Tube_ Train_ Tram_ and Car_ or_ Up-to-date locomotion Arthur H. Beavan 916 downloads.pdf

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tube, Train, Tram, and Car;
or, Up-to-date locomotion
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will
have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using
this eBook.

Title: Tube, Train, Tram, and Car; or, Up-to-date locomotion

Author: Arthur H. Beavan

Author of introduction, etc.: Llewellyn Preece

Release date: October 22, 2017 [eBook #55793]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55793

Credits: Produced by Chris Curnow, Chuck Greif and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TUBE, TRAIN,
TRAM, AND CAR; OR, UP-TO-DATE LOCOMOTION ***

Contents
List of Illustrations (In certain versions of this etext [in certain
browsers] clicking on the image, will bring up a larger version.)
Index: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W.
Some typographical errors have been corrected; a list follows the text.
(etext transcriber's note)

TUBE, TRAIN, TRAM, AND CAR
OR

UP-TO-DATE LOCOMOTION

TUBE, TRAIN,
TRAM, AND CAR
OR

UP-TO-DATE LOCOMOTION
BY
ARTHUR H. BEAVAN
AUTHOR OF “MARLBOROUGH HOUSE AND ITS OCCUPANTS,” “IMPERIAL LONDON,”
“CROWNING THE KING,” ETC.

WITH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS

And an Introduction
BY
LLEWELLYN PREECE, M.I.E.E.

LONDON
GEO. ROUTLEDGE & SONS, LTD.
NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO.
1903
[All rights reserved.]

“THE CHARIOTS RUN LIKE THE LIGHTNING”

PREFACE

T HE object of this work is to present the subject of Electrical
Locomotion to the public for the first time, the author believes, in a
popular form, giving interesting information about Tube, Train, Tram,
and Motor-car, but avoiding, as much as possible, technical and scientific
detail.
Electrical traction is of national importance, destined perhaps materially
to abate the evil of overcrowding, by providing cheap and rapid means of
access from centres of industry to country districts and vice versa.
It was predicted by George Stephenson in 1825 that his system would
supersede all other methods of conveyance in this country. Similarly can it
now be prophesied that throughout the world electrical traction will
ultimately supplant all other forms. An age of electricity is dawning, when
“power” may be obtained direct from fuel or from the vast store of energy
existing in the heated interior of the earth, or even from the atmosphere that
surrounds us; when every mountain stream and gleaming waterfall
throughout Great Britain, and each tide as it rises and falls, will help to
generate the subtle fluid, which, produced on a vast scale abroad, where
giant cataracts and mighty rapids abound, may be imported to supplement
our home supply, and be utilised in every manufacturing district; when all
our main lines will be electric, and “light railways” ubiquitous; when coal-
less ships and aerial machines, with perfected accumulators, may possibly
traverse sea and ocean, and invade the domain of condor and eagle; when
farms will be cultivated by electrical contrivances, and their produce
expeditiously conveyed to market, and the sanitation of our streets be
ensured by the universal use of horseless vehicles. An age that may witness
“current” laid on for domestic purposes to every house in the land as a
matter of course; and also as machine-power to village settlements, where
artisans engaged in certain kinds of trade may work amidst the pleasant
surroundings of home. And thus the abstract principle, “Back to the land,”
may become an accomplished fact.
To bring the body of this work precisely up to the date of its publication
being obviously impossible, I take the opportunity of making passing
reference to the railway disaster on the Métropolitain of Paris, when eighty-

four passengers were killed, and which has caused the public mind to be
much disturbed by the possibility of danger in the London Tubes.
As regards trams, the London United Tramways Company established a
record of traffic during the August Bank Holiday period, the total for the
four days being 878,000, that on Monday alone being 330,000 travellers. A
serious electric tram accident occurred at Ramsgate in August, when
nineteen persons were injured by the colliding of one car with another at a
point where the lines converged.
Then, as to motor-cars. The great Gordon-Bennett race in Ireland this
summer was won by a German. A tentative Act of Parliament for regulating
the traffic, to come into force January 1st next, and to continue for three
years, has received the Royal Assent, the speed limit being fixed at twenty
miles per hour.
A service of motor hansom cabs is shortly to be established in London.
The Fischer “combination” omnibus has successfully passed through
repeated private trials, and will probably be adopted by one or both of the
metropolitan chief companies.
Motor bath-chairs, to hold two people, and propelled by electricity, will
be accomplished facts at the World’s Fair, St. Louis, next year.
I have now to acknowledge, with thanks, the assistance of Sir William H.
Preece, who kindly read through the proof-sheets of this volume just before
he fell seriously ill in August, and of his son, Mr. Llewellyn Preece, who
has written the Introduction, and I now leave “Tube, Train, Tram, and Car”
to receive the verdict of those who travel.
ARTHUR H. BEAVAN
September, 1903.

INTRODUCTION

BY LLEWELLYN PREECE, M.I.E.E.

T HE object of this book is to give the public a general idea as to the
progress now being made in the application of electricity for transport
purposes, and it was intended that Sir William Preece should write the
introduction and correct the author so far as any technical misstatements
were concerned. Unhappily, Sir William Preece has fallen victim to a very
severe illness, which entirely incapacitates him from any work, and will
prevent him from doing anything for some months to come. Just before his
illness, however, he had gone through the proofs and made certain
corrections, all of which, the author tells me, have been accepted, but owing
to the great delay in the publication of this book which has already been
incurred, and to the impossibility of discussing these matters with my
father, I have not been able to check the proofs since the alterations were
made.
The advances which, within the last few years, have been made in the
application of electricity for the purpose of transportation are shown very
clearly in this book, and if the author has made one or two flights on the
wings of fancy regarding the future which may be somewhat startling to the
reader, it must be remembered that if many things which are of everyday
occurrence had been suggested to any of us fifty years ago, and if we had
been told that it would be possible to travel at the rate of a hundred miles an
hour, we should have been somewhat inclined to laugh. As the reader will
learn, such travelling is to be very shortly a fact.
At the same time I do not believe that it will be so much with the high-
speed work as with the tramway and light railway work that electricity will
be of the greatest service to the public in the future.
I look forward to the time when there will be a network of light railways
surrounding every town in the kingdom, enabling the population to spread
itself out once again in the country.
Central power stations distributing electric current over a radius of
fifteen or twenty miles will enable these railways to work at very low cost,

and therefore carry passengers considerable distances at low fares.
The tendency at the present time being to reduce the hours of labour,
whether mental or manual, the time at the disposal of a workman for
travelling will increase, so that with an eight hours working day and cheap
electric light railways, there will be no reason why the poorest labourer
should not live in the country, and at least sleep in a pure atmosphere.
The adaptability of electricity to motor-car work has hardly yet been
sufficiently realised. People see the luxurious electric brougham, described
in this book, running on the streets of London and other large cities, but few
have any idea that not only the wealthy aristocrat, but everyone will, before
long, be able to ride in such carriages, possibly not so luxuriousy fitted up,
but equally comfortable and speedy.
The usual cry at present is that electric cars are very nice, but the owners
have great difficulties with the batteries. Undoubtedly batteries have given
trouble in the past, and still do so to some extent. But if a man buys a horse
and gives it in charge of the gardener’s boy, he is likely to have trouble with
his horse. In the same way, if a man buys an electric carriage and expects
his coachman to look after it, he only naturally does have considerable
trouble. There are several companies prepared to look after and maintain in
continuous use, not only the batteries, but the complete carriages, and this is
greatly improving the reliability of the electric car, and allaying the fears of
those anxious to have such carriages.
Besides this, the battery itself is making great strides forward: its
capacity per cwt. has largely increased, its life is much longer, and its
reliability under great variations of discharge has considerably improved. In
fact, it may be safely said that even now the electric car is more reliable
than either the petrol or the steam car. At present it will not do the same
distance on one charge, nor will it do the great speed other cars will, but this
is the great reason why it should appeal to the British public. The craze for
high speeds does not affect the majority of people. I believe that it is only a
question of a few years for the petrol and steam cars to be placed in
museums and shown as monstrosities of the past, like the mammoth
elephant, and that every cab, omnibus, and private carriage throughout the
country will use electricity as the motive power.
In fact I do not think it unwarrantable to assert that, so far as this country
is concerned, many of us will see the day when the only form of energy

used for transportation will be that known as electricity.
LLEWELLYN PREECE

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I
PAGE
The Old and the New Order of Railway Locomotion 1
CHAPTER II
Some Pioneer Electric Railways 11
CHAPTER III
Some Pioneer Electric Railways (continued) 19
CHAPTER IV
Remarkable Electric Railways 31
CHAPTER V
Rejuvenating the Metropolitan Inner Circle 47
CHAPTER VI
The Central London Electric Railway 63
CHAPTER VII
The Tubular System 74
CHAPTER VIII
Touring in the Tubes 90
CHAPTER IX
London’s Tangled Tubes 107
CHAPTER X
London’s Latest and Longest Tube 117
CHAPTER XI
Electric Tramways Generally 128
CHAPTER XII
London’s Tramways 141
CHAPTER XIII

Provincial Tramways 162
CHAPTER XIV
The Shallow Underground System 186
CHAPTER XV
Horseless Vehicles—Electrical and Otherwise 200
CHAPTER XVI
Horseless Vehicles—Electrical and Otherwise (continued) 214
CHAPTER XVII
Horseless Vehicles—Electrical and Otherwise (continued) 224
CHAPTER XVIII
Electricity applied to Navigation (a Forecast) 230
CHAPTER XIX
Some Electric Locomotion Drawbacks 250
CHAPTER XX
Some Electric Locomotion Drawbacks (continued) 258
CHAPTER XXI
Electric Locomotion and our National Life 269

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FIG. PAGE
Electricity. By H. L. Shindler Frontispiece
1.Queen Victoria’s Train on the Great Western Railway 3
2.Nine Willans-Siemens Dynamo Sets for Electric
Traction, 700 h.p. each 7
3.The Giant’s Causeway 12
4.Waterloo and City Railway’s New Pattern Car 25
5.The Liverpool Overhead Electric Railway 29
6.Plan of a Behr Mono-Railway Car 35
7.Interior of a Behr Mono-Railway Car 44
8.Electrical Power House (the largest in the Old
World), Lot’s Road, Chelsea, to supply the
Metropolitan District and other Railways with Current 53
9.A 2,000 h.p. Westinghouse Steam Turbine, resembling
the Turbo-Generators (each of 7,500 h.p.) in the Chelsea
Power House 55
10.A New Metropolitan District Railway Car 56
11. A Typical Electric Power Generator—Two Dynamos,
each of about 1,600 h.p. 69
12.A 3,000 h.p. Triple Expansion Central Valve Electrical
Engine 76
13.Shield at Work in a Tube Running Tunnel 79
14.The Western Approach to Piccadilly 123
15.Tram-Car in Paris equipped for Combined Overhead
Trolley and Surface Contact System 133
16.Cross Lane Junction, Salford. The Largest and most
Complicated Overhead Trolley Crossing in the Kingdom 135
17.Boiler Room, London United Tramways Co.’s Power
House at Chiswick, fitted with Vicars’ Automatic
Stokers 157
18.A London United Tramways Company Tram-Car 159

19.Façade of Queen’s Road Car-Shed, Manchester
Corporation Tramways 170
20.View near Dudley Station, South Staffordshire, showing
a Steam Tram-Car 175
21.View at Castle Hill, Dudley, South Staffordshire,
showing an Electric Tram-Car 181
22.Camps Bay, Cape Town, and Seapoint Tramways 183
23.Boston Subway, showing Entrance at the Public
Gardens 193
24.New York Subway in course of Construction. Car
Traffic maintained 195
25.New York Subway, showing how it was built 197
26.Electric Carriage entirely of British Construction 201
27.A “Crowdus” Electric Carriage 205
28.An Electric Victoria with British Storage Batteries 207
29.A “Fischer” Combination Omnibus 211
30.The “Hercules” Traction Engine, as used during the
Crimean War 217
31.A Ten-ton Electric Trolley 219
32.An Electric Tradesman’s-Van 220
33.Another Type of the “Fischer” Combination Omnibus 222
34.Electric Storage Batteries 237
35.Electric Launch on the Thames 248
36.Where the Poor Live 280

Tube, Train, Tram, and Car

CHAPTER I

THE OLD AND THE NEW ORDER OF RAILWAY LOCOMOTION

“The thinking minds of all nations call for change.”—Carlyle.
STEAM—THE OLD ORDER

A N immutable law of nature has decreed that whatever attains to
perfection is doomed to perish, for
“The world exists by change, and but for that
All matter would to chaos back,
To form a pillow for a sleeping god.”

Thus it came to pass that in the period 1825 to 1835, when the main
roads of Great Britain were at their best, when the then mode of travelling,
though on a limited scale, had, as regards speed, punctuality, and
organisation, reached the highest possible pitch of perfection, a little cloud
like a man’s hand, presaging the new order of locomotion, arose at the
opening of the Stockton and Darlington Railway, and overshadowed the old
method. So effective was the competition of the “iron horse,” that in lieu of
the fifty-four splendidly equipped vehicles which in 1835 carried His
Majesty’s mails throughout England, not a single coach left the General
Post Office, St. Martin’s-le-Grand, in the year 1844; while the kings
highways had become almost deserted.
Though this was barely sixty years ago, railways have evolved
themselves out of their embryonic state into a condition approaching the
fateful one of perfect development.
In early days, first-class passengers were boxed up in replicas of old
stage-coaches, the second-class in open carriages exposed to the weather,
and the third-class huddled together in seatless cattle-trucks. Contrast this
with our luxurious Pullmans, and our corridor and vestibule trains for all
classes, warmed throughout, lighted by electricity, and provided with
lavatories, dining-saloons, buffets, and sleeping-cars. “With what further
improvements can we allure the public?” ask anxious directors. One answer
only is possible. “By bringing the mode of locomotion up to date.”

This means, in the case of old-established railway companies, a
complete and costly transformation, or an independent mono-rail track for
long distances; under any circumstances entailing much hardship upon the
share-holders. For at the moment when railway-engineers—improving so
vastly upon George Stephenson’s venerable engine,[1] built in 1822, and
still at work for the Hutton Colliery, its weight only fifteen tons, its speed
ten miles an hour—have constructed such magnificent locomotives as the
“Greater Britain” for the London and North

FIG. 1. QUEEN VICTORIA’S TRAIN ON THE GREAT WESTERN
RAILWAY

Western Railway, or the ten-wheeled giant[2] for the Great Northern
Railway, fifty-seven feet over all, weighing 100 tons, and capable of reeling
off its 65 miles an hour with ease, electricity steps into the field, displaces
the stately engine—resplendent in red, blue, green, or chocolate paint,
glossy as the coat of some highly trained racehorse, and gleaming with
polished brass and steel, finished in all its parts with exquisite accuracy, the
very embodiment of energy under perfect control—and from some

unpretentious-looking building afar off, drives our trains with unseen but
resistless force, at the rate, if desired, of a hundred miles an hour!
The construction of an ordinary steam locomotive is an intricate
operation, necessitating machine-shops, erecting-shops, foundries, forges,
etc., covering acres of ground, as at Crewe, Doncaster, Derby, or Swindon.
Not a hundred engines are exactly alike in pattern, and each one is supposed
to be composed of over five thousand different parts, all of which have to
be stowed away in a necessarily limited space.
“How is steam utilised by the locomotive?” is a question asked again
and again (and not by children only) ever since Stephenson’s engine started
on its triumphant progress from Stockton to Darlington and back, and
which, I venture to affirm, only a small percentage of travellers, even in
1903, can answer “right away,” as our American cousins would express it.
Briefly, then, as follows: Raised up on high is the mighty boiler. Remove
its plates, and running through its entire length will be seen a cluster of
some two or three hundred brass tubes, in diameter that of a penny-piece. At
the rear of the boiler, on a lower level, is the fuel fire-box, with its grate and
ash-pan, while in front is the smoke-box, surmounted by the familiar
chimney or funnel, called in the United States the “smoke-stack,” in British
engines reduced to a minimum of height. Water from the tender surrounds
the brass tubes, and when the fire is burning, flames, smoke, and heated
gases rush through them, escaping viâ the chimney, but in their passage
converting the boiling water into expanding steam, which, when the
regulator is opened, is directed by valves into the hollow cylinders—
sometimes placed below the boiler, but generally visible outside—forcing
by its pressure the pistons backwards and forwards alternately, and, by
means of intermediate machinery, transferring its energy to the driving-
wheels.
The exhausted steam, after accomplishing its work, joins the smoke in
the smoke-box, escaping up the funnel by jerks, which creates a forced
draught through the brass boiler-tubes, and hastens the generation of steam.
ELECTRICITY—THE NEW ORDER
Contrast this with electricity, the definition of whose exact nature is a
task I must of necessity leave to others, but its adaptation to the purposes of
traction can be thus broadly explained:—

Dynamos or generators are situated at some fixed station, more or less
distant, generating electrical energy, whence the current is transmitted along
a central steel rail, or, in the case of some tramways, viâ overhead wires,
returning to its place of birth by another rail or cable, and completing its
circuit. It is “picked up” by a small locomotive fitted with motors that work
the driving-mechanism, and thus propels the coaches or cars behind it at
varying speeds.
The rotation of the dynamos is effected either by a torrent, waterfall, or
swift-flowing river, absorbed by turbines, or by steam supplied from
ordinary boilers.
In other words, we convert our water and coal into steam, and, indirectly,
the heat in the steam into electrical energy; and the heavy locomotive that
used to carry its own fuel, and manufacture its steam as it tore along with
the train behind it, now leaves tender and boiler at home, and has its driving
power, in the form of electric current, forwarded to it per centre rail, to be
drawn upon when wanted.
The system is beautifully simple, and the machinery compact and
uncomplicated. Smoke defilement is unknown, and the trains are
comparatively noiseless. In short, electric traction is the refinement of
mechanically applied power.
Now let us visit an electrical power station—a small one—and I have in
my mind that of the Waterloo and City Electric Railway.
Hidden away behind a bewildering labyrinth of railway arches, in a cul-
de-sac, approached from a back street, not a hundred miles from a great
railway station, is a plain, very plain brick building, wherein, for aught one
knows to the contrary, such prosaic articles as pots and pans, or cardboard
boxes, may be in course of manufacture. Pass through a door, always on the
swing, and an unpretending office is reached, furnished in the usual manner,
and occupied by clerks engaged upon the ordinary duties of their vocation.
Access to the engineer-in-chief being granted, he courteously conducts
us to the power room, whence issues the energy that drives the trains.
Imagination had pictured a great hall, filled with ponderous machinery
whose component parts are cranks, steel rods, shafts, and toothed wheels, a
wilderness of metal, moving with bewildering rapidity and thunderous
power, in an atmosphere redolent of lubricating oil, a vision of whirling
wheels, an Ezekiel vision of wheels in the midst of wheels, instinct with

life, such as the prophet saw 600 years B.C., by the River Chebar, in the
land of the Chaldean.

FIG. 2. NINE WILLANS-SIEMENS DYNAMO SETS FOR ELECTRIC
TRACTION, 700 H.P. EACH.
By permission of Willans and Robinson, Ltd., Rugby

Nothing of the kind! One portion of a moderate-sized apartment is
devoted to the “fitting” of the motor locomotives, and at the other end,
enclosed within a low railing, resting upon a bed of great solidity, and
occupying but little space, is the machinery in duplicate, as a safeguard
against breakdowns.
It consists of a vertical compound engine, supplied with steam from an
adjoining boiler-house, whose cylinder is coupled direct to the fly-wheels of
the revolving dynamos that are partly sunk into the flooring. These, with
their electro-magnets, are so shut in, and so little can be seen of the
working, that it all looks very mysterious and incomprehensible to the
uninitiated.
In large power-producing machinery an iron staircase leads up to a
platform above the dynamos, giving access to the loftier parts of the
apparatus, which then, in its general appearance and compactness,
somewhat resembles a modern marine engine. On the walls are endless
dials, recording the amount of current generated, localising the exact

position of the trains on the line at any given moment, and checking the
quantity of current picked up by each engine. There is absolutely no smell,
no outward indication of resistless power, while almost Arcadian quiet
reigns in the neighbourhood of the machines.
That these small dynamos are capable of driving heavy cars filled with
passengers at the rate of many miles an hour seems incredible; but faith,
“the evidence of things not seen,” must come into play.
The craving for mere size, however, will be amply gratified when the
great power house at Chelsea, built to supply the Metropolitan, District, and
other railways, is completed (vide Chapter V.).
But what on earth is a kilowatt, or a volt, an ohm, or an ampère?—
expressions that are rapidly becoming as familiar as the word horse-power.
Well, “horse-power” was a term invented long ago by engineers, who
blandly asked one to imagine that an ordinary horse was capable of lifting a
weight of 33,000 lbs. (or some 14½ tons) one foot high per minute. Now,
electricity is a very exact science. There is no mere theory about it; and a
unit is a definite quantity of power, known in that science as a “kilowatt
hour.” Thus, a kilowatt, or 1,000 watts, is the equivalent in measured work
of 1⅓ horse-power, equal to the lifting of 44,000 lbs. per minute, or the
doing of so many units of work, either electric lighting, heating, machinery
driving, or traction.
VARIOUS FORMS OF ELECTRIC LOCOMOTION
Electricity as a locomotive force is being presented to the public in
various forms. There is the ordinary railway, like the Underground, that,
cleansing itself, amending its ways, and becoming converted to the new
order of traction, has been granted a new lease of life. Then there are new
lines laid down, intended from the first to be electrical, with specially
designed cars, diving beneath the Thames, and connecting the north and
south of London. These are our metropolitan pioneer electric railways.
There is also the system of railways specifically and popularly known as
Tubes, most important factors in the travelling world of modern Babylon.
Another division is the system known as Overhead Electric Railways; that
is to say, rails laid upon iron girders supported by columns above the
roadway, a notable example of which is the Liverpool Overhead Electric
Railway.

Electric tramways are with us in Greater London for good and all, with
their network of lines in every direction. Some are locally worked by the
various Borough Councils; others on a comprehensive scale by the London
County Council, who now strongly advocate also another system, the
Shallow-Underground, by which the cars run in a kind of open trench just
below the surface in the middle of the street.
Next we have endless provincial and urban council electric tramways,
including some very extensive systems for feeding the enormous traffic of
cities and large towns in the Midlands and North of England.
Electric Light Railways, originally intended to be worked on rails laid
down upon the ordinary highway, form a special class by themselves to
serve short-distance traffic in country districts; but to all intents and
purposes they are rural electric trams.
Lastly, we have motor-cars, carriages, omnibuses, cabs, vans, and cycles,
that with electricity as their means of propulsion, will possibly ere long
supersede every other form of traffic in our streets and along our roads and
lanes.
To individualise these various outcomes of electrical traction spread over
the length and breadth of Great Britain is impossible. Their names and their
statistics are enrolled in Garcke’s Manual of Electrical Undertakings, a
work that, like Kelly’s London Directory, grows bigger and bigger every
year.
I propose, therefore, only to notice some of the principal ones; and,
naturally, the pioneer railway lines should have the place of honour.

CHAPTER II

SOME PIONEER ELECTRIC RAILWAYS

“A worthy pioneer.”—Shakespeare.
THE GIANT’S CAUSEWAY RAILWAY

I N the month of March, 1883, by the opening of the Giant’s Causeway,
Portrush, and Bush Valley Railway, the sister island achieved the honour
and glory of showing the way to the “predominant partner” in the matter
of electrical traction enterprise; winning, however, only by a head, for in
August of the same year the Brighton Beach Electric Railway was
inaugurated.
Who amongst us can say they know Ireland well? To the average tourist
it still remains an unexplored country. The travelling American, however, as
a rule, does it from end to end. Commencing with Dublin, “doing”
Killarney, and working round the magnificent west coast, he returns viâ the
North Channel, always taking en route on the coast of Antrim the Giant’s
Causeway, thundered upon by storms from the wild Atlantic. There, almost
within hail of Britain, are those strange groups of basaltic columns so
familiar to geological students, intensely interesting, invested with many an
old and mystic Celtic legend, yet until recently difficult of access, as other
striking regions in Ireland—an island abounding not only in awe-inspiring
scenery, but in sequestered spots of sylvan beauty; a fair land of mountains
and hills, lakes and waterfalls, crystal streams, and splendid harbours; truly
called the Emerald Isle; where the grass is greenest, and rare coniferæ
flourish; where the myrtle needs no shelter, and the arbutus blooms and
fruits to perfection, and flowers are everywhere, for every little enclosure in
due season glows with the brightest of flax and potato blossom; and lanes
and open country are gay with star-like marigolds, shamrock, violets,
honeysuckle, meadowsweet, catsear, scabious, large purple bugle, and such-
like lowly but welcome plants.

FIG. 3. THE GIANT’S CAUSEWAY.
By permission of Thos. Cook and Son, Ludgate Circus

From Portrush it is easy to reach the Causeway, though once there, one
often has to wait for favourable weather before proceeding to explore its
cavernous wonders by water.
The present length of the railway is 8½ miles of single line, its gauge
being 3 feet. It is worked partly by steam and partly by electricity on the
overhead system, the current being derived from a generating station three-
quarters of a mile away, where three hydraulic turbines, fed by an adjoining
waterfall, operate the dynamo. Although the railway is out of the way and
on a small scale, the attractions of the Causeway and the surrounding
district result in a respectable passenger traffic of over a hundred thousand
per annum.
THE BRIGHTON BEACH RAILWAY
Under the sanction of the Brighton Town Council, the Magnus Volk Co.,
Ltd., now work the Brighton Beach Electric Tram-railway, which at its
opening was regarded as a great novelty and curiosity, constituting an
additional attraction and amusement to “London by the sea,” and tens of
thousands must have taken a ride in its little open cars since it came into

existence twenty years ago. The gauge is but 2 feet 8½ inches, the “feeders”
are underground, the propelling system is electric, with a third rail, and its
speed is about 12 miles an hour. Starting from the west pier, opposite the
Royal Aquarium, it sets out on its one mile and a half route of single line
and dips beneath the level of the Marine Parade to a level a little above the
beach, passing en route, though hidden from view, many landmarks of old
Brighton, such as Park Place and Gardens, Royal Crescent, Marine Square,
and Lewes Crescent, and terminating at a point near Black Rock.
This was the eastern end of Old Brighton, noted for many an original
character in the “twenties” and “thirties,” not the least interesting of whom
were old Martha Gunn, queen of the bathing-machines, and Sak Deen
Mahomed, a native of the East, who introduced the art of shampooing into
the town, and lived to become a centenarian, his fame being enshrined in
verse by James Smith, one of the authors of Rejected Addresses, who
humorously predicted his longevity as follows:—
“Sprung doubtless from Abdullah’s son,
Thy miracles thy sire’s outrun,
Thy cures his deaths outnumber;
His coffin soars ’twixt heav’n and earth,
But thou, within that narrow berth,
Immortal, ne’er shall slumber.”

Many have been the changes in Brighton since those days. Arundel
Terrace, Kemp Town, Ultima Thule in the east; Adelaide Crescent with
Palmyra Square, its western boundary. From the fields to the north of that
square could be seen, a mile or so off, the village of Hove, the intervening
space being dotted with farms. No one could have dreamt that a great
railway-station would be built there, with minor ones at Kemp Town, West
Brighton, and Hove. Old residents could not have pictured a Grand
Aquarium, a Western and Eastern Pier, nor the destruction of their familiar
Chain Pier. They would be amazed at the spread of Brighton in every
direction, the springing up of palatial hotels like the “Métropole” and
“Grand,” and the increase of the population to some hundred and fifty
thousand; while the coaching world, headed by the popular Sir St. Vincent
Cotton, prince of amateur whips, and all the confraternity of coachmen and
hackney-coach drivers, would have thought anyone a lunatic who had dared
to prophesy that one day a conveyance drawn without horses or steam
power would carry passengers along the Brighton beach!

THE CITY AND SOUTH LONDON RAILWAY
For many years prior to 1890, in Gracechurch Street, at a point near its
junction with Eastcheap, could be seen every day of the week numerous
omnibuses arriving between nine and eleven a.m., and departing between
five and eight p.m., for the suburbs over the water. These ’buses regularly
plied between London and Kennington, Walworth, Camberwell, Stockwell,
Clapham, and Brixton (a few journeying to Dulwich and Peckham), for the
special accommodation of dwellers in those favourite localities engaged in
business during the day. Wealthy “principals” of mercantile and brokers’
firms drove to and from their comfortable Surrey villas in well-equipped
carriages, the junior members in smart traps or dogcarts; but the small
merchants and smaller brokers, the head clerks and the rank and file who do
all the hard work, had to make use of these omnibuses, and when
exceptionally bad weather prevented the vehicles running, they had to get to
and from their offices as best they could on foot. To the working man,
living, say, at Brixton, and engaged upon a City job, the fares—4d. to 8d.—
were prohibitive. The time wasted in these conveyances was great, and at
the best it was an unpleasant way of travelling; overcrowding was common,
and the “fight for the trams” in 1903 is as nothing compared to the frantic
rush for those omnibus seats; while on wet days the sight was piteous.
It is true that City men could use the London, Chatham, and Dover
Railway, to reach these suburbs, but this involved a walk to Blackfriars
Station, and the facing of the crush on its dangerous platforms. There were
also the alternatives of crossing Blackfriars Bridge and using the London
Tramway Company’s horse-cars, or of forcing one’s way over London
Bridge, tramping or “bussing” it along the Borough High Street, and,
emerging at the “Elephant and Castle,” there tapping the trams.
As a matter of fact, these ingenious alternative routes were seldom made
use of. At the close of business, men of all ranks want to get home as fast as
they can, and from some station not far from their counting-houses.
Therefore, in the days I am describing, how could any of those gentlemen
clad in irreproachable frock-coats and new glossy hats, who each day of the
week issued from snug offices in Austin Friars, Drapers’ Gardens, or
Copthall Court, whose business was transacted over the way at the
“House”; how could the brokers of Mark Lane and Mincing Lane, the
underwriters at Lloyd’s, the ship-brokers and ship-owners round about
Fenchurch Street and Leadenhall Street, the flourishing bill-brokers of

Broad Street, and the smaller mercantile fry; how could any of these, if
resident on the Surrey side, be expected to go to and from business by way
of Blackfriars?
However, this unsatisfactory means of communication was hardly likely
to escape the notice of such astute experts as Mr. J. C. Mott, doyen director
of the Great Western Railway, and his far-seeing friends. They took counsel
together, and, after the usual hard task of persuading people, plans were
matured, and in 1884 an enterprise was organised and incorporated as the
City of London and Southwark Subway Company, to construct a line of
railway from King William Street to the “Elephant and Castle,” with an
intermediate station at Marshalsea Road.
This was the initial stage of the present well-known railway.
At the outset, three points had to be considered. How was the subway to
be constructed? What motive power should be employed? And how was the
deep level to be reached by the passengers? A subway under the Thames
was no novelty. The directors of the new line were not the “first that ever
burst into that silent sea” of mud and gravel at the bottom of the swift-
flowing river. Brunel had been long before them with his costly Thames
Tunnel, and Barlow had years ago laid upon its oozy bed the Tower Subway
of iron.
It was decided that a tube, or, rather, two independent tunnels of cast-
iron rings, should be driven side by side beneath the bottom of the stream, a
little to the west of London Bridge, and continued on the Surrey side.
On this system the work was begun by the contractors, Siemens Brothers
and Mather and Platt, and proceeded with quite out of public sight. It was
accompanied with many disheartening delays and seemingly
insurmountable difficulties; but they were all successfully overcome, and
the tubes were brought to a temporary end at the “Swan,” Stockwell, to
which charming retreat, by an Act of Parliament, 1887, an extension of the
line had been sanctioned, making its length a little over three miles.
The motive power eventually selected was electricity, steam being
impracticable, and the funicular or cable system considered unreliable.
Access to and from the trains was to be obtained at the stations by means of
capacious twin-lifts capable of holding many people at a time.
Then the problem of how best to utilise the ample “power,” generated at
the Stockwell Station, for hauling the cars, had to be seriously tackled. It

was not a question of a toy line like that on the Brighton beach, but of the
driving at fair speed, say 15 miles an hour, of comparatively heavy coaches
laden with passengers, and at frequent intervals. Altogether it was a new
departure in electric traction.
How the motor locomotives were effectually to pick up the current was
the puzzle which had to be solved, or the enterprise might at the last
moment collapse and the subscribed capital be lost.
After an infinite amount of anxious experimenting on the part of Mr.
Mott and his scientific advisers—the narrative of which, as told me by that
veteran, sounded like a romance—by a happy inspiration the way was hit
upon; and all other technical difficulties overcome, the line was pronounced
to be in working order (1890), after a series of trial trips, at one of which
the writer had the privilege of being present.

CHAPTER III

SOME PIONEER ELECTRIC RAILWAYS (continued)

A TRIAL TRIP IN THE CITY AND SOUTH LONDON RAILWAY

O NE o’clock saw a large party of us, chiefly City men, amongst whom
were numerous civil engineers, waiting at King William Street
booking-office to descend into the bowels of the earth by one of the
semicircular lifts, a novelty in point of size. Our turn having come, we duly
filed into the elevator. The telescopic doors clashed upon us, and we stood
for a second or two silently expectant, feeling like a batch of condemned
criminals on a gigantic scaffold waiting for the hangman to draw back the
fatal lever that would launch them into the other world.
Noiselessly the lift descended to an apparently fathomless depth, but in
reality, I believe, some 90 or 100 feet. When released by the janitor, we
found ourselves in a small, well-lighted, cool, and spotlessly clean, white-
tiled station, whence was discernible a couple of small tunnels side by side,
leading to unknown regions, seemingly all too narrow to accommodate
even the miniature cars waiting for us at one of the narrow platforms.
Inspecting the tunnels, the classical man of our party, a wag in his way,
who had hitherto made no remark, was heard to mutter something in Latin,
which, on being coerced, he admitted was out of Virgil, and was translated
thus: “This is the spot where the way divides in two branches.” In vain we
pointed out that the quotation was inappropriate, as the ways were parallel.
He was obdurate, so we left him to his own reflections.
To most of us accustomed to roomy Pullmans and commodious railway
carriages, the cars, though comfortable, seemed cramped, especially in
height. The signal given, off we started, when we noticed that the cars fitted
the tube with such nicety and economy of space that, could the windows
have been let down, we could easily have touched the iron plates of the
tunnel. We realised, too, that although there was no smoke or smell, the
railway was by no means noiseless; neither, in the opinion of several of the
experts present, was the running as steady as on the “Underground.”

A hint had been given us that at some point where the line dipped and
rose again the cars might come to a temporary standstill. As we rather
uneasily recalled this, the speed gradually slackened, and finally the train
stopped altogether, and simultaneously the incandescent lights began to
pale, and at last subsided into filaments of sickly red. The situation was not
a pleasant one. There we were; many of us with important engagements
awaiting us later in the day; most of us with wives and children who would
expect us home as usual when evening arrived, and grow anxious at our
absence. There we were sealed up in a tube, for all we knew, at a point
beneath the Thames. Not a sound reached us from the locomotive, or,
indeed, from anywhere. Were we thus to remain indefinitely? For walk out
we could not, there being no room outside the carriages. Would some
memorial tablet let into the side of London Bridge, months hence, recall the
fact that near it a goodly company of highly respectable citizens had
perished in a living tomb?
I don’t think we talked much. It was luncheon-time; we were hungry,
and we felt like the occupants of the snowed-up cars in one of Mark
Twain’s stories, who gloomily eyed one another as starvation threatened,
calculating upon whom, by an ingenious and complicated system of voting
previously agreed to, would next fall the lot of being sacrificed for the
benefit of the rest, and I believe I found myself unconsciously speculating
on the plumpness of a youthful stockbroker standing by my side. But after a
very few moments of suspense the train rattled on again, the lights
reappeared, and presently we drew up at the Borough, the first station on
the Surrey side.
Railway booking-offices are not usually things of beauty, least of all
those on the Metropolitan, District, and suburban lines. Here, however, was
a surprise, for we found quite a picturesque stone-and-brick building on the
ground-floor, a cupola surmounting the prettily designed entrance, and a
small dome with lantern by way of roof. And this was a sample of all the
stations along the line.
The Borough recalled the Marshalsea that once stood close by; and there
opposite was St. George’s, Southwark, where Little Dorrit, accidentally
locked out of the prison, was allowed by “the sexton, or the beadle, or the
verger, or whatever he was,” to take refuge in the vestry, where, years
afterwards, she signed the marriage register when wedded to Arthur
Clennam.

