab, which was
introduced about 1880. In every respect the Shrewsbury and Talbot cabs
were superior to any others plying for hire, and their popularity
was assured from the first. Each of these cabs had S.T. surmounted
by a coronet painted above the side windows, and, as the wheels were
noiseless, small bells were placed on the horse.
But although Lord Shrewsbury and Talbot raised the standard of London
cabs, and thereby earned the gratitude of the travelling public, he is
not regarded with friendly feelings by other cab proprietors. They, or
the majority of them, declare that he ruined the cab trade. When the
Shrewsbury and Talbot cabs started work it became necessary for other
proprietors to have indiarubber tyres on their vehicles--an expense
which they grudged, as, being prevented by law from increasing the
fares, they saw no prospect of getting back their money.
In June, 1888, the Shrewsbury and Talbot Cab and Noiseless Tyre
Company, Limited, was formed, “to purchase, amalgamate, and carry on
(1) the business of a cab proprietor and job-master worked by the Right
Honourable the Earl of Shrewsbury and Talbot, and (2) the business of
manufacturers of steel and rubber tyres carried on by the Noiseless
Tyre Company, Limited, in Manchester and London.”
Other variations of the hansom were the “court” and the “parlour.” The
court-hansom is a four-wheeler with accommodation for two people, and
the driver’s seat is in the same position as in an ordinary hansom.
They are not numerous, but those that are plying for hire appear to be
well patronised.
[Illustration: PARLOUR’S HANSOM.]
In January, 1887, the “parlour four-seat hansom,” patented by Mr.
Joseph Parlour, was announced as about to be placed on the streets.
It was a very novel hansom. The driver sat at the back, with a
sliding door on either side of him, which he could open or close with
ease, permitting the riders to step from the vehicle on to the kerb.
Passengers sat face to face, two on each side. A hansom with a sliding
roof, and another with a movable hood, have also been tried in London.
One of the most important events in cab history occurred in 1897.
For more than a century English people, strong in their belief that
Mother Shipton’s prophecy would be fulfilled, have regarded with great
interest every attempt to invent horseless carriages. As long ago as
1771 our very good friend the horse was threatened with elimination,
if not extinction, and pictures of superannuated and disconsolate
horses gazing over a hedge at horseless vehicles careering along the
road, to the evident enjoyment of the riders, were almost as plentiful
as they were four years ago. In 1771 a horseless carriage, invented
by a mathematical instrument maker, had a trial run in the Artillery
ground near the Minories. The event aroused the greatest interest,
and the failure of the vehicle to realise the expectations formed of
it by no means disheartened the horseless carriage enthusiasts. They
declared that before long a reliable horseless carriage would certainly
be invented. In 1790 there was a belief that their prophecy had been
fulfilled, for invitations were sent out to members of the Society of
Arts, engineers, and all interested in mechanics and vehicular traffic
to attend a certain place on a stated day to inspect a horseless
carriage, which possessed the additional novelty of having one wheel
only. A large proportion of the invitations were accepted, and when
the expectant people had assembled, their host, with great ceremony,
led them to the coach-house and showed them the one-wheeled horseless
vehicle--a wheelbarrow!
After that incident, which was talked about all over England--much to
the disgust of the members of the Society of Arts who had attended the
private view--the interest in horseless vehicle invention subsided
for more than thirty years. When at last the craze did again break
out, cabs appear to have been overlooked. Steam barouches, vans and
omnibuses were invented in large numbers, but no one appears to have
tried his hand at a steam cab, and it was not until 1897 that horseless
cabs were placed on the London streets. These electric cabs were a
pleasing novelty to Londoners and were well patronised, but it must
be confessed that there were several objections to them. The want
of originality in their build was very marked, for in appearance,
although they only carried two passengers, they differed but little
from a four-wheeler minus the horse and shafts. But that is a trivial
objection compared with the following one which concerned the safety
of the public. There are many people living who have been knocked down
by carriages, cabs, omnibuses and vans, and have suffered little or
no injury because they happened, by chance or design, to roll under
the vehicle and thus escaped all four wheels. But if knocked down by
one of the electric cabs no such escape would have been possible, as
the accumulator was only a few inches from the ground, and would have
crushed to death any one who got beneath it.
[Illustration: ELECTRIC CAB.]
