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

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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—

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.

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.

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, 10s. 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.

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.

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,