The next stoppage was at the Elephant and Castle—not the tavern of that
name, where in the past on Derby Day the superabundant holiday traffic
usually became hopelessly congested, but the City and South London’s new
station, close to Spurgeon’s Tabernacle, Rabbits’ great boot warehouse, and
Tarn’s vast emporium, that seems to occupy most of Newington Causeway.
Onwards to Kennington Common, once the place of public executions for
Surrey, now a well-kept miniature park. Beyond it, Kennington Oval,
associated with cricket all the world over; and finally we arrived at
Stockwell, the then terminus of the line, since extended to Clapham, where
Tom Hood used to go to school at a house “with ugly windows ten in a row,
its chimney in the rear,” a style of architecture of which many specimens
still exist round and about the Common.
At Stockwell we visited the generating station, recently much extended,
and provided with entirely new plant, and, wondering at and admiring all
we saw, learned from the chief engineer that the contretemps en route was
due to a slight defect in the new and untried power-machinery; and thus at
the point where the dip in the line was greatest, the cars stopped.
An excellent luncheon restored us all to eloquence and equanimity,
extinguishing the cannibalistic feeling of half an hour ago, and, returning
without any incident worth recording, we emerged once more in the City, to
be greeted by the noise of the traffic that ever surges around King William
the Fourth’s statue.
Those were the “green salad” days of London’s Pioneer Electric Railway
Line. Now it runs without a hitch, and has been extended north as far as the
historic “Angel,” thus giving a direct route between Clapham and Islington.
It has powers to exchange traffic with the Great Northern and the City
Railway viâ Old Street, and also to connect itself with the Baker Street and
Waterloo Electric Railway at the Elephant and Castle Station; and in a new
building at Finsbury Pavement it now has commodious head offices.
At the last half-yearly general meeting the chairman, Mr. C. G. Mott, in
the course of his speech, stated that the Board aspired to have a thoroughly
first-class terminus in the City of London, and had deposited plans with this
view. They proposed to construct this station between the present Bank
Station and the King William Street statue.
That the City and South London Railway is most useful and popular is
shown by the number of passengers it has carried—some ninety millions

since its opening—the returns for last year showing about eighteen millions,
over a total route of about seven miles. For the convenience of travellers, it
eventually will have subways, connecting its Lombard Street Station with
the Bank Station of the Central London Railway, and it already has them
from its new London Bridge Station to the London, Brighton, and South
Coast Railway. Finally, it can boast of possessing a station below a church
—a unique position, I believe. St. Mary Woolnoth’s foundations were
completely removed, the vaults cleared out, and the whole replaced by huge
iron girders, whereon the sacred edifice now rests, with the booking-office
below.
THE WATERLOO AND CITY RAILWAY
The month of August, 1898, was unusually warm, and the heat was felt
as much in the City as anywhere. Straw hats were universal; the shady side
of the street, if there happened to be one, was thronged; secluded alleys and
courts were resorted to by the knowing ones who could afford the time to
linger there; and even highly respectable merchants were to be found sitting
in shirt-sleeves at their writing-tables and wishing, with Sydney Smith, that
they could “sit in their bones.”
At the junction of the Poultry with Victoria Street, shadowed by the
Mansion House, from each side of the road a mysterious hoarding had just
been removed, revealing an iron railing enclosing a small area with a
mysterious staircase bearing the announcement that it led to the subway to
the new electric railway, connecting the City with Waterloo Station.
Descending a few steps, and emerging into a tunnelled incline, the
perspiring pedestrian quickly found that here, if anywhere, was a refuge
from the heat, the coolest place in London, and that it was well worth while,
on the pretence of urgent business across the water, to pay twopence each
way, merely to drink in the refreshing air wafted backwards and forwards
along subway, platform, and tube.
This was the Waterloo and City Railway, a short deep-level line on the
tube principle, nearly 1¾ miles long, burrowing under the Thames’ bed. At
the terminus, by rather prolonged inclines and staircases, passengers could
walk to the main or suburban platforms of Waterloo Station and catch the
trains for Wimbledon, Hampton Court, Surbiton, etc.
Like the City and South London, this railway meets a great want. Before
its opening, City men living down the London and South Western line had

no alternative but to catch a South Eastern train from Cannon Street or
Charing Cross; to take an omnibus viâ the Strand across to Waterloo
Bridge; or to cab it by devious routes viâ Blackfriars Bridge. Now they can
reach Waterloo with ease, comfort, and economy.
Under agreement, the line is worked by the London and South Western
Railway Company. The electrical equipment is by the famous firm of
Siemens Brothers, the generating station being up a blind alley adjoining

FIG. 4. WATERLOO AND CITY RAILWAY’S NEW PATTERN CAR
By permission of the “Tramway and Railway World” Publishing Co., London

the dismal arched entrance to Waterloo from York Road. Each train seats
208 passengers; the average speed is 18 miles an hour, and its usefulness is
proved by the fact that over two and a half million ordinary passengers were
carried by it in one half-year, i.e. to December 31st, 1902 (not counting
season-ticket holders), while the receipts for that period were £17,400.
During the busy hours of morning and evening the large trains are used
and always fill up rapidly, but in the slack times of midday single motor-
cars, each carrying 50 passengers, are sufficient to cope with the traffic. The
cars are rather stuffy, and, like the train cars, are narrow and low. At each
end is a small partitioned-off “cab,” where sits a motor-man. No tickets are
issued from the booking-office; but, as in an omnibus, the conductor comes
round and collects the fares, giving a punched voucher in return, which is
retained by the traveller.
THE LIVERPOOL OVERHEAD ELECTRIC RAILWAY

There are few overhead, or, rather, elevated, railways in the world.
Somehow they do not seem to be popular, and the tendency, in England at
least, is rather towards burrowing like the mole, than soaring above the
street level.
In Germany there is a wonderful instance of electrically driven overhead
line between Elberfeld and Barmen, on the mono-rail principle, the trains
hanging from tracks suspended high above rivers and public roads. At the
great Beckton gas works there has been in use since 1894 an iron-built
miniature railway elevated on pillars, and it is a curious sight to witness
busy little engines incessantly hauling coal trucks from the pier to the retort
houses. An ingenious example of the elevated principle is to be seen at the
Victoria Station, Manchester, where a railway on a very reduced scale
conveys passengers’ luggage from one platform to another, and idlers are
never tired of watching it. The track, a double one, is suspended from the
roof and runs between platforms five and six. The motive power is
electricity, and the motor is placed between the wheels and the track, and it
lifts and lowers a basket which holds about 15 cwt. of luggage.
A wonderful instance of a very elevated railway existed at Beachy Head
while the new lighthouse was being built 600 feet distant from the base of
the cliff, at that point 400 feet high. It conveyed material to the site, the
descending load drawing up the ascending empty “skip” on the overhead
suspension principle.
Our New York cousins have, in their elevated steam railway, long been
familiarised with the system, but for Londoners it possesses the fatal
objection that the occupants of the cars as they pass along can look into the
front windows of the houses and spy upon the occupants. Running along
docks, however, elevated railways are not objectionable; and the earliest
example, in this or any other country, of electricity applied to overhead
traction is at Liverpool.
Extending along the Mersey—that noble river whose tidal movement is
said to be four times the outfall of the Mississippi—for a distance of 6½
miles are the Liverpool Docks, in importance undoubtedly the first in the
world, but, until the Overhead Railway was opened, exasperatingly
inaccessible to business men whose time was valuable, and bewildering to
strangers by reason of their immensity.

Along the line of dock, it is true, ran broad-wheeled omnibuses built to
run on the low-level dock railway, but so slow, in consequence of the
pressure of traffic and the necessity for frequent shuntings for the passage
of goods trains, that to reach the farthest dock usually occupied over an
hour. To improve upon this it was proposed, as far back as 1852, to
construct a high-level railway; but nothing practical came of it until 1888,
when the Liverpool Overhead Railway Company took over the
parliamentary powers obtained by the Dock Board, and setting steadily to
work, created their line for passengers only, and, from the first, achieved a
great success, the number of travellers amounting to many millions
annually.
On the 4th of February, 1893, the railway was appropriately opened by
the ex-Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury, whose devotion to the science of
electricity is well known. Pressing a button at the base of a silver inkstand
(subsequently presented to the Marquis as a memento), the engines that
generated the electric current were set in motion, and by special train his
lordship was conveyed over the seven miles of line, and afterwards
entertained at a banquet by the Mayor, when, in an excellent speech, he
dilated upon the prospect of electricity becoming the motive power of the
age.
In the following month the railway was opened for public traffic, and,
with its thirteen stations, its five minutes’ service, and its cheap fares,
practically extinguished the omnibuses, light or heavy.
From the Overhead Railway a splendid view is obtained of the busiest
locality perhaps in the empire. Below are the railway trucks packed close
with imported merchandise of all kinds: cotton from America and the East;
grain from the ends of the earth; beef, bacon, cheese, butter, flour, and fruit
from the New World; wool and tallow from Australia and Argentina.
Waggons

FIG. 5. THE LIVERPOOL OVERHEAD
ELECTRIC RAILWAY
By permission of the Liverpool Overhead Electric Railway Co.

and carts filled with Manchester goods, hardware, machinery, chemicals,
and every imaginable kind of manufactured goods are alongside the big
liners that come into port, discharge their cargoes, load up, and are out in
the Mersey and off to sea again in a few days. Truly Liverpool is a
wonderful place, and although her greatness as a seaport has been
threatened by the opening of the Ship Canal to Manchester, it will be a long
day before she surrenders her claim to be the chief marine approach to
Great Britain.

CHAPTER IV

REMARKABLE ELECTRIC RAILWAYS

“Behold they shall come with speed swiftly.”—Isaiah v. 26.
MONO-RAILWAYS

A ONE-RAIL railway! What kind of novelty can that be, emanating no
doubt from the prolific brain of some enthusiastic engineer possessed
with an idea, a fad, a craze—call it what you will! We are accustomed
to highly respectable trains running in an orthodox manner on double rails.
A projected, many-railed track we have also heard of to carry ships bodily
across the Isthmus of Panama. But the idea of a single-rail “Flying
Dutchman” or “Wild Irishman” seems chimerical.
It is not so, however, and the system has been solemnly and deliberately
sanctioned by Act of Parliament.
Nowadays one need not be astonished at anything. Take cycling, for
instance. Long ago, when velocipedes—three or four-wheeled, uncanny
machines—were mere toys wherewith youths loved to dislocate their joints
on the lower terraces of the Crystal Palace, no one dreamt that bicycles,
outraging all the laws of gravitation and practically mono-wheeled, would
ere long be used on road and field and moor, on mountain-side, on steppe
and desert, over barren Asiatic tundras and snow-clad Yukon plains—in
short, wherever adventurous mankind has penetrated.
The mono-rail train, like a bicycle, runs on one linear track, but, unlike
that hopelessly collapsible machine, requires no balancing, and cannot
capsize, and under proper conditions is the safest known method of
travelling at very great speed.
“Faire prose sans le savoir” is a familiar aphorism of Molière, but
perhaps it would astonish most of us to be calmly told by modern engineers
that all our lives we have, without knowing it, been travelling on mono-
railways! They assert that although it is true that the ordinary engine with
its coaches rests on a pair of rails, the fact that the space between the rails is
cut away is immaterial, as it is rendered a single track by the rigidity of the
carriage axles, and if these were loose, of course the train would overturn.

Nature has no example of mono-railwayism (to coin an expression),
unless it be the gossamer or shooting spider, that upon a single invisible
thread spun from its body ascends to aerial heights on a kind of self-
manufactured mono-rail, Dame Nature being too lavish and too wise, in the
perfect freedom she accords to birds, beasts, fishes, and insects, to restrict
their movements to one undeviating path.
In the moral world there have always been mono-railists, men of one
fixed idea, from which they could not, or would not, budge—apostles of an
ambition, a creed, a theory, a political conviction. The world has had its
Alexander the Great, its Napoleon, Buddha, St. Paul, Mahomet, Martin
Luther, Ignatius Loyola, Wycliffe, its Palissy, George Stephenson, Mungo
Park, John Bright, and Cobden.
It has been left to the inventive mechanical genius of the nineteenth
century to develop the mono-rail system. Doubtless those inscrutable
people, the Chinese, knew of it, and applied it in some way long ago; and
perhaps the yet more mysterious dwellers in ancient Egypt—whence all
wisdom seems to have descended—utilised it after some unknown fashion.
Blondin, in his marvellous feat of trundling a wheel-barrow containing a
man along the high-level rope, used a hempen mono-rail; and the wire
cables stretching across the Thames at the reconstructed bridges at Kew and
Vauxhall, acting as travelling ways to convey the excavated soil from the
coffer-dams in large iron “skips” or buckets, were another species of mono-
rail; while at home in brickfields, and in mines, and on plantations in distant
lands, miniature railways have been used for years to carry clay, ore, and
produce, over plain and hill and dale.
In India a peculiar kind of tramway truck has been in use for some time,
with two or three flanged wheels which run on a single rail, and a large
balance-wheel on one side of the truck to prevent it toppling over. Produce
of all kinds can easily be drawn upon it by a couple of coolies, and its
efficiency on country roads has been highly spoken of.
Germany presents us with a recent and curious example of the
application of the principle to locomotion. In the Wupper Valley near
Dusseldorf and Cologne there are two towns, Barmen and Elberfeld, about
eight miles apart, mutually engaged in chemical and textile industries, and
this separation of the sister-towns was an obvious disadvantage to both. But
now they are joined by a wonderful railway, constructed on an elevated line

running six miles of its course above the River Wupper, a tributary of the
Rhine, some sixty to a hundred feet wide. The carriages are suspended, and
work upon a single rail, a development of the travelling cable-way system.
This rail is rigidly fastened to an iron framework of girders, and supports
the cars hanging therefrom by means of two steel “bogies” with two wheels.
Thus they can pass round sharp curves without slackening speed and with
the greatest safety, its motive power, electricity, being applied by two
motors on each carriage which drive both wheels with equal force at a
speed fixed at thirty-one miles an hour, and attainable fifteen seconds after
starting.
As elevated railways of this type are somewhat costly, and a simpler and
cheaper form would be a desideratum, a short line across country was built
as an experiment at Cologne-Deutz. The stays, measuring from 9·6 feet to
28·5 feet, were made either of wood, or of iron tubes, and met at the top in
a cap, from which was jointed the sheet-iron supports that carried the mono-
rail. By means of this jointed connection, the strain was always of a central
character, and, therefore, more easily borne. At intervals of about 660 feet a
couple of stays were firmly braced together, in order to give stability to the
overhead structure and to take up the longitudinal thrust. In consequence,
even with light locomotives, the traction power was very high, and on the
line at Deutz it was found that a locomotive drawing two carriages full of
passengers could ascend a gradient of 1 in 6 with perfect safety.
But a means of adapting a mono-rail to every condition had some time
before been thought out. In 1883-4 Charles Lartigue, the eminent French
engineer, developing the principle conceived by the great Telford,
constructed some small lines in Tunis and Algeria for carrying esparto
grass. The cars were drawn by animals in a special form of mono-rail, the
model upon which Mr. F. B. Behr, ASS. INST. C.E.—who modestly disclaims
all originality in the matter—has worked for years, greatly improving in
practical details the original design, and constructing for the first time
mono-rail trains that have been successful in the carriage of both goods and
passengers by steam and electricity.

FIG. 6. PLAN OF A BEHR MONO-RAILWAY CAR
By permission of Mr. F. B. Behr, Ass. Inst. C.E.

The Lartigue single-rail system, as perfected by Mr. Behr, is as follows,
but of necessity my description is a mere outline.
Dismissing all preconceived ideas of rails laid down upon the ground,
we must imagine a heavy double-headed steel rail firmly bolted on to the
summit of a girder supported by trestles, the whole rigidly framed upon
massive sleepers. We thus have a permanent way somewhat resembling a
continuous A-shaped metal viaduct, raised about five feet from the surface,
or a succession of iron barriers—such as road-menders make use of to
divert the traffic—set ends on, secured to each other and to the ground.
Now take an ordinary railway car with seats arranged as in an omnibus, but
with two additional rows back to back in the centre. Remove the axles and
wheels, extending the sides and ends of the car almost down to the ground
level, thus providing beneath the flooring an enclosure with ample room for
the locomotive machinery. All along the bottom of this enclosure is an
opening or space, about five feet high—extending between the middle rows
of seats—that fits the A-shaped viaduct, so that the car is suspended, or, as
it were, sits upon the mono-rail, whereon roll six vertical grooved wheels
that, when set in motion by the electric current, propel the cars. Thus we
have a train apparently without wheels, these together with the apparatus
being completely hidden away between and beneath the passengers’ seats.
On each side of the A-shaped trestle are fixed two guide-rails fitting close
into horizontal grooved wheels effectually checking all oscillation. In front
is the bogie locomotive motor with a pointed bow, the stern of the car also
being pointed, so that the entire arrangement resembles when seen from
above a great stickless rocket with a sharp and flexible snout.
As the sister isle was the first to adopt electricity to a railway (vide
Chapter II.), so was she the pioneer of mono-railism. In County Kerry,
Munster, near the Shannon’s mouth, stands the little town of Listowel, and
9½ miles distant is Ballybunion. To connect these a mono-railway for
passenger and goods traffic was opened on March 1st, 1888, and has

worked ever since without any difficulty. The trains are drawn by a steam
locomotive divided in two, one on each side of the mono-rail—a kind of
twin-screw arrangement—and with their smoke-stacks and giant lantern
between them, present a strange and rather comical appearance, while the
track meandering at its own sweet will across country without fencing of
any kind, adds to the novelty of the little line.
Its great safety has been amply demonstrated by the only mishap that has
occurred to it. Some miscreant had deliberately removed the fastenings
from over thirty yards of the line at a critical point where a reverse curve
began, and close to a bridge. At full speed, a train carrying 200 passengers
came up to the loosened rail, which gave way, breaking the coupling chains
and, luckily, bringing into action the automatic Westinghouse brake. The
permanent way was ruined by the shock, but the fall absorbed the force of
the reaction, and deposited the carriages quietly on the ground without
injury to anyone, and without even breaking a window. On an ordinary line
the train would have been thrown off the metals into the river with terrible
consequences. Shortly after the line was opened, the Lartigue system was
adopted in France, from Tours to Pannissieres in the Loire Department.
The Ballybunion and Listowel Railway is the indirect father of a
modified form of mono-rail which is expected to appear this year at the
Crystal Palace. It is called the Electric Mid-Railway, the invention of Mr.
W. R. Smith, and as the line is to connect the existing railway station with
various points in the grounds, it should be well patronised at the modest
penny fare which is to be charged. Being an entire novelty, it has a specially
good chance of success in this particular situation. The single rail is placed
below the carriage, the weight of which is balanced upon it after the fashion
of a bicycle. On each side of this single track runs a trestle carrying a rail on
a level with the centre of gravity of each carriage. This rail serves the
necessary purpose of supporting the carriage and of also preventing
derailing.
A similar device had been suggested—and possibly has been carried into
effect on the New York and Washington D. C. Line—when it was proposed
to elevate a track above the earth on a single line of upright beams, the
trains to be kept steady by an auxiliary rail on either side, but which would
only come into play on rounding curves.
HIGH-SPEED ELECTRIC RAILWAYS

In Belgium, Mr. Behr, who throughout his labours there received the
personal encouragement and patronage of King Leopold II., successfully
built an experimental high-speed mono-rail line at Tervueren in the
neighbourhood of Brussels, as an annexe to the Exhibition of 1897. To find
suitable ground was the great difficulty. The line had to cross ten public
roads, and in the absence of compulsory powers, leases for the land had to
be arranged with grasping occupiers and owners. The soil was bad, big
cuttings and embankment were unavoidable, and finally the line consisted
of nothing but steep, up-and-down gradients. In fact, all the conditions were
most unfavourable, notwithstanding which, the result of the experiment was
conclusive in showing that with the mono-rail and perfected electrical
traction, very high speed, double that of existing passenger express trains,
could be attained with absolute safety, a principle which Mr. Behr had for a
long time past been particularly impressed with, but which he maintains is
not possible on the ordinary two-rail track, even with electricity as a motive
power.
In November, 1901, Mr. Behr went to Berlin, and investigated the
experiments carried out during forty days by a number of engineering
experts on a military track laid down between the German capital and
Zossen. It was hoped that a speed of 160 miles an hour would be attained
and maintained, and, as a matter of fact, starting from a low speed, the train
gradually reached that of 87 miles; then, for a moment only, 95 miles; and
for an instant of time, 100 miles per hour; but it was at once discernible that
the ordinary two-rail permanent way, though straight, could not bear the
terrific strain imposed upon it; the rails bent at many places, while the
hundred-miles-an-hour rate had so destructive an effect as to render
impracticable any attempt to create a higher record. The air resistance was
found to be considerable. With a square-fronted instead of a pointed coach,
it was appreciable, and the suction behind the train resembled the pressure
of the water at the stern of a mail steamer, and was calculated to equal two-
thirds of the “bow” resistance. These experiments went to prove that for
excessive velocity an ordinary railway was absolutely unsafe.
A year before this, a steam locomotive train had been tried in America
by the Baltimore and Ohio Railway Company, on the Adams principle of
reducing the atmospheric resistance to a minimum. It consisted of six cars,
a tender, and an engine of fifty-seven tons. The entire train was sheathed
down to within eight inches of the track. There were no projections, and all

the windows were flush; the cars were coupled close together, and the rear
one was run off to a point, the train resembling one long sinuous and
flexible carriage.
With this comparatively light engine it is said that the forty miles
between Baltimore and Washington were covered in thirty-seven and a half
minutes. But it was claimed that with a more powerful locomotive the train
could have been easily run at the rate of one mile in thirty-five seconds, or
nearly two miles a minute.
These speeds appear tremendous, but custom would soon reconcile us to
them. Our forefathers thought fifteen miles an hour terrific; and one of the
objections to Stephenson’s ideas was, that at such a speed, not to mention a
twenty-or twenty-five-mile rate, no human being could draw breath.
Since then we have quietly acquiesced in and equally welcomed a style
of travelling varying from 35 to an average of 58 miles an hour, and even
consider it no great feat to run a special viceregal train from Euston to
Holyhead—263½ miles—in five hours without stopping, and are not
astonished to read of last year’s record run of the mail express from
Boulogne to Paris—168 miles—at an average speed of 68 miles an hour!
Still, 120 miles every sixty minutes without stopping is a large order, and
in practice would give some remarkable results. For instance, a resident at
Putney could be whisked from the station nearest to him, and thence to a
point adjoining his office—say in Seething Lane, some seven miles off—in
less than five minutes. Brighton could be reached from town in twenty-five
minutes; Dover, in forty; Edinburgh, in three hours twenty minutes.
Inverness—663 miles away—could be arrived at from Euston in six hours
twenty minutes, instead of the fifteen hours thirty-five minutes of the
ordinary express; and Paris—allowing one hour thirty minutes for the
Channel passage—in three hours forty-two minutes.
THE MANCHESTER AND LIVERPOOL ELECTRIC EXPRESS RAILWAY
Now, the contention of the advocates of the monorail principle is, that
only by that system can very high speed be safely attained; and when one
comes to closely examine the cars in which this hundred-and-ten-miles-per-
hour travelling is achieved, confidence is at once inspired, because of their
low centre of gravity and consequent unlikeliness of derailment.
There remains only one question—Cui bono? What useful purpose can
be served by being able to get from Liverpool to Manchester in twenty

minutes instead of over an hour? On an emergency, such as a sudden
necessity for the services of a medical specialist, a matter of life or death
perhaps, or on the occasion of any crisis in domestic or mercantile life when
the instant presence of some one distant individual is imperative, it might be
of immense service. But in the usual course of business, do not existing
railways bring merchant and broker, importer and manufacturer, face to face
quickly enough, and are not telephones and telegraphs and the post
sufficient to carry through big transactions between the centre of the cotton
trade and the great city on the banks of the Mersey? Public opinion, which
demands increasing speed in every phase of life, especially in travelling,
declares they are not sufficient; for we live in an impatient age when every
hour of detention on a transatlantic passage is begrudged.
Therefore it is not to be wondered at that in 1900-1, after the most
exhaustive inquiries and criticisms, the royal assent was given August 17th,
1901, to the Manchester and Liverpool Electric Express Railway, which
was duly authorised by Act of Parliament. It must be premised that the line,
like our London Tube, does not provide for goods traffic; that the time
occupied by the journey being so short, neither luggage-van, lavatory, or
refreshment buffet is required, and that all trains consist of a single car,
couplings being a source of danger at so great a rate of speed. But as the
trains run every ten minutes, and carry about forty persons each time, a
large passenger traffic is provided for.
Well—a broker has been telephoned for by his client, a wealthy cotton-
spinner in Manchester, anxious to consult with him personally; so he at
once leaves the flags of the Exchange, and after an eight minutes’ walk
arrives at the Express Railway Station, near the entrance gate of the Blue
Coat Hospital in School Lane. He considers that in getting into and out of
the lift he has lost two minutes, but he just catches his car and starts for a
run of 34½ miles to Manchester, and since it is his first experience of
lightning travelling, he notices everything connected with the new line.
There are many curves, he finds, all necessary in order to avoid conflict
with the vested interests of other railway companies; the gradients, he
observes, at points about three-quarters of a mile from the Liverpool and
Manchester stations, are steep—1 in 25, and 1 in 30—but of service in
accelerating and breaking the trains.
Unlike the Listowel mono-rail line, the Manchester and Liverpool
express is fenced from end to end with an unclimbable barrier, and as there

are no level-crossings and no means of access, there is no possibility of
trespassing. Also, for the security of the workmen employed in maintaining
the track as on an ordinary railway—the system of “packing” the sleepers
and inspecting the various parts being common to all railways—a clear
space of three feet is left between the passing trains, and strong posts, ten
feet apart, are fixed along the centre of the space for the labourers to hold
on by when an express rushes by. Collisions, our broker quickly perceives,
are impossible, there being no switches, and notwithstanding the multitude
of passengers (some twenty thousand per day) there are never more than
two cars on the line at a time, and there are no stoppages between the two
termini.
For signalling purposes, the line is divided into four sections of about
five miles each, and as the train passes by, its electric motor automatically
operates the signal and immediately “blocks” the section behind it, so that
the train following cannot advance until its leader has cleared the five-mile
division.
The driver and conductor are both together in the front part of the train,
so that the conductor has ample time to look out for the signals, to apply the
brakes, and assist his mate. The brakes are of the Westinghouse pattern, and
the two combined can stop the cars in about 800 yards, even at the speed of
110 miles an hour. These can be aided by Mr. Behr’s ingenious device,
which Sir William H. Preece considers quite practicable, viz. louvres or
shutters, which, when opened, materially increase the air resistance.
Past Toxteth Park, Garston, Halewood, Widnes (whose only rival in
sheer ugliness is perhaps London’s Stratford-by-Bow), and exactly half-
way, Warrington, conspicuous for the inkiness of its river Mersey, and noted
for its glass, wire, and chemical industries; famed for its network of
waterways, especially for the great but evil-smelling ship-canal; noted in
history—when but a hamlet, with a clear trout-yielding stream—as the
camping-ground of the young Pretender when on his march to Derby in
1745; and associated with Mrs. Gaskell (whose “Cranford” is identified
with Knutsford, a neighbouring village), the two Bishops Claughton,
Viscount Cross, Luke Fildes, R.A., and “Warrington” Wood, the sculptor.
Close by, in the parish of Great Sankey, is the power-generating station
of the railway, the current obtained being 15,000 volts on the triphase
alternating system, converted in five sub-stations placed along the line, into

a continuous 650 volt current. Every car has four traction motors arranged
in pairs, each with a full-speed capacity of 160 h.p., equal to 110 miles an
hour. The cars are comfortably upholstered; the seats are separated and
placed back to back in the middle, those along the sides facing inwards, as
in the Twopenny Tube. The lighting is, of course, excellent, and the
ventilation perfect, though to prevent accident the windows are fixed, and
the doors, while the train is in motion, are automatically locked.

FIG. 7. INTERIOR OF A BEHR MONO-RAILWAY CAR
By permission of Mr. F. B. Behr, Ass. Inst. C. E.

As regards the cost of this novel undertaking, our Liverpool friend had
beforehand ascertained that the capital had been fixed at £2,800,000, and
that an average of eight persons per train would more than cover the
expense of the enterprise.
Swiftly leaving Warrington in the distance, the express shoots onwards
—past Eccles, Pendleton, and Salford—and reaches the terminus at the
west side of Deansgate, in the busiest part of Cottonopolis, where, again
using the lift, our honest broker speeds to the Exchange in another eight
minutes, and in forty-five minutes after leaving Liverpool is in deep
business conference with his principal at Manchester.

Contrast this with the existing facilities of the old system for rapid transit
between the two places; and those who know their Manchester and
Liverpool well, will at once be able to decide whether or not the electric
express better meets the requirements of those to whom every minute is of
consequence.
The London and North Western Railway (which has a perfectly straight
bit of track to Manchester, unequalled, except on the Great Eastern between
Littleford and Lynn—21 miles—and on the South Eastern between Nutfield
and Ashford—32 miles) runs expresses without stopping from Lime Street
and Edge Hill to the Exchange Station, Manchester, doing the journey in
forty minutes.
The Great Central Railway, by an indirect route, viâ Garston and
Widnes, runs expresses from their Liverpool station (St. James’s) direct to
the Manchester Central, in from forty to forty-five minutes; but on neither
line is there such a thing as a ten minutes’ service, the intervals between the
direct expresses ranging from forty-five minutes to so much as four hours.
Plans, it is said, have been submitted to the Board of Trade for a mono-
railway between Edinburgh and Glasgow. The proposed construction is
similar to that of the Behr mono-railway between Liverpool and
Manchester. It is quite unlike the canny Scot to rush into sensational
experiments for a speed of 117 miles per hour, especially as a few years’
waiting for the completion of the Liverpool line would prove or disprove
the possibility of the scheme.

CHAPTER V

REJUVENATING THE METROPOLITAN INNER CIRCLE

“So that thy youth is renewed like the eagle’s.”—Ps. ciii. 5.
CONSTRUCTION OF THE METROPOLITAN AND METROPOLITAN DISTRICT RAILWAYS

C AN anything be satisfactorily rejuvenated? Is there any truth in the
Medean story that old age can revert to the vigour of young manhood?
In 1903 the usual reply is “No.” If a theatre becomes dilapidated, it
is pulled down. If a railway-station gets much out of repair, the company
proceeds to reconstruct, and not to patch up. If a macadamised thoroughfare
gives signs of too much wear and tear, it is broken up and relaid with wood
blocks.
In fact, rejuvenation on a large scale is so seldom attempted that the
scheme for renovating and electrifying the Inner Circle Railway may be
regarded as something remarkable.
For convenience we will call it the Inner Circle, but, as we all know, it is
a dual concern controlled by the Metropolitan and the Metropolitan District,
both of them old enough to have a respectable history.
Fifty years ago railways within the boundaries of Inner London were
non-existent, the nearest points approached by the country lines being at
Battersea, Euston, St. Pancras, Shoreditch, Paddington, London Bridge, and
Waterloo—miles away from the central districts.
It was an ideal time for omnibus companies, who charged pretty well
what they liked: and for cabmen, whose fare was nominally restricted to
eightpence a mile, but who were masters of the situation when passengers
with luggage had to be conveyed from the termini. Yet, although many
suggestions were made, including that of a great central station where all
the lines might converge, the travelling world was considerably startled in
1854 by a proposition laid before Parliament to construct an underground
line from Farringdon Street to Bishop’s Road, Paddington; and so
astonished were capitalists that although the bill passed, the money was so
slow in coming in that work could not be begun until six years later!

In planning the route a golden opportunity was lost of anticipating the
Twopenny Tube; but the opposition of Oxford Street was so fierce that the
line had to be poked away beneath the Marylebone Road in the north-west
of London, convenient for residents in Paddington and Bayswater, but
useless to other districts, and, what was more important, it did not go to the
Bank, the centre of the business world.
However, we, then as now, were but a slow people, therefore really
comprehensive schemes found little favour in the “fifties” and “sixties.” For
three years the Marylebone and Euston roads were closed to traffic, and
presented the appearance of a besieged city’s outskirts where deep trenches
and fortifications were being made. The roadway was removed to a great
depth; pipes and sewers were taken away and replaced; foundations were
underpinned, and a series of solid brick tunnels were slowly and laboriously
constructed and covered up. The plank pathways, the noise, and the smells,
drove householders along the route to desperation; and, on nearing the City,
the problem of dealing with the old Fleet Ditch was at one period thought
insoluble. No wonder that, what with compensation to owners of damaged
property, the acquisition of necessary land, and engineering difficulties, the
cost of the line at some points mounted up to a million sterling per mile!
At last the first section was completed; and in September, 1862, a trial
trip was made. A contemporary picture represents the train passing Portland
Road Station, its open trucks in the rear full of enthusiastic guests waving
flags and tall hats—after luncheon probably—evidently delighted with the
success of the undertaking. But at the formal opening, January 9th, 1863, a
grand banquet was given in the Farringdon Street Station, three long tables
occupying the rail and platform space, with a [ shaped table on a daïs for
the principal guests.
The following day thirty thousand passengers journeyed over the line,
and everybody in London talked about the Underground as somewhat of a
marvel. But people exhibited strange ignorance on the subject, nervous
people preparing for wonderful possibilities, imagining that the cellars
would collapse as the trains thundered by, or that the houses would tumble
through on to the line, flinging their occupants before some passing engine!
Yet, after all, the Underground was only an ordinary tunnel (such as
pierce a score of hills), placed in an exceptional position in the midst of
London.

Bit by bit, as years went by, the Metropolitan Railway extended itself
eastward and westward to High Street, Kensington, whence the District
Railway that had sprung into existence went ahead and got as far as
Westminster, its line being partly open and partly tunnelled. There the
District stuck for three years, and then found its way into the City (a great
boon as an alternative route). At the Mansion House Station it seemed
determined to rest for a long period; the Metropolitan showing the same
propensity at the Moorgate Street sheds, until City men began to give up all
hope of the two ends ever meeting.
It came about at last, however, and the year 1884 witnessed the
completion of the irregular Inner Circle—a total length of about 12½ miles
—by way of Bishopsgate, Aldgate, Mark Lane, the Monument, and Cannon
Street, without any serious disturbance of the traffic, but with much
wonderful underpinning of warehouses and offices (a notable instance of
this operation being beneath King William the Fourth’s statue, which
weighs over 250 tons!).
At first there were no smoking-carriages, but the numerous complaints
on the subject induced the directors to alter their rules, and they went to the
other extreme, so that now non-smokers think there seem to be more
smoking-carriages than any others.
In its young days the Metropolitan was clean and its atmosphere
tolerable. In fact, it had been proposed to use smokeless engines, but for
some reason the idea was abandoned, and, as the main railway lines began
to send out feelers towards the inner districts of London, they sought for,
and obtained, running powers over the Underground, junctions being made
with the Great Northern Railway and Great Western, the London and North
Western, and the Midland. Consequently, the number of trains immensely
increased, and the smoke nuisance was intensified. Ventilating shafts were
adopted, and afforded some relief, but the imprisoned fog of winter
precipitated the “blacks,” and summer weather only made the atmosphere
still more stifling; while Baker Street, Gower Street, and King’s Cross
stations and tunnels were positive infernos, and for how many deaths from
asthma and bronchitis they were responsible no one knows!
The rolling-stock of the Metropolitan became dirtier and dirtier, grime
and disfigurement settled down upon it, and everybody’s experience of it
resembled that of Mrs. Lilian Rosamond, described in Chapter VIII.

THE NEW DISTRICT RAILWAY
Just opposite St. Mark’s College, Chelsea, is a narrow thoroughfare
called Lot’s Road, leading to a creek that separates the Borough from
Fulham. Tradition says that the locality was formerly known as “The Lots”
(about four acres in extent), and was granted to a Sir Arthur Gorges by the
lord of the manor, in lieu of certain rights over land which he gave up for
the formation of the Kensington Canal; but incredulous old folk dismissed
this tradition with contempt, and maintained that there was a Chelsea
personage named Lot, very distantly related to the patriarch’s nephew, who
pitched his tent in the fertile Jordan Valley, and that the dismal Chelsea
wastes so much resembled the desolateness of the fatal plains, that diligent
search therein might even result in the discovery of the Pillar of Salt,
brought over to this country at some remote period by a pious descendant!
But whoever, or whatever, the name Lot may represent, it is now associated
with one of the greatest electrical undertakings of the age—the huge
generating station of the Underground Electric Railway Company of
London, Limited, who, as at present arranged, will supply the District and
other railways with power.
At the bottom of Lot’s Road, and at a point on the Middlesex bank of
Battersea Reach, facing the ugly parish church of St. Mary, is the mouth of
Chelsea Creek, filled twice a day by the muddy waters of the Thames, and
here the Electrical Works are being erected. They are in sight of an obscure
cottage in Cheyne Walk where the painter Turner lived in concealment, and
where he died. The building, with its four great chimney-shafts, is
unæsthetic to a degree, and Turner would probably have thought it ruined
his favourite landscape. But it represents something more valuable than
æsthetic effect.
When Matthew Doulton, in the infancy of steam, took the Russian
Prince Potemkin round the works at Soho, Manchester, the distinguished
visitor inquired, “What do you sell here?” “We make and sell here,” replied
James Watts’ partner, “that which all the world wants—Power.” And this,
on a scale undreamt of by the famous engineer, is what the Underground
Electric Railway Company of London will produce, in view of the river
scenery so much admired by the chief of impressionists, and which he never
wearied of depicting.
This temple of electric force will be the largest in the Old World. In New
York, the Manhattan and the Metropolitan companies both have power

stations slightly smaller. The Rapid Transit Commission have projected one
that will be bigger, while the Waterside station of the Edison Illuminating
Company (partially completed) is on a still larger scale. It has, however,
been stated that the biggest power scheme on earth will be at Massena, on
the St. Lawrence River, Canada, where there will be fifteen Westinghouse
machines, equal to a total of 75,000 kilowatts.
Within the temple there will be turbo-generators fifty feet in length and
ten feet high, constructed by the British Westinghouse Company at their
Trafford Park

FIG. 8. ELECTRICAL POWER HOUSE (THE LARGEST IN THE OLD
WORLD) LOT’S ROAD, CHELSEA, TO SUPPLY THE METROPOLITAN
DISTRICT AND OTHER RAILWAYS WITH CURRENT
By permission of the Underground Electric Railways Co. of London, Ltd.

Works, Manchester, capable of producing the prodigious quantity of
60,000 electrical kilowatts, at a pressure, or force, technically speaking, of
11,000 volts. In other words, about 100,000 horse-power could be sent out,
theoretically equal to the lifting of over 1,000,000 tons a foot high every
minute.[3] Six such power stations could, therefore, move the great pyramid
of Cheops (over 6,000,000 tons weight), and carry it bodily off on colossal
rails, and dump it down anywhere to order.
For condensing purposes, an enormous quantity of water will be
required, and every twenty-four hours 19,000,000 gallons of water (at times

mounting up to 40,000,000 gallons) will be drawn from the creek for use in
the power house.
The force of 11,000 volts will be much too powerful for direct
application to the purposes of locomotion. It requires reducing by
transformers and rotary converters into the safe and ordinary current of
about 550 volts, which will be effected at sub-stations—Earl’s Court, South
Kensington, Victoria, Charing Cross, Mansion House, and other places
along the line. To these the current will be sent from the power house, and
reduced by the transformers into ordinary low-pressure voltage, and the
fiery O.P. spirit tamed to a pleasant and portable “under-proof” standard!
The current will then be distributed to two conductor-rails, one located
between the present running rails, and the other outside them. The motors
on the trains will receive the current from one rail by means of a sliding
contact-shoe, and return it to the other rail in the same manner. In passing
through the motor the electricity causes the armature to revolve, which
motion, by means of gearing, is communicated to the carriage axle.
So much for the driving-power of the trains. But what kind of trains do
the public expect?