Many of our public vehicles are very badly lighted, but no such
complaint could be made against the electric cabs. They were, perhaps,
a little too brilliantly illuminated for the comfort of people of a
bashful disposition, who were worried by the thought that as they rode
along they were as conspicuous as if they were on the stage with the
limelight turned on them. If a man desired to ride through the streets
at night unobserved, he did not hire an electric cab. And it does not
follow that because a man wishes to escape notice that he is ashamed
of being seen. But, as before stated, the electric cabs, or “humming
birds,” as they were named by the cabmen, were well patronised while
on the streets, and certainly it was not for want of support that they
were withdrawn. Those indiarubber tyres which so constantly needed
attention were no doubt the cause of their withdrawal.
Barely had the electric cabs disappeared than an innovation was made
which, in years to come, will be considered one of the most important
events in the history of London cabs. On March 15, 1899, six cabs
fitted with a distance registering apparatus, named the “taxameter,”
started from the Hôtel Cecil on trial runs into different parts of
London, and on the following day they were plying for hire in the
streets, the drivers conspicuous with white silk hats. The taxameter is
a small species of clock fixed on the outside of the right-hand window
of the cab, and records at the end of every journey the distance
travelled and the legal fare which the passenger has to pay, whether
he has hired the cab by time or distance. It also registers extras
paid for luggage and waiting, the number of journeys made, the number
of miles travelled, and the total earnings of the day. When the cab is
empty, a little red flag, which can be seen from a distance, projects
from the side. Immediately a fare enters the cab the driver turns down
a lever, which lowers the red flag and causes the words “not engaged”
to disappear and be replaced by the tariff. When the end of the journey
is reached the cabman pulls up the lever, and the distance travelled
and the fare to be paid appears on the dial.
The cabmen were to be paid a wage of £2 2_s._ for a week of six days
and a percentage on the earnings, and evidently there were many men
who would have been glad to work on those terms, for in answer to the
Taxameter Syndicate’s advertisement for six drivers, three hundred
men applied. By the public and the press the taxameter was received
with the warmest approval, for it promised a check on the extortion,
and abuse accompanying it when practised on women, which has of late
become painfully common among some London cabmen, and has earned for
them a notoriety which will take many years to live down. Women can
travel in London by train, tram, omnibus and boat without fear of
extortion and incivility, but they know from bitter experience, that
every time they hire a cab they are running a risk of being cheated and
afterwards abused for daring to utter a protest. Women, therefore, were
naturally very pleased when they heard of the new check, but their joy
was short-lived, for the Cab-drivers’ Union interfered, and declared
that any man who drove a taxameter cab was a “black-leg.” The reasons
given for this decision were by no means satisfactory, and the only
conclusion that an unbiassed person can arrive at is, that the majority
of cabmen, in spite of their constant complaints about their difficulty
of earning a living, made, partly by overcharging, considerably more
than the £2 2_s._ a-week and percentage of earnings offered by the
Taxameter Syndicate. As the drivers would not take out taxameter cabs,
the proprietors were compelled to remove the register from them. But
the taxameter is far too useful an innovation to be suppressed at the
word of the Cab-drivers’ Union. The public must remember that the
taxameter gives them the protection for which they have been sighing
for years, and that if they are determined to enjoy its benefits the
Cab-drivers’ Union is powerless to prevent the boon. It may order a
strike, but the spectacle of men refusing to work because they are not
allowed to overcharge their customers will be more novel than edifying.
Let us hope, however, that the cabmen will not be so foolish as to
think of striking, but will recognise that the taxameter is bound to
come into general use, and when it is again tried will accept the
innovation with a good grace.
The taxameter was tried first in 1894 on a few cabs in Berlin, and met
with considerable opposition from both cab proprietors and drivers. But
the public appreciated the innovation, and patronised those cabs which
had the register to such an extent that the opposition was overcome
quickly, and soon 5500 of the 8000 cabs plying for hire in Berlin were
fitted with the taxameter. In Hamburgh, Vienna, Dresden, Stockholm
and numerous other Continental cities the taxameter is in use, and
growing in public favour. It is also at work, or has been tried, in
Manchester, Leeds, Liverpool and Bradford, and it will be strange
indeed if in the course of a few years every public cab in London and
the Provinces is not fitted with it.
On Queen Victoria’s eightieth birthday electric cabs were placed once
more on the streets. But in appearance they had not been altered for
the better. The original cabs were painted tastefully in two colours,
the upper part black and the lower part yellow, but the new ones
were black entirely. Moreover, the new cabs were taller than the
original ones, and the added inches gave them a clumsy appearance. The
accumulator was, as in the previous cabs, only a few inches from the
ground. After plying for hire for a few weeks they were taken off the
streets and have not yet reappeared.
