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.

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.