FIG. 9. A 2,000 H.P. WESTINGHOUSE STEAM TURBINE, RESEMBLING
THE TURBO-GENERATORS (EACH OF 7,500 H.P.) IN THE CHELSEA
POWER HOUSE.
By permission of the Westinghouse Companies, Ltd., London

Surely not the old carriages cleaned up and re-upholstered—made “to
last a little longer,” until broken up for firewood and old iron. The public
will not be disappointed in the new cars, nothing as yet having been seen in
London to equal them.
The trains will be run on the principle of the multiple unit. That is, each
will be made up of seven coaches—three long motor-cars and four trail-cars
—with a motor-man’s cab at each end, and one in the centre. These eight-
wheeled coaches will be rectangular at the sides—not sloping like those of
the Waterloo Tube Company—and very roomy, 52 feet long and about 8
feet 2 inches wide inside, and about 8 feet 7 inches from the floor to the
middle of the roof.

FIG. 10. A NEW METROPOLITAN DISTRICT RAILWAY CAR
By permission of the Underground Electric Railways Co. of London, Ltd.

The arrangement of the seats will be somewhat different from that of the
Tube. There will, of course, be corridor cars, which will be entered from the
platforms, through telescopic doors; there will be also sliding doors. The
gain in leg-space will be great, the centre gangway giving a clear 4 feet, and
there will be fewer cross seats. Each train will hold about 338 passengers;
the ventilation of the cars will be perfect; and the height sufficient for a
giant. As the District tunnels are 25 feet in diameter, and 15 feet 9 inches
from the rail level to the crown of the arch, there will be about 2 feet of
head-room, about 2 feet 6 inches between each train, and the same between
the trains and the sides of the tunnels.

Compare this with the present Inner Circle trains that carry about three
hundred passengers, with gangways that, even in the first-class
compartments, leave no room for incomers to avoid a leg entanglement, and
whose height will hardly admit a tall man in a tall hat to stand upright. Also
compare it with the dimensions of the Central’s cars, which are 39 feet long,
8 feet wide, and whose height to the middle of roof is only 7 feet 5 inches,
the gangway narrow, with seats in each car for forty-eight people. The space
in the cars of the City and South London, and the Waterloo and City, is still
more exiguous.
It is proposed to run about twice as many trains as at present, each
journey to be made in about two-thirds of the time now required; that is to
say, the trains that now run about ten miles an hour will, it is anticipated,
work up to at least fifteen miles; the total carrying capacity being estimated
at 70,000,000 per annum, increasable, if necessary, to 100,000,000. There
may be an all-night service, for the convenience of people engaged at
Covent Garden market, and for journalists and others whose work lies in the
vicinity of Fleet Street. A somewhat novel and economical feature will be
that the trains, during the stock hours of the day, can be run in short lengths,
as in the City and Waterloo Railway, and, with their triple motors divided,
will resemble those strange Naidæ worms of the Annelida class that possess
the power of increasing by mechanical division. They will also be able to go
forward and backward without reversing the motor engines.
Brilliant will be the lighting of the cars and stations; the tunnels, too, are
to be illuminated. Fresh air will be obtained by the frequent movements of
the trains through the tunnels, while smoke and smuts will, of course,
become things of the past. The stations, with their wide and roomy
platforms, will in some cases be lengthened by fifty feet to accommodate
the three-hundred-and-fifty-feet-long trains, and be thoroughly cleansed and
repainted, and the tunnels may possibly be whitened by means of
“spraying”—the principle adopted at the Chicago Exhibition for the finials
of the pavilions.
The question of classes, fares, and tickets has not yet been settled, but
we may assume that the system adopted will be somewhat like that of the
Tube. The entire project closely resembles the Metropolitan Underground
Railway of Paris, and the Boston Subway. Lifts are not at present
contemplated, and probably their absence will be no great loss to active
travellers, nor even to the “old, subdued, and slow,” for trains will so

quickly succeed one another that the missing of one will involve no serious
delay. Possibly, however, as time goes on, some new and convenient form
of sloping footway may be adopted.
But alas! for the lovers of the beautiful, the directors, we are told, “have
not decided that they will be warranted in sacrificing, on æsthetic grounds,
the revenue derived from advertisements.”
Then, again, as there will be little or no waiting, even the most impatient
of voyageurs will hardly need the diversion obtained by a trial of the
omnipresent penny-in-the-slot machines, or the contemplation of the
numerous works of art displayed on the station walls. They will not even
need the bookstalls, much less to gape at the contents-bills of the daily
paper.
And, provided the glass roofs be kept clean, and the atmosphere innocent
of smoke and gas, might not the stations—sheltered as they are from the
vagaries of weather, and brilliantly lighted—be transformed into modified
winter gardens, with sturdy flowers and shrubs filling up nooks and corners,
and bold paintings (frequently renewed) of distant lands, seascapes, and
historical subjects, in the recesses now covered by “Reckitt’s Blue,” etc.?
The frequent stopping of trains would be actually welcomed, and people
would travel by the “Circle” for the sake of seeing the novelties! In fact,
every station might be converted into a thing of beauty.
One other suggestion for the directors of the new Inner Circle. Cannot
something be contrived in the new cars to effectually deaden the sound of
the closing and opening of doors, so irritating to modern nerves, and
unpleasantly associated with the “banging” in the old carriages, and the
“clashing” of the telescopics in the Tubes.
THE NEW METROPOLITAN RAILWAY
The Metropolitan Railway will be electrified in a very similar manner to
the District Railway, the system being the same, i.e. alternating three-phase,
converted at sub-stations into continuous current. Access to the platforms
will be by short staircases, and not by lifts. It is said that when steam is
abolished the appearance of the stations may possibly be improved, but the
advertisements are too important a source of revenue to be removed, and, as
the Company says, “they act as a relief to the bare walls, and their
withdrawal would answer no good”! An effort will be made to cleanse the
tunnels, but it has not yet been decided what method will be adopted.

There exist an abundance of open spaces, ventilating-shafts, and holes,
and the frequent passing of trains in contrary directions will necessarily
keep the air in motion, and thus, as in the District, the problem of
ventilation will solve itself.
The cars will be of the corridor type, seven to a full train, each end car
and the middle one having a motor, and if the contingencies of the traffic do
not require a large train, it will thus be possible to divide it and run it in two
parts. The seating will be both transverse and longitudinal, and considerably
over four hundred passengers it is said can be accommodated in each full
train. As to day and night services, their frequency, the fares, and the
distinction of classes, nothing has yet been decided.
About a mile from Wembly, where “Watkins’ Folly,” as it is locally
called—at one time aspiring, like Babel’s, to “reach unto heaven”—shows
gauntly against the skyline its first stage of only 150 feet, is Neasden,
where, on land belonging to the Metropolitan Railway, is being erected its
power house (the most extensive in the kingdom owned by a single railway
company), capable of producing some 14,000 kilowatts. Water in
abundance will be obtained by means of artesian wells now being bored in
the chalk; and coal can be readily supplied. The current will be applied to
cars, as on the District, by a conductor-rail placed in the near side of the
permanent way, with a return fixed in the centre of the running track. By the
end of 1903 it is hoped that the work will be sufficiently advanced for some
trains to be run by electricity. Finally, as the Metropolitan’s engineer-in-
chief remarks, there will be no marked novelties, but “the very conversion
from steam to electric traction will prove a great novelty and an attraction.
New cars of the latest type will be introduced, the stations will be bright and
cheerful, the atmosphere pure; travel will be undertaken with a greater
degree of comfort, and freedom from disagreeable odours. In short, nothing
that can reasonably be expected to be performed in the interests of the
public will be left undone.”
AMERICAN CAPITAL
A good deal has been said in reference to the source whence the
necessary capital has been obtained for rejuvenating the Inner Circle,
patriotic people objecting to the so-called Americanising of this great
undertaking, though it is hardly a logical objection.

If British capitalists are lacking in enterprise, there is no reason why
London should wait until they evince it. The world will not go to sleep
while Lombard Street hesitates. As Mr. Perks, M.P., Chairman of the
District Company has said, out of the five millions sterling invested in the
new Underground Electric Railway Companies of London, Limited, less
than two millions were held in America, and three millions on this side the
Atlantic. “I do not care,” he said, “where the money comes from, so long as
it is good money”—a wise remark, like the non olet of Suetonius. What
matters it whence the materials of a sovereign have come? They cannot be
ear-marked, and whether its gold is Brazilian, Australian, South African, or
American, is of no consequence. It is a legal tender, and worth twenty silver
shillings.
Another matter that has engaged public attention is the apparent
difference of opinion between the Metropolitan and the Metropolitan
District Companies, as to the control of the Inner Circle. Nature has
designed them to be one, and but for vested and promoters’ interests, they
probably would have been one from the first. They are not merely brother
and sister, but are united by a closer tie, therefore their motto surely ought
to be Quis separabit!
Let us hope that long before the scheme is completed there will be a
reconciliation, and a satisfactory working arrangement made “out of court”
between these two parties to an unnecessary divorce suit.
The two lines have carried their millions of passengers, and the
rejuvenated Inner Circle during its new and beneficent career is destined to
carry very many millions more, and prove a great boon to the metropolis.

CHAPTER VI

THE CENTRAL LONDON ELECTRIC RAILWAY

“Tell by what paths, what subterranean ways.”—Blackmore.
HISTORY OF THE RAILWAY AND ITS CITY SUBWAYS

W HEN those electric traction pioneers, the City and South London, and
the Waterloo and City Railways, were opened respectively in 1890
and 1898, they were regarded by the public with a certain amount of
apathy. But when, in July, 1900, the Central London Railway, inaugurated
by the Prince of Wales, was opened for traffic, and it was realised that the
line was laid literally in the centre of London, beneath one of the greatest
street routes in existence, viz. Cheapside, Newgate Street, Holborn, Oxford
Street, Bayswater and Uxbridge roads, and was capable of dealing with a
gigantic stream of passengers at a uniform fare for any distance, it arrested
universal attention, and for a time nothing was talked about but the deep-
level system for metropolitan railways; and by general approbation the
Central was forthwith dubbed “The Twopenny Tube,” a name it will always
retain.
Like most great enterprises, the Tube Railway had to contend against
considerable opposition before legislative sanction could be obtained for its
construction. It was incorporated on August 5th, 1891, after a great battle
with Parliament and local authorities, in which affray the late Mr. J. H.
Greathead, M. INST. C. E. (deviser of one of the methods of shield-excavating
for driving tunnels), took a conspicuous part, and the principle of a “free-
way-leave” beneath the streets was successfully confirmed.
The original directors were Mr. Henry Tennant (at one time General
Manager of the North Eastern Railway Company), Lord Colville of Culross
(Director of the Great Eastern Railway Company), Sir Francis Knollys
(Director of the Great Northern Railway Company), the Hon. A. H. Mills
(of Glyn, Mills, Currie, and Co.), and the Right Hon. D. R. Plunket
(Director of the North London Railway Company). Thus the railway
element was strongly represented; the financial to a small but very

important extent, and Court influence by two prominent members of the
households of the Prince and Princess of Wales.
The Company was authorised to construct a double underground line
from Liverpool Street to Shepherds Bush (about 6½ miles); but the plan
was modified, and the Bank of England became the City starting-point. In
their prospectus the directors modestly predicted an annual passenger traffic
of some forty-two millions (or seven millions per mile of line); but this
estimate has been largely exceeded, the average being about fifty-two
millions per annum, or one million per week.
The Company’s capital ultimately reached the sum of nearly four
millions sterling, so the line can hardly be called a cheap one in point of
construction; for, although the “way-leave” beneath the streets was free,
land had to be bought for the surface booking-offices, costly shafts had to
be sunk to the requisite depth, and tunnels driven, and numerous
subterranean stations had to be built. Thus, apart from the cost of the
rolling-stock and installation of a large current-generating station, the initial
expenses soon mounted up.
All the booking-offices and stations are built on one principle, each with
its great electric lift; but special interest attaches to the City terminus.
It was necessary to make use, somehow, of the open space between the
Mansion House, the Bank, and the Royal Exchange—an ideal spot for a
central railway station. But how was it to be effected? For years the Civic
Fathers had contemplated the construction of subways for the safety and
convenience of foot-passengers at this, which has been termed the busiest—
as it is almost the most dangerous—spot in the world, though I doubt
whether in the year 1903 Piccadilly Circus does not run it hard.
The Central Railway Company approached the Corporation on the
subject, and eventually it was agreed between the parties that the Railway
Company, in return for being allowed the privilege of constructing their
station beneath the open space, without payment, should make the public
subways, and hand them over in perpetuity to the City.
So for many months the pavement in front of the Royal Exchange was
disfigured by a lofty wooden hoarding, which completely concealed a shaft,
wherein some mysterious work was progressing. But beyond this there was
no outward indication of what was going on below; and, although the entire

roadway in front of the Mansion House was being undermined, the vast
traffic continued as usual.
Arranging this station proved to be one of the stiffest bits of engineering
work ever attempted. Drain-pipes were ubiquitous—a perfect tangle that
had to be diverted. There were old disused and long-forgotten pipes, electric
cables, hydraulic power pipes, pneumatic tubes, gas and water mains—a
maze and wilderness of underground communications. These were all
rearranged in a special pipe-tunnel, 14 feet wide. Then, at a depth of about
20 feet, the booking-office was built, bit by bit, of steel-work, which had
previously been temporarily put together in a field to ensure its fitting
exactly into the excavation prepared for its accommodation—an area 145
feet one way and 75 feet the other, its outline being on the curve. Its roof,
consisting of girders supporting steel troughing, was filled up with concrete,
and finally with asphalte, upon which thousands of people pass daily
without realising what is below them. Access to the booking-office is
gained by numerous entrances viâ the public subway: two on the Royal
Exchange pavement, two at the bottom of Mansion House Place, one at the
Poultry corner, and one at Walbrook, one in front of the Safe Deposit City
buildings, two each at the corners of Princes Street and Cornhill, and one at
St. Mary Woolnoth Church. The entire arrangement reminds one of a mole’s
subterranean fortress, with its galleries for entrance and exit branching off
in various directions.
These subways, immense conveniences which should be adopted at
every rond-point in London—though it is a strange fact that habitués of the
City seldom use them, they being patronised chiefly by the “work-girl” and
by casual visitors to the central “square mile”—are 15 feet wide and 9 feet
high, are lined with glazed brick, and have electric-lighted stairways at the
above-mentioned places.
DESCRIPTION OF THE RAILWAY
Some fifty feet below the Bank of England Station are the twin-tunnels
and their platforms, approached by five lift shafts of twenty feet, and one
stairway shaft of eighteen feet diameter; at a deeper level still are the tubes
of the City and South London Railway, crossing the City en route to
Islington.
These great passenger lifts work with wonderful smoothness (facile
descensus Averno est), and without them no fewer than ninety-three steps

would have to be painfully descended.
We are all familiar by this time with the other ten surface stations of the
Twopenny Tube (at the Post Office, Marble Arch, etc.). They are nearly all
alike, and look as if they were waiting for a substantial and lofty building to
be erected upon them, and have little claim to architectural beauty. The
platforms, necessarily rather contracted in area, are clean and bright, owing
to the extensive use of opalite tiling and glazed bricks, ever spotless, and
practically indestructible. Each train consists of six eight-wheeled bogie-
cars, 45½ feet long, with well-upholstered seats, arranged longitudinally
and crosswise, for forty-eight passengers. The lighting is effected by means
of eight sixteen-candle-power incandescent lamps, supplemented by small
shaded electric lights, excellent for reading by. The windows, of course, do
not open, but practicable ventilating louvres are arranged above them.
Entrance is obtained at each end of the car, and the telescopic gates are
cleverly and expeditiously manipulated by the attendants. Straps are placed
along rods on each side of the roof to aid passengers in traversing the cars,
and above the seats are racks for parcels, etc.
The electric locomotives[4] are curious in shape, with the driver’s cabin
in the middle, and a backward and forward slope for the apparatus looking
like gigantic coal-scuttles back to back. They have eight wheels, and are
fitted with motors, one for each axle. The current is collected from a central
third rail by means of two cast-iron shoes which rub along it, and is led
through an automatic circuit-breaker and switched to the controller in the
driver’s cabin, thence to the motors, returning to the track rails through the
wheels. The total weight of a locomotive is about forty-four tons, and the
average speed is about fourteen miles an hour, the running time from the
Bank to the western terminus being twenty-four minutes.
At Shepherd’s Bush—once, as its name implies, a rural suburban hamlet,
suggestive of pastoral pursuits, flocks of sheep and lambs, washings and
shearings of fleeces—is the chief power station of the Central, sub-stations
being situated at the General Post Office, Marble Arch, and Notting Hill
Gate.
The premises cover sixty-eight acres, with plenty of room for locomotive
and car sheds, shunting tracks, boiler and engine houses, the latter most
impressive from the size of their six Corliss compound horizontal engines,
each rated at 1,300 horse-power, though, as in so much American

machinery, the somewhat rough exterior detracts from the appearance,
especially in the eyes of British engineers, accustomed not only to internal
mechanical perfection—as in the Central’s engines—but to nicety of finish
throughout. These giants are coupled direct to Thomson-Houston dynamos,
with the capacity, if required, of 5,100 kilowatts, or 6,800 indicated horse-
power.
Amongst other contemplated improvements is that of loop-lines between
Liverpool Street and the Bank, which will materially help to accelerate the
traffic.

FIG. 11. A TYPICAL ELECTRIC POWER GENERATOR—TWO
DYNAMOS, EACH OF ABOUT 1,600 H.P.
By permission of Dick Kerr and Co., London

Some remarkable results, not very satisfactory to those interested in
vehicular traffic, have arisen from the opening of the Twopenny Tube. The
standard of travelling has gone up steadily; improvements in ’buses are
constantly demanded (garden seats, spiral spring cushions, etc.) and—
somewhat slowly—conceded. Yet, to quote the words of an omnibus
official, “they (the public) want more!” And this at a time when fares have
steadily decreased, and the cost of fodder and maintenance have seriously
increased. Worse still, the Tube’s existence has been keenly realised all
along the line of its route, ladies especially preferring to go on a shopping
expedition by means of the well-lit Tube than by the not over-clean, and
decidedly slow and stuffy, omnibus. The London Road Car Company’s
returns along Oxford Street and Holborn showed last year a decrease nearly
equivalent to the Tube’s increase, and the London General Omnibus
Company’s report for the half-year—December 1st, 1901—was so
disappointing, owing to dear forage and decreased passenger traffic, that its

stock fell at one bound ten points, from 105 to 95—a grave depreciation in
value.
The Tube, during the six months ending December 31st, 1902, carried
22,425,776 passengers, a daily average of 121,879, out of which big total
2,770,854 were workmen at a penny per traveller. On Coronation Day
202,000 people journeyed by the Central.
ITS VENTILATION
At the commencement of its career the Tube’s atmosphere and
temperature were remarkably sweet and equable, not varying much from
62° either in summer or winter. During a spell of hot weather it felt
delightfully cool, and when east winds blew it was warm compared with the
atmosphere outside.
Trips in the Tube were at one time seriously suggested for the cure of
various maladies as a modification of that usual last resource of the medical
profession, “change of air.”
Before the advent of the Tube, however, many fond mothers with little
faith in the pharmacopœia regarded the Underground as a sanatorium for
children’s complaints. Tunnel air, they affirmed, was good for croup,
whooping-cough, and various other ailments. A doctor travelling on the
Metropolitan once noticed a woman in the same compartment pull down the
window upon entering a tunnel and hold outside a child she was carrying,
so that the youngster might get the full benefit of the foul atmosphere.
When the doctor inquired the reason for this extraordinary performance, she
told him that “tunnel air” had been found to be a complete cure for croup.
And only the other day an East End mother was discovered by a guard
giving her baby two rounds on the Inner Circle because she had been told
by a herbalist and bone-setter that a sulphurous atmosphere was good for
whooping-cough.
But the ideal state of things in the Tube did not continue, and accusations
respecting its ventilation began to be whispered about and finally
proclaimed from the housetops (vide Chapter XIX). However, practical
steps were taken to ensure its efficiency, and at the last meeting of
shareholders the chairman said that the Company had now a better character
for ventilation than any other company in London.
At Bond Street Station a powerful fan has been placed at the base of the
lift shaft, which, under ordinary pressure, removes the vitiated atmosphere

from the permanent ways, fresh air taking its place at the various halting-
places. The fan, forty-eight inches in diameter, and electrically driven,
displaces 30,000 cubic feet of air per minute, and is capable of entirely
exhausting the tunnels in a fraction over three minutes. The fan is worked
every night after the trains have ceased running, and travellers by the early
trains literally breathe the freshest of fresh air.
If a train in the Central should break down and come to a stop in the
tunnel, though it would not, of course, be run into—the block system
making that all but impossible—it might be necessary for the passengers to
get out. The question naturally asked is, “How shall they alight? And where
shall they go when they have alighted?” A fact that not every traveller
knows is that a narrow path at the side of the rails leads to the nearest
station, which cannot be more than a quarter of a mile off, so that no serious
athletic feat is required to get out at the rear of the train and walk along the
Tube.
ITS ANNUAL SALE OF LOST ARTICLES
Like the great trunk-lines, the Central has an annual sale of articles left
in the carriages and not claimed; but the collection differs considerably
from the miscellaneous assortment brought together by, say, the Great
Northern or Great Western. Heavy impedimenta are, as might be expected,
absent; but who could have been the owners of the 25 bottles of whisky, the
13 boxes of cigars and cigarettes, the 300 ladies’ umbrellas, and the 264
gentlemen’s umbrellas, the walking-sticks innumerable, the 150 pairs of
spectacles and eyeglasses (showing that the light is so good that reading is a
favourite way of passing the time), the 44 fur necklets, 920 pairs of gloves
and 14 muffs, the 166 empty purses, and the multitude of books, chiefly
fiction? While every week someone very mysteriously leaves behind a
spirit-bottle—evidently recently emptied of its contents—enclosed in
cardboard and done up in a neat parcel.
How the Twopenny Tube, and others like it, were constructed will be
described in the next chapter.

CHAPTER VII

THE TUBULAR SYSTEM

“Thy arts of building from the bee receive;
Learn of the mole to plow, the worm to weave.”—Pope.

ORIGIN OF THE SYSTEM

L AST year there were sounds of strife in that financial atmosphere where
dwell Titan capitalists, who think and talk and dream in millions; a
battle of giants, like the conflict imagined by Milton, when the satanic
host levelled “triple-mounted rows” of deadly tubes with such effect against
seraph and seraphim, “that whom they hit none on their feet could stand,
though standing else as rocks.” But the conflict now past, concerned tubes
of another kind—iron railway tubes, that seem to be the destiny of
underground metropolitan travellers. The Morgan group, the Yerkes’
combination, and other great coalitions, mustered their battalions for the
fray. The London County Council, following the policy of Lord Stanley’s
army at Bosworth field, hovered aloof ready to take advantage of the defeat
of either; the Corporation of London anxiously watched from afar; the great
suburban railway companies shivered in their shoes; a parental Legislature
held the balance impartially between the combatants; while the people
whom the matter most concerned—some six millions of Londoners—had to
sit down with folded hands and, patiently or impatiently, await their fate.
Recollecting this tangle and uproar of conflicting interests, it behoves
everybody to have some notion of the subject of the Tubes and their
construction.
Like many other things in the world, there is nothing new in the idea of
boring a hole through the earth and lining it with brick or iron. As Pope
suggests, mankind doubtless learnt the art from Nature, though the
correctness of the poet’s zoological knowledge is hardly shown in the
examples heading this chapter. For ages past—before London existed—that
skilful excavator, the mole, tunnelled through the earth, making roads and
galleries, the friction of his fur, set perpendicularly on his skin, lining his

tube so that the soil did not fall in. The larvæ of the humble caddis-fly
covered the inside of their cases with fine silk; and the trap-door spider
lined its 12-inch long shaft with similar material to prevent the tumbling in
of loose particles and to afford itself a foothold in climbing up; while the
ant constructed her galleries and stuccoed them with the finest grains of
soil, so that the inner walls presented a smooth, unbroken surface.
With the advent of man and his civilisation came the extensive use of
furs, and in these the grubs of the moth—in the abstract the most engaging
of creatures—made galleries whenever they got a chance, lining them with
their own silk, wherein to undergo their transformation into the pupa stage.
Well-experienced engineers, such as the vine, beech, pine, and bark-
boring beetles, are all tube-makers; but it is the pholas, or teredo navalis,
who is the arch-borer, so skilled an expert in lining, that, though only the
size of a quill and “soft in body,” he pierces the hard timbers of ships and
quay-piles, lining the tubes as he proceeds with a saliceous substance as
hard as china. The body of the Teredo is like a long white worm, varying
from a foot to two inches and a half in length, and about the width of a
finger. From him, it is said, the elder Brunel took his idea of the shield
which he employed in constructing the tunnel beneath the Thames after the
shaft had been excavated.

FIG. 12. A 3,000 H.P. TRIPLE EXPANSION CENTRAL
VALVE ELECTRICAL ENGINE
By permission of Willans and Robinson, Rugby

But his clever system was crude, and not calculated to cope with porous
or aqueous soil; therefore, when the stratum of clay, through which the
work was being carried forward, broke off abruptly, a serious influx of
water took place. The work had to be abandoned, and was only completed
after much delay and ruinous expense. In a commercial sense, it was an
utter failure.
Since Brunel’s time, engineering has developed its resources pari passu
with the development of science. Hydraulic force displaces the primitive
screw power, and steel plates the cumbersome timber works used in the
Thames tunnel.
Tunnelling through rock, like the Mont Cenis and St. Gothard
mountains, is a comparatively simple engineering feat, as no lining is

required; so also is the ordinary railway tunnel, carefully bratticed and
propped inside, and securely cased with brick or stone. But it is, as the
Great Western Railway knows to its cost, in dealing with water-bearing
strata, vide the Severn Tunnel, that a system is required, not only to protect
the men as they bore with a gigantic centre-bit through clay, chalk, or
gravel, but, pholas-like, to line the tunnel simultaneously. This is obtained
by the use of the famous shield invented by the late Mr. J. H. Greathead,
and employed by him in the construction of the City and South London and
Waterloo and City Railways, though he did not live to witness the adoption
of his principle in the Twopenny Tube.
RAILWAY TUBES, HOW THEY ARE BORED
A revolution in tunnelling has been brought about in constructing Tube
railways. By the new process a great cylinder or shield at the bottom of a
shaft is pushed forward by hydraulic power into the soil ahead of it. The
navvies work inside, excavating the earth in front of them, and fit up iron
segments at the rear of the tail end of the cylinder, or shield. Thus, on the
one hand, the exact size and shape of the tunnel is ensured, and the workers
are fully protected from the risk of the roof falling in.
This arrangement of shield and iron tube resembles an old-fashioned
single-drawn telescope; the outer case being the shield, and the inner tube
the lining of the tunnel. These shields have fronts that bear a row of steel
knives forming a true cutting edge, and are so arranged that they can, if
required, bore a circle slightly larger than the iron segments of the tube. As
the shield slides away from the inner tube, the space it occupied is filled in
with what is called “grout,” a kind of porridge of water and lime, which
soon sets as hard as stone. This is ingeniously blown in through apertures in
the iron lining by means of compressed air, and effectually fills up cracks
accidentally formed in the soil, which might otherwise extend to the surface
and cause subsidence in the foundations of buildings. Theoretically,
therefore, no disturbance of the ground below or above the tubular lining is
possible.
In the pioneer Tube railways, the City and South London for instance,
the diameter of the tunnels was only 10 feet 6 inches, that of the Central 12
feet, but the Great Northern and City Company made a new departure by
fixing the width at 16 feet. For the construction of this railway, the shield
was designed by Mr. E. W. Moir, M. INST. C. E., and varies in some important

respects from the Greathead shield. A remarkable photograph, which, by the
courtesy of the Tramway and Railway World, I am able to present to the
readers of this book, shows this shield at work in the construction

FIG. 13. SHIELD AT WORK IN A TUBE RUNNING TUNNEL
By permission of the “Tramway and Railway World” Publishing Co., London

of a running tunnel, 16 feet in diameter, on the above line. The Great
Northern shield is much more powerful than any hitherto employed. Greater
hydraulic force is applied, and the “jacks” are more numerous, and
considerably larger. The shield used for the sixteen-foot tunnel may be
taken as typical of others up-to-date. Its cylindrical skin is composed of
half-inch steel plates riveted together at the bottom of the indispensable
shaft, which may be, in the future, anything from 50 to 500 feet beneath the
surface. In length, the shield from the rear to the cutting edge in front is 8
feet 9 inches, half of this being used by the excavators (as in Brunel’s
Thames tunnel), the after part for the erectors of the metal segments of the
tube. Round the shield front are mounted ten heavy cast-steel cutters, the
pressure upon them being no less than two tons to the square inch, the
hydraulic rams exerting this pressure direct upon the back of the cutters,
and the purchase is taken off the edge of the nearest tunnel segment already
in position. The excavated soil is taken away in trolleys, which, as in a

mine, are drawn by ponies on a miniature track, and afterwards sent up to
the surface by the nearest shaft.
London clay is generally the kind of soil thus bored through in the
metropolitan tubes. The Central, while sinking the shafts, met with it 29½
feet below the surface; but before this was reached, 12 feet of made ground,
18 inches of loam, and 16 feet of gravel, had to be pierced.
The London clay ran almost without a break between the Bank and
Shepherd’s Bush, the only hiatus being at a point between Red Lion Street
and Berner’s Street, where the Woolwich and Reading strata cropped up,
which proved to consist of hard, red, streaky clay, some beds of white sand,
and, strangely enough, beds of hard limestone rock, whose presence had not
been anticipated.
Tube railways are carried out at considerably varying depths; the Central
running in places 100 feet (i.e. the height of Westminster Abbey’s nave)
below the road, and at the Bank only 65 feet.
Some of the proposed tubes burrow much deeper; for instance those of
Charing Cross and Hampstead Railway will be from 120 to 216 feet below
the surface. Apparently, there is no reasonable limit to the depth at which
engineers are prepared to lay their railway tubes.
THE TUBE MOLE AT WORK
By an instinct—the heritage of years—of a kind that prompts
gamekeepers to slaughter indiscriminately eagles, hawks, crows, magpies,
owls, and even squirrels, classing them with such vermin as pole-cats,
stoats, weasels, and rats, ignorant farmers and gardeners wage war against
the mole, asserting that in driving his tunnels he throws up unsightly heaps
of soil, and, worse still, loosens and destroys the roots of plants and grass,
totally ignoring the fact that Mr. Talpa Europæa, though he may
occasionally disturb the earth around, acts as a very efficient surface
drainer, and still better, is a persistent chaser and devourer of his natural
prey, the wire-worm, and other injurious insects.
Our Tube mole throws up no hillocks, but he is accused of being the
source of much mischief, and of endangering the houses on the surface—
damaging, as it were, their roots—by the vibration arising from the
continual passage of trains along the iron galleries and the consequent
subsidence of the ground. This has given rise to numerous complaints, so
pronounced as to become the subject of an official inquiry.

Some foolish objections have been raised to deep-level railways, and
equally unreasonable claims for injury done by them have been brought into
court. Where a vibration clause is inserted in any Tube Railway Bill, there
might be ingenious claims manufactured for compensation. For instance, a
watchmaker might come forward and say that the vibration caused by the
railway prevented him from setting his chronometers, or a wine merchant
might say that his wines were shaken up; and in this way the company
might be subject to endless litigation.
When it was proposed to bore tunnels 70 feet below the royal demesnes
of Hyde Park, St. James’s Park, and the Green Park, and as much as 216
feet below Hampstead Heath, approximating in the former case to the
height of Queen Eleanor’s memorial at Charing Cross, and in the latter to
that of the twin towers of Westminster Abbey, it was at once urged by the
representatives of a certain Preservation Society that the trees, plants, and
flowers of the three parks would be detrimentally affected by the Tube, and
that the Hampstead Heath tunnels would “very probably drain the upper
surface of the soil and destroy vegetation all round.” To which unthought-
out contention Mr. R. E. Middleton, a well-known civil engineer, replied
that “at the depths proposed for the parks the tunnels were to be constructed
through a stratum, not of loose soil, but of stiff London clay, so that any
question of destroying trees, plants, or flowers was rather absurd; in fact,
vegetation would in no way be affected.” He might have added the
argument that, although ordinary railway tunnels abound, no one had ever
heard of the overlying fields and woods being deleteriously affected by
them.
CLAIMS FOR DAMAGE BY TUBING
Now, in dealing with the matter of alleged injuries to buildings from
vibration set up by Tube railways, I quote the following case to show how
visionary are some of the claims brought against Tube Companies.
On the 14th of October last, at the Lambeth County Court, an action was
brought against the Great Northern and City Railway Company by an
individual living in Hoxton for damage alleged to have been done to his
premises by the construction of the tunnels. The plaintiff stated that in
consequence of this the repairs of his house had cost him £62, and that in
another house of his, cracks had appeared. A photograph, taken twelve
months before the tunnels were made, which showed a crack in front of one

of the houses, was pointed out to the witness, who said that he had never
noticed it.
For the defence Mr. Douglas Young stated that he acted for the Company
when the tunnels were about to be constructed, and, anticipating claims of
this nature, he caused photographs to be taken of all houses which showed
cracks on the line of route. The cracks shown in the photos then taken were
practically in the same condition now. The repairs necessary were not
caused by damage done by the tunnels, and came entirely within the
repairing clauses of the leases. The jury returned a verdict for the defendant
Company on the ground that no damage had been done by them.
On the other hand, among the Tube Railway cases brought into court last
year and this, was the following, which illustrates the contention that
though there may be a certain amount of truth in the plaintiff’s arguments,
exaggerated ideas prevail as to the sums that can be claimed for injury,
present or prospective. It also shows the uncertain state of the law on the
subject of ownership of the subsoil—a hard legal nut.
In the London Sheriff’s Court, 17th April, 1902, Mr. Under-Sheriff
Burchell sat, with a special jury, to consider a claim for compensation
brought by Mr. William Howard, of 11, Cornwall Terrace, Regent’s Park,
against the Baker Street and Waterloo Electric Railway.
Mr. Morton, K.C., said that in August, 1900, Mr. Howard became aware
that a subsidence was taking place, and that the walls of his house were
cracking, this being unmistakably due to the borings for the railway which
were being made underneath the property. In the course of these borings the
Company had taken away part of the subsoil of the claimant’s premises
without having given notice to treat, and this, counsel submitted, constituted
a distinct trespass. The value of the property, counsel contended, had been
deteriorated to the extent of at least £50 per annum. Mr. Howard’s lease had
ten years to run, the rental being £200 a year.
After expert evidence had been given, the Hon. A. Lyttelton, K.C., for the
railway company, said it was ridiculous to assert that the Company had
committed an act of trespass. They disputed the claimant’s alleged
ownership to land sixty-five feet below his premises, and were determined
to fight the question in the courts, inasmuch as it was one which affected
the whole of the electric tube railways in London.