The electric cab that is to be an all-round success has not yet been
invented, but experience is being bought, and it will be strange if
we have to wait long for it. But that it will ever supersede entirely
the horse-drawn hansom is far from being likely, for while you meet
hundreds of people who have had one ride in an electric cab, you come
across very few who have had two. It is not because their experience
was unpleasant that they have not had a second one, but because it was
not so enjoyable as a ride in a horse-drawn cab. Apparently the hansom
cab has every prospect of retaining its popularity for another sixty
years.
But, in spite of the hansom’s popularity, Londoners had complained
for a considerable period of the obstruction caused by empty hansoms
crawling along the streets plying for hire. Throughout the day a
long string of such vehicles, with here and there a four-wheeler,
perambulated the Strand and Piccadilly, blocking the traffic and
making it exceedingly difficult and somewhat dangerous for pedestrians
to cross the road. In 1899 the police authorities put an end to the
nuisance by issuing instructions that no empty cabs were to be allowed
to proceed along the Strand or Piccadilly, but were to remain on the
ranks in, or adjoining, those thoroughfares. The cabmen protested
strongly against this regulation, but the public approved of it, for
the traffic became much less congested. Moreover, as additional ranks
were provided, the cabmen did not suffer from the alteration.
Some people declare that there are too many cabs on the streets, but
it is certain that there are no more than the public require. If they
were not patronised to an extent which makes them profitable to
the proprietors and the drivers, they would not be plying for hire.
On December 31, 1900, there were 11,252 licensed cabs in London, of
which 7531 were two-wheelers and 3721 four-wheelers. There were 13,201
cab-drivers and 2782 proprietors. For each cab a proprietor pays £2 for
a police licence, which has to be renewed 12 months after issue, and
15_s._ to the Inland Revenue on the first day of every year. The driver
pays 5_s._ for his licence, which is renewable 12 months from the day
of issue.
At the present day the fares are:--
BY DISTANCE.
_s._ _d._
If hired and discharged _within_ the four-mile radius, for
any distance not exceeding two miles 1 0
For every additional mile or part of a mile 0 6
If hired _outside_ the four-mile radius, wherever discharged,
for the first and each succeeding mile or part of a
mile 1 0
If hired _within_, but discharged _outside_ the radius, whole
distance not exceeding one mile 1 0
But exceeding one mile, then for each mile ended _within_
the radius 6_d._, and for each mile or part of a mile
_outside_ 1 0
BY TIME.
_s._ _d._
Within the four-mile radius. Four-wheeled cabs for
one hour or less 2 0
Two-wheeled cab 2 6
For every additional quarter of an hour or part of a
quarter, four-wheelers 0 6
Two-wheelers 0 8
Four-wheelers, or two-wheelers, if hired _outside_ the
radius, wherever discharged, for one hour or less 2 6
If above one hour, then for every quarter of an hour or
less 0 8
If hired _within_, but discharged outside the radius, the
fares are according to the two preceding paragraphs.
LUGGAGE.
_s._ _d._
For each package carried outside the vehicle 0 2
ADDITIONAL PERSONS.
_s._ _d._
For each person above two (two children under ten
years of age are reckoned as one person) 0 6
For a child under ten years of age, carried with two or
more persons 0 3
WAITING.
_s._ _d._
By distance only. For every fifteen minutes completed,
if hired _within_ the four-mile radius: Four-wheelers 0 6
Two-wheelers 0 8
When hired _outside_ the radius, four- or two-wheelers 0 8
Unless stated to the cabman at the time of hiring that he is engaged
by time, fares must be paid according to distance. A driver can refuse
to be hired by time between 8 p.m. and 6 a.m.
A cabman hired by distance must, unless prevented by the traffic, drive
at the rate of six miles an hour; if hired by time, four miles an hour.
Should he be requested to drive above the latter speed, he may demand,
in addition to the time fare, for every mile, or any part of one,
exceeding four miles, the fare regulated by distance.
There are no two-horse cabs plying for hire at the present day, but if
there were the fares, according to an Act of Parliament of 1853, not
yet repealed, would be 8_d._ for a mile or less distance, and 2_s._
8_d._ for an hour or any portion of one. During the great snowstorm
of January, 1881, when for several days the roads were impassable
for omnibuses, a large number of cabs appeared with two horses--the
hansoms’ being harnessed tandem fashion. The drivers were well aware of
the Act of 1853, and, in case any passenger should possess a knowledge
of it, they took the precaution, before starting on a journey, to
extract a promise from the rider that he would pay double the usual
fare. That was reasonable, for, apart from the fact that vehicles were
few and travelling difficult, the cabmen, by using two horses, were
only able to be at work for half their customary time.
THE END
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
LONDON AND BECCLES.
Transcriber's Notes:
Italics are shown thus: _sloping_.
Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.
Perceived typographical errors have been changed.
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