One witness called on behalf of the Company said that the damage to the
property could be remedied by the expenditure of a ten-pound note.
The Under-Sheriff said that an important feature of the case which the
jury had to decide was whether the claimant was the owner of the subsoil.
As such he would be entitled to compensation for any vibration that might
occur when the railway commenced to run in about two years’ time. He left
it to the jury to decide their verdict under two heads, namely, “what
damages had at present been sustained,” and, “what damage was likely to
accrue through vibration.”
After a brief deliberation the jury awarded £357, in one sum, as
damages.
On the 6th of February of the present year, before Mr. Justice Ridley and
a special jury, the hearing was resumed of the case in which Mrs. Dawson, a
widow, carrying on the business of a draper at the junction of City Road and
East Street, sued the Great Northern and City Railway for £10,000
damages, alleged to have been caused by the tunnelling operations in the
vicinity of her premises. The claim included some £4,000 which it is
estimated it would cost to put the buildings in a proper state of repair, and
£5,000 representing loss of business during the time it would take to
complete the work of reinstatement.
The jury returned a verdict for the plaintiff under the following heads:
Amount for taking the subsoil occupied by the tunnel, £50; structural
damage, £2,000; damage to trade and stock, £2,100; total, £4,150.
Mr. Dobb asked that judgment should be entered.
Mr. McCall thought the judge had no power to enter a judgment of the
High Court because the proceedings were in the form of an interpleader
action.
Mr. Justice Ridley said he would give judgment in the sense in which the
word was used in the Lands Clauses Act.
Judgment was given accordingly.
At a meeting of the Auctioneers’ Institute held last year, Mr. G. M.
Freeman, K.C., speaking on this subject, pertinently remarked that various
questions were likely to arise between the promotors of the new order of
underground railway and the owners of adjacent property, and he gave it as
his opinion that the assertion that no possible damage would be caused, had
not been wholly verified, and that the rights of compensation to persons

equally injured ought not to depend upon whether a piece of the subsoil
under the street was or was not appropriated. In his judgment, all owners
who could prove damage done by the construction or working of an
underground railway, should have the same title to compensation.
VIBRATION
The outcome of the Board of Trade inquiry last year into the vexed
question of tube vibration was interesting. It showed that alleged annoyance
from vibration has not been altogether imaginary, and some novel facts
were produced. Fourteen meetings were held, and evidence was given by
some of the residents along the line of the Central Railway route, their
habitat ranging from Bucklersbury in the City to Kensington Palace
Gardens in the west. A large number of the witnesses represented
householders having “frontages,” and among others, the Holborn Borough
Council. They all deposed as to annoyance caused by the vibration, and
were of opinion that the shaking was most perceptible when the trains first
began running in the morning; between five and eight p.m.; and shortly
after midnight, just before the trains ceased running.
Had any of these gentlemen resided on the north side of Victoria Street,
near its western end, they would hardly have complained about mere
vibration. In that delectable locality the backs of the houses overlook the
Metropolitan District Railway, and if the dining-room happen to be in the
rear, as in many of the flats it is, every wine-glass and tumbler on the table
quivers in a fearful manner, all the ornaments tremble, and the whole
apartment is agitated as each train thunders by.
But even this is nothing, contrasted with the daily experience of dwellers
in suburban side streets, where passing of steam-rollers, pantechnicon-vans,
and other elephantine vehicles, not only shakes the tenements to their
basements, but forces out the mortar that is supposed to bind together the
brickwork, dislocates the window-frames, turns askew the pictures on the
walls, and would eventually, if not seen to, reduce the “eligible villas” to
ruin.
However, the Board of Trade Committee, as in duty bound, personally
investigated the Tube complaints and satisfied themselves that vibrations,
sufficient to cause vexation to the inmates, were really felt in some of the
houses near the Central, and the result of the inquiry was as follows:—

That it was a matter of chance whether any given train caused a slight, or
a severe, vibration; also that trains which produced much tremblór de tiérra
in one house, as likely as not caused but little in another, and that apparently
different apartments in the same residence were not similarly affected by
one and the same train. It was demonstrated that the locomotives, and not
the cars, were responsible for the greater part of the disturbances, the reason
assigned being that too great a springless load was carried on each axle of
the engines, a method of construction adopted to obviate the necessity for
gearing.
Acting upon the Committee’s representation, the Central Railway
Company ordered two new types of locomotives, in one of which the
“unspring-borne” load was much reduced by gearing. The other was not
distinct from but attached to the train, the motors being carried at one end of
two or more coaches—the motor-car system of electric traction in fact. The
difference in weight was remarkable; the original gearless engines being 44
tons, the new geared pattern 33 tons, while the motor-cars only came up to
20 tons.
Some novel experiments were made, and in order to identify the trains,
the houses in which the observers took their places with recording
instruments were connected by telephone with the signal-boxes at the
adjoining stations. Quite satisfactory were the results, and it was found that,
during some two hours, the passing of every train drawn by the heavy
gearless locomotive was distinctly felt, but was not discernible when the
new engines were attached. Therefore the Committee concluded that, so far
as the Central was concerned, the adoption of motor-cars would so reduce
the tremblement de terre as to cause all real annoyance to cease, though the
sound of the trains, particularly at night, might still be detected. As to the
oscillation of the cars—a rather marked feature in the Tube—it was
attributed by the Committee’s experts to the unevenness of the surface of
the rails. As these leave the rolling-mills they are usually slightly curved,
and the process of straightening them in situ, however skilfully carried out,
inevitably leaves a certain amount of waviness. When the speed is high, a
condition of things soon arises whereby the irregular impulses produced by
the uneven rail surfaces establishes a rocking movement of the rails and the
road-bed, converting both into an elastic instead of a rigid support. This is
increased and maintained by the pounding of the gearless locomotives in

the narrow tubes, intensified by the hard unyielding material of which they
are composed.
Another fact to which the Committee called attention was, that in
consequence of the small diameter of the tunnels (12 feet), the fit was too
close, and the pressure in front of the trains necessitated greater power to
overcome it than if more space had been left between the roofs of the
carriages and the tubes.
In the agitation respecting damage alleged to have been done by the
construction of the Tubes, it was proved that provided the apertures are
made of sufficient size, and suitable locomotives used, and the permanent
way properly laid with stiffer and deeper rails, the chance of injury to
houses by the moviéndo la tiérra, as the Spaniards call it, can be reduced to
a minimum.
Modern science tells us that earth tremblings are with us at all times and
in all places to an extent not realised. We are assured that, by Professor J.
Milne’s instruments, quiverings, and slopings of the earth’s crust, insensible
to the most delicate spirit-levels, can be detected. It is now known that
earthquake movements can be felt right through the earth, and all round its
surface. Latterly, Professor Milne has also discovered that his observatory
in the Isle of Wight sinks slowly during a part of the year, and rises as
slowly during another part—as if the breast of the earth were heaving. For
five months in the year, the tall buildings in a city may be heeling over
towards the west; then they come back with extreme slowness to the
perpendicular, and finally cant a little to the east.
Surely, then, we need not complain about an occasional mild earth-shake
produced by the passing of the useful Underground, or Tube trains, seeing
that the good they do so far outweighs their defects.

CHAPTER VIII

TOURING IN THE TUBES

A SKETCH

“She doth stray about.”—Shakespeare.

M RS. ROSAMOND was a pleasant, chatty, little woman, and a
universal favourite. Her abundant hair was brown, her eyes, shaded by
long dark lashes, were deepest blue, and above them rose, not the “bar
of Michael Angelo,” but a low, smooth, and pretty forehead, where,
however, a phrenologist would have looked in vain for the faintest trace of
the “bump of locality.” She was a shrewd judge of character in men and
women, especially the former. She loved beautiful scenery and everything
refined in art and literature. She had great sympathy with the suffering and
distressed; but her ability to take mental notes of things and places, and to
find her way about towns and cities, as some do by instinct, was utterly
wanting in Lilian Rosamond; yet, with the strange perversity that impels
people with bad eyesight to drive dog-carts or motor-cars, or to steer yachts,
she persisted in going about strange localities unaccompanied, and when
any expedition was planned, audaciously posed as an authority on quickest
and best routes. But she was a native of the fair “North countree,” and,
lying perdu beneath her sweet disposition, was a vein—a thin one—of self-
will.
“Why,” she argued, “should she not find her way about like other
people? Had she not from childhood lived at Lymm, Cheshire, and roamed
about that district without difficulty? Had she not frequently travelled to the
old county city? Had she not braved the terrors of the Great Central Station
at Manchester en route for Halifax—changed carriages there, in fact? And
had she not once actually journeyed all by herself to London on a visit,
returning safely to her own town?” All of which was perfectly true, but she
omitted to add that, in going up to town, her parents had, as it were, to see
her “labelled and consigned” through the medium of a fatherly guard, while
her friends in town had been strictly enjoined on no account to miss
meeting her at Euston, and never to let her go anywhere in the metropolis

unaccompanied. In fact, her family were in an agony of suspense until she
was back again.
Mrs. Rosamond had married a gentleman-farmer of Welsh extraction,
and her life had fallen on pleasant lines in a remote Radnorshire village
bearing an unpronounceable name made up of consonants. The year 1902
arrived, and with it, in June, an invitation from her sister-in-law to spend
Coronation week with her in Edith Road, West Kensington; and off she
started, her easy-going husband, who had seldom tested his wife’s sense (or
absence) of locality, and had no suspicion of how much it was lacking,
merely remarking as he saw her into the train, “Now, my dear, mind you
wait at Paddington a reasonable time to see if Annie is there to meet you.
She is not always punctual, and if she does not turn up, take a cab. Don’t
attempt to get to Edith Road by omnibus or Underground Railway. You
don’t know London, and a four-wheeler will be cheaper in the long run.
Now, don’t forget this, there’s a dear little woman, or I shall worry all day
long about you.”
In the same carriage with her was a lady of uncertain age, whom Mrs.
Rosamond quickly guessed to be unmarried and an “organiser”—one of
those assertive, independent, “heel-less” women of the genus plantigrade,
who know everything and want no assistance from anybody. Falling into
conversation, Lilian Rosamond remarked that she hoped to see the King’s
procession to the Abbey, a seat having long ago been secured for her, and
that she had been told she would have to go a very long distance from the
West End and might have to start by the first train on the Twopenny Tube to
the Bank, and that then by another Tube she somehow would get to the
Borough High Street (where her “stand” was situated) by way of the
“Elephant and Castle.”
This led to the subject of West Kensington, her destination, and how she
proposed reaching it from Paddington. “Why,” said the plantigrade lady,
“what on earth made your husband tell you to take a cab? It is two miles off
at least, and you are sure to be over-charged. Never mind what he said. Men
are always extravagant in these matters. Besides, you can think for yourself;
you are a woman, not a baby. Now, I’ll tell you what to do. If your sister is
not at the station, book your luggage—you say you have not got much with
you—to be sent on by the railway parcel van, cross the road to the Praed
Street District Railway Station, get out at Notting Hill Gate, cross the road

there to the Tube station, and for twopence you will be at Shepherd’s Bush
in a few minutes.”
This suggestion seemed to Mrs. Rosamond good and attractive, but she
bravely resisted the allurements of a journey by an unfamiliar route; and,
recalling her husband and his injunction, after waiting a quarter of an hour
at Euston and finding that no one came for her, she allowed herself to be
stowed away by an attentive and sympathetic porter into a stale, straw-
smelling four-wheeler, and arrived safely at No. 28, when cabby promptly
asked, and received, half a crown—a moderate eighteenpence more than his
legitimate fare; but cabmen, like everybody else, must live somehow!
The longest day recorded in the almanac dawned clear and fair, and Mrs.
Rosamond, rising at an unearthly early hour, started for Islington, where she
had promised to breakfast with a relative—an unusual kind of feat to
attempt, but easy of accomplishment by leaving Shepherd’s Bush very early
for the Bank of England, where, as it was explained to her in an off-hand,
businesslike manner by her sister’s husband, all she had to do was to hit the
right subway, book afresh at the Bank Station of the City and South London
Electric Railway, and “in a jiffy, as easy as A B C” (so he put it) she would
find herself at the “Angel,” Islington, and be with her aunt in time for the
coffee and rolls.
Mrs. Rosamond was delighted at the prospect, and no happier woman
than she stood outside the Tube’s terminus that bright summer morning.
The booking-office was full of people—of the working class, thought
fair Mrs. Rosamond, who, observing that each person paid the sum of three-
halfpence through the glass partition that screened the clerks from too close
contact with the public, tendered that modest sum like the others, without
specifying her destination. But though plainly, she was too daintily dressed
and too self-evidently a lady to escape notice, and was rather surprised at
being asked if she wanted a workman’s ticket. “Oh no!” she hastily
exclaimed. “I am only going to the Bank, and then to Islington on a visit.”
“Well, then, your fare is twopence.” And she received in return a small slip
of paper and not the familiar paste-board ticket covered with
undecipherable letters and figures.
Following the crowd, Mrs. Rosamond dropped the document into a
sloping box fixed at the side of the gate and presided over by a railway

official, the process suggesting to her lively imagination the method by
which votes are recorded at a School Board election.
Wide open stood the door of a gigantic lift, the like of which she had
never seen, which quickly filled with a compact mass of some fifty men and
a sprinkling of women. There were upholstered benches at the sides; and a
civil young artisan offered her his seat, but Lilian preferred to stand and
look about her. The electro-lighted apartment was not æsthetic, and the
unsightly advertisements, and notices warning travellers against smoking,
spitting, or standing too near the doors, did not add to its beauty; and when
the telescopic gates were clashed together and fastened, the whole thing
reminded Mrs. Rosamond of a great cage full of specimens of the British
Homo Sapiens packed for conveyance and exhibition to inhabitants of other
regions.
Suddenly, gently, and noiselessly the lift began to descend, and it seemed
as if it would never stop. But stop it did, at a depth of seventy feet, which
might have been seven hundred so far as Mrs. Rosamond’s sensations were
concerned. Once again the iron gates clashed, and the wild animals—I
mean the passengers—streamed forth, our fair traveller following, to the
platform.
Was she dreaming? Had she, like Alice in Wonderland, suddenly become
diminutive, and was she waiting for a well-groomed little white rabbit, with
gold watch and chain, to emerge from what resembled a burrow at the end
of the station? It was so very small. Everything was on a reduced scale, the
standing-room was a mere strip of planking, the tube like a pea-shooter.
Surely it would not take in the train! However, it was deliciously cool and
light, and the tiles that lined the station were, as she found by touching them
with her gloved hands, perfectly free from smuts.
In a few moments, from the open cutting at the opposite end of the
platform, where lay the shunting tracks, a bright light and metallic clattering
heralded the strange-looking chimneyless locomotive. Behind it came five
attractive-looking cars joined together, and gleaming with light. At their
point of junction were telescopic gates, flung open as soon as the train
stopped, and Mrs. Rosamond, who had just time to observe that there were
not two rails only on the track, but a third in the middle, hurried into the
first car she could find, and the earliest train on the Tube glided into the
tunnel en route for the Bank.

Lilian Rosamond at once discovered that the cars just fitted the Tube.
She would like to have touched the sides, but as the windows were sealed
up this was impossible.
Everything looked delightfully clean, and, considering the crowd, she
was lucky to find a seat next to an intelligent and quiet-looking, middle-
aged man, who turned out to be a foreman engaged upon great building
works proceeding in the City. The speed increased, and the noise and the
rattling of the cars increased in proportion—a condition of things she had
not expected, and it was a relief when the train slowed down and made its
first pause at Holland Park. Here a few workmen got in, but not a soul got
out! Mrs. Rosamond, looking about her, noticed that her companions de
voyage were not in appearance such as she had expected at so early an hour.
It is true they nearly all smoked—cigarettes mostly—some sticking to the
old-fashioned short clay pipe charged with most pungent tobacco; but they
did not swear or use strong language, they were not all dressed in corduroy,
nor were their clothes dirty, neither did they universally carry huge “bass-
bags” containing saws, and other sharp and nasty tools. Her neighbour, the
foreman, with whom she soon got into a lively conversation, told her that
most of the men (masons chiefly) were employed on a “big job” at
Finsbury, and would travel to the Bank. He also volunteered the information
that he lived in Caxton Road, close to the Shepherd’s Bush Station of the
Tube; that he had to get his own breakfast at 4.30 or thereabouts, or wait
until he got to the City, when he had it at a snug little coffee-shop in
Moorfields; that he had used the Tube ever since its opening in 1900 day
after day, starting by the first train in the morning, and returning, as his
place and work suited, along the route at all hours, from five o’clock to
eight, and sometimes (though seldom) by the last train from the Bank at
12.30 p.m.; and that the cars between the former hours—when people were
leaving the City for the day—were more crowded than in the early morning,
in fact crammed, with not even standing room.
At Notting Hill Gate there was a rush of operatives. By this time the cars
were packed, and the little woman perceived the uses of the sliding leather
straps suspended overhead, to which the unlucky seatless ones, who filled
up the whole of the gangway, held on like grim death, to avoid tumbling
about as the train oscillated.
At the Marble Arch some few persons, a dozen or so, tried to push in,
but the five cars were complet, and so they continued, until, at the British

Museum Station, a section of the passengers alighted, as also at Chancery
Lane and the General Post Office. Then, after a run of 6½ miles from
Shepherd’s Bush in twenty-four minutes, the Central “early workmen”
pulled up at the Bank terminus at a platform resembling the others all along
the line.
Mrs. Rosamond went up in a big lift, not to the surface as she expected,
but found herself landed in a broad asphalted, bewildering subway lined
with white bricks. Brilliantly lighted white passages seemed to stretch away
in all directions, full of people tearing about here, there, and everywhere in
the utmost confusion, some ascending steps that appeared to lead to the
daylight, others descending slopes that ended in more brick-lined passages.
At once she recalled her host’s injunction “to hit the right subway” for the
Islington Tube Line, but becoming a trifle excited and confused, she went
up the staircase that looked the shortest, and found herself in Cornhill,
along which she strayed a short distance, and came to St. Michael’s, when
she thought she had reached the station, because she had been told it was
underneath a church. But there was no City and South London Railway, and
her host had omitted to say that the subway between it and the Bank was
contemplated only. So Lilian asked her way, and quickly found what she
was seeking close by at the corner of Lombard Street and King William
Street. And now, growing confident by experience, and perceiving that the
booking-office and general arrangements resembled those of the Two-penny
Tube, though on a smaller scale, she went to the booking-office window
and tendered twopence. The clerk politely inquired, “All the way, miss?”
and on her replying in the affirmative, demanded, and received, fourpence,
giving her an ordinary ticket in return. She thought this strange, being
different from the Tube system, the more so when she saw no glass box
wherein to drop it. But there was the lift, and so she descended. Alas! when
she got to the bottom, she forgot to make inquiries, being absorbed in
meditation about her husband. “What was he doing at that particular hour?”
she wondered. “Had he gone out fishing? Was he making the rounds of his
farm, and looking after his pet livestock, the pigs?” A train came up, and
without giving the matter a second thought, she got into it, and found the
cars pretty nearly empty. They were narrow and low, and the atmosphere
was close.
Away they sped, by London Bridge, the Borough, the “Elephant and
Castle,” Kennington Park Road, the Oval, and Stockwell, but the guard did

not call out the names of these stations, and only when the terminus was
reached did Lilian rouse herself from her reverie, and stepping out of the
station after giving up her ticket, gazed aghast, not at the “Angel,”
Islington, which she knew was a locality nearly all bricks and mortar, but
upon a large open space—Clapham Common! In fact, the poor voyageuse
had gone down the wrong lift at the Bank Station, and had failed to notice
the names of the stations as she came along.
To recover her equanimity, Mrs. Rosamond thought she would stroll
about a little before going back to Islington, which, it was explained to her,
was at the other extremity of the line. Much refreshed by an hour’s walk
and the novelty of the terra incognita, she booked again, and resumed her
pilgrimage, determined that this time there should be no mistake.
What was it? Was it fatality? or was it some mischievous whispering
spirit that caused her to keep mentally repeating the words, “Bank Station”?
An echo, perhaps, of the instructions received the evening before. Anyhow,
she did not go straight on, but as soon as the train reached the City, she
alighted at the Bank, and found herself once more in the maze of subways
branching off from the Central’s booking-office. The little woman was in
despair. What must she do? It was no use asking her way, everybody
seemed in too violent a hurry to attend to other people; so she walked
mechanically down a disagreeably steep asphalted incline and along a
wood-paved, white-tiled tunnel, and saw at the end an electric Tube station.
There was the usual narrow platform, the glazed tunnel, the electric light,
and the four-car train, but no queer-shaped engine, and the carriages looked
smaller than those of the Central and of a different build, the glazed sides
sloping inwards towards the low roof. There was no booking-office, so she
stepped into the train, where, as in an omnibus, tickets were issued and
punched for the sum of two-pence. The cars were narrow and stuffy, and
she did not like them, but looking up, she caught sight of a brass plate
giving the name of the engineers at Preston, Lancashire, and this quite
cheered her.
In about five minutes the train stopped, and everybody got out and
streamed up stairways and along passages into what proved to be a vast
railway terminus—Waterloo; and she realised the dismal fact that by
inadvertence she had taken the Waterloo and City Railway, instead of the
City and South London! It was the word “City” running in her head that had
done the mischief.

Nothing was left but to return, and so, through lofty cavernous regions
beneath the terminus, over bridges, and down endless slopes of wood-
paving, she managed to reach the up-platform.
Now came the rush of early City-bound men, season-ticket holders, who
had travelled by the London and South Western line from all parts of Surrey
served by it. They came pelting down the inclines as if their lives depended
upon catching a particular train. Most of them carried neat hand-bags,
suggestive of legal documents or company prospectuses, and nearly all had
a morning paper. The bulk of them were well dressed, with an indefinable
air indicative of the suburban resident. Mrs. Rosamond found them
exceedingly pleasant, and was soon chatting with a military-looking
gentleman, irreproachably groomed, with a lined and shrewd face, and old
enough to be her father. He was, in fact, an eminent solicitor in Tower
Royal, Cannon Street, who, hearing of her adventures, appeared to
sympathise very deeply. “A little too deeply,” said her husband, on hearing
her narrative, not that he was distrustful or jealous, but he preferred to do
most of the sympathising himself. The man of law tried to be facetious, and
in explaining at some length the difference between metropolitan “tubes”
and the “Underground,” so confused Mrs. Rosamond that she ended by
thinking they were one and the same thing—a fatal error on her part, as we
shall see. Dilating upon the subject, and upon the trials she had endured that
morning, he remarked that he was sure her friends and the world in general
would be great losers were so pleasant and vivacious a lady as herself to
remain underground. At which fair Rosamond smiled—she had beautiful
teeth, and a smile became her; but she grew somewhat reserved in manner
when he insisted upon escorting her along the right subway, and felt
decidedly relieved when he courteously left her on the pavement at the
“Poultry,” by Mappin and Webb’s.
It was getting on towards eleven o’clock, and Mistress Rosamond, who,
beyond a cup of coffee hastily swallowed before she started, had tasted
nothing for six hours, began to feel faint, experiencing that distressing
sensation which makes one think the ground is about to rise up and strike
one, and that hearing and vision are about to fail. She must have something
to eat and drink, but where? Dimly she recalled how in the old days a very
dear brother, who knew his London well, was fond of expatiating upon the
merits of certain reliable places in the City where the inner man could be
most satisfactorily refreshed—Birch’s, Sweeting’s, Pimm’s in the “Poultry.”

Why, she was actually standing in the “Poultry”! So, following the curt, but
respectful, directions of a civic policeman, who must have been at least six
feet two inches in his stockings, she, without crossing the road, easily
discovered the haven of refuge in question, and being shown up to the
ladies’ dining-room, sat down at a table near a window which looked upon
busy Cheapside.
Though rather too early in the day for the regular menu, consultation
with a grey-headed waiter—who strongly reminded her of some Church
dignitary (a dean for choice) in layman’s attire, and who became immensely
interested in his client, partly because her blue eyes recalled to him those of
a daughter “lost awhile”—resulted, within twenty minutes, in a dainty
repast, some scalloped oysters, a “portion” of the choicest Scotch salmon
cold, with cucumber, and dainty roll and butter, followed by a cheese
soufflé, and—by the “dean’s” advice—neither tea, coffee, nor wine, but a
glass, just one glass, of Pimm’s “particular” stout, a beverage our traveller
was unaccustomed to, but found an admirable accompaniment to her fish
luncheon. The bill was paid with a handsome douceur, which the “dean”
condescended to accept; and refreshed, and with renewed determination to
carry out her original line of march, Mrs. Rosamond stepped out and
walked along Cheapside.
There the shops at once attracted her attention: the jewellers, the hosiers
—in one of which latter she bought some neckties and collars for her
spouse—the print-sellers, and the London Stereoscopic Company’s
seductive window. Here she looked up at the church clock far above her
head, and finding the time getting on, and becoming just a little flurried at
the discovery, started at once to resume her wanderings. “If you please,
constable, can you tell me the nearest way to the Underground Railway?”
“Straight as you can go, miss, down the lane, Bow Lane, in front of you,
and you will find the station across the road at the bottom.” “Thank you
very much,” and, mentally, “What a fine set of fellows the City policemen
are! I wonder if they are all married; where do they live, and what are their
wages?”
Straight down the narrow lane she went, and at the Cannon Street end
asked another policeman the way to the Underground. He pointed to the
opposite side of the road, and, stopping the traffic, conveyed her across, and
she found herself in the Mansion House Station of the District Railway.

There were no officials to be seen, only the booking-clerks, one of
whom, with the professional instinct for turning an honest penny for his
employers, instead of advising her to return to the Bank close by, up
Victoria Street, promptly recommended her to book by the District Railway
to Bishopsgate Street, get across Finsbury Circus to Moorgate Street, and
then take the City and South London Tube Railway to the “Angel.”
By this time Mrs. Rosamond had become too tired to discuss the matter,
and was disinclined to go back by the way she had come. So she got into a
first-class carriage of a Circle train, and, with a sigh of relief, settled down
snugly into the far corner.
Whether it was the reaction, or the effect of the glass of stout, was never
known, but after passing Cannon Street Mrs. Rosamond began to feel
drowsy and dreamy, imagining she was nearing home in the local train, and
wondering if her husband had received her telegram, and would come to
meet her. She fell asleep, and a lovely picture she made, with lips slightly
parted, and her long, curved eyelashes resting, like a child’s, on her soft
cheeks. There was revealed just a few inches of well-fitting black silk
clocked stockings, neatly-turned ankles, and a charming pair of very small
dark tan shoes.
Time sped on, and, with it, the Circle train, past Bishopsgate, Farringdon
Street, and King’s Cross, with its maze of metropolitan underground lines;
through dismal tunnels, black with smoke; through brick-lined cuttings, foul
with sooty deposit; past stations, each one hung, by way of adornment, with
the same monotonous, highly-coloured “works of art,” drawing attention to
Colman’s Mustard, Reckitt’s Blue, Nestle’s Milk, Bovril, Oxo, Lemco,
Globe Polish, Ogden’s Cigarettes, Bird’s Custards, and Stephen’s Inks, and
provided with penny-in-the-slot machines, with bookstalls bearing a strong
family likeness, and with here and there a refreshment bar, where buns and
sandwiches of the Mugby Junction type might be had.
At High Street, Kensington, where the engine was changed, the guard
looked in, admired the sleeping beauty, and discreetly withdrew in silence.
In the middle of the tunnel between Sloane Square and Victoria, the train
pulled up with a jerk, the signal having been suddenly put against it. Mrs.
Rosamond woke, and looking at her watch, found that she must have been
slumbering nearly an hour, and a fellow-passenger told her that by the time
the train reached the Mansion House Station she would have completely

traversed the circle of the Underground! “Well, I will see this matter
through,” she said to herself, “and I will not go again into that horrid Bank
Subway. After all, I shall soon be at Bishopsgate Street.” So she went on.
How, on her arrival there, she escaped having to pay the full fare, no one
knows. She kept her own counsel; but the ticket collector and the guard
probably thought she was too nice to be worried with interrogations.
Her brief impressions of the Underground were that only in a few
respects was the Tube an improvement upon it. The Inner Circle Trains, she
thought, ran more smoothly; there was less rocking of the carriages, and
less rattling noise; but they were badly lighted; the banging of doors was
awful; the atmosphere sulphurous and stifling; and carriages, stations,
staircases, and tunnels looked as if they had not been cleaned for months.
Worse than all was the mode of pulling up the train with a jerk, which, at
each stopping-place, almost invariably threw the alighting passengers into
their fellow-travellers’ laps.
Resolved now to ask her way at every step, she contrived, by minutely
following directions, to find and to cross Finsbury Circus, whence she was
quickly in Moorgate Street, and at once discovered the City and South
London Railway Station. Continuing to seek information for the Islington
lift, the Islington platform, and the Islington train, she would not budge an
inch until she had been thoroughly posted up. Once more in a Tube car, and
by way of Old Street, and the City Road, she at last arrived at the “Angel,”
and felt as if she had indeed reached the gates of heaven!
Milner Street was close by, and she was soon at her aunt’s house, but,
alas! not to breakfast, for it was nearing twelve o’clock. That relation, an
impatient woman, tired of waiting, had gone out for the day, and had left no
message! This was too much for the little woman, it was the last straw, and
flinging herself on the sofa, she thought sympathetically of how in the past
“A north-country maid up to London had strayed,
Although with her nature it did not agree;
She wept and she sighed, and she bitterly cried,
I wish once again in the north I could be.”

Quickly she returned to Shepherd’s Bush, viâ the Bank and the
Twopenny Tube, in the latter finding a totally different class of people from
those she had travelled with in the morning, and plenty of room for
everybody. She went back home the next day, sacrificing her seat for the

Coronation procession; and she registered a vow that if ever she came to
London again she would study closely the route for any proposed
expedition as carefully as if she were on an “unaccompanied” Continental
tour.
She kept her vow; and, I believe, eventually, her “bump of locality”
became considerably developed.
The moral of this practically true sketch is, that in view of the
complicated system of metropolitan Tubes and Undergrounds, no one
without an experienced escort, unless endowed with a talent for locality, can
hope to get about London without trouble and difficulty. In fact, a
Metropolitan Bradshaw, or Metropolitan Guide to Underground London is
urgently needed.

CHAPTER IX

LONDON’S TANGLED TUBES

“Tangled in the fold of dire necessity.”—Milton.
THE TANGLE

T O inflict upon the readers of this book a map of existing and projected
railways in London would be cruel; and for them to try to master it
would be torture worthy of the Inquisition, with loss of reason as the
inevitable result.
Roughly speaking, the lines above and below ground stream inwards
from the outskirts, after the fashion of the tramways; with this marked
difference that there is a direct communication from east to west by the
Central Railway, and an Inner Circle route engirdling the middle portion of
Greater London.
As with the tramways, the routes of nearly all these lines appear to have
been adopted happy-go-luckily. “Here are Highgate, Walthamstow,
Beckenham, Kew, Hendon,” say the promoters; “what we have to do is to
make a railway from these suburbs, and, somehow or other, get as near the
metropolitan centres as possible, and dump down our passengers. The
problem of intercommunication is not our business. We leave that to
others.” So the lines of the various companies meander away, often by the
most indirect routes, and finally arrive more or less near their objective
destinations, Charing Cross, or the Bank of England.
If Napoleon the Great with prophetic glance could have foreseen London
linked to distant villages in every direction, these hamlets growing into
towns, and as population increased, being irresistibly drawn into Greater
London’s maelstrom of brick and mortar, even he would have been appalled
by the problem of how to give ready means of access from one part to the
other. Anticipating railways and electric tubes, he would probably, with the
marvellous fertility of resource that distinguished him, have formulated a
plan whereby a given circular space in the metropolis would be divided into
sections, a mile square, with a station in the centre and at each corner, so
that all within that area would have access to a railway, at no point more

than half a mile distant, the tube railways below the surface, and others
above, converging at a great central depôt. On reaching the limit of the
circle, the lines (that would necessarily cross under and over one another)
would, by means of loops, return and keep up a continued circulation of
traffic from rim to rim of the circle, which, as the city grew bigger and
bigger, could be enlarged, and the lines extended, the process continuing ad
infinitum.
This, of course, would have been an impossibility; the characteristic
British love of half measures and of temporising being opposed to any
really comprehensive and imperial scheme, and local jealousy would not
have tolerated the necessarily masterful, though wise, domination of a One
Man Power in carrying out the plan.
Therefore the great railways and the suburban railways were allowed to
do pretty much as they liked, as seen in the entire absence of system in
approaching London, and in dealing with its vast traffic.
To meet the difficulty a central station has often been mooted, and much
good would ensue therefrom if it accommodated all the lines. Recently, in
connection with the Great Western Railway, the idea has been revived, and
the site of Christ’s Hospital suggested. In fact, it is an open secret that
overture upon overture has been made on the subject, but the enormous
price demanded by the old school authorities has always been the bugbear.
The feasibility of an Inner Circle Tube, however, linking together all the
lines, with ramifications to serve the suburbs, worked jointly under a
pooling arrangement by the various companies, has commended itself to
certain experts.
It is true that four of the great trunk lines are already connected by
subways with the Inner Circle Railway—the Great Eastern at Liverpool
Street; the Great Western at Praed Street; the London, Brighton, and South
Coast at Victoria; and the South Eastern and Chatham at Cannon Street,
Blackfriars, and Victoria. The Brighton Company has already a subway
connection between London Bridge and the City and South London Tube
Station there, and the Mansion House subway will by-and-by be similarly
connected with the City and South London Bank Station.
Also there are the purely suburban lines to be considered, such as the
South London Railway, worked by the Brighton Company; the
Metropolitan Extension, a part of the Chatham Company’s local system; the

West London Railway, which gives a north-to-south connection at Chelsea
for several companies; the Hammersmith and City Railway; the Hampstead
Junction Railway (from Willesden to Tottenham); and the local services of
the London and North Western; the Great Northern Railway (already
committed to a tube); and the Midland Railway, which, with the Great
Northern, has access to the south of London, viâ Ludgate Hill.
But the matter now engaging public attention is not Subways, but Tubes
—how to disentangle the different schemes, and evolve order out of chaos.
The Tubes open for traffic are the Waterloo and City Railway; the City
and South London Railway; Clapham Common to the “Angel,” Islington;
and the Central London from the Bank to Shepherd’s Bush. While those in
progress more or less advanced, are the Great Northern and City Railway;
the Brompton and Piccadilly Circus Railway; the Bank to Finsbury Park;
the Baker Street and Waterloo Railway; Paddington to Waterloo, and thence
viâ St. George’s Circus, Southwark, to the Elephant and Castle.
All last session members of the House of Commons were, so to speak,
overwhelmed with Tubes.
Tubes to the right of them,
Tubes to the left of them,
Tubes in front of them,
Volley’d and thundered!

But the Select Committees fared worse, the task before them being even
more arduous. There were promoters who sought for powers to construct
Tubes to cross and recross proposed and existing lines, and even to bore
parallel with others, while some wanted to create isolated and disconnected
sections, leading apparently nowhere. Petitions and protests against the
various schemes poured in from innumerable sources; from every quarter
petitions in favour were also laid down at their feet. Truly, the members of
the Committees found that of making many Tubes (as of books) there was
no end, and that much railway promoting was a weariness of the flesh.
Long and loud waged the conflict of the various aspirants to bore
through the foundations of London. The smaller promoters’ attention finally
became fixed upon the financial and legislative duel of two magnates, each
representing a similar and important scheme for joining together the
existing unlinked metropolitan tube lines.

It was as if through some narrow gorge leading to desirable pasturage,
the smaller denizens of wood and forest tumultuously endeavoured to force
a passage, and falling out by the way, their strife was suddenly arrested to
watch the single combat of two rival antlered monarchs of the glen, who
fought to the death to obtain the sole right of way.
Out of the Parliamentary hurly-burly emerged triumphant the well-
known Yerkes group with its comprehensive scheme (the first in the list
given below) the only very important one sanctioned.
Thus closed the session of 1902, and in the Railway Committee Rooms,
for a time at least, the
“Fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.”

The following Tube Railways were authorised:—Brompton and
Piccadilly Circus Railway (Acts 1897, 1899, 1902), that of 1902 authorising
inter alia its amalgamation with the Great Northern and Strand. The
Charing Cross, Euston, and Hampstead Railway to be continued to
Edgware by a previously authorised line (Acts 1893 to 1900 and 1902). The
City and Brixton Railway, to cross the Thames independently of the City
and South London Tube, and to have stations at St. George’s Circus,
Southwark, and at Kennington Oval (Act 1897), with a new City station
communicating with the South London Railway (electric). The Great
Northern and City Railway, Finsbury Park to the Bank. The Metropolitan
District Railway (Act 1897), a Deep-level Electric to work with the
Brompton and Piccadilly Tube. The North West London Railway (Act
1899) from the Marble Arch to Cricklewood.
THE ROYAL COMMISSION
For some time past it had been made clear that no Select Committee of
the Houses of Parliament, however efficient, could be expected to cope with
the problem of metropolitan combined tubes, tramways and vehicular street
traffic; and in view of the probability of other Tube Bills being promoted
during the session of 1903, it was strongly urged upon the Government to
consent to a Royal Commission on the matter.
So, before the meeting of this year’s Parliament, a Royal Commission
was appointed with a most comprehensive programme of arduous work.

General satisfaction seems to have been expressed with the composition
of the Commission. No better chairman could have been found than Sir
David M. Barbour, whose acquaintance with official inquiries is probably
greater than that of anyone else in Great Britain, he having been associated
with several Royal Commissions. Special knowledge bearing on the
peculiar problems to be solved, characterises most of the members. Sir John
Wolfe Barry is perhaps the best-known consulting railway engineer in the
country, having acted in this capacity to many of the leading railway
companies, and, in 1901, having taken part in the inquiry respecting
vibration on tube railways. Sir George Trout Bartley has represented North
Islington in the House of Commons for nearly eighteen years, and from
lifelong residence in London has a wide knowledge of its needs. Earl
Cawdor has been Chairman of the Great Western Railway for the last eight
years. Viscount Cobham has been a Railway Commissioner since 1891, and
prior to that, was temporarily Deputy-Chairman of the Great Western
Railway. Sir Joseph Dimsdale, being a banker, has had wide experience as a
financier. Ex-Lord Mayor, and City Chamberlain, he represents in the
House of Commons the City of London, which is vitally concerned in the
question of efficient transit. Mr. G. S. Gibb, the General Manager of the
North Eastern Railway for the past twelve years, is a railway expert of great
experience. As Permanent Secretary of the Board of Trade, Sir Francis J. S.
Hopwood has a specially trained mind, and an intimate acquaintance with
railway matters, having been formerly Secretary of the Railway
Department. Mr. C. S. Murdoch, C.B., has been for many years in the
Government service, and has acted, since 1896, as Assistant Under-
Secretary of the Home Department. Sir John P. Dickson-Poynder is a
member for the Chippenham Division of Wiltshire, and represents St.
George’s, Hanover Square, at the County Council. Sir Robert T. Reid, K.C.,
member for Dumfries since 1886, was Attorney-General in the last Liberal
Government, and may be regarded as the official representative of the
Opposition on the Commission. Lord Ribblesdale, a member of the London
County Council, was Chairman of the Joint Committee of the Lords and
Commons on Tube Railways in 1901.
Soon after the appointment of the Commission it was suggested that the
labour would be considerably lightened if the subject of pedestrian and
vehicular traffic included in their programme were eliminated or, at any
rate, indefinitely postponed, and attention concentrated upon Tubes and

Railways, making—as they have the power to do—an interim report; and
thus avert disastrous delay in the realisation of the Tube Schemes before the
Parliament of 1903.
Early in the session a somewhat significant announcement was made in
the House of Commons, in reference to these schemes; only two of which
were very important, viz., the Central London’s proposal to complete the
circle; and the North-East London Railway scheme, which (if passed) will
embrace twenty-two miles—nine being in tubes—tapping the traffic
between the City and Leyton and Walthamstow, whose combined
population is over two hundred thousand people.
The following is the statement made on the 2nd of March by Mr.
Jeffreys, as Deputy-Chairman of Committees, who said he had had the
advantage of a conference with the Chairman of Committees in the House
of Lords and the President of the Board of Trade, and they had come to the
conclusion that certain of the bills connected with London traffic ought to
be postponed until the result of the Commission dealing with this matter
had been reported. The deep-level railways which they thought ought to
await the completion of this inquiry were the Central London Railway;
Great Northern, Piccadilly, and Brompton (New Lines and Extensions) Bill;
North-West London (Marble Arch to Victoria) Railway Bill; Clapham
Junction to Marble Arch Railway (Nos. 1 and 2) Bill; Metropolitan District
Railway Works Bill. There were certain other Bills which they thought
might go to Committees, viz.: Charing Cross, Euston, and Hampstead
Railway Bill; Great Northern, Piccadilly, and Brompton Railway (Various
Powers) Bill; Baker Street and Waterloo Railway Transfer Bill; and the City
and North-East Suburban Electric Railway Bill.
There were, besides, certain other railway measures which were
doubtful, and these, they thought, ought to be held over until the Chairman
of Committees of the House of Lords, the President of the Board of Trade,
and himself had considered them. These Bills were the City and South
London Railway (Angel and Islington) Bill, and the Metropolitan District
Railway (Various Powers Bill).
But the Royal Commission is, after all, only a temporary expedient; and
the question remains, as to what shall be the Governing Power of London’s
railway traffic; for it must be taken for granted that both the City
Corporation and the London County Council frankly admit that the

underground locomotion of the metropolis has become so complicated that
the general supervision of some great public department is necessary. Is it to
be the London County Council, the Board of Trade, some new body
resembling the Light Railways Commission, or a joint committee of
members of both Houses of Parliament, appointed each session, to consider
all questions affecting locomotion in or near London?
Here we are reminded that the London County Council has been
considering whether or not to apply for parliamentary powers to take over
the burden of linking together the various districts of London by a series of
tubes. A colossal undertaking, involving, it is said, a capital of fifty
millions!
Whether it be advisable for the Council, in addition to its other heavy
responsibilities, to extend its municipal trading on so vast a scale, is
doubtful; for it has the ratepayers to consider.
If it be the fact that mercantile enterprise cannot grapple with the task,
then there would be good and sufficient reason for the Council or the
Government to attempt it. But private capital is generally obtainable for a
really promising scheme.
Besides, such gigantic undertakings obviously require men of good
business capacity and considerable railway experience to devote their time
exclusively to the work. One would think that county councillors (as such),
efficient as they may be, have already as much work as they can readily get
through, from one week’s end to another.

CHAPTER X

LONDON’S LATEST AND LONGEST TUBE

“Green pastures and Piccadilly.”—W. Black.

S ANCTIONED by the Legislature as one of the most comprehensive
schemes laid before it last year for linking together existing
underground, as well as trunk, lines, the Great Northern, Piccadilly, and
Brompton Railway, now under construction, has attracted such universal
attention, and traverses such hitherto exclusive quarters, that it deserves
more than a passing reference.
From a traveller’s point of view, the effect of this new railway will be
far-reaching. Dwellers near District Railway termini, such as Wimbledon,
New Cross, Bow Road, South Harrow, Hounslow Barracks, Richmond, and
intermediate stations, will have, by means of exchange—at Earl’s Court
Station with the Metropolitan District Railway; at Gloucester Road and
South Kensington Station with the Metropolitan and Metropolitan District
Railway; at Piccadilly Circus Station with the Baker Street and Waterloo
Railway; at Cranbourn Street Station with the Charing Cross, Euston, and
Hampstead Railway; and at King’s Cross and Finsbury Park Stations with
the Great Northern Railway—ready access to practically all centres and
quarters of our big city; its own immediate objective from Earl’s Court
being Finsbury Park, a distance of 7½ miles. It is similar in construction to
the Central. The cars, built at Loughborough, will resemble those of the
new Inner Circle, and the driving force will come from the Power House at
Chelsea.
Truly, under pleasant scenes will the new Tube be carried—as
fashionable, romantic, and historical a route as any in London. Here is
Earl’s Court, where, in the midst of market gardens far away from town,
once stood John Hunter’s house, where the great anatomist kept a
menagerie of wild beasts to experiment upon, and in the dead of night
boiled down the body of O’Brien, the Irish giant, to obtain the skeleton,
which now adorns the museum of the College of Surgeons. The well-known
Edmund Tattersall lived close by for many years at Coleherne Court, on the
site of one of either Fairfax’s or Lord Essex’s redoubts (they appear to have

had a good many), thrown up after the battle of Brentford, when the
victorious Royalists were expected to cross the river (which they never did)
and besiege London.
Gloucester Road, the next station, recalls the fact that when the District
Railway came there, it was still a mere lane with hawthorn hedges, a
blacksmith’s forge somewhere near, while pleasant paths right and left led
to orchards, in the midst of which was St. Jude’s Church, so famous later on
for its fashionable congregation and its eloquent preacher, the Rev. Dr.
Forrest, now Dean of Worcester.
From Gloucester Road the Tube runs under pleasant Stanhope Gardens
and part of Harrington Road with its fine mansions, to South Kensington.
The ground about the Hoop and Toy Tavern close by was, so tradition says,
designated in the draft Parliamentary Bill for the Great Western Railway
terminus. At that time the site was sufficiently countrified to satisfy those
who would banish railway stations to Jericho or to the uttermost verge of
London, and remained so for a long time; and I have been told by an old
Bromptonian that he has seen a covey of partridges put up where the
Natural History Museum now stands.
At this point the new Tube—leaving its course parallel with, but at a far
deeper level than, the District Railway—proceeds unaccompanied to
Piccadilly, and, so to say, enters the Brompton Road at the Oratory of St.
Philip Neri, formerly a very plain brick edifice erected by the Oratorian
Fathers, who had begun their good work on a humble scale in King William
Street, Charing Cross, in a building subsequently occupied by Woodin, the
ventriloquist, and later on by Toole, as his own peculiar theatre.
The present conspicuous basilica is at last completed, all but the towers.
Adjoining it, down an avenue of trees, recalling the approach to
Shakespeare’s last resting-place, is Holy Trinity Church, Brompton,
reminiscent of Dr. Irons, its vicar, who ultimately became Rector of St.
Mary Woolnoth, beneath which is the City station of the City and South
London Electric Railway.
Brompton Square is close by, associated by many of us with a once
popular song, “Ada with the golden hair,” composed and sung by G. W.
Moore, of the Christy Minstrels. In this Square have dwelt many actors and
actresses: Wigan, Buckstone, Robert Keeley, etc.; and also Shirley Brooks.
At one corner used to be a house standing a little back from the road,

occupied by an eccentric individual whose craze was to have several clocks
in every room, and the task of keeping them in order encouraged a watch-
and-clock-maker to settle down in a small shop next door. Another feature
of his craze was to present a watch of some kind to every lady he knew; so
that his neighbour must have done a fair business. A bank now occupies this
site, and the author recollects watching the strong-room being built deep
down in the gravelly soil peculiar to South Kensington. Next door will be
located the unpretentious Brompton Station of the new railway. An official
of the bank was heard to remark facetiously that he trusted the Tube would
not bore into the strong-room aforesaid—a new possibility and grievance to
be duly noted.
Directly underneath Brompton Road goes London’s latest Tube, passing
“Harrod’s,” the most palatial General Store in the metropolis, if not in the
world. It originated some years ago in a narrow little shop, where good tea,
excellent butter, and, rumour says, jam made by Mr. Harrod’s mother, were
the chief articles sold to the customers, the bulk of whom were of the
working-class.
Now Knightsbridge is reached, in olden times called Kingsbridge, when
it was represented by a bridge only (on the site of the modern Albert Gate),
built by Edward the Confessor over a brook, or bourn, rising, like the
Tybourn and the Oldbourn, in the Hampstead Hills, and flowing thence to
the Thames.
No part of London has so completely changed in appearance as this;
lofty modern buildings having taken the place of small old-fashioned
houses. These improvements culminate at Sloane Street, where anyone
approaching town by way of Kensington, meets the first of the numerous
metropolitan “rond-points,” surrounded by mansions and shops so tall as to
put into the shade the French Embassy and the houses at Albert Gate, which
for many years were considered the highest in town. At the equestrian statue
of Field-Marshal Lord Strathnairn, four thoroughfares converge—
Kensington Road, Brompton Road, Sloane Street, and St. George’s Place—
pouring around it a continual stream of traffic day and night. Three of these
thoroughfares are perfect paradises to ladies who delight in such alluring
shops as Harrod’s, Harvey Nichols and Co., and Woolland Brothers, whose
prolonged and magnificent frontages are unequalled in Modern Babylon.

A few doors from the “rond-point” in Brompton Road is a Tube station;
and the workmen, as they bore close to the triangular grass-covered
enclosure in front of Tattersall’s, are probably unaware that a comparatively
slight deviation would take them through a pit beneath the enclosure,
which, tradition avers, was used, during the Great Plague of London, for the
dead. It is likely enough; for centuries ago there existed, a little to the east
of Albert Gate, a hospital belonging to the Dean and Chapter of
Westminster, which in 1665 was given up for the use of infected patients;
and as this little piece of ground has never been disturbed, it probably was
originally the burying-place attached to the hospital, and was converted into
a plague-pit.
A house close to Hyde Park Court was once occupied by Charles Reade,
the novelist. At a house close by (long since pulled down), Horace Smith,
joint-author of Rejected Addresses, lived from 1810 to 1818, and drove
himself daily to and from the City—he was then a stockbroker—in a
vehicle called a “whisky.” A little farther on, where the London and County
Bank is dwarfed by the late Sir Herbert Naylor Leyland’s great mansion,
used to stand the “Fox and Bull,” a quaint old tavern dating back to Queen
Elizabeth’s time, and a favourite resort of Sir Joshua Reynolds, George
Morland, and other painters. Holy Trinity Chapel, St. George’s Place, no
longer wedged in between two public-houses, replaces an old church where
the celebrated Prime Minister—then plain Robert Walpole—was married in
1700 to a Lord Mayor’s daughter, who became the mother of Sir Horace
Walpole. In St. George’s Place, where it faces the Park—surely one of the
most desirable of situations, the first intimation that we are approaching
“Green pastures and Piccadilly”—is the Hyde Park Corner Station of the
new railway, next door to No. 8, conspicuous as the residence of the Baden-
Powell family, on the site of which house, in an old-fashioned tenement,
lived for many years John Liston, the comedian identified with the
character of “Paul Pry.” Being freehold—a unique feature in the
neighbourhood—this small plot of ground has cost the Company dear. It
had to pay £30,750 for its acquisition.
It is hard to believe that at this point London once terminated,
Lanesborough House, where St. George’s Hospital stands, being described
in Pennant’s days as a “country mansion,” and thus it remained until little
more than a century ago. While in the time of Charles the Second, near
Hamilton Place was an inn, bearing the sign of the “Hercules Pillars,”

signifying that, like the “First and Last House” at Land’s End, no habitation
existed beyond it.
All sorts and conditions of people, mostly distinguished, live, and have
lived, along this part of the route, which has its Tube stations at Down
Street and Dover Street. There is Apsley House, and next to it Baron
Rothschild’s mansion. At No. 1 Hamilton

FIG. 14. THE WESTERN APPROACH TO PICCADILLY.

Place lived the great Lord Chancellor Eldon. From 139, Piccadilly (Lord
Glenesk’s) Lady Byron, after one of her quarrels with the poet, fled with her
infant daughter. At Nos. 138 and 139, formerly one building, the Marquis of
Queensbury (the notorious “Old Q.”) used, when an octogenarian, to sit at a
certain window for hours, and ogle the passing fair sex. Gloucester House
adjoining, is the residence of the Duke of Cambridge, occupied, when it

was Elgin House, by the Earl of Elgin, who brought over to England the
famous marbles that bear his name. Nearly opposite Down Street, on the
park side of Piccadilly, stands a curious reminder that once upon a time,
parcels and packages of all kinds had to be conveyed all over London, not
by train or by Carter Paterson’s speedy vans, but on the shoulders of
stalwart porters. It is a “bulk,” replacing an old timber one. A “bulk,” it may
be explained, is a kind of shelf supported by two posts at a convenient
height for the bearers of burdens to temporarily dispose of them and rest
awhile. On the site of No. 106 (the St. James’s Club) was formerly the
“Greyhound,” a very old inn, which, with the “White Horse” close by, and
the “Half Moon,” a little further on, was a favourite pulling-up place for the
numerous carriers, tranters, and market-gardeners who were incessantly
coming from the country to town; for Piccadilly was one of London’s great
highways westward. In a house (now a club) at the corner of White Horse
Street, Sir Walter Scott sometimes stayed when in town. Cambridge House
(the Naval and Military Club) recalls Lord Palmerston and the notable
political receptions of his accomplished wife. At the corner of Clarges
Street, where lived Edmund Kean and also Lady Hamilton, is the Turf Club,
and at No. 84 the Imperial Service Club, the last of Piccadilly’s line of clubs
that, commencing with The Bachelors’, at the corner of Hamilton Place,
forms a kind of approach to the real club-land of St. James’s Street and Pall
Mall. Bath House, at the corner of Bolton Street, was the residence of the
late millionaire, Baron Hirsch. No. 80, Piccadilly, and No. 1, Stratton Street
together form the town house of the Baroness Burdett-Coutts, and it was
from No. 80 that her father, Sir Francis Burdett, M.P., was, in 1810, amidst
serious rioting, taken to the Tower for having made use of bad language in
the House of Commons. From the roof can be obtained a splendid view of
the Westminster and Pimlico district, across the Park, rightly called
“Green,” with its beautiful stretches of turf and graceful trees, and far away
to the Surrey Hills and the Crystal Palace.
Devonshire House, seen through its fine old iron gates—brought here
from Chiswick—is plain enough externally, but its saloons are very
handsome, and here the lovely Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, reigned
as Queen of Fashion long ago. Arlington Street reminds us of the Marquis
of Salisbury, of Earl Nelson, who lodged here, and of Sir Horace Walpole
and his father. In Albemarle Street, Percy Bysshe Shelley once had quarters
at Cooke’s Hotel.

The Tube now carries its passengers ninety feet below the beautiful
Piccadilly shops, past St. James’s Street and Bond Street, the Burlington
Arcade and Burlington House, past the Egyptian Hall, past Fortnum and
Mason’s—so universally associated with hampers, long-necked bottles, and
race-meetings; past the Albany, where lived Byron, Lytton, and Lord
Macaulay; past the Prince’s Restaurant, and its neighbour, St. James’s
Church, where there are some splendid specimens of Grinling Gibbons’
wood-carving, and where, in 1762, occurred a singular thing. In some
unexplained manner the vaults caught fire, and two hundred coffins with
their inmates underwent an uncontemplated process of cremation; past St.
James’s Hall opposite (eventually to be enlarged and converted to purposes
other than harmony only). And now Piccadilly Circus, where six roads
meet, and where, next to Spiers and Pond’s Restaurant, is the Piccadilly
Circus Station of this, the longest Tube. Subways should certainly be
arranged for access to this station, to avoid the very dangerous crossings
from each of the six roads. Why does not the London County Council,
emulating the City Fathers and their Mansion House subterranean passages,
undertake this beneficent work in the West End?
We are now in the region of music-halls, theatres, cafés, dining-places,
and Scott’s, the famous shell-fish shop.
“What is the origin of the name Piccadilly?” is a question asked again
and again. It is difficult to decide. Was it from the ruffs called “peckadils”
(from the Spanish pica), whose stiffened points were like diminutive
spearheads, worn by the mashers or dudes of the early Carolean period,
who gathered here at a gaming-house, Piccadilly Hall? Or was it, as
Pennant thought, from the “piccadills” (cakes) which may have been sold in
the surrounding fields? Who in the year 1903 can decide?
Here I pause. The rest of the new Tube’s route to Stamford Hill is useful
but prosaic, and none of the remaining ten stations, except Cranbourn
Street, Covent Garden, and Holborn are surrounded with any remarkably
interesting associations, either historical or modern.
From South Kensington to Piccadilly this railway is certainly an
aristocratic one. Daintily-clad ladies will, doubtless, use it largely for
shopping and paying visits. The rank and fashion of London will patronise
it. Countesses, marchionesses, even duchesses, may condescend to travel by
it; nay, royalty may even give it a trial! Nobody would be surprised to see

its booking-office æsthetically designed; the officials well-groomed and
decorous as bank clerks; the lifts luxuriously upholstered with seats for all;
the cars-de-luxe (for which an extra charge would be made) beautifully
decorated, warmed in winter and delightfully cooled during summer heats,
with fresh flowers provided, and perfumes sprayed at intervals to remove
the least trace of bad smell; copies of the Court Guide and the most
fashionable magazines at the disposal of the passengers; umbrella and
parasol stands; special and comfortable quarters for pet dogs; the smoking-
cars models of elegance and comfort; and the guards’ uniform scarlet and
gold.
Seriously, however, is there or is there not, “one little rift within the
lute”? Will the size of the tunnels—11½ feet in diameter—suffice for
maintaining an equable and pure atmosphere throughout the year?
Doubtless it will; for special attention has been given to this matter by the
distinguished consulting engineer, and inlets for fresh, and up-cast shafts for
foul air, together with fans worked by machinery, will be liberally provided.

CHAPTER XI

ELECTRIC TRAMWAYS GENERALLY

“And I have taken away your horses.”—Amos iv. 10.
HISTORY OF TRAMWAYS

N EARLY fifty years ago there arrived in this country an enterprising
citizen of the United States bearing the name of George Francis Train,
with whom will always be associated the first attempt to introduce
tramways into Great Britain.
Like many other innovators, Train was ahead of his time, and after
vainly struggling against indifference, and, in London, against the strongest
opposition voiced by the Chief Commissioner of Works, he returned home a
wiser and a sadder man, having failed to launch his great enterprise.
Not unreasonably he complained that his system had not been given a
fair trial, and that his nationality was against him, pointing out that in
Ireland he had, on the contrary, received sympathy and encouragement from
the fact that he was an American.
The truth was, his ideas were immature, and his tram-lines utterly
unsuited to the street traffic of great cities.
His first attempt was at Birkenhead, in 1860; and three years later he laid
down a line, four miles long, from Hanley to Burslem, in Staffordshire, and
also a short one at Darlington. In the year 1861 he constructed a line from
the Marble Arch along the Uxbridge Road, and another from Westminster
Bridge to Kennington Park. The track was ballasted, not paved, and the
macadam very soon “rutted” on each side of the rail; but the worst feature
was that the tread of the rail being an inch below the road surface, the
wheels of vehicles were seriously injured and sometimes wrenched clean
off as they endeavoured to leave the lines.
A tremendous agitation ensued against the tramway system. Train’s rails
were compulsorily taken up, and his ideas were dismissed as impracticable.
Yet the bread had been cast upon the waters, destined to be found much
later on, but not by George Francis Train. For ten years after the Birkenhead
line was laid down, tramways remained in a very primitive condition, the

sole aim being to obtain a smooth track, and so lessen the wear and tear
caused by the uneven macadam. The rolling-stock was crude in the
extreme, and the rails were fastened down to longitudinal sleepers, so that
the spikes invariably worked up, but this defect was remedied when steel
girders came into use. The trams were, of course, drawn by horses, for until
1880 no better means of traction appears to have been thought of. Nobody
was a bit interested in the tramways, and carriage-folk detested them, so
they were banished to the outskirts of the City and “over the water.”
The West End recognised them not, except to sign petitions against their
introduction. The “poor man’s street railway,” it affirmed, must keep its
proper place in the south, the far north, and the far east of London.
It was left to private enterprise to run the lines, and practically four
companies—the North Metropolitan, the London Street Tramways, the
South London Company, and the London Tramways Company—
monopolised the business, there being no enterprising London County
Council to compete with.
VARIOUS METHODS OF HAULAGE
For a decade—up to 1890—all kinds of improved methods of haulage
were tried: compressed air, coiled springs, underground cables (a well-
known example of which was the Highgate line, which was always
breaking down), and, lastly, gas traction and steam traction.
To all these methods there are serious objections. Horse traction is
expensive, besides being distressingly trying to the animals themselves. It is
necessary to keep up a large stud for each car, and the horses when idle are
eating their heads off. Their fullest speed with the heavy cars is necessarily
low. Starting is a slow process, and at the best the rate of progress
(including stoppages) does not exceed four miles an hour.
Compressed air and coiled springs may both be consigned to pigeon-
holes, labelled respectively “doubtful” and “impossible,” there being of the
former scarcely half a dozen examples in Great Britain, though in America
it is said to have worked well and on an extensive scale.
Cable traction has many advantages, and for a long time was
successfully adopted in America, but is now abandoned. With the funicular
system, in vogue in Edinburgh, Birmingham, Paris, and Melbourne,
travellers have long been familiar. Where a large number of cars are
employed, it has the advantage of cheapness in working, and the machinery

does not easily get out of order. But the initial cost is very heavy, and it is
not suitable for complicated lines, or for tramways with several branches;
and therefore extensions, unless straight, are almost impracticable, though it
is superior to all others, save that of electricity, for very severe gradients. As
the cable moves at a uniform rate, a car can neither vary its speed nor
reverse its course. Then there is a difficulty in dealing with the gas and
water-pipes during construction (that is, if they are near the surface), and
the conduit forms a receptacle for street refuse, and becomes insanitary. But
the chief defect is that three-fourths of the total power required to haul the
cars is absorbed in driving the cable.
On a small scale, and with but little success, gas traction has been
recently tried. There is a difficulty in starting the engines, therefore they
have to work continuously, which causes the unpleasant noise familiarised
to us by petrol-driven motor-cars when standing still. There is a decided
smell from the “exhaust” of the engine; the vibration is considerable; and,
as at present designed, the cars cannot mount a moderately steep hill.
Steam traction has been in use for some time, but has not improved, and
is not popular. Great wear and tear of the track is caused by the weight of
the locomotive, and the public object to the long intervals of service,
consequent upon the necessity, for economical reasons, of using large cars.
Steam involves sulphurous gases and general dirtiness, besides the
apprehension, fanciful or real, of an occasional “blow up.”
VARIOUS METHODS OF ELECTRIC TRAMWAY TRACTION
Dismissing all these systems, we turn to electricity, as admittedly the
best agent for tramway traction, and, until some marvellous discovery
displaces it as a force, likely to remain and to become universally adopted.
Blackpool was first in the field with an electric tramway in 1883. Several
other provincial districts followed suit, including Bristol and Stockton-on-
Tees. London, in 1900, welcomed the completion of Mr. J. Clifton
Robinson’s great scheme for electrifying that portion of the London United
Tramways running between Hammersmith and Kew.
The year 1903 sees metropolitan and suburban electric trams in every
direction; while in the provinces they will soon cover the face of the land,
so extraordinarily rapid has been their acceptance. On every hand signs are
evinced of the direct influence upon the general prosperity, comfort, and

pleasure of all classes of people by a cheap and rapid electric tramway
service.
The electric system admits of an easy extension of routes, and is of all
systems the simplest to work. The cars can be readily backed or diverted in
any direction. They are roomy, clean, well lighted and ventilated, and, if
necessary, can be heated; the seats are comfortable; and the speed is double
that of horses, while, without any fuss, gradients of 1 in 8 can be tackled. Of
its popularity none can doubt, especially in hot weather, when exhausted
town-dwellers swarm on the roof of the cars for a breath of fresh air as they
travel merrily along at the rate of twelve miles an hour.
Existing tramways can be adapted to this system with rapidity, and all
experts bear testimony to the fact that electric haulage is comparatively so
cheap, and the development of traffic on its adoption so great, that horse
traction has no chance against it.
There are four kinds of electric-tramway traction which, though
apparently rather puzzling, are readily explained. These are the Conduit; the
Surface Contact; the Overhead (or trolley); in each of which the current is
conveyed to the line—as in an electric railway—from a power house; and
the Accumulator, or Self-contained Car, the motive power being obtained
from storage batteries carried on the car itself, and these supply the current
direct to the motor on the car.

FIG. 15. TRAM-CAR IN PARIS EQUIPPED FOR COMBINED
OVERHEAD TROLLEY AND SURFACE CONTACT SYSTEM
By permission of the Dolter Electric Traction Co., Ltd., London

In the conduit system the main conductors (or feed-wire), always in this
country placed underground, are carried in a conduit or tube under the track,
which has a narrow longitudinal slit on its upper surface level with the road.
Through this slit passes a bracket carried by the car in such a manner as to
make contact with the two conduit-conductors. The objections to this
system are the heavy cost of construction, its liability to derangement from
floods, the expense of cleaning the conduits, and its tendency to accumulate
filth.
The closed conduit, or surface contact system, consists of a series of
plates or studs placed along the track a few feet apart and flush with the
road, and insulated from each other. Under ordinary circumstances these are
disconnected with the conductor, which is laid entirely below the surface,
but when a car passes over them they become, by means of switches,
automatically connected with it, so that the current can be conveyed
through them to the car motors. In other words, the studs are “alive” while
the car is over them, and “dead” as soon as it has passed. This is a very
practicable method, and in certain cases is preferable to the open conduit.
Defects, however, there are, but the Dolter apparatus claims to have

overcome them, and it is greatly in its favour that the system has been
successfully worked in Paris for more than two years. It has the merit of
readily lending itself to a combination with the overhead trolley system.
Of all systems, by far the best known to the public is that of “overhead,”
recognised immediately by the tall iron poles inseparable from its adoption.
Ninety-five per cent. of the world’s electric tramways are worked on the
overhead principle. The distribution of electric energy is by means of a
wire, called the trolley wire, upheld by insulated brackets on poles twenty
feet above the ground, along the entire track, which is divided into sections,
each section taking its current from the main conductor-wire, which is laid
underground, through the iron poles. Should any one section of the trolley
wires meet with mishap, only the cars working on that section are stopped;
those on the remaining divisions, having an independent source of current,
continue to run

FIG. 16. CROSS LANE JUNCTION, SALFORD. THE LARGEST AND
MOST COMPLICATED OVERHEAD TROLLEY CROSSING IN THE
KINGDOM
By permission of Geo. Hill & Co., Manchester

without interruption. At the upper end is a small deeply grooved wheel
which, by means of springs at the base of the trolley pole, is pressed against
the under side of the trolley wire overhead, and in that position remains as
the car proceeds. From the wire the electric current passes through the
grooved wheel and down the trolley pole to the motors, of which there is
one at each end of the car.
In all three systems the motor itself is suspended from the axle, which it
turns; and the armature of the motor is parallel to the axle and nearest to the
centre of the car. On the end of the armature is a small cogwheel which
gears into the teeth of a larger wheel keyed to the axle, and this turns round
the wheels of the car. A coiled spring supports the field-magnet of the
motor, and when the driver turns the lever on to the top of the controller
(which is a high box in front of each platform containing a series of wires
connected with the motor), and switches on the current, the motor is lifted
up on the first revolution of the armature, the coiled spring takes up the
motion of the motor, and prevents the car starting with a jerk. The current,
when done with, returns to the source of supply by the ordinary tram rails,
which are specially connected at the joints for this purpose. It is maintained
that for cheapness of construction, simplicity of operation, reliability in
action, and flexibility in adaptation, this method is superior to all others.
There was at one time a certain objection to it on æsthetic grounds. The
earlier examples, when clumsy wooden posts and festoons of wire
obstructed the view and seemed to choke up the street, undoubtedly
justified the protest against the “overhead”; but now that slender iron poles,
ornamental rather than otherwise, and, in some cases, rosettes attached to
the houses, are used for the suspension of the trolley wire, people have
become reconciled to the appearance of the thoroughfares, and no longer
object to the apparatus.
One more system, an ideal one, remains to be considered. It is that of the
“Self-contained Car,” which carries a battery of secondary cells, whence the
current for working the motors is taken as required. But, for the present,
there are serious obstacles against its general application. The great weight
of the accumulators leads to a disproportionate consumption of power, and
involves heavy expenditure on the permanent way and in rolling-stock. The
batteries must be recharged at frequent intervals, and must either be
removed from the car—a troublesome process—or the car must be kept idle

while the cells are revivified. Accumulators as a rule do not live long, and
have to be renewed.
Thus the working expenses are so heavy that, ideal as the system is, and
delightful the smooth running of the cars, it does not pay commercially to
adopt it, and we must wait patiently in the hope that one day a perfect and
practical secondary battery will appear on the scenes. Great improvements
in lightness and durability are in the air.
Tramcars have become luxurious compared with the makeshifts that did
duty in George Francis Train’s day, and each new line endeavours to make
its rolling-stock superior to the others. Some cars are double-decked, i.e.
have seats outside; some are single-decked, i.e. have no outside seats. They
are roomy and comfortably upholstered, and the windows are curtained, or
provided with louvre shutters to keep the sun out. Those of the London
United Tramways are models of comfort, and people who recollect only the
early examples, mostly of foreign construction, would be surprised at the
advance made. They seat thirty inside and thirty-nine outside passengers,
have spring cushions covered with plush moquette, and ceilings panelled in
bird’s-eye maple. There are electric push-buttons for signalling the motor-
man; electric light is provided, and ventilators extend the whole length of
the car, ensuring an abundant supply of fresh air.
No cars, however, in Great Britain have reached the pitch of perfection
attained in America by the palace and parlour tramcars; the former fitted up
like a Pullman, with little tables and easy-chairs, and windows prettily
curtained. Of this type, perhaps the most superb is in Buenos Ayres.
Decorated in early French style, it is beautifully finished; while inside it
resembles a drawing-room, with windows separated by carved pilasters and
draperies of white silk and gold damask. A fine Wilton carpet covers the
parquetry floor, whereon stand woven cane fauteuils with gold plush seats.
At each end of the car is a buffet, and one of the platforms is provided with
an ice chest, while an electric heater produces tea and coffee when required.
I cannot close this chapter introducing the subject of tramways, without
reference to the “Rush for the Trams” that attracted so much attention last
year. The rushes in the Blackfriars Bridge Road began shortly after five
o’clock and continued until seven p.m., and were described in the daily
journals as follows: “South London, thanks to the L.C.C., rejoices in an
excellent tram service. There are many trams going everywhere within a

reasonable distance—Streatham, Greenwich, Tooting, New Cross. Now,
however hard or however fast you rush at a tram, it is not to be bullied into
holding more than a certain number. If, however, you rush sufficiently
fiercely and with sufficient violence, you may either knock or frighten out
of the way a girl who has been waiting longer than you. Some genius
discovered this and rushed; others, not to be beaten, rushed also. The result
is that every evening the Blackfriars Road is the scene of a savage fight for
the incoming trams, where men and women meet in unequal strife.... All
notions of chivalry, of ‘ladies first,’ are thrown to the winds, apparently, on
these occasions, with the result that many young girls, weak women and
children, rather than share in the unequal strife, are content to walk all the
way home.... Long before the trams arrive at the starting-point, they are
boarded at either end, and a jovial crowd, knocking off one another’s hats,
poking out one another’s eyes, swarms on to them. As an entertainment, this
is not without merit; as an exhibition of the passions, it is undoubtedly
interesting. But if you happen to be weak or a woman and want to get on
one of these cars, it is possible you will fail to consider these things. Only a
day or two ago a fatal accident occurred in the rush for the trams. Such a
serious case is, no doubt, rare, but small injuries must be of frequent
occurrence, torn clothes and bruises part of the daily round, the common
talk of those who struggle for the trams. It is unpleasantly common to see
women knocked off their feet and dragged in the road. Nor is the
Blackfriars terminus the only battlefield. The Westminster Bridge Road is
no whit better, and there, with a roadway somewhat narrower and a
somewhat larger quantity of quick traffic, the danger is even greater.”
The remedy for this state of affairs was thus significantly pointed out:—
“When electricity is fully adopted the service will be able to deal with a
larger traffic, for, although the same number of cars will be running, they
will run faster, and each will carry 50 per cent. more passengers, so that the
carrying capacity of the line will be much increased. Till then there is no
hope of improvement. It is impossible with horse traction to run more cars,
or run them faster.”

CHAPTER XII

LONDON’S TRAMWAYS

“When all is done, the help of good counsel is that which setteth business straight.”—Bacon.
THE L.C.C. AND LONDON’S TRAFFIC

A LL tramways within the boundaries of the County of London—an area
of some 16½ by 12 miles—will eventually be controlled and worked
by the London County Council, who, under the Tramways Act of 1870,
have the power of purchasing, either compulsorily at the expiration of
twenty-one years from the passing of the Act, or by agreement, any
tramway undertaking within their official territory. A heavy responsibility
truly; but whether for good or for evil, municipal trading has come to stay,
and the principle as applied to tramways seems to be particularly
appropriate in this, our great metropolis, with whose locomotive system
none but a very powerful and experienced governing body can ever hope to
successfully cope.
Mr. J. Allen-Baker, the vice-chairman of the L.C.C.’s Highways
Committee, reporting on the subject of our congested highways, said:
“Even though there should be no future increase in street traffic, I believe it
to be the imperative duty of the Council to seek a remedy, and how much
more when we feel assured that London will keep growing, and that within
the next thirty years both a water and locomotive service will have to be
provided for an estimated population (in Greater London) of probably not
less than ten or twelve million people; and whatever the growth outwards
may be, the best system of rapid transit for the central districts will always
become more and more essential. If, therefore, we are to cope with either
our present or our future requirements, and prevent our streets from
becoming really impassable, it is, in my judgment, our duty to take up the
subject at once, and seek from His Majesty’s Government those additional
powers and amendments to existing Acts of Parliament that will enable the
Council, as the central authority, to carry out these improvements in the
interests of the whole metropolis.”

I doubt if anybody realises the gigantic scale of Greater London’s street
traffic, so much of it being hidden away. It is estimated that in one year
travellers by cabs and omnibuses number 580,000,000, and by tramways
400,000,000. By Underground, Tube, and suburban railways 890,000,000
travel; and should the metropolis increase at the rate expected by Mr. J.
Allen-Baker, in thirty years’ time there will be something like
4,000,000,000, or 11,000,000 human beings per diem, moving about on
wheels or on foot.
All these facts will doubtless be carefully considered, and, if possible,
the problem of London’s traffic solved, by the Royal Commission—Sir
David Miller Barbour, K.C.S.I., K.C.M.G., in the chair—appointed in February
last to deal with the subject. (vide Chapter IX.). It is authorised to report:—
(1) As to the measures which they deem most effectual for the
improvement of the same (the street traffic) by the development and
interconnection of railways and tramways on or below the surface, by
increasing the facilities for other forms of mechanical locomotion, by better
provision for the organisation and regulation of vehicular and pedestrian
traffic or otherwise; and
(2) As to the desirability of establishing some authority or tribunal to
which all schemes of railway or tramway construction of a local character
should be referred, and the powers which it would be advisable to confer
upon such a body.
THE L.C.C. AND REHOUSING
The tramway policy of the L.C.C. is so connected with the housing, or,
rather, with the rehousing question, that although this book is purely on the
subject of electrical traction, I cannot avoid making some reference to it.
For fifteen years, since, under the Local Government Act of 1888, the
Council was constituted, it has slowly been winning the confidence of
Londoners. Aggressive at first, it has relinquished the altruistic theories of
youth, and it now realises the fact that it is a body of trustees acting not for
one class only, but that it must administer its heritage in the interests of the
community at large. Jealousy of its powers is dying out, and by
comprehensive and energetic action it justifies itself as the one central
privileged body able to deal with the highway, and with the housing
problem of Modern Babylon.

One of its provinces, in fact its statutory obligation, is to provide new
accommodation—not necessarily in the same locality—in place of all
houses destroyed as unfit for human habitation. It also takes upon itself
voluntarily (where no such legal obligation exists) in certain instances to
provide for rehousing, and, wherever possible, this is effected in the same
districts. But this cannot as a rule be done when rehousing is compulsory,
and to meet the difficulty, estates have been acquired, and blocks of houses
and cottages erected at Croydon, Wood Green, Brixton Hill, Holloway,
Hammersmith, and other more or less suburban spots. The Model
Dwellings built on the site of Millbank Prison, and inspected by the King
and Queen on February 18th last, accommodate 4,500 men, women, and
children. At Tooting, the L.C.C. scheme provides for 8,600 people; at
Norbury, for 5,800; while at Tottenham there will be quite a new town of
40,000 artisan inhabitants.
Encouragement is given by the Council to the idea that working-men and
women—since they cannot, in so many cases, live chock-a-block with their
employment—should be provided with homes upon, or a little beyond, the
Council’s boundaries, and be brought backwards and forwards by train, for
the popular 1d. Being practical men, the Councillors know that any
transference on a large scale of London factories to the country, however
desirable, cannot be effected yet awhile. And even if they could acquire
sites in the centres of industry, and erect gigantic lodging-houses, the cost
would be prohibitive. They have to deal with the present necessity. Their
ideal is probably the workshop as it exists in London, with the heads of
firms at Belsize Park, Bayswater, and Dulwich, the clerks at Wandsworth,
Chelsea, and Fulham, and the workmen at Tottenham, Wood Green, and
Hammersmith.
On the other hand, figures quoted by Mr. Troupe, of the Home Office,[5]
show to what a large extent it might be possible to relieve congestion by the
removal of factories to the country. He said that there were 748 factories in
London classified, in the following proportions, viz. 50 for machine-
making, 30 for bread and biscuit-baking, 14 for cabinet-making, 11 for
turning out fruit preserves, 16 breweries, 47 book-binding establishments,
72 printing houses (not including newspapers), and 19 saw-mills. In these
748 factories close upon 200,000 people were employed, representing with
their families some 600,000 human beings, and if, following the recent
example of the largest cabinet-makers in London, the bulk of these removed

into the country, which they might do if suitable railway arrangements
could be made, a considerable number of the 600,000 men, women, and
children would be rehoused amidst “fresh woods and pastures new,” greatly
to their benefit.
This is a dream at present, as factories cannot without great loss be
summarily transferred from suitable urban quarters where water-frontages
and locomotive facilities exist. They have grown up with, and in many
cases created the district in which they are situated. Bermondsey has for
years been the home of the leather trade, Lambeth of the pottery industry,
and although Mr. Justice Grantham instances Doulton’s as an awful
example of an uneconomical delinquent London manufactory—their clay in
Dorsetshire, their coal in the Midlands, their salt in Cheshire, and their
works on the banks of the Thames—it is no light matter to break with long
business ties and take up with fresh ones, not so easy to leave the old love
and take up with the new.
It will be granted, however, that Mr. William L. Magden was right when
he maintained that “no manufacturer about to commence business at the
present day would fix upon London as a suitable position. He would choose
rather a district in which land was cheap, and in which he could obtain
cheap power for his machinery and transport for his goods. He should not in
future be limited to the colliery districts or to the main lines of railway.
Light railways serving as feeders to the main lines, and the supply of
electrical energy over large areas from main power stations, could provide
for both these requirements, giving the manufacturer ample assurance that
his works could be run cheaply, and that the raw material and manufactured
products could be efficiently handled. By such means electrical science is
capable of opening up thousands of square miles in England for
manufacturing purposes, the native population of which has been
languishing under the chronic complaint of agricultural depression.”
THE L.C.C.’S TRAMWAY SYSTEM
Whether, as regards tramways, the L.C.C. will be the central authority
recommended by the Royal Commissioners, time will show; but meanwhile
it has already established its tramway system, which can be seen at work in
our midst. In order to understand it the more easily, it should be assumed
that all the lines, including those of the London United Tramways
Company, are in the hands of the Council, that they are more or less linked

together, that powers for new lines have been granted, and that electrical
traction in some form has been adopted throughout.
On studying a tramway map, one is struck by the fact that, starting from
the central area of London, all the tram-lines meander towards the Council’s
boundaries, where they will eventually no doubt join and interchange
through traffic with the vast light railway or rural tramway systems of
various companies in the direction of north and south, north-east, south-
east, north-west, and south-west; but that “through” (or cross-country)
communication from west to east, practically does not exist.
In the north-west there are huge areas of brick and mortar as destitute of
tram-lines as Central Australia, so that anyone living in the Regent’s Park
districts has to “train” it eastward, or, if he be bent on “tramming” it, has to
go by an inconvenient and awkward route to Hackney or Bow.
Another notable feature of the map is that, although there are almost as
many tramways on the south as on the north side of the river, there is no
access from one to the other, the bridges being looked upon as sacred
thoroughfares, along which tramcars—certainly not as unæsthetic as
omnibuses, or waggons laden with vegetables—may not pass, although
Westminster is the widest bridge in the world, 85 feet; Blackfriars, 80 feet;
and Vauxhall and Lambeth will be equally wide, and broad enough to
accommodate the trams without inconvenience.
At present the lines are painfully disunited, without starting-point or
terminus. The gaps in the lines require to be filled up, and where this is
impracticable, shallow underground tracks should be made use of. The great
defect, however, would at once disappear if the lines could cross the
Thames at Westminster and Blackfriars; but if this be persistently refused,
light bridges or tubes ought to be specially provided at convenient points
with four tracks for the use of tramways only.
The history of the London County Council’s work towards the
improvement of metropolitan highways dates back to the early nineties,
when the Council began to acquire tramway companies. A most important
step was taken in 1897, when the whole of the lines and depôts belonging to
the North Metropolitan and London Street Tramways Companies in the
County of London were purchased, the purchase-money being £800,000. In
1899 the Council acquired the South London Tramways at a cost of
£882,043, and still more recently the control of the South Eastern

Metropolitan Tramways Company and the South London Company has
been effected. Negotiations for other acquisitions are pending, and, as a
matter of fact, there are now not a dozen miles of tramway lines within the
county which the Council has not already purchased.
The North Metropolitan lines have been leased by the Council to the
Company for fourteen years from 1896. The South London lines are worked
directly by the Council, and in the year 1901-2 no fewer than 119,880,559
passengers were carried over the system, 53,639,489 being at halfpenny
fares and 50,913,036 at penny ones. The traffic receipts for the year
amounted to over £439,000, and the mileage run was over 10,000,000.
About 4,500,000 workmen’s tickets were issued during the year.
Thus our metropolitan Councillors have, after due deliberation and much
searching of hearts, launched a prodigious undertaking. Whether it will or
will not prove too costly is another matter. Dr. Alexander B. W. Kennedy,
their consulting engineer, in his report, said: “I hope, therefore, that the
Committee will find themselves able to believe that the enterprise in which
they are about to embark is one which will not only be for the benefit of
Londoners generally, but one also which will pay its way, and on which,
therefore, there would seem to be no reason for grudging such expenditure
as to make the whole scheme one of a kind suitable for and worthy of the
greatest city in the world.”
Not long ago the Council decided to adopt electrical traction on all their
lines, involving an ultimate cost of £9,000,000 which will include the
necessary generating stations, rolling-stock, purchase of smaller
undertakings, and extensions. The result attained will be a splendid system,
equivalent in length to two hundred miles of single track, though not larger
than that of some big provincial cities. Wherever possible the system will
be that of the conduit underground; more expensive than the trolley method,
but in the crowded streets of London—where every inch of space is
valuable—advantageous, and from a severely æsthetic point of view,
preferable, because it dispenses with poles and wires. But on lines acquired
by the Council where already exists the overhead principle, there will be no
difficulty in arranging the cars so that they can be run from one system to
the other, either with no stopping at all at the point of change, or with a
delay of but a second or two. The cars, except the trucks, will be made in
England by British firms, and are to be double-decked, double-bogied, and
thirty-two feet long; they are to hold twenty-eight passengers inside, and

forty-two on the roof, and will be in two compartments. They will resemble
the Liverpool cars, described in Chapter XIII, and will be painted a
chocolate colour. The speed will be a maximum of twelve miles an hour,
with an average of about seven.
Supposing, therefore, that all the L.C.C. parliamentary Bills are carried
through, and that all the disunited lines are properly and harmoniously
linked together, and through communication established in every direction,
it will be feasible to take some such day’s business journey within the
Council’s boundaries as that of Benjamin Short which I am about to relate.
But before doing so I think the very important decision of the Lord
Chancellor in an appeal case, November 27th, 1902, on the subject of the
maintenance of tramway tracks should be recorded:—
THE MAINTENANCE OF TRAMWAY TRACKS
On March 4th, 1900, Mr. Fitzgerald was driving a horse and Ralli car in
Grafton Street, Dublin, when the horse stumbled and fell, and the
respondent was flung out of the cart and sustained serious injuries. On the
ground that the surface of the paving at the place where he was driving was
unsafe for horses and in a condition which was a danger and annoyance to
the ordinary traffic, he brought an action against the tramway company, and
was awarded £1,000 damages, the jury holding that the part of the roadway
for which the company was responsible was at the time slippery and unsafe,
and that this was the cause of the horse falling. They, at the same time,
found that the misfortune was not caused by the fabric of the pavement
being improperly constructed or maintained.
The Lord Chancellor, at the conclusion of the arguments, moved that the
appeal should be dismissed. The tramway company had been permitted the
use of the public highway subject to certain obligations, which practically
meant that while they were to use it they must take care that the safety and
convenience of the public were consulted. They were not to have a
monopoly of the highway, and it was their duty to take care of the public
convenience in respect to that part of the roadway over which they were
permitted to exercise a kind of subordinate dominion. It was not denied that
the surface of the roadway became, in certain states of the weather, a danger
and a nuisance to the public, and it was a strong contention to say that,
having received instructions from the road authority to do that which would
have prevented the accident, there should be no liability upon them. The

obligation, as he read the statute, was to keep the pavement in a fit and
proper condition for public traffic. How that was to be done was a question
of mechanical engineering, and neither the Legislature nor the Court was
called upon to enter into the question as to how it could best be done. All
the judges without exception seemed to agree that the best and most proper
mode of doing it was to do what the road authority directed them to do, and
that they had deliberately disobeyed.
A BUSINESS JOURNEY BY L.C.C. TRAMS
Benjamin Short was born and brought up in London, and if any man
living knew its ins and outs he did. He was a jovial-looking little man,
always called Ben, for, said his father, “We christened him Benjamin for
long, but as he grew so slowly, we called him Ben for short; for short he is,
and short he always will be—except of cash!”
Short the elder was a small tobacconist in the days when the fragrant
weed was first put up and sold in packets—a paying idea, as he soon
discovered—and to effectually put it into practice, he used a fast-trotting
mare and a roomy, comfortable trap.
Ben, as he grew up, was allowed to accompany his father on these
journeys, and having abundant powers of observation and natural
quickness, he came to know more about Greater London than most men of
double his age. He was cut out for a commercial traveller’s career, and a
traveller, in due course, he became, inheriting from his father a snug bit of
capital.
At the time of which I am writing, Ben lived at Stamford Hill, close to
the London County Council boundary, in a well-built house with a bit of
land at the back, in which he had invested his inheritance. He called it “The
Watchmaker’s Rest,” and it faced the tramway line. Its front garden was the
envy and admiration of the neighbours. There appeared in their season the
choicest bulbous flowers, lovely annuals, herbaceous plants,
chrysanthemums, and asters, all of irreproachable quality, for Short, being a
sober and steady man, devoted his spare time to horticulture, at which he
was an adept.
Ben Short travelled for a large wholesale firm of watchmakers and
jewellers in Clerkenwell, whose warehouse was not far from the junction of
Goswell Road and Old Street. Thither Short went to business every day at
eight o’clock from Stamford Hill, not by a Tube (“Toob” he called it), but

by the tram which passed his door. He was a first-rate salesman, working on
salary and commission, as active and enduring as a bee, but as no travelling
expenses within the London district were allowed him, he had to get about
as cheaply as possible.
Hitherto he had been in the habit of working a single section of town
until it was exhausted, and then taking up another. But one July morning the
head of the firm asked him if he could vary the plan and take the pick of
several districts in one day as an experiment. This was done to test Short’s
capacity as against that of an English-speaking German traveller, a protégé
of his partner, who had already tried his best by train and ’bus to cover a
large area in one day, but had blundered over the job. Ben Short, who had
noticed a “foreigner” hanging about the place a good deal, drew his own
conclusions therefrom, and promptly acquiesced in the proposition, and
replied that he was quite willing to show how much could be done in twelve
hours by one who knew his London well and how best to make use of its
locomotive facilities. Ben intended to make a record!
To save time he took home with him from the sample-room his bag, an
inconspicuous, well-worn old companion. It was easily carried, as the
contents, though valuable, were light. Next morning at 7.30 to the minute
he was at breakfast, clean as a new pin, thoroughly well groomed, a man of
peace, but if you had put your hand into the side pocket of his coat you
would have found a smooth ivory handle, suspiciously like that of a neat
six-shooter—in case of accidents! At eight o’clock he was in a comfortable
electric tram bound on his first stage to far-off Hammersmith.
The route was viâ Stamford Hill, High Street, Stoke Newington Road,
and Kingsland Road, and, branching off at Hackney Road, by way of Old
Street and Clerkenwell Road, to the western end of Theobald’s Road.
Thence, a long stretch by way of Hart Street, Bloomsbury, along part of
New Oxford Street, into Oxford Street, past the Marble Arch, along the
Uxbridge Road, past Notting Hill Gate, and down the beautifully paved,
broad incline towards Shepherd’s Bush, then to the left through Brook
Green, and so to the Broadway, Hammersmith—one of the most interesting
rides in London, and but recently added to the London County Council
system, after tremendous agitation and opposition on the part of the “Tube”
and others, but absolutely necessary to complete the linking of other and
disjointed sections.

Here, at Hammersmith, Ben Short transacted some very satisfactory
business in King Street. It was early; his “clients” had just finished their
breakfasts, their shops had been but a few minutes opened, and they had
leisure to attend to his persuasive arguments. He was a favourite wherever
he went, and as he carried exactly the kind of goods to attract, he quickly
booked orders and was free to proceed.
On board once more, at good speed Ben was rolled along Fulham Road,
leaving on the right the big convent jealously guarded by high walls, which
made Ben fall to wondering how any sane young woman could voluntarily
cut herself off from a world about which she probably knew practically
nothing. On went the tram, past the big buildings of the Fulham Workhouse,
past the entrance to Fulham Palace and the Bishop’s Park, along the
widened High Street of Fulham, over Putney Bridge, and by way of Putney
Bridge Road and West Hill, Wandsworth (a new route), to Lower Tooting—
altogether a pleasant trip at that time of the year, for gardens, at which he
critically and eagerly gazed, greeted Ben in every direction.
Wasting no time, Short called upon all the most likely customers, and
again he was in luck, for whether they wanted watches and jewellery or not,
orders were booked.
Now the energetic little man had to get to the “Elephant and Castle.”
Along the Balham Hill Road, with its pleasant shops and lively pedestrians,
was plain sailing enough, past umbrageous Clapham Common on the left,
edged with sedate and comfortable mansions recalling the old days when
prosperous Evangelicism dwelt exclusively in Clapham; then by way of
Clapham Road and Kennington Park Road to the far-famed “Elephant and
Castle.” Here a less sharp-witted man than Short might well be bewildered
by the wonderful concentration of tram lines converging from Walworth
Road, New Kent Road, Newington Causeway, London Road, St. George’s
Road, and the road he had come by. Here, if anywhere, as at the Mansion
House, well-arranged passenger subways are needed.
Our “commercial” did much business round about, for it was one of his
best districts for cheap goods, and then he thought it was time to refresh the
inner man. In a neighbouring cool, clean little crib—“a close borough of his
own,” he called it—he rested, and made intimate acquaintance with a noble
piece of silver-side, some crisp lettuces, and any amount of piccalilli—he

was a lover of cold meat and pickles—but, in accordance with a rule he
never broke in business hours, he restricted himself to coffee as a beverage.
Short, braced up by his luncheon, was now ready to set out for the wilds
of Plumstead—a somewhat long journey. He started by train from the
“Elephant and Castle” viâ the New and the Old Kent Roads, New Cross
Road, Greenwich Road, Trafalgar Road, Greenwich and Woolwich Lower
Roads to Woolwich, and by the Plumstead Road to Plumstead itself. He
worked the two districts together, but his luck had deserted him, and orders
were fewer and farther between than he altogether liked; but he was not
going to “chuck the thing up” yet. He would do a bit of the East End, and
thus complete the circuit of London.
He took the same route back from Plumstead as far as Blackwall Lane,
then viâ the Blackwall Tunnel to East India Dock Road, Burdett Road, and
Mile End Road to its junction with Cambridge Road. In this neighbourhood
he did his only extensive bit of walking. The district, though poor, was
large, and he did a fair amount of business, but as time was getting on he
decided to return home; so by Cambridge Road, along Cambridge Heath,
Mare Street, Lower and Upper Clapton Roads, he got back to Stamford
Hill, and was put down almost at his own house.
He had travelled by electric tramway some fifty miles at a cost of about
2s. 1d. (or a halfpenny a mile). He had done a lot of business, and had been
absent just twelve hours!
In the bosom of his family he found ample compensation for his
exertions. A hearty welcome and a savoury supper, accompanied by
something that was not coffee, awaited him, and the following day the firm
received him with acclamation. The Teuton was not “in it,” and Ben Short
reigned supreme as its chief and highly appreciated traveller.
LONDON UNITED TRAMWAYS COMPANY
Want of space forbids more than the mere mention of the South
Metropolitan and the London Southern, the Woolwich and South Eastern,
the West Ham, and the Northern Middlesex Tramways. But this chapter
would be incomplete without some reference to the useful and popular
organisation, the London United Tramways Company, that takes up the
running at the London County Council’s boundary.
Forty million passengers were conveyed last year over its original route
of twenty-two miles, extending from Shepherds Bush and Hammersmith to

Southall, Hounslow, and Twickenham. In one week alone over a million
were carried.
Last April an important extension was inaugurated from Twickenham,
which brought the trams through Teddington and Hampton Wick right to
the gates of

FIG. 17. BOILER-ROOM, LONDON UNITED
TRAMWAYS CO.’S POWER HOUSE AT CHISWICK,
FITTED WITH VICARS’ AUTOMATIC STOKERS
By permission of T. and T. Vicars, Earlstown, Lancashire

Hampton Court Palace, and from Richmond Bridge to Hampton Court. In the near future these
extensions will be connected with new lines running to Uxbridge, Thames Ditton, Surbiton, Hook,
Kingston, New Malden, Wimbledon, and Tooting; while eventually these western and southern
tracks will, by the system of tubes, rejuvenated underground railways, and the L.C.C.’s electric
tramways, be joined to those of northern and eastern London. In three years’ time, when its
extensions are completed, the London United will have 100 miles of tram lines in operation.
The gauge is the standard 4 feet 8½ inches. Throughout the route the overhead trolley system
has been adopted. At Chiswick is the power house, and the mains convey the electricity to sub-
stations, six miles apart, where rotary converters change the alternating into direct current, and
transform down the high voltage of 5,000 into the Board of Trade limit of 500. In the fine boiler-
room T. and T. Vicars’ automatic stokers are used, and very interesting it is to watch the machines
continually pushing small charges of coal into the furnaces without any direct human agency.
Mounted on two four-wheeled bogie trucks, with two 25 horse-power motors, the handsome
cars seat thirty-nine passengers outside and thirty inside. On the Sunday after the opening of the
extension no fewer than 200,000 people journeyed from Hammersmith, Shepherd’s Bush, and
Richmond, to Kew, Twickenham, Teddington, and Hampton Court; and on Whit Monday, 1903,
the number reached 400,000, thus establishing a record. So great was the rush during some part of
those days that a two minutes’ service of cars had to be provided.
The extension from Twickenham to Hampton Court was opened by Mr. C. T. Yerkes, the
Chairman, and author of the happy alliance of train, tube, and tram, which may possibly enable
many toilers in the East End to live in the country. At the least, it will give them the chance, when

possessed of a little leisure and a few pence, to quickly exchange their sordid environment for one
of the numerous sylvan spots which surround London, especially in the west.

FIG. 18. A LONDON UNITED TRAMWAYS COMPANY TRAM-CAR
By permission of the London United Tramways Co., Ltd.

Alluding to this, Mr. C. T. Yerkes, at the inauguration, significantly remarked that it was a
strange fact that London was particularly behind in transportation, being the most backward of all
cities. Though during the last twenty years in London, 900 miles of streets had been made, and
340,000 houses had been built, it was only within the past few years that intramural transportation
had been even spoken of. The London United Tramway Company, he said, expected to join very
intimately with the Metropolitan District, forming a continuous line to Hampton Court from the
City; and they anticipated connecting with the Great Northern, Brompton, and Piccadilly Circus
Railway. People would be carried very cheaply, and when the District was electrified the mileage
rates would be abolished in favour of uniform fares, which were far the best. Poor people who
were living in an unenviable condition should have the chance of getting into the country.
On the much-debated question of American capital and American enterprise in Great Britain,[6]
Mr. Speyer spoke no less to the point. He said that those who undertook to provide the metropolis
with an up-to-date system of locomotion should be encouraged, for they performed a task that
should have been done twenty years ago. English capital had had every opportunity of investment
in underground lines, and if only half of the five millions had been subscribed in this country it was
not the fault of the promoters. They would have preferred that the Underground Company should
have English shareholders only, but unfortunately they had had to allot half of the shares of the
Company to Americans and foreigners. One would have thought, he said, that there would have
been more keenness in London to build its own underground railways, which would so materially
add to the well-being of the masses. If either of the proposed lines were situated in South Africa,
Australia, or Klondyke, London investors would have been tumbling over each other to subscribe.
But the fault of these lines was that they were at our own doors. It was a fact, incredible though it
might seem, that the richest city in the world did not appear able or willing to provide the funds for
what was really a public necessity—quicker transit. So let them hear nothing more of American
invasion, if people here stood with folded arms and allowed others to do the work which they

ought to have done themselves; for while they persisted in this non possumus attitude, no one
could blame the Company if they went elsewhere.

CHAPTER XIII

PROVINCIAL TRAMWAYS

“They shall measure to their cities round about.”—Deuteronomy xxi. 2.

THE LIGHT RAILWAYS ACT OF 1896

I N the year 1896 an Act of Parliament was passed which, it is no exaggeration to say,
revolutionised tramway locomotion, and was destined to produce consequences undreamt of by
the promoters of the measure.
Under the Tramways Act of 1870, Municipal Corporations had been exercising their powers of
buying up existing tramways, working them in the interests of the ratepayers, and of generally
entering into the business of providing a cheap and efficient means of traversing the area within
their boundaries. They used the new Light Railways Act of 1896 occasionally, but only for the
promotion (by two or more combined local authorities) of certain lines running through several
districts.
Prior to 1870, tramways, like railways and canals, had to be promoted by special Bills, and the
Tramways Act of that year was intended to facilitate their construction, and to cheapen and
simplify the method of obtaining parliamentary powers, either by Bill or by the alternative of an
application to the Board of Trade for a Provisional Order authorising the construction of the
tramway, the said Order being subsequently confirmed by an Act of Parliament introduced by the
Board.
The Act of 1870 provided that no tram line should be sanctioned without the consent of the
district local authority, and that the local authority might buy up the undertaking at the end of
twenty-one years at its then value—practically only the worth of the rolling-stock and plant,
without any allowance for the goodwill of a going concern.
In either case (that of a private Bill in Parliament or a Board of Trade Provisional Order), if a
tramway was planned to run through two or more districts, the consent of the local authorities
having jurisdiction over two-thirds of the length of the line was sufficient. But this condition gave
the local authorities owning just over a third of the route, power to veto the whole scheme.
Under the same Act, land, otherwise than by mutual agreement, could not be acquired by
tramway promoters.
Up to 1896, electric tramway schemes had remained in abeyance, but though the Light
Railways Act removed many obstacles to their increase, and made electric traction commercially
possible, it did not bestow perfect liberty of action. But the fresh legislation on the subject,
anticipated during this year’s session of Parliament, will doubtless result in such amendment of the
Act as will abolish all ground of complaint on the part of the advocates of the industry.
At the time the 1896 measure became law, hardly any Tramway Company in Great Britain,
whether horse-drawn or steam-propelled, paid its way, except in a few large centres. The
companies knew that the time was drawing near when they could be bought out by corporations; so
they had no inducement to make expensive reforms; and only by charging high fares, and by
avoiding every possible form of capital-expenditure, could they keep their heads above water.
Their undertakings, one and all, sank into a state of inefficiency, and a strong public feeling arose
in favour of their being reformed, and worked with improved cars and at popular tariffs by local
authorities. So, one by one, these bodies absorbed the private companies, placed new rolling-stock

on the lines, and adopted electrical traction, to the advantage of the public, and in one notable
instance—that of Glasgow—it is claimed, at great pecuniary benefit to the ratepayers also.
MUNICIPAL TRAMWAY UNDERTAKINGS
Throughout the British Isles these municipal tramway undertakings now flourish and increase
in number. Take a map, and we shall see that the coast line from the North Foreland to Plymouth is
dotted with towns provided with electric trams, while inland, Camborne, a Cornish tin-mining
centre, marks their western English limit. Then round Land’s End along the Bristol Channel it is
the same. South and North Wales show a blank until Llandudno is reached. Then up-to-date towns
provided with electric traction thicken on the Lancashire coast as far as Fleetwood. In the Isle of
Man there are no fewer than four electric tramways. Except at Glasgow and district, the west of
Scotland is bare of any kind of tram, and continues so round the North Cape and the East Coast
until we come to Aberdeen, Dundee, and Kirkcaldy. Next are clusters reaching from North Shields
to Middlesbrough. After this, electric trams are to be found at Hull, Great Grimsby, and Yarmouth.
Inland are three great centres—Liverpool, Manchester, and Birmingham—around which
“electrified” towns gather thickly. Isolated Guernsey and the Isle of Wight each possess an electric
tram, the latter being on Ryde pier.
In Ireland there is a wide stretch of country, empty and desolate from an electric tramway point
of view, i.e. from the Giant’s Causeway to Cork, except at Newry, Dundalk, Lurgan, and Dublin.
By far the greater number of these British and Irish tramways are on the overhead trolley system.
The 1896 Act provided for the establishment of a Light Railways Commission of three
members, whose special work was to facilitate the construction and working of tramways or light
railways in Great Britain and Ireland, the Commissioners being appointed by the Board of Trade.
Application for a Light Railway Order may be made for a county, borough, or district council
by any individual, corporation, or company, or jointly by councils, individuals, corporations, or
companies. Applications have to be referred to the Commissioners in the first instance, and, if
approved of, are placed before the Board of Trade for confirmation. Provision is made by the Act
for the purchase of land under certain conditions specified in the Lands Clauses Act. Provision is
also made for enabling local authorities to acquire any undertaking whose route passes through
their district, the time and terms of purchase being arranged by agreement between the promoters
and the municipalities, the terms of sale, usually thirty-five years’ purchase, being settled on the
basis of a fair market value of the line in full work, but with no allowance for compulsory
acquisition.
Local authorities, landowners, and adjacent railway companies have the right to object to
proposed lines. The local authorities, however, possess no power of veto, but generally the
Commissioners refuse applications from promoters if their schemes are strongly protested against
by the municipalities concerned.
To what extent this Act has been taken advantage of may be judged by the fact that last year no
fewer than forty-seven municipalities were stated to have disbursed, or to have decided to disburse,
eleven millions sterling in their electric tramways. In several instances the municipality owns the
tramways and leases them on certain conditions to large companies or syndicates, a kind of
compromise between absolute urban control and unrestricted private enterprise.
How it works in the provinces can be understood by taking as examples four of the largest
cities in Great Britain, viz., Glasgow, Liverpool, Manchester, and Birmingham.
THE GLASGOW TRAMWAYS

Glasgow, with a population of some seven hundred thousand, possesses the most successful
and lucrative system of municipal tramways in the world, the working for the year ending May,
1902, on a capital expenditure of nearly two millions, showing a gross revenue of £614,413, with a
gross balance of £200,371; and so large was the reserve fund in consequence, that it was applied to
the writing off of all expenditure on the old horse-traction plant and equipment, so that the capital
account included only the expenditure relating to the new (electrical) system of locomotion. In the
language of the bookmakers, the city of Glasgow’s tramways stood, financially, on velvet. In 1894
the Corporation began the service of tramways (heretofore leased by it to a private company) with
everything new—buildings, horses, and cars—their policy being a very frequent service at low
fares. Not satisfied with horses, they soon began to search about for some better method of
traction, and in 1899 resolved to substitute electricity on the overhead trolley system, and
accordingly the change was effected; new lines were from time to time constructed, until at the
present moment Glasgow possesses, including leased lines, 140 miles of single track and nearly six
hundred double and single-deck cars.
Unlike the somewhat haphazard fashion of London, the Glasgow tramway lines have been
planned in a skilful manner and on a definite system, to give means of transit from the north and
south and east and west of the city. It is divided into five separate and independent areas, each
supplied with current from its own sub-station, but these areas can be interconnected if necessary.
On a convenient side of the Clyde, with ample facilities for obtaining coal and water, is the
main generating station, built with a steel framing clothed with Glasgow plastic clay, two great
chimney-shafts, 263 feet high, towering above it. In this fine building is contained a mighty
specimen of what is called the three-phase distribution of electrical energy, the system being to
create the power at one centre and distribute it over a wide area; that is, electricity is produced in
the form of three-phase alternating current at a pressure of 6,500 volts, and sent on to five outlying
sub-stations, where it is transformed to a potential of 310 volts, and then converted from
alternating into continuous current at 500 volts, for working the cars. The total capacity of the main
station is:—
Three-phase plant, 10,000 kilowatts.
Direct-current plant, 1,200 kilowatts.

The engines used to produce this are of 16,000 h.p. capacity, while each of the generators is of
the great weight of ninety tons, almost the largest in existence for traction work.
Altogether, the tramway enterprise of Glasgow is in its magnitude and its good management
almost unique. The size of its power-house will be surpassed by that which supplies the Electrified
Metropolitan District Railway; but the wise and economical arrangement of its traffic can hardly
be beaten, and is a model to other large cities and towns contemplating the adoption of electric
tramway traction.
THE LIVERPOOL TRAMWAYS
On a large scale are the Liverpool Corporation Tramways, the total mileage being 127 of single
track, the rolling-stock 451 cars, and the capital a little over a million.
When the Corporation acquired the Liverpool United Tramways and Omnibus Company’s
undertaking, in 1897, they at once decided to use electricity on the overhead trolley system, instead
of horses. Singularly graceful centre and bracket poles with arched arms and scroll-work were
adopted in the wide thoroughfares, and in the narrow streets the overhead conductor-wire was
upheld by rosettes attached to buildings on each side.

The new cars are remarkably fine and comfortable, and include the Continental single-deck,
with a side entrance, and the double-deck, about 27 feet long, with doors at the ends, and with
three large, well-curtained plate-glass windows on each side. A special kind of staircase is fitted to
these double-deckers to enable people, the aged and infirm in particular, to descend in safety even
when the cars are in motion. They are also fitted with useful revolving route-indicators, which,
being illuminated, light up the upper deck as well. No one can grumble at the fares charged, which
are at the rate of one penny per stage of two miles. That these tramways are a great boon is shown
by the enormous number of passengers—nearly 100,000,000—carried last year.
At Pumpfields, near the Exchange and Waterloo Goods Stations, and at Lister, near Newsham
Park, are the power stations, each housing plant of 15,000 horse-power (up to 7,500 kilowatt
capacity). The energy is distributed to sub-stations, and thence to the cars at the safe orthodox
pressure of 500 volts.
The Liverpool tramway routes necessitate many twistings and turnings. The junction of lines at
the intersection of the London Road and Lime Street is a sight worth seeing, there being at that
place special trackwork with sixteen points.
THE MANCHESTER TRAMWAYS

Manchester—fifth largest city in the empire—has a wide district to serve, as the Corporation
works certain tramways in such districts as Stockport, Heaton-Norris, etc. Thus its track consists of
150 miles of single line, and its rolling-stock of 600 cars, worked on the overhead trolley system.
These cars are of three sizes, and carry respectively 67, 43, and 20 passengers, the smallest
cars being single-deck. The larger ones have six nicely-draped plate-glass windows on each side,
and the upholstery, fittings, and lighting are excellent.
The estimated capital expenditure is the same as at Glasgow, two millions sterling. A speciality
of the Manchester Tramways undertaking is its splendid car depôt, the site covering three acres,
two and a half of which is roofed over. The façade to Boyle Street is 700 feet long, and reminds
one of some large and picturesque public school, a tramway-car depôt being the last thing one
would take it to be. It is claimed to be the largest car-shed area in Europe, and the covered-in
portion is the most extensive in the world. In this and three other similar sheds and a few smaller
ones elsewhere all the cars are stabled. Formerly they were concentrated in one place.

FIG. 19. FAÇADE OF QUEEN’S ROAD CAR-SHED, MANCHESTER
CORPORATION TRAMWAYS
By permission of the Manchester Corporation Tramways.

The cars are of the British Thomson-Houston Company type, double-motored, and are fine
examples of elegance and solidity combined, and fitted with all the latest improvements for the

comfort of travellers.
THE BIRMINGHAM TRAMWAYS
Birmingham, as regards tramways, stands in a peculiar position. Its city area is restricted; it has
only short lengths of tram lines, and these require to be linked up with outlying districts. The lines
were leased to the City of Birmingham Tramways Company, but whether the Corporation will or
will not take them over now, has not yet been decided. However, by a majority of fourteen votes it
has sanctioned the substitution of electricity on the overhead method, and this is being proceeded
with; and when the transformation is complete Birmingham and district will have an electric
tramway system of nearly a hundred and ten miles. Its tramways have always been popular, and at
a charge of a penny for a three-mile ride—a record for cheapness—56,000 passengers made use of
them on Mafeking Day, no small proportion of a city of 522,182 inhabitants!
Before quitting the subject of tramways, it will be interesting to note the fares charged in
different parts of the world. In London they begin at a halfpenny. On the Continent they vary; for
example, in Berlin the fare is 1¼d. for two miles, and a halfpenny for each additional mile; in Paris
it is 3d. inside, with transfer ticket, and 1½d. on the platforms, or outside the car; in St. Petersburg
1¼d. and 1½d. is the fare; in Stockholm it is the curious sum of 1⅜d.; in Florence it is 1d. from the
suburbs to the city, and 1½d. across the city; in Cape Town it is 3d. for three miles; and in Canada
the fare averages 2½d., and 5d. after midnight.
PROVINCIAL RURAL TRAMWAYS
The memorable question once put to the House of Commons, “What is a pound?” to this day
has not met with a strictly accurate reply. The same may be said of the frequent inquiry, “What
constitutes a Light Railway?”
Under the Act of 1896 a Tube should officially be described as a Light Railway. So should a
Shallow Underground, an Urban Tramway, and a Rural Tramway. So, too, should a Brighton
Beach Line, or any short train running along a pier. So also should any railway line for the carrying
of minerals, worked by heavy sixty-ton locomotives, and hauling five or six hundred tons of ore at
a time! Reductio ad absurdum.
The originators of the Act did not define what a Light Railway really is, but they evidently had
in their minds, inter alia, that railways, unrestricted by Board of Trade regulations as to fencing,
sidings, gradients, and permanent stations, should be permitted to run along the high roads, acting
as feeders to the existing lines, to the benefit of the small towns, villages, and farms near which
they passed. Thus a pleasing vision unfolded itself of revived agricultural prosperity, of handy little
trams peacefully steaming along the highways, stopping, when hailed, at some convenient corner,
where the farmers’ waggons would be in waiting with produce to be taken away to market in
exchange for goods delivered to them.
It was a promising idea, for the cost of construction per mile would necessarily bear no
comparison with that of ordinary heavy railways. But in this form Light Railways were not
developed. Agriculturists abandoned the hope of any immediate relief, and it came to be
recognised that the Act meant a development, not of goods, but of passenger traffic, and that, so far
as extra-urban districts were concerned, Light Railways meant Tramways, just as they did in town
or city.
It may be asked, “Do not local railways answer all requirements of the ever-increasing
population and already congested districts? Whereabouts are these country tramways that we hear
so much about? and in what respects are they so useful and necessary?”
For goods the network of local railways covering the country is no doubt fairly sufficient, and
eventually, when well-organised services of electric-motor waggons aid in feeding them with

merchandise collected and delivered at the very doors of consignor and consignee, they will fully
answer their purpose; but for linking together city, town, village, and hamlet in the interests of
workingmen—in many districts the chief customers—they are almost useless. For this class,
wishing to get about quickly—going to and from their daily toil, paying visits to their sporting
pals, attending dog shows, football matches, etc., taking their wives and children shopping, and on
holidays going some distance afield—a local railway, even if close by, is of little use, with its rigid
time-table, its fixed stopping-places, its high fares, and its general formality. What they wanted,
and what, until the introduction of electric traction, they waited patiently for, was a service of
comfortable cars, that would pass their houses every few minutes, and would take them long stages
for, at the utmost, a twopenny fare.
To meet this want, in various parts of rural England, more especially in Staffordshire, horse
and steam tramways were tried, but the latter method, from mechanical reasons, proved to be a
failure. The rails weighed but 45 lbs. to the yard; they were set in iron chairs and laid on wooden
sleepers, and the engines were of the locomotive vertical boiler type. Soon it was found that the
weight of the water damaged the locomotive, and the incessant vibration and pounding shook the
track so much as to necessitate constant renewal, and the expenditure became so great that many
private Steam Tram Companies either wound up, were reconstructed, or were taken over by the
local authorities.
Unattractive was the appearance of these old-style tramcars—great cumbersome, top-heavy,
two-storied structures, drawn by what looked like a big iron box with a black funnel poking
through its lid. They were dirty, they smelt, the service was irregular and slow, and the fares were
too high.
MANUFACTURING CENTRES—GREAT BRITAIN
Studying an up-to-date map of Great Britain, one is struck by the fact that in the distribution of
cities, towns, and villages it resembles the stellar system, with London as the governing central
body, while lesser planets, each surrounded by groups of satellites (not very bright ones, it is true),
varying in size and importance, represent subordinate star centres. These have grown, and still
grow bigger and bigger, the suburbs of a large town reaching out farther and farther until they
touch the outskirts of the next town, so that in some districts an overgrowth of houses and factories
covers many a square mile.
In the quiet old days that are gone, a working-man, particularly if a weaver, could labour far
away in the country in some miniature workshop or in his own little room at home. But for years
past he has been compelled to trudge backwards and forwards to some big factory or mill, where
steam-power was concentrated, and run upon so economical a principle, that outside of it the
individual workman had no chance of gaining even the barest livelihood. With the advent of steam
the villages in certain parts of England were abandoned for the town, where clusters of great
workshops had sprung up. A new order of things arose, and operatives, if they could, lived within
the town boundaries. But as rates, taxes, and rent increased, they concentrated in outlying hamlets,
within walking

FIG. 20. VIEW NEAR DUDLEY STATION, SOUTH STAFFORDSHIRE,
SHOWING A STEAM TRAM-CAR
By permission of the Manual of Electrical Undertakings, Ltd., London

distance of their work. Thus these hamlets gradually became townlets, and eventually towns,
which in their turn developed into centres of industries—lesser lights revolving round the greater.
All over the kingdom manufacturing industries have a natural tendency to settle down in
particular localities favoured by the proximity of the raw material, and by railway or water
facilities. Thus Dundee, Aberdeen, and the North of Ireland are associated with linen and strong
textiles; the Eastern counties and Lincolnshire with agriculture; Warwickshire and Yorkshire with
machinery; Burton-on-Trent with beer; Coventry and Nottingham with cycles; and so on. Any
intelligent schoolboy could reel off a list of such towns and their products.
Swansea, with its great works for smelting copper and tin ore—the former brought from South
Australia, Chili, and Cornwall; the latter from the Straits Settlements and Cornwall—and its
manufactories of tin plates, bolts, and zinc goods, is the centre for neighbouring towns associated
with its industries, such as Porth, Pontypridd, and Penarth, which, together with the Mumbles, are
partially linked together by tramways.
Glasgow, where shipbuilding, armour-plate rolling, and locomotive constructing flourish, has
around it the towns of Gourock, Greenock, Rothesay, Coatbridge, and Bridge of Allan, all more or
less commercially interested in the great northern city.
Newcastle-on-Tyne and Sunderland, headquarters of England’s shipbuilding, are surrounded
by places connected with or engaged in kindred industries, as Tynemouth, Stockton, the
Hartlepools, Gateshead, Jarrow, and North and South Shields—the last four practically suburbs of
Newcastle—a fine field for electric tramways.
Then in Yorkshire we have such centres of the linen and woollen interests as Leeds, Bradford,
Huddersfield, Halifax, etc., begirt with townlets which are in process of being interconnected; and
further south, in South Lancashire, Burnley, Oldham, Ashton, Blackburn, Preston, Rochdale,
Bolton, Manchester, and Liverpool, together with endless smaller places—every one of them
engaged in our gigantic cotton trade—cover large thickly populated areas, supplied with tramway
means of intercommunication.
THE BLACK COUNTRY AND THE POTTERIES

A remarkable instance of the localisation of special industries, and of a city begirt with good-
sized towns, is to be found in the South Staffordshire Black Country, its central sun being the city
of Birmingham. While in the Potteries are a number of small towns almost touching one another—
star clusters, destined maybe eventually to coalesce into a single planet of the first magnitude. Here
humanity swarms.
Alighting from a train at any wayside station in the South or West of England, if one walks
along the main road, and avoids the villages, one may go for miles without meeting a soul. The
Londoner, whose nerves have been unstrung and jarred by incessant contact and friction with his
fellow-citizens for months at a stretch, has only to journey a few miles, say to Chertsey, Ewell,
Epsom, or anywhere in Herts or Surrey, and in a few moments he finds a peaceful solitude not
likely to be disturbed save by passing cycles or motor-cars. But in the Midlands, and for that matter
anywhere in the North, it is different. There the bulk of Britain’s population is concentrated. One
cannot go for a stroll without coming across individuals of all ages, who, although accustomed to
see many people, stare at every stranger after a fashion unknown in the home counties, as if he or
she were a wanderer from another planet. And should it be a child whose curiosity is thus aroused,
he will probably follow the stranger for miles, gaping at nothing!
In the past, the manners and customs of the Black Country folk were decidedly rough, based
on the principle of a blow first and an explanation afterwards. But this little trait has, under the
modern influence of inter-communication with the outer world, been considerably modified. They
work hard and “play” hard, and are given to week-end excursions and an annual “outing” to
Blackpool, Southport, Lytham, or other favourite seaside resort. They earn good wages and, if
steady, quickly save money and live in comfortable houses of their own; but if otherwise, their
“good pay” only accelerates the wretchedness of their surroundings. Lavish with their cash, they
are hospitable in the extreme; great consumers of plain beef and mutton, sweets and kickshaws
they relegate to the women and children; but they no longer—as was affirmed of puddlers and
miners during the boom of many years ago—drink champagne and feed their bull-pups on loin-
chops and rump-steak. They are keen on dogs, pigeons, and singing-birds. Dog-fights are a thing of
the past, of course, but it is whispered that suspiciously high-bred gamecocks are still to be seen
sub-rosa throughout the district!
Altogether they are not half as black as they are painted; neither is the aspect of their country,
though except in the neighbourhood of Birmingham it can hardly be called picturesque. They
represent the sturdy old Midland English, independent and brusque, whose confidence once gained
will not be betrayed.
Here, then, in the country called “Black,” is a concentration of industrial centres, each
possessing great natural wealth of coal and iron, and turning out in enormous quantities cutlery,
anvils, bolts, buttons, ironwork of all kinds, guns, hinges, locomotives, nails, pens, pins, rails,
rifles, screws, tin and zinc-lined goods, tools, tubes, etc.
In its eighty-square-mile area, between Wolverhampton and the headquarters of
“Chamberlainism” on the one side, and Stourbridge and Walsall on the other, dwell over a million
people, distributed among some twenty-one towns ranging in size and population from Quarry
Bank (8,000 inhabitants) to Wolverhampton (94,000), and including such familiar places as
Handsworth (38,000), Stourbridge (17,000), Tipton (33,000), Wednesbury (29,000), and West
Bromwich (68,000), all busily engaged in the industries before mentioned.
Such in a few words is the Black Country district, which the adjoining Potteries closely
resembles. A more promising field for tramway enterprise could hardly exist. No wonder that
George Francis Train in 1860 selected North Staffordshire for one of his earliest, though

unsuccessful, ventures—a two-mile tramway from Hartley to Burslem, in the very heart of the
Potteries.
THE NEW ORDER OF RURAL TRAMWAYS
Subsequently tramway companies came on the scene, with horses and steam traction, and—in
one instance—with electricity. There were five distinct enterprises: the South Staffordshire
Tramways Company, the Birmingham and Midland Tramways Company, the Dudley and
Wolverhampton Tramways Company, the Wolverhampton Tramways Company, and the Dudley,
Stourbridge, and District Electric Traction Company (a short line of about four miles).
Not only were these lines entirely separated and disconnected, involving tedious changing of
cars, but two of the five were actually of different gauge from the rest, making through
communication impossible. It was no system, merely a conglomeration of disjecta membra. The
tramway condition of the district became thoroughly unsatisfactory, utterly inadequate to the needs
of the travelling public. Matters gradually went from bad to worse, and a financial Lord Kitchener
was urgently needed to remodel everything.
He appeared in the form of a powerful organisation, the British Electric Traction Company,
with a share capital of £4,000,000, which entered into negotiations with the various companies and
with the local authorities controlling no fewer than twenty-two districts, into which the Black
Country area is divided. The proposition was to combine all the Black Country tramways into one
great system to be worked by electricity in the most up-to-date manner, to give frequent service, to
ensure rapid and comfortable communication between all parts, to straighten things out well, and
to adopt this motto, “One management, one method, one gauge,” provided the local authorities
would for some years suspend their rights under the Acts of 1870 and 1896 to buy the tramways
for practically the worth of old iron.
Some of the local authorities thought well of it. Others did not, contending that they, and not
the Company, ought to undertake the reform; while the rest saddled their adherence to the scheme
with such impossible conditions, that the negotiations dragged wearily on, and it was some time
before the great scheme was finally carried through at the cost of much trouble with the local
authorities in the matter of routes selected for the requisite extensions. In one instance the line,
instead

FIG. 21. VIEW AT CASTLE HILL, DUDLEY, SOUTH STAFFORDSHIRE. SHOWING AN ELECTRIC TRAM-
CAR
By permission of the Manual of Electrical Undertakings, Ltd., London.

of being carried in the natural way direct to the urban boundaries of a large town, was compelled
by the authorities of the area involved to turn off at an angle and to gain access to the town in an
utterly roundabout fashion, much as if in London, one was obliged in approaching St. Paul’s by
Ludgate Hill to deflect up the Old Bailey, and to reach the cathedral by way of Newgate Street.
One thing only is still wanted to make this Light Railway scheme (typical of other similar
ones) perfect, and this is that its cars should have running powers right into Birmingham and other
large towns, and it is to be hoped that before this book is published they will be granted. Travellers
do not want to change cars when they arrive at the municipal boundary. They want to move from
one centre of population to the other, to get in at the Birmingham starting-point, and to get out in
the centre of Walsall, West Bromwich, or Wolverhampton, as the case may be, or even to go
without changing as far as Kinver, on the edge of the Black Country, a favourite holiday resort
hitherto inaccessible to the manufacturing population.
In the North Staffordshire Potteries the British Electric Traction Company has pursued the
same policy as in the Black Country with excellent result, as may be judged by the number of
passengers in 1901. In the Potteries and the Black Country many millions made use of the
tramways, the system throughout being that of the overhead trolley, and the combined length of
track about 75 miles.
LOCAL AUTHORITIES AND RURAL TRAMWAYS
The whole question of local authority in its relation to rural tramways needs settling on a sound
common-sense

FIG. 22. CAMPS BAY, CAPE TOWN, AND SEAPOINT TRAMWAYS
By Permission of Dick Kerr & Co., London.

basis, making the requirements of travellers the dominating object to the exclusion of petty
differences and local aspirations and jealousy.[7]
If Great Britain is to be networked with these handy means of transport, and the interspaces of
town and village bridged over with cobweb lines of trams, an Act of Parliament should settle a
universal gauge, and on equitable terms provide for free running powers, whether in town or
country, and encourage an interchange of traffic.
It is constantly urged that it is better for cities and great towns to create tramway lines of their
own, and work them within their own boundaries, and that the task of dealing with the rural
interspaces should be left to the small towns and areas, and not to private enterprise. The
opponents of this principle argue that one great objection to municipal trams is that they are
compelled to work within artificial local boundaries, and that there are grave drawbacks to
municipal trading in any form. As to the interspaces, to work them by themselves would never pay,
and any interspaced tramway system would be almost useless without intimate connection with
urban centres as feeders, which is only obtainable by the uniform control afforded under joint stock
enterprise. Besides—say the objectors to municipal or rural council control—if private working is
the most economical way of running tramways in interspaces, it should be still more economical in
towns.
Surely, therefore, there would be no hardship in restricting the development of urban and rural
tramways to local authorities wielding power over areas of a certain size and importance, and the
loss to small communities of the power of objection or veto to large schemes ought not to be felt
by them. They and the landowners should take warning from the history of railways, and
encourage in every way the introduction and extension of tramways, which in remote districts
would vastly relieve the tedium of existence, enabling labourers and others to temporarily

exchange some dull little village for the comparatively lively market town at a nominal cost.
Whereas, in many instances, instead of welcoming this herald of a brighter and less monotonous
life, too often is repeated the scene immortalised in Punch some years ago. A brickfield: “Bill,
who’s that chap?” “Do’ant know. A stranger, I should think.” “Then heave ’arf a brick at his ’ed.”
Capitalists should be encouraged to embark in tramway enterprises that are bound to be
beneficial to everybody, and in which they would be entitled to a fair return of interest; for truly the
labourer is worthy of his reward.

CHAPTER XIV

THE SHALLOW UNDERGROUND SYSTEM

“Through the faithless excavated soil
See the unweary’d Briton delves his way.”
Blackmore.

IN LONDON

H ITHERTO we have been considering Metropolitan Electric Railways constructed at
considerable depths below the surface, or lifted up on high, as at the Liverpool Docks.
There is another system, however, and one that is strongly advocated by the London
County Council, at present chiefly as a means of linking together existing tram lines by taking the
cars underground through congested areas and bringing them to the surface again where the traffic
is less dense.
In its ever-increasing congested condition, London reminds us of a patient afflicted with
dropsy of long standing, susceptible to occasional alleviation, but hopelessly incurable. In Tudor,
Stuart, and Hanoverian days the town gave no signs of this malady; but with Queen Victoria’s
reign the germs of it became evident, and now the giant city lies prostrate in a state of helplessness
that has baffled the most skilful engineering physicians, whose remedies, trains and trams and
tubes, have been successful only in giving temporary relief to the sufferer, who forthwith resumes
and even increases his original bulk.
For ages the ocean, without breaking its bounds, has absorbed the rivers and streams running
into it; but imagine the process reversed, and the English and Irish Channels and the North Sea
unrestrictedly pouring their torrents into the Thames, the Forth, or the Liffey! Only one result
could ensue. The channels thus gorged with water, their currents would cease to flow. A similar
fate threatens London, into whose narrow and inelastic fairways an Atlantic of traffic is ever
pouring. One day the current will be unable to flow, and there will be a permanent condition of
“block.” Then, and only then, perhaps, will a partial migration of town to country bring about a
more natural state of things, and save this colossal city from utter collapse.
These shallow tramways of the London County Council are a novelty in England, but on a
large scale have been successfully adopted in Paris, Buda-Pesth, Boston, and New York. At present
the shallow subway which the Council has been authorised to construct at a total cost of £279,000,
commences at Theobald’s Road, Holborn, where it forms a junction with an existing surface
tramway, the property of the Council. Thence the line falls in level, until, in Southampton Row, it
runs beneath the street, whence, in a trench of inconsiderable depth, it passes along the new
thoroughfare, Kingsway, from Southampton Row to the new Strand crescent, Aldwych. There it
turns towards the Embankment, on gaining which near Waterloo Bridge it again comes out to the
surface. In its total length of about five-eighths of a mile it has four stations. Its motive power is
electricity on the underground conduit third rail system. The cars, running singly, and at frequent
intervals, are single-decked. It claims for its principle that the station platforms are readily
accessible, so that instead of having to descend a great number of steps, or to enter a lift to reach
the cars, passengers arrive there by means of a short well-lighted stairway; that the ventilation of
the tunnels is perfect, and the speed of the cars equal to that of the trains, and as they run singly

and close together, long waits are avoided, and thus they are specially suited for short-distance
travelling. It also claims a general immunity from vibration.
To thoroughly understand how a complete system of shallow underground works we must go
abroad to Paris, Buda-Pesth, Boston, and New York. I may remark that in describing this system a
certain amount of repetition is inevitable.
PARIS
Paris has its “Twopenny Tube,” or rather its equivalent. On July 30th, 1900, Londoners for the
first time travelled by a deep-level line from the City to Shepherds Bush, a distance of 5·77 miles;
and a few days earlier, on the 19th of the same month, the Electrical Chemin de Fer Métropolitain
de Paris—the main channel of an elaborate system that links together every district of the capital—
was opened for traffic. This chief artery connects at the fortifications, the Porte Maillot with the
Porte de Vincennes, a distance of 6·6 miles. In other words, it crosses Paris diagonally from north-
west to south-east; from a point at the north of the Bois de Boulogne to another at the north of the
Bois de Vincennes; the eighteen stations (including terminals) on the main line being Porte Maillot,
Rue D’Obligado, Place de L’Etoile (Arc de Triomphe), Avenue de L’Alma, Rue Marbœuf, Champs
Elyseés, Place de la Concorde, Tuileries, Palais Royal, Louvre, Châtelet, Hotel de Ville, St. Paul,
Place de la Bastille, Gare de Lyons, Rue de Reuilly, Place de la Nation, and Porte de Vincennes.
On the Métropolitain there is a three-minutes’ service of trains during the day, and a six-
minutes’ service at night. On the London Tube the intervals vary from two-and-a-half to three-and-
a-half minutes in the day, while at night they are the same as in Paris, both railways being open for
some twenty hours out of the twenty-four.
In Paris two classes of passengers are provided for: first and second. The former are called
upon to pay 2½d., the latter 1½d., for any length of journey. Up to nine a.m., second-class, or
workmen’s tickets, are issued for 2d., the return half being available for the remainder of the day.
Thus, as regards date of opening, length of line, service of trains, and average fares, there is a
close similarity between the English and French lines; but the system is widely different. In
London we burrow deep; in Paris they go just beneath the surface, the authorities after much
hesitation having adopted the shallow underground system. Our Tube trains are shot through huge
iron pipes penetrating the subsoil at depths varying from sixty to a hundred feet, and to get at the
rail level, passengers must take a perpendicular journey in a big lift. But their Parisian counterparts
trip down a few steps and along a brightly-lighted, white-tiled tunnel, so beautifully ventilated and
smokeless—electricity being the motive power—that an enthusiastic expert declares its
atmosphere to be “perfectly clean and sweet.” The tunnels are as near the surface as possible, and
on the greater part of the line the keystones of the masonry arches are only about 3 feet 6 inches
below the street level. The excavations were at first attempted by means of shields, as in “tubular”
work; but this had to be abandoned in favour of the time-honoured “cut and cover” plan employed
in the construction of our early underground railway.
When the great Parisian scheme is completed upon a twentieth-century model, much more
finished and convenient in many ways than any of ours in London, it will comprise a total length
of 38·86 miles of track, seven-tenths being laid in shallow covered trenches, the remainder in open
cuttings or on viaducts, the entire cost being estimated at twelve million sterling. An interesting
feature of the scheme is that each section is self-contained and ends in loops, so that shunting is
obviated. No trains run from any one distant strip of line into another, but where there are
crossings, or where the termini touch, there are stations to facilitate changing. This arrangement
ensures a rapid service, maintained with regularity and punctuality on each section. Like our
“Tube,” the success of the Parisian Métropolitain was from the first immense, and at the end of ten
months showed a return of over forty million passengers.

BUDA-PESTH
Along the Boulevard Andrassy at Buda-Pesth there is a shallow electric tramway built upon
similar principles, a few feet under the main thoroughfare, which is by no means a failure,
financially or otherwise.
BOSTON
Now let us cross the Atlantic, and note what has been effected at Boston and New York.
The former—the picturesque old-world capital of the State of Massachusetts, with its
population of over a million—is familiarised to every schoolboy who knows anything of history
and the War of Independence, with the city where the tea was thrown into the harbour by Colonials
disguised as Mohawks, an incident that indirectly brought about the creation of the United States.
It is a city also sacred to literati as being the home of Nathaniel Hawthorne, and is so old-fashioned
—or so excessively up-to-date, whichever you please—that, until recently, neither cabs,
omnibuses, tubes, or underground railways were to be found within its boundaries. What with the
uneven surface and the labyrinth of the streets, Boston is picturesque in spite of itself, and its old
buildings emphasize this. There are the two New England meeting-houses. The “Old South” has
been proudly preserved in its ancient state, although the ground on which it stands is almost as
valuable as that in the City of London. Architecturally, it is a brick barn, with a pretentiously ugly
steeple. “Old North” has an equally plain body, but from its steeple, as a tablet affixed to it sets
forth, “the signal lantern of Paul Revere warned the country of the march of the British troops to
Lexington and Concord.” King’s Chapel, another ecclesiastical antiquity of Boston, was, for a
quarter of a century after 1749, the place of worship of the official British colony, and accordingly
became an eyesore to the earnest puritanical Bostonians.
But Boston cannot, like Charlestown, South Carolina, boast of a St. Michael’s Church, famous
for its beautiful steeple, so greatly resembling that of St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields as to suggest that
probably they were both designed by the same architect, Gibbs, one of Wren’s pupils.
In the Act passed by the State Legislature authorising the construction of the Boston subway, it
was stipulated that its length should be some five miles, and its total cost not more than one and a
half million pounds sterling.
The construction of the subway was begun at the Public Gardens, where an incline, a hundred
yards long, carries the surface lines into the tunnel, passing under the edge of Boston Common to
Tremont Street. It is joined by a branch subway from Pleasant Street, where another incline leads
to the surface. From this junction the subway proceeds beneath the Tremont Street side of the
Common to Park Street, which is the central point of the system. Thence it is carried directly
beneath Tremont Street to Scollay Square, and by means of a bifurcation under Hanover Street on
the one hand and Cornhill on the other to a junction under Washington Street. The tunnel continues
under Washington Street to Haymarket Square, and immediately rises by an incline to Causeway
Street, where it connects with both the surface and the elevated lines. Wherever possible, the
subway was carried out by open excavations, and, as in the Paris Métropolitain, by the old-
fashioned “cut and cover” method. The roof of the tunnel is generally about three feet below the
surface, though in some places considerably lower. At and near the stations the subway sides are
lined with white glazed bricks, whitewash being used elsewhere.
There are five stations in the Boston shallow underground, viz. at Boylston Street, Park Street,
Adams Square, Scollay Square, and Haymarket Square. These are approached by short stairways,
protected from the weather by neat clock-surmounted kiosks, or small iron structures, in shape
resembling our cab shelters, and placed at convenient points, either on the sidewalks or—where
there is sufficient width—in the centre of the

FIG. 23. BOSTON SUBWAY, SHOWING ENTRANCE AT THE PUBLIC
GARDENS
By permission of the London County Council

roadway. Passengers can thus, by about twenty-five steps, go to and from the platforms in a few
seconds. The ticket-offices are at the bottom of the stairways. The passenger returns at Park Street
(the busiest station) are among the largest in the world, being 28,000,000 per annum.
The Boston surface street cars adopt the overhead trolley principle of electric traction, and the
elevated railway-cars the third rail system, both these systems being continued throughout the
subway.
The subway is illuminated electrically, but a considerable amount of natural light is also
obtained, especially at the stations; and Captain Piper, deputy of the New York Police, when on a
visit to London last February, discussing the question of ventilation in tube railways, gave it as his
opinion that the freshest air he had “struck” in an underground railway was at Boston. “The air,” he
said, “is excellent.”
The subway is, of course, perfectly clean, smokeless, and comparatively quiet; neither in the
streets can any noise be heard from the cars that are continually passing close beneath. By an
extension of the subway under Boston harbour, the surface lines in the district of East Boston are
connected with the main system, thus making the entire length eight miles of single track.
NEW YORK

In New York, after much careful consideration of the advantages and disadvantages of deep
tunnels (tubes) and shallow railways, the Rapid Transit Commissioners decided upon the latter as
being likely to give the best facilities for quick travelling. On account of its peculiar peninsular
shape, admitting of extension in one direction

FIG. 24. NEW YORK SUBWAY IN COURSE OF CONSTRUCTION. CAR
TRAFFIC MAINTAINED
By permission of the London County Council

only, the problem of transportation in the Empire City is comparatively easy, the routes being
straight, and no necessity existing for intercommunication as in London. But, on the other hand,
the number of persons to be carried morning and evening is greater.
Instead of the arched roof and masonry side-walks of the ordinary underground, there is a
rectangular structure with a framework of steel beams riveted together, concrete enclosing the
erection completely at the top and sides, and forming the bottom, rows of steel columns helping to
support the roof between the tracks—in other words, a kind of Britannia Bridge let into the surface
of the earth. The line has four tracks, the two centre ones being reserved for an express service (30
miles an hour), with stations 1½ miles apart. On the other tracks the stations are closer together,
about four to the mile. So that there are two kinds of stations; one with platforms on the outside of
the outer (or slow) track (at which only local trains stop), and another with platforms for fast trains
only, and island platforms for either local or express trains. At the former stations the subway is
sufficiently deep to allow of a bridge over the entire four tracks, with staircases leading to the
various platforms. By means of loops, and, in places, by the lowering of the express track beneath
the local tracks, crossings and switchings at the termini are, as in the Paris Métropolitain,
eliminated, and the cars run continuously without any shunting whatever.
Its general scheme is as follows. Starting with a loop round the General Post Office, a four-
track route is taken direct to the Grand Central Station in 42nd Street. It then turns west along 42nd
Street to Broadway, and proceeds under Broadway to 104th Street, a distance of seven miles. Here
the four tracks divide, a

FIG. 25. NEW YORK SUBWAY, SHOWING HOW IT WAS BUILT
By permission of the London County Council

double track continuing along Broadway to Kingsbridge, and another double track going in an
easterly direction under the Harlem river to the Bronx district. Each of these branches is seven
miles long, making a total length, for the whole system, of twenty-one miles, seven being for four
track and fourteen for double track. The northerly ends of the double-track line are on the surface
for a combined distance of about five miles, the remainder being shallow underground. At
convenient points inclines lead to the surface from the subway, and are linked to street trams and
elevated railroads. Electricity is exclusively used for traction and lighting, and the cost of the entire
scheme was originally estimated at £7,000,000.
Now, what is the conclusion to be come to as to the adaptability of the shallow underground
system to our vast metropolis, whose station at Liverpool Street is the busiest in the world, with its
“turnover” of forty-five millions of passengers per annum; St. Lazare, at Paris, coming next with
forty-three millions?
In newly-constructed thoroughfares provision for shallow subways, and for sewers, pipes,
cables, etc., can be easily made; but in old-established streets the difficulty and expense in making
them would be formidable, as vaults and cellars used for business purposes frequently extend right
across the narrow carriage-ways, and a perfect network of conduits would have to be displaced and
moved either below or alongside the subway.
Some idea of the cost of interfering with sewers may be gathered by the fact that in
constructing the New York subway an entirely new outfall sewer, over six feet in diameter, had to
be built one mile in length! On the other hand, labour is cheaper in this country than in America,
and in London there is no rock to be removed as in New York.
In conclusion, I would quote from the report of Lieutenant-Colonel Yorke, who was sent over
to Paris two or three years ago by the Board of Trade to inspect the Métropolitain. He thinks that as
regards convenience for passengers and economy of working, the balance of advantage lies with
the shallow tunnel or subway as compared with the deep-level tube. But he hesitates a little when
confronted with the thought of what would happen to London while its roadways were in process
of being undermined. The difficulties in the way of adopting the subway would, he says, be great,
though he does not emphatically declare that he considers them prohibitive; and he approves of the
attempt made to introduce the system in the manner adopted by the London County Council
beneath the new street between Holborn and the Strand.

CHAPTER XV

HORSELESS VEHICLES—ELECTRICAL AND OTHERWISE

“Cars without horses will go.”—Mother Shipton.

PRIVATE MOTOR-CARS

T HE above prediction, constantly quoted at the advent of railways, is being realised with the
utmost exactness. Except the late craze for cycling, nothing is more remarkable than the boom
in the motor-car.
Prior to the passing of the “Locomotives on Highways Act” in 1896, motoring was an
impossibility. Even then its advance was slow, and until about three years ago motor-cars were
decidedly unpopular. The London street boys—miniature representatives of public opinion—
derided them, and, with their usual fiendish lack of sympathy, rejoiced when they came to grief;
while ’bus-drivers and cabmen ironically likened all automobiles to traction engines, cherishing
the delusion that they continually broke down, cost a small fortune to maintain, and, worse than all,
dislocated every bone in their occupants’ bodies.
This contempt reached a climax when certain lemon-coloured electric cabs were seen plying
for hire, ugly to look at and limited in speed; while simultaneously a line of steam omnibuses, so
cumbersome and weighty

FIG. 26. ELECTRIC CARRIAGE ENTIRELY OF BRITISH
CONSTRUCTION
By permission of Henry F. Joel & Co., London

as to really merit comparison with traction engines, began to run to Victoria Station.
But an extraordinary and rapid change has come over popular taste, and nothing is needed to
bring motor-cars into universal use, save a lowering of their cost; for even the cheapest are rather
beyond the means of people with moderate incomes. This may be one reason why they are so
fashionable, though the King’s marked predilection for travelling by them has done much to make
“motoring” the correct thing; and His Majesty has recently consented to become a patron of the
Automobile Club.

Before the advent of the motor-car, Society, though tired of “biking” and craving for a novelty,
could not tolerate the notion of being seen in any other than a well-horsed vehicle. Society now
thinks differently, as evidenced by a stroll in the Park during the season. There, in the midst of
graceful landaus and other equipages drawn by the most splendid horses in the world, may be seen
endless electric and steam barouches, broughams, victorias, and cars, all perfectly noiseless, and
magnificent petrol motor-cars (not noiseless!), resplendent with brass and oxidised silver fittings
and upholstered in morocco, whose fair occupants are smartly dressed in tailor-made motoring
gowns or, on warm days, in ordinary carriage toilettes.
Some of the fashionable hotels own big cars and run them in lieu of coaches for their
customers’ benefit to various places near London; while, to the vexation of omnibus companies,
motor waggonettes, duly authorised by Scotland Yard, ply to and from Putney and Piccadilly
Circus, always “full up” with people, no longer the butt (as they used to be), but the envy, of
pedestrians. And these public cars, though not perfect, are an advance upon omnibuses, and do not
break down more frequently than horsed conveyances.
In the country motor-cars have become indispensable, more especially to landed proprietors,
with houses always full of visitors who, with their luggage, have to be conveyed to and from the
station. They are much used for race-meetings and for conveying shooting parties to the covert
side, stubble, or moor, in comfort, golfers to the links, and fishermen to the riverbank; picnics
would be failures without them; and delightful excursions to all kinds of outlying places are
arranged by the host, proud of “motoring” his guests, who thus are made acquainted with bits of
beautiful scenery they would otherwise have remained ignorant of; as in the case of the King’s and
Queen’s visit to Chatsworth last January, when a feature of the programme was a series of motor-
car tours in North and West Derbyshire. In fact, the motor is a most important factor in English
country life, and the art of managing it is gradually superseding that of riding, driving, and four-in-
hand coaching. Eheu!
Horseless vehicles are not actual novelties. They have merely been in abeyance while the
perfecting of our iron roads has proceeded. The earliest practical specimen emanated from an
inventor named Guyniot a hundred and thirty years ago, but nothing commercially serious came of
it, and the idea slept. In 1786 William Symington produced his steam-engine, to run upon an
ordinary road. It had the condenser and the ratchet-motion used in his steamboat, an invention of
which he was the originator. The boiler and funnel were in the front, a coach on C-springs between
them, and the steering gear, with a kind of bicycle handle-bar, at the rear. The machine, it was said,
worked well.
Then, in 1821, a steam-coach by Griffiths attracted much attention, being the first self-
propelled vehicle to ply for passengers on British roads. It had a boiler with water-tubes as now
used in the Serpollet and Belleville systems for motor-cars. In appearance it somewhat resembled
the Symington, but carried a double coach mounted on railway springs.
Walter Hancock’s three-wheeled steam-coach of 1828 looked like a tricycle with a big funnel,
and was propelled by a pair of oscillating cylinders working the double-cranked axle of the
steering-wheel.
In 1859 the Marquis of Stafford had a steam-coach built that weighed less than a ton. With its
chain-action it anticipated the modern bicycle: in front it had a kind of bath-chair seat facing the
steering gear. In this vehicle Lord Stafford and party of three made trips at from nine to twelve
miles an hour over heavy roads without any difficulty, it being easy to guide and remarkably
steady. In these steam coaches the funnels appear to have been placed in the rear.
All these ideas, though from one point of view crude, undoubtedly represented

“...such refraction of events
As often rises ere they rise.”

The motor-car industry in Great Britain is flourishing, and it is estimated that out of a total of
some ten thousand horseless carriages in the country one-tenth are of home manufacture (the
remainder being French or American), a small proportion, truly, but a great increase upon the
number built in 1890; and at the Reliability Trials of the Automobile Club last September (1902),
thirty-five of British make took part in the contest, and only twenty-six of Continental or American
origin, a most satisfactory feature to those who are eager to see British makers second to none in
motor-car construction, especially, as the aim of the competition was to encourage the building of
machines that would be thoroughly dependable in all conditions of road and weather.

FIG. 27. A “CROWDUS” ELECTRIC CARRIAGE
By permission of the Fischer Motor Vehicle Syndicate, London.

At the last Crystal Palace Automobile Show, national vanity was certainly gratified. Not only
was the exhibition the largest ever held in the country, but was a concrete example of the
remarkable progress of an industry which, so far as these islands are concerned, started lamentably
late in the day. There were brought together at the Crystal Palace about seven hundred and fifty
motor-propelled vehicles of every class, ranging from the powerful steam lorry, capable of
transporting a load of 7½ tons, to the latest “flier,” light and elegant of construction, and costing
anything up to some £3,000. Motor tricycles and bicycles formed a strong section. The
cosmopolitan character of the exhibition is shown by the fact that among the two hundred or so
exhibitors were the leading English, French, Dutch, Italian, and German firms.
By general consent the show was regarded to have made plain the fact that in efficiency and
reliability the English maker has drawn at least level with his foreign rival, while, so far as the
production of motors for commercial purposes is concerned, he still stands far ahead.
Automobiles are of all sizes up to magnificent 40-or 60-horse-power racers. For town use there
are broughams, victorias, landaus, and landaulettes (open or closable for country work), the

phaeton with four seats, placed two by two, looking forward, and the tonneau—a kind of small
omnibus with a movable back—with the two rear seats in the corners.
Sometimes cars are run with six seats arranged in three pairs, with plenty of room both for the
driver and the coveted box-seats. Most cars of either pattern have a glass front screen, while some
have a fixed roof as well. The greater number are driven by the use of petrol, the machinery being
in front under what is called the “bonnet,” and the ease with which the oil can be obtained has
great advantages for a touring expedition.
Steam is also employed for motor-cars, and is practically noiseless, but there are obvious
objections to its use, however skilfully the working parts are constructed.
In London, electromobiles are extremely popular, and no wonder, for there is no smell, no
vibration, and no noise; the speed attainable is great, and they are under perfect control, advantages
involving the use of storage batteries, the recharging of which is a lengthy operation, seldom taking
less than five hours. But, as Mr. Llewellyn Preece observed about twelve months

FIG. 28. AN ELECTRIC VICTORIA WITH BRITISH STORAGE-
BATTERIES
By permission of the Electric Power Storage Co., Ltd., London

ago, “this condition of affairs is gradually disappearing; private electric carriages are now to be
seen in London, and their number is increasing. Cars can be obtained capable of running to
Brighton, Portsmouth, and other places within seventy or eighty miles of the metropolis.” (i.e. on
one charge. They may be called “short-tour cars.”)
Electric town-cars are generally of the landaulette type—for theatre-going, and for paying
visits in such inaccessible suburbs as Stoke Newington, Balham, and Hampstead. They carry from
two to four passengers, can attain a speed of fourteen miles an hour, and will run forty miles
without recharging.
A long-distance electric car, to compete with petrol, has yet to be made, but it will shortly be
possible to obtain one of moderate weight at a reasonable price that will cover one hundred and
twenty miles on a single charge; and, as a matter of fact, tours of more than a thousand miles (from
London to Glasgow and back) have been satisfactorily accomplished.
PUBLIC CONVEYANCES

The perfect motor-omnibus, and, for that matter, the perfect ’bus of any kind, has yet to arise,
and is suggestive of Darwinism in the length of time required for its evolution. But can London
and the long-suffering traveller wait ten million years or so—putting up meanwhile with the
inconvenience of existing vehicles—until the omnibus companies wake up, or are superseded by
more enterprising business adventurers?
Why, for instance, should all omnibuses be stuffy? There was a reason for it when their floors
were covered with straw and they were shut in with doors. But now there are no doors, and there is
nothing to harbour damp; yet even when the passengers sitting at the entrance of the omnibus are
assailed by icy blasts, those at the far end are in an atmosphere of mustiness strongly suggestive of
stables. Then, on days when the roads are greasy, these vehicles crawl along, often taking an hour
and a half to travel from Fulham to Liverpool Street (a distance of about six miles). Upon such
minor nuisances and annoyances as the exiguous space (about 2 feet 6 inches) between the seats,
ticket-giving and ticket-examining, the jarring of brakes, the rattling of loose coach-bolts, the
lurching of the top-heavy structure, the windows that will not open, the glare and dust in summer,
the Cimmerian darkness in winter and at night, the stout people who take up too much room, the
wet umbrellas and odoriferous waterproof cloaks, the exasperating and often unnecessary stopping
every few hundred yards to the distress of the poor animals, it is needless to dilate. We experience
them every day of our lives.
But better times are in store for the horses, and better times for our children (perhaps even for
ourselves), who will see in London’s streets electric omnibuses in which it will be a delight to
travel.
Between Oxford Circus and Cricklewood (not far from Hendon) are now running improved
motor-omnibuses built in Scotland for a London syndicate, to the requirements of the Chief
Commissioner of Police. It will be remembered that some years ago a very large Thorneycroft
steam ’bus plied for custom. It carried thirty-six passengers, but, turning the scale at three tons, it
was of illegal weight as a vehicle, and should have come under the definition of a traction engine
with speed limited to four miles an hour, and preceded by a man with a red flag. So it was
ultimately withdrawn.
But the new “Stirling” steam omnibuses are only 32 cwt. when empty. The engine is of 12
horse-power, and is geared for three forward speeds of 4½, 9, and 14 miles per hour, with one slow
reversing speed, while by a clever contrivance the driving machinery ceases to act if 14·2 miles be
exceeded, both steering gear and brakes being under perfect control. Handsomely fitted up, with
large windows that can be taken bodily out in hot weather, and with comfortable leather-covered
spring seats, the new ’buses are a decided step in the right direction.
At the last meeting of the London General Omnibus Company the deputy-chairman stated that
there was no kind of motor traction that would pay the company to take up. If anything was done
in that direction it would be in the use of petrol. Steam was of no use, because of the great
vibration, and he doubted if the Government would permit 15,000 such omnibuses to run over the
streets. In his opinion the time to take up motor omnibuses had not yet arrived.
But the London Road Car Company has taken a different and more far-sighted view of the
situation, and a combination of petrol and electricity is now to be tested by it.
Cars of the Fischer combination pattern have arrived from America. Each has a 10 horse-power
petrol engine which drives a dynamo, the current from which is used to work a motor acting
directly on the wheels.
This may, perhaps, seem a needless complication, but there is much method in it. A 10 horse-
power engine is not sufficiently powerful to drive a fully-laden ’bus up a hill at any reasonable
pace, but there are many places where a ’bus will run by its own weight, and needs no engine. The

new car is provided with accumulators. When little or no power is required by the motor, the
current is switched on to the accumulators, so as to store up a reserve for hill-climbing. So when
necessary, the car draws on the reserve in the accumulators, and with them and the dynamo
develops not 10 but 20 horse-power, enough to take it up and over any hill that ’buses climb.

FIG. 29. A “FISCHER” COMBINATION OMNIBUS
Capacity fifteen passengers; weight, 2 tons 13 cwt.; speed, 12 miles an hour
By permission of the Fischer Motor Vehicle Syndicate, Ltd., London

The manager of the Road Car Company is of opinion that the new vehicles will carry from
twelve to twenty passengers. Owing to the greater speed of the motors, however, the passenger
accommodation provided by, say, half a dozen such cars would be greater than that of a similar
number of omnibuses, for the service would be more frequent. Not much increase of speed can be
hoped for in congested areas, but outside these the motor should be able to run half as fast again as
the horsed ’bus.
There exists, however, no reason why a still more improved and refined omnibus service
should not be started, electricity alone being adopted, instead of steam, petrol, or a combination.
Runs of seventy and eighty miles without recharging are perfectly feasible by using standard long-
distance batteries, and would suffice for the daily journeys of the omnibus, while the recharging
could be effected with little or no trouble after working-hours.
Motor-omnibuses, besides working on the regular routes, can be run on the tramway time-table
system on tramway sections where there is little traffic; while for developing scantily-populated
districts and accustoming people to travel, automobile public conveyances are perfect agencies, the
very fact that they can choose their own route accentuating this great advantage; and on special
occasions, for instance when exhibitions are held in places inaccessible by tramways, they will be
a source of considerable profit.
Our provincial towns (take Eastbourne and Hastings for example) are beginning to wake up on
the subject, and many of them have adopted or contemplated the starting of some form of horseless
omnibus, in several cases the motive power being electricity. Across the Atlantic automobile ’buses
are run by the Fifth Avenue Stage Company of New York City down Fifth Avenue, and have
proved most popular; while in Chicago there are three lines of electric omnibuses successfully
competing with the street cars for patronage. They are double-decked, seating forty passengers,
and when they are “full-up” express speed is put on, and there are no more stoppages until the
down-town district is reached.

As to four-wheeled cabs, they are hopelessly behind the times, though excellent ones may be
evolved out of the landaulette type of electromobiles. During sixty-two years of sullen toleration
on the part of the public, the growler has improved but little, and it remains a mystery why in the
streets of the world’s metropolis comfortable and comely private vehicles cannot be hailed for hire,
as in other cities.
New and improved cabs, such as the “Brougham,” the “Clarence,” and the “Chesterfield,”
from time to time appear in our streets, and inspire hope that a general reformation is about to take
place, and that neat little coupés will be universal. But in some unaccountable manner, after a brief
season they disappear from public view—as did the lemon-coloured electric broughams of a few
years ago—relegated to some mysterious region where vehicular failures find employment when
banished from Modern Babylon.

CHAPTER XVI

HORSELESS VEHICLES, ELECTRICAL AND OTHERWISE (continued)

MOTOR-CARS IN WARFARE

T HE question of mechanical traction in war is of the gravest importance, the increasing size of
armies and the large area they cover when in action, necessitating the employment of some
form of haulage other than that of railways or horses.
For bringing up guns and their ammunition at a critical moment automobiles are of the greatest
value. At the Motor-car Reliability Trials last autumn there was present a military officer of
considerable experience who was much impressed with the possibilities of the motor in battle. If,
he argued, sixty cars could run down from London to the South Coast easily in three hours
carrying an average of four passengers each, the same number of horseless vehicles could convey
sixty machine-guns to Brighton in a similar time. A corps of these might, he said, have proved
extremely handy in the late South African campaign. To illustrate this, he pointed out that quick-
firing guns carried on automobiles might possibly have ended the Boer War after the action of
Poplar Grove. He was present on that occasion, and could speak with authority. All the enemy had
been routed out of their far-reaching trenches and were in full flight. Then was the time to push
home the attack, but cavalry and infantry were thoroughly done up by the great flanking movement
and were unable to follow up their advantage. In full sight of our army, the Boers scuttled away
along the plain with only a few desultory shells fired after them. “Now,” said the officer, “if we had
only possessed a few automobiles with guns on that occasion we should have scored very heavily.
The veldt was level enough for the purpose. A big victory at that critical moment might have
thoroughly demoralised the Boers, already much disheartened by Cronje’s defeat a short time
before at Paardeberg, and so caused them to surrender without much ado.”
No doubt the gallant soldier took rather a sanguine view of the situation; but of one thing he
might have been certain, viz., that at that time neither an unenterprising War Office, nor a Colonial
Department capable of requisitioning ordinary infantry from Australia to act against the wily
mounted Boer, would for one moment have thought of sending motor-cars out for the purpose he
suggests!
Not only for light artillery, but for heavy guns, motors can now be used in warfare, and Lord
Roberts had a road-train constructed for South Africa sufficiently armoured to withstand rifle-fire,
and powerful enough to draw a couple of heavy guns with their crews and ammunition, the motive
power being steam.
In the prosaic work of conveying stores, motor-tractors with lorries are fast becoming integral
parts of our complicated war-system, and the report of the trials held at Aldershot in December,
1901, is decidedly in favour of their employment on a large scale. The tests were severe, and
included two days’ running (with full loads) of thirty miles a day, and a march of 197 miles (also
with full loads) in six consecutive, days on roads both hard and soft, and even over boggy ground,
the gradients being various, and in places very stiff. The first prize was awarded to the
Thorneycroft Steam Waggon Company, but although the committee believed that these steam
lorries were serviceable and useful for the present, they were much struck with the great
possibilities of machines burning heavy oil. Their observations were as follows:—
“Compared with horse-draught, these trials have shown that self-propelled lorries can transport
five tons of stores at about six miles an hour over very considerable distances on hilly, average

English roads under winter conditions. The load transported by each single lorry (five tons) if
carried in horse-waggons of service pattern would overload three G.S. waggons, requiring twelve
draught horses, besides riding horses, whose pace would not ordinarily exceed three miles an hour.
Moreover, the marching of 197 miles in six consecutive days would not have been accomplished
by horses even at that speed without the assistance of spare horses.”
To this report appeared the following appendix of considerable importance:—
“The committee, in carrying out the tests, travelled in motor-cars, and as a result of their
experience they remark, ‘The committee desire to bring to special notice the incidental
demonstration afforded by these trials of the great possibilities for staff work, and for work in
connection with the command of long transport trains, of the motor-car. No vehicles drawn by
horses could have possibly covered the distances or kept up the speeds required; portions of the
roads, sometimes miles in length, had to be traversed and retraversed several times, and at speeds
beyond the capabilities of horse-flesh. Riding horses would have been knocked up to an extent
necessitating large relays. The staff officer, moreover, instead of being fatigued, is always
comparatively fresh at the end of the day.’ ”
No wonder that the Army, from the Commander-in-Chief downwards, is quickly becoming
devoted to motoring. The quantity of work that can be got through by means of the automobile is a
revelation to those who have been used to travelling by means of horses.

FIG. 30. THE “HERCULES” TRACTION ENGINE, AS USED DURING
THE CRIMEAN WAR
By permission of Sampson Low, Marston, & Co., London

During the Crimean War, Boydell’s traction machine was used to haul open trucks on the road
and across country. Its engine, the “Hercules,” was fitted with a curious arrangement, which, by
means of rails attached in six sections to the wheels, enabled it to lay down and take up its own
track as it went along.
In the South African campaign the military traction engines did some excellent work, and, as
they rolled over the plains, startled the Kaffirs out of their senses at the unwonted sight of what
they probably thought was some new and monstrous form of rhinoceros.
It has yet to be decided what is the best motive power for lorry cars in warfare, both oil and
steam motors having, as compared with those driven by electricity, the disadvantage that the
machinery moves by a series of shocks. Doubtless the ideal power would be one that acted evenly.
The electric motor is superior to all others in the regularity of its action, and its steering is most
readily effected. All that is wanted to adapt electric traction to military purposes is a perfected
storage battery, and the day may not be far distant when extensive use will be made of light
accumulators capable of being safely carried and of being recharged as readily as a steam engine
can be supplied with fuel.
MOTORS IN AGRICULTURE

In England the use of steam for agricultural machinery has hitherto been confined to the
purpose of ploughing and threshing. But coal in some districts is dear, and farmers are beginning to
find that oil engines are more economical, there being no loss of fuel in the sudden stopping of
work during wet weather; but petrol has a nasty trick of not vaporising readily when it is frosty,
and here electricity steps in with an admirable force-motif.
With a dependable electro-motor, the farmer may work his self-binder all day long in the
harvest-field, and at-night send it up to market with produce. Moreover, the motor may help to
plough and harrow in the winter, and when there is no work to be done it costs nothing, having—
unlike the horse—no stomach to fill.
In fact, the successful adaptation of the motor to farming may solve the ever-present labour
problem, and do much to resuscitate the agricultural industry, while fruit and vegetable growers
may find it invaluable, making them independent of high railway rates and bad train service. But,
although the application of the automobile to agriculture is only in the experimental stage, it cannot
be doubted that, in some shape or other, it will come to the cornfield, the orchard, and the market
garden, while the modern farmer will welcome it gladly.

FIG. 31. A TEN-TON ELECTRIC TROLLEY
By permission of the Anglo-American Motor Car Co., Ltd., London

Probably it will begin, as was suggested by Mr. Rider Haggard before the Norfolk Chamber of
Agriculture at Norwich, in the shape of an agricultural post. His plan was to enlarge the present
system of parcel-post so that one hundred packages, each of 100 lbs. in weight, should be carried
in the same way as parcels of only 10 lbs., and that produce of any sort, such as a crate of apples,
the carcase of a sheep, a basket of flowers, etc., should be delivered the next morning to whatever
part of England the goods were consigned.
MERCANTILE MOTORS
The prosaic use of motors is increasing rapidly. In our streets are frequently seen steam or
petrol lorries for the heavy goods of brewers, stone-merchants, builders, contractors, engineers,
asphalt-paving companies, etc.; substantial vans for wholesale manufacturing houses and great
establishments, such as Bryant and May’s, Maple’s, Harrod’s, Whiteley’s, and Barker’s; lighter
vehicles for smaller tradesmen, carts for county council and borough council work; a few fire-

engines and ambulance waggons; while in the country any number of motors are used by
shopkeepers to deliver their goods for miles around.

FIG. 32. AN ELECTRIC TRADESMAN’S-VAN
By permission of the Automobile Co. of Great Britain, London

In fact, the mercantile use of motors has grown so much, that before long we may even see
“Black Maria” delivering and picking up its daily quantum of détenus through the medium of
stored-up electricity.
We must just glance at the subject of motor-bicycles, driven by petrol and “sparked” by
electricity. They are beginning to be much used for getting about quickly, for trailers, and as
sporting machines for “breaking the record.” In September last year, at the Crystal Palace, some
extraordinary results were obtained by them in the matter of speed, one of them covering no less
than fifty miles in an hour and eight minutes!
Sir Martin Conway’s opinion, humorously delivered this year to the Society of Arts, respecting
“stupid cyclists” and motor-cycles, is worth recording. He said that the first thing on which he
desired knowledge concerning motor-cycles was how he was to fall off, as he fell off every
machine on wheels some time or other; next, how long it would take a man to understand the parts
in a motor-cycle, or whether they were hopelessly removed from the range of the ordinary stupid
person; then, how the thing vibrated; and, finally, which of them did not break down. He said that
he had been told that the pleasure with a motor-car was considerable when it went, and the
annoyance even more considerable when it did not go.
Motors are everywhere, and are used for every purpose. There are motors in the Equatorial
Free States of the Congo, where there is no energetic policeman, stop-watch in hand, to time the
“driver” and summon him; and one day—who knows?—there may be motor-cars in use at the
North Pole.
The motor has even been the indirect cause of political upheavings, for it is said that the
revolution in Morocco came to a head because the fanatical tribal allies of the Pretender resisted,
amongst other European articles, the introduction of automobiles into the country, and opposed
their use by the enlightened emperor, as too progressive, and not in accordance with the
Mussulman faith.

FIG. 33. ANOTHER TYPE OF THE “FISCHER” COMBINATION
OMNIBUS
By permission of the Fischer Motor Vehicle Syndicate, London

Meals are sent out in motor-vans by the London Distributing Kitchen Company from its well-
equipped premises near the Army and Navy Stores, the breakfasts, luncheons, and dinners being
placed in air-tight baskets in aluminium receptacles. In Manchester, for some time past, “meals by
motor” have been an accomplished fact, and most popular and lucrative the scheme has proved.
Motoring has its romantic side. For instance, in France—the birthplace of the automobile—
abduction by motor has been initiated, and our lively neighbours may possibly contemplate the
revival of that mediæval custom of wedlock by force. This young lady, however, seems to have
been a not unwilling party to the transaction.
Going to school by motor has also been made practicable across the Channel. For some months
the Ecole Lacordaire, in Paris, has been running a Serpollet steam omnibus, which collects the
pupils and conveys them to and from the school. The day’s run gives a total of sixty miles.
Monsieur Serpollet has lately carried out an interesting test with the vehicle. He made a run of
sixty miles with twelve passengers, and the cost for petrol was 1s. 2d. per passenger, or rather more
than four miles for a penny. The omnibus averaged eighteen miles an hour.[8]

CHAPTER XVII

HORSELESS VEHICLES, ELECTRICAL AND OTHERWISE (continued)

SPEED OF MOTOR-CARS

T O motorists the pressing question of the day is speed. In England the motor-car was in its
infancy when the present law came into force. Before its birth, no mechanically propelled
carriage could travel along the highway faster than four miles an hour; but six years ago a
determined attempt was made to adapt the law to the exigencies of modern traffic. Fourteen miles
an hour was decided upon as the maximum speed, and the Local Government Board subsequently
reduced the limit to twelve miles. But these regulations are now out of date.
A few years ago there was a great outcry against cycle speeds. That has died out, not because
cyclists ride more slowly, but because the public has come to realise that, with a readily
controllable vehicle like the bicycle, the greater speeds are not dangerous. Similarly the public is
now much exercised in mind concerning speeds of twenty to twenty-five miles an hour by motor-
cars. It will not be long before they realise that these velocities are quite safe under certain
conditions, and that the motor-car might almost under any circumstances be allowed to travel twice
as fast as a horse, indeed even faster. It is said that this year the speed of the motor-car is expected
to approach a hundred miles an hour. The Hon. C. S. Rolls came very near to attaining it at
Welbeck last February, when he made an attempt on the flying kilometre record. The best of four
runs gave the time of 27 seconds, which is a speed of 82⅘ miles per hour, and 1⅕ seconds better
than Mr. Jarrott’s run over this course last year. Whether it will rank as a world’s record is not
certain, as the road in the Duke of Portland’s park has a slight favouring gradient. The French
official record on the Dourdan road is twenty-nine seconds, a speed of seventy-seven miles per
hour, accomplished by both Fournier and Augières. Mr. Rolls drove an 80 horse-power Mors,
which he entered for the Paris-Madrid race.
Estimates of speed differ in the most extraordinary degree, and the Hon. J. Scott-Montagu gave
to the Car the following humorous table, the result of an inquiry at a police court:—
Miles.
“Private opinion of mechanic in charge 12
His opinion when talking to his friends 20
His opinion when in court 8
Policeman’s private opinion 14
Policeman’s opinion in court 28
Farmer’s opinion when a pony was frightened 50
Maker’s guaranteed speed 16
Actual speed 10”
Motorists are evidently assumed to be made of money, if we may judge by the following
statement made by a correspondent of Motoring Illustrated this year. He says, “One curious result
of a car case, in which I was fined £10 for ‘scorching,’ is that in less than a week I have received
upwards of seventy begging letters from charitable societies or individual beggars. Motor owner
and millionaire are apparently one and the same thing in the popular mind.”

Mr. Leopold de Rothschild, who is entitled to speak with authority on the subject, frankly
admits that there is much justification for the irritation in the public mind against motor-cars. He
strongly condemns rash driving, but, at the same time, maintains that when motor-car owners obey
the law and observe the courtesy of the road, they ought not to be looked upon by coachmen,
cyclists, and pedestrians, as the enemies of mankind.[9] Nevertheless, he firmly believes that the
dislike of motor-cars will die away in due time, just as did the dislike of cycles. The utmost caution
ought, he concedes, to be exercised by drivers in the crowded thoroughfares of large towns.
On the question of their importance generally in relation to British industry Mr. Leopold de
Rothschild says, “We should foster them by every means in our power. At the beginning not a
single one was produced in this country, but at the present moment some of the machines turned
out in English workshops rival those of the very best French make. In recent contests on the
Continent, too, English cars have more than held their own. It is sometimes complained that the
machines make a great noise. That defect is being gradually cured. Then it is urged that they raise a
tremendous dust as they speed along. That evil is also being remedied, and will disappear
altogether if the experiment of pouring petroleum on the roadways should prove successful. Where
the motor-car is extremely useful, I consider, is in enabling people to go across country to attend
hunt meets and visit distant golf links. Then, again, see what encouragement is given to wayside
inns. When in Scotland the other day I visited a friend who lived twenty-five miles off, and did it
comfortably between luncheon and dinner, and that, too, without endangering the life of myself or
anybody else. I regard the motor-car as a source of intense enjoyment. Allow the owners greater
freedom, but take care that in return they loyally observe the regulations which are framed by
competent authorities for the safety of the public.”
MOTOR-CARS AND PUBLIC HIGHWAYS

Who can place a limit to the development of motors! The time may arrive when tram lines will
disappear, the roads themselves being of steel and forming a broad rail upon which self-propelled
coaches, omnibuses, cabs, and cars will ply in every direction, and far and wide into the suburbs.
This is the idea of Mr. A. A. C. Swinton, who also thinks that eventually motor-cars will drive
tram-cars out, because, as he says, “Tramways are merely a smooth place on a rough road, with a
groove to keep the wheel in a smooth place,” and as one day the whole road will be smooth the
tram-rails will disappear.
Something similar, I take it, was in Mr. Balfour’s mind when, in 1901, writing to the Warden of
the Browning Settlement in Camberwell on the subject of homes for the workers, he said:—
“What I am anxious people should bear in mind is that trams, railways, and ‘tubes’ by no
means exhaust the catalogue of possible improvements in transit; indeed, I am not sure that they
are the means of communication for relatively short distances which some years hence will find
most favour. What I should like to see carefully thought out by competent authorities would be a
system of radiating thoroughfares, confined to rapid (say, fifteen miles an hour or over) traffic (that
is absolutely essential), and with a surface designed, not for carts or horses, but for some form of
auto-car propulsion. If the local authority which designed and carried out such a system chose to
run public auto-cars along them, well and good. But this would not be necessary, and private
enterprise would probably in time do all that was wanted. In such a thoroughfare there would be
none of the monopoly inseparable from trams, the number of people carried could be much larger,
the speed much greater, the power of taking them from door to door unique, while there would be
none of the friction now caused when the owners of the tram lines break up the public streets. It
may be urged—and, perhaps, with truth—that at present the auto-car industry has not devised an
absolutely satisfactory vehicle; but we are, I believe, so near it that the delay ought not to be
material.”

“It is, of course, obvious,” he continued, “that the present difficulty of locomotion in our
streets is almost entirely due to want of differentiation in the traffic. We act as the owners of a
railway would act if they allowed luggage trains, express trains, and horse-drawn trams to run
upon one pair of rails. The radiating causeways, as I conceive them, would be entirely free from
this difficulty. Neither the traffic of cross streets, nor foot passengers, nor slow-going carts and
vehicles would be permitted to interfere with the equable running of fast cars. There would be no
danger and no block; and as the causeway would be connected at intervals with the ordinary road
and street system of the district, and would melt into that system at either end, every village in
which there were enough residents who had to be in London at a fixed hour every day could have a
motor of its own. It might be well worth a manufacturer’s while, I should suppose, to lodge his
workpeople out of London, and to run them to and from his works.”
No electrician living can predict with certainty what the motor-car may not result in.
One thing only is probable—that our metropolitan streets will soon be congested with vehicles
to such an extent as to leave no space for horses. And then will come the complete victory of the
automobile.

CHAPTER XVIII

ELECTRICITY APPLIED TO NAVIGATION (A FORECAST)

“And knowledge shall be increased.”—Daniel xii. 4.

DEVELOPMENT IN SIZE OF SHIPS AND STEAMERS

“D ON’T give yourself away,” shrewdly remarked an eminent engineer, as I discussed with
him the outline of this work, and the probability that in the near future, gigantic ships, as
long as the Crystal Palace, and propelled solely by electricity, would traverse the seas. “I
have not yet come across any form of accumulator that could be adapted to such a purpose, though
I admit that the next quarter of a century may produce some startling results. Still, I would not, if I
were you, write about it.”
My friend, like many scientists, was cautious, and did not like to commit himself; but I am not
professionally restricted, and may freely indulge in a dream containing many elements of reality,
and “take the wings of fancy,” nay, may also “take the wings of foresight,” and try to describe a
mail-packet of the future.
But before entering into particulars of that phenomenon, the Princess Ida, and to prepare
ourselves for the contemplation of her large proportions, we should note the evolutionary process
which has gone on steadily for the last seventy years, and rapidly during the close of the Victorian
Era, in regard to the size and tonnage of ocean steamers.
To go far back for the purpose of comparison—i.e. to the days when Britain as a maritime
nation was in her infancy, or even to Tudor and Stuart times, when the Great Harry floated proudly
in English waters, and Elizabeth’s Ark Royal defied the Spanish Armada, or when Phineas Pett
reconstructed Charles the Second’s navy and planned those famous men-of-war, the Royal
Sovereign, Royal Charles, and Royal Prince—is misleading, because up to Nelson’s time the
practice of building ships with an extravagant amount of “sheer” (the fore-castle and stern
towering upwards to protect the fighting men, and producing the outline of a doubled-up old shoe),
together with the pronounced “tumbling in” of the ship’s sides, rendered it difficult to arrive at any
correct estimate of length and beam. Approximately, 1,500 tons might represent the Great Harry’s
measurement, and 150 feet her length, the Carolean Royal being about the same.
This method of shipbuilding began to be modified while Pepys was at the Admiralty, but it was
very gradually abandoned, and had almost disappeared at the beginning of the century, the Victory,
slightly over 2,000 tons, and some 152 feet in length, showing but a slight trace of it in her high
poop.
In 1834 a merchantman of 1,000 tons was considered a big craft, the largest on Lloyd’s register
for that year being 1,500 tons, upon which there was not much advance until the “fifties” and
“sixties,” when all the adventurous of England’s manhood were irresistibly attracted to the
goldfields of Australia, and vessels of large tonnage began to be laid down on the stocks. Of such
were the British Empire, 2,676 tons; the Donald McKay, 2,636 tons; Red Jacket, 2,000 tons; and
many others of from 1,000 to 1,800 tons registered tonnage. These in their turn gave place to iron
“sailers” of immense capacity, the tendency being to build them bigger and still bigger—“five-
masters” of from 3,000 to 4,000 tons—it having been found that they are worked more
economically than smaller craft, and are able to compete with the larger vessels of other countries,

and with the syndicates that threaten to monopolise the nation’s carrying trade. Foreign examples
are La France, 3,624 tons, and the Preussen (biggest in the world), 4,700 tons.
In steamers the development of size has been great, and astonishingly so since the universal
adoption of the screw-propeller. For instance, the paddle-wheel William Fawcett, that pioneered
the P. and O. Company, built in 1829, was but 74 feet long; the Cunard Britannia, that took Charles
Dickens to Boston, was a paddle-boat of 1,154 tons, and 207 feet long; the Great Britain (1843)
was 3,400 tons register, and regarded as phenomenal.
Presently the shipping world arrived at the awakening period of its history, when steamers of
from 350 to 500 feet long, and of from 4,000 to 7,000 tons, began to be common; but old stagers
shook their heads, and asked where and when this enlargement was going to stop. Time went on,
and splendid mail boats, such as the Cunard Scotia and Persia, in their day considered perfect,
were looked upon as obsolete, and even their successors, the Servia, 7,392 tons and 515 feet long,
the Etruria, 7,718 tons and 502 feet long, and others of similar dimensions, soon ceased to be
wondered at. This was eighteen years ago. Then, by leaps and bounds, so great was the
competition between the different Atlantic liners, and so strong the demand for speed, that 10,000
tons was soon reached in the White Star Company’s Majestic and Teutonic, and exceeded by the
Cunarders, Campania and Lucania (1893), of 13,000 tons each, 620 feet in length, and over 65 feet
in beam.
But Harland and Wolff, of Belfast, who had been building 12,000 ton boats, metaphorically
without “turning a hair,” were determined not to be beaten, and produced their new Oceanic
(1899), 704 feet by 68 feet, i.e. nearly as long as the Haymarket, and about as broad as one portion
of Piccadilly. In her, it was thought, finality had been reached; but last year Belfast witnessed the
launch of a still bigger vessel, the Cedric, 21,000 tons gross register, 700 feet long, and 75 feet
wide—the largest steamer afloat! Even she is destined to take second place, as ere long two ships
belonging to the Cunard Line will dispossess the Cedric of her premier position. These wonderful
creations will be 750 feet by 76 feet, with an estimated sea-speed of 25 knots.
Thus we clearly see how enormously the dimensions of steamers have increased; for instance,
the Britannia (1840) was 1,154 tons, and 207 feet long, and had accommodation for 115 cabin
passengers, no “steerage” being carried. But the Cedric is nearly 3½ times longer, and carries
3,000 people across the Atlantic, besides her crew of 350 hands. In the same ratio of progression,
ships (they will not be called steamers, but electrofers) 2,500 feet long, with comfortable quarters
for 75,000 human beings, will be the order of the day!
I have not referred to the poor old Great Eastern—or Leviathan as she was originally named—
680 feet long, and of 16,000 tons register. She was before her time, and, like other big steamers of
that day, far too heavy in her plating to be driven economically at even moderate speed.
Great dimensions and swiftness have been rendered possible by improved engines, but chiefly
by the employment of steel in their construction, which so materially reduces the vis inertia, that in
the case of the Pennsylvania, built by Harland and Wolff for the Hamburg-American Line,
although a mighty carrack of something like 585 feet, and 62 feet by 42 feet, her actual dead-
weight is only 8,000 tons. Still more remarkable will be the reduction—about one-half—when
aluminium with some form of alloy—copper, perhaps—comes into general use. Torpedo-boats
have been built with this metal, and have run with great smoothness. It exists in every clay and
shale formation, and is scattered throughout the world in immense profusion, our London clay
consisting principally of silicate of alumina. Electricity is used in manufacturing this beautiful
metal, that requires no paint to defend it from rusting; and, although it has hitherto been a costly
article, the time is not far off—so it is said—when the price will come down to £19 a ton, or less.

A recent and novel application of aluminium to building purposes is to be seen at Chicago,
where a house sixteen stories high is fronted on both sides with it, instead of bricks or terra-cotta.
Berthing the monstrous ships of the future is a problem met by a radical and world-wide
alteration in the dimensions of docks, supplemented by quays running out into deep water, which
in London would extend on both sides of the Thames, on the north from Tilbury to the Albert
Docks, thus converting the old river, like the Clyde, into a long water-street lined by sea-walls, and
kept constantly dredged, and connected with London by special lines of railway.
But what is to be the propelling power of the future leviathans? Not steam; but electricity,
applied to the machinery from storage batteries. Why not?
ELECTRIC STORAGE AS A MOTIVE POWER

Sceptics in the past argued that it was manifestly impossible that vehicles would ever be
horseless, or that communications would one day be transmitted by telegraph, not to speak of the
time when even the wires for that purpose would be dispensed with; while the suggestion that
artificial light would be obtained through any other agency than candles or oil-lamps, and that sail-
less ships would be propelled against wind and tide, seemed savouring of Bedlam!
Yet all these seeming impossibilities, and many more, have become realities. So, too, will
electrical marine propulsion, and, although we live in a more enlightened era than our ancestors,
few persons even now perhaps realise that ships will be navigated without either sail or steam
power.
By this time, however, the public have become so familiarised with scientific marvels, that
they have ceased to wonder at anything. For instance, there is nothing really more marvellous than
that hundreds, or even thousands, of horse-power should be borne by a copper wire, or a moderate
cable, and despatched to a distant point with the speed of lightning for traction purposes; but,
without knowing what the nature of the force is, we cease to be astonished at it. In point of fact, it
is not more occult than heat or light, the attraction of gravity or cohesion.
Therefore when it was announced last year that Edison had solved the problem of how to store
electrical force effectually, everybody took it for granted that he had been, or would eventually be,
as successful in this direction as in multiplying electric light and applying it to a thousand new
purposes.
The “Wizard of Llewellyn Park” is necessarily a sanguine inventor, but he has taken the right
and only satisfactory way to determine the question—that of varied and long-continued
experiment. Electricity differs from all other forms of power in two respects—it can be stored, and
transmitted to a distance. The task of transmission has been, and is being, rapidly achieved. The far
greater object of light and efficient storage, the most momentous problem awaiting solution in the
whole range of practical physics, may very shortly be solved.
In brief, Edison’s storage battery cells are composed of tiny bricks of specially-prepared iron
and nickel. In charging and discharging, oxygen is driven from one metal to the other and back
again through the action of a potash solution, and without corrosion or waste. Renewal of the water
supply is all that is needed to keep the cells in good condition, and a process of recharging has
been improved, so that less time is consumed than for the recharging of other batteries. No wonder
he believes that the application of storage batteries will ultimately be extended to trains, and
especially to ships.
The claim of the Edison Accumulator is that it will occupy about the same space as the present
battery, and that it will weigh only about seventy per cent. as much, and will be more durable. Men
conversant with the theory of electrical science are not so thoroughly impressed with the work
accomplished as is Mr. Edison. The tests that have been made have been more than duplicated, it is

said, by the batteries now on the market. We may assume, then, that either Edison’s or somebody
else’s method of storing up electricity for the propulsion of sea-going vessels will be perfected.

FIG. 34. ELECTRIC STORAGE BATTERIES
By permission of the Electric Power Storage Co., Ltd., London

THE “PRINCESS IDA” IN THE YEAR A.D. 19—

Early one morning in the spring of 19—a small party of ladies and gentlemen, anxious to avoid
the east wind fiend by flying from their native shores to milder regions, travelled by the electric
railway towards the mouth of the Thames, and, branching off at a point near Barking Junction,
traversed the new line, running for miles alongside the splendid quays recently completed between
Galleon’s Reach and Tilbury, where special berths were reserved for the leviathan liners that had
begun running from the port of London to Cape Town.
Long before the station was reached inquiring glances had been cast riverwards for the first
glimpse of the giantess Princess Ida.
“That cannot be the Princess Ida,” said an unbelieving and short-sighted member of the party
to his sharp-eyed friend, who was pointing to something which in the distance looked like a couple
of White Star Cedrics linked together and towering above the roofs of the warehouses that
commanded the quays.
“Well, you will see for yourself presently,” he retorted. “Seeing is believing, isn’t it?” And as
the train got nearer and nearer, wonder and admiration increased, and when a break in the line of
warehouses gave them a clear view of the great vessel, her beautiful proportions, her polished hull
gleaming in the sunlight, and her exquisite cleanliness, their excitement and enthusiasm rendered
them speechless.
The Princess was berthed close alongside the river wall, and through a great sliding port in her
side over a short, stout gangway like a drawbridge, neat motor-cars laden with luggage, and with
passengers who had made the run direct from their London homes, passed in continually, emerging
later from a corresponding port-hole some distance away. Of cargo there was none, the only
resemblance to it being mails, sufficient in quantity, however, to fully load an ordinary small
steamer. As these were not timed to arrive alongside from the General Post Office until two
o’clock, the party had plenty of leisure to look around, and from what they had read about this
wonderful ship, supplemented by much information supplied by a courteous and communicative
official detailed as cicerone, they were able to give the following history and particulars of that
interesting up-to-date creation of shipbuilding—the fair giantess Princess Ida.
She was constructed by the Thames Ironworks Company, a flourishing concern that worthily
represented the marked revival of the shipbuilding industry in the world’s metropolis. The material

used throughout, except for the lower masts, machinery, propellers, and rigging, was aluminium
alloyed with copper. Her dimensions were as follows: length over all, 1,600 feet; breadth
amidships, 164 feet; depth from upper deck, 110 feet; estimated gross registered tonnage, 33,500;
but her lines were so perfect and graceful as to mask these enormous measurements.[10] She had an
“entrance” forward like a clipper ship, and a “clearance” aft of the utmost fineness, the stem being
rounded off in most beautiful curves. Her floor in the midship sections was flat, and resembled the
letter U, and deep bilge keels helped to keep her steady, and enabled her to settle down upon her
shore cradle without risk of canting or straining. Her horizontal outline revealed to nautical eyes
just that amount of “sheer,” and no more, necessary for strength, rising almost imperceptibly to a
graceful overhanging bow, from which pointed a tapering bowsprit, apparently short, but in reality
a single massive spar of Oregon pine.
This style had been adopted by the owners because, as they argued, it added considerably to
the beauty of the great ship, and as she probably would never enter a dock—using a shore cradle
when it was necessary to cleanse the hull—a few score feet added to her length would make but
little difference in the room she took up at the quays. The figure-head, of oxidised silver, was a
beautiful half-draped representation of Tennyson’s fair Princess—
“All beauty compass’d in a female form.”

Five magnificent pole-masts, set up with thick wire shrouds and backstays, rose aloft from her
deck, their lower part of steel, the upper section of polished and varnished American fir,
terminating in gilded globes, one of them being specially set apart for the wireless telegraph
apparatus. These masts, with a graceful “rake,” could not have been much less than three hundred
feet high, but were in accurate proportion to the length of the Princess Ida, giving her the
appearance of a Brobdingnagian five-masted fore-and-aft schooner. In an emergency, sails could
be put up from them to keep the ship’s head to the wind and sea. No ventilators showed their
unsightly mouths above the very broad teak top-rail, for they were not needed; but more than the
regulation number of boats—about eighty, all hoisted electrically—hung from massive davits,
some being electric launches. No great forty-feet wide funnels to hold the wind; no top-hampering
superstructures broke the deck area, save the deck stairway houses and the wide bridge, with its
chart-room, captain’s sanctum, and binnacle house, in which a wheel that a child could turn
operated the steering-gear, consisting of a great toothed pinion wheel keyed to the enormous
rudder, and worked by two electric motors used alternately.
From end to end was a double striped and fringed awning. The Princess carried a search-light
of enormous range and power on her foremast, and her side-lights were disposed without any
disfiguring effect on her starboard and port bows, and not in miniature Eddystones. Her anchor
gear, worked by electricity, was the heaviest ever made, and resembled that of the largest
battleship.
Over all floated the red merchant flag of Great Britain, 40 feet by 24 feet, the flag of the South
African Commonwealth, the Blue Peter at the fore, and above the taffrail the beautiful blue ensign
of the Royal Naval Reserve, while in honour of this her maiden voyage she was dressed rainbow-
fashion with innumerable pennons.
The hull was built on the cellular principle, divided into water-tight compartments up to above
the water-line, the decks or floors being ten in number. The mighty hold, and the space where
bunkers would have been in an ordinary steamer, were filled with storage batteries; so that an
immense area was at disposal for electric power, renewed daily by a wonderful chemical process,
the weight of the batteries—in this case an advantage—taking the place of ballast, keeping the
Princess Ida at an almost unvarying draught.

Relatively the machinery of the Princess Ida was simplicity itself. She had three propellers that
looked inadequate to move so vast a bulk. There were no quadruple expansion-balanced engines
with cylinders of 28, 41, 58, and 84 inches in diameter, and no bewildering gathering of cranks,
pistons, rods, and levers, but the shafts were coupled direct to enormous electric motors which
turned them with resistless force, without the loss involved in the use of a long propeller-shaft.
There was no escaping steam, no heat, no stuffy stoke-hold and fierce boilers, no smell of oil and
waste, and the ventilation was almost as perfect as on deck.
Going on board by the central gangway reserved for foot-passengers, one entered a splendid
hall fifty feet high and a hundred feet square, resembling the lounge saloon of a big hotel, with
glass dome-shaped skylight above—a winter garden with beds of flowers and groups of sea-loving
palms at the side, kept-renewed throughout the voyage; seductive easy-chairs and couches
scattered about; tables here and there, covered with periodicals and writing material; while at one
end of a platform, used by the ship’s band, and forming a miniature stage, was a grand piano
backed by a handsome curtain of peacock-blue plush, and, facing it, a fine organ, both instruments
strictly reserved for public entertainments, theatrical and otherwise. The walls of this beautiful
saloon were of polished New Zealand woods, Kauri pine predominating, than which a lighter and
more elegant wainscot can hardly be imagined. Fireplaces with ornate overmantels burnt logs of
wood—a sacrifice to conventionality and sentiment, as they were not required for warmth, the ship
being lighted and heated throughout by electricity.
In general arrangement the interior of the ship reminded one of a modern hotel, and the illusion
was heightened by the port-holes on the main or second deck being so arranged as to resemble
plate-glass windows set in frames of great strength, and when the vessel began to move on the
waters it was as if a section of the Cecil Hotel had floated off into the river. But, though beautifully
furnished, the ship was not overdone with meaningless decoration. Mirrors were restricted in
number, and there was but little gilding. Rare paintings of ships, birds, and flowers were on the
walls, while wood-carvings in the style of Grinling Gibbons and delicate French bronzes beautified
unsightly corners. All the decks were covered with india-rubber laid over fireproof planking,
reducing noise to a minimum, those below the upper deck being carpeted; and as all the doors were
sliding and shut noiselessly, the general effect of quietude was delightful, even the electric gongs
being subdued in tone.
The style of upholstery throughout was that of the latest Victorian Era, modified to meet the
requirements of life at sea. There was, of course, a very grand dining-saloon, and smaller ones for
private parties; also a principal drawing-room, boudoirs, tea-rooms, and in the transoms (i.e. the
aftermost part of the ship) one small and purely ornamental parlour in imitation of Princess Ida’s in
her college—

“.... a court
Compact of lucid marbles, boss’d with lengths
Of classic frieze with ample awnings gay
Betwixt the pillars, and with great urns of flowers”—

where a statue of that divinity, seated on a throne, with a couple of tame
leopards on each side, was placed as a kind of tutelary genius, to which the
sentimental ladies on board made weekly offerings of the choicest flowers
they could get.
Then there had been skilfully provided in this wonderful ship a small
oratory for the use of Roman Catholic passengers, several libraries, reading
and lecture rooms, a music-room, a cardroom, smoking saloons of course, a
billiard-room, (available in very fine weather), swimming or rather plunge
baths, and electric and ordinary baths in abundance made of aluminium;
besides massage-rooms, coiffeurs’ and barbers’ saloons, a shooting-gallery,
a post and telegraph office, a gymnasium, a skating-rink, a bowling-alley, a
photographic room, an amateur’s workshop, an apartment specially set
apart for ping-pong and similar games, American bars, and a miniature cafe
for the pleasure of those who would make believe they were still ashore; a
tennis-court, a miniature golf-link, a small running, walking, and cycle
track (quoits, cricket, hockey, and even football could always be enjoyed on
the upper deck), an aviary (parrots prohibited), a natural history room, an
aquarium, a servants’ hall, a nursery (a remote locality) with tracks for
perambulators; small shops for confectionery, millinery, hosiery, and
tobacco; also a printing-press, a dispensary, and a hospital; a cell for
insubordinates, and, alas! a mortuary.[11]
On the upper deck—so great was the distance from stem to stern, twice
up and down being more than a mile—small electric trolley-chairs were at
the disposal of the old or infirm to enable them to take open-air exercise. A
wide shelter-promenade ran round the ship’s sides between two of the
decks, looking out on the sea through spacious port-holes, and when wind
and rain were too pronounced there were the roomy stairway houses on
deck wherein to take refuge.
On every floor there were lifts for those who cared to use them. The
telegraph and telephone made intercommunication easy, and at every corner
of the ship, with its maze of corridors and staircases, direction-tablets
indicated one’s whereabouts.

Families were accommodated with furnished suites of private rooms,
which could be rented or even leased. Here they could bring their own
servants, and be boarded independently of the other travellers. These suites
varied in size from a modest sitting-room and bedroom for solitary couples,
to flats suitable for a large number. There were bedrooms (not cabins) for
spinsters and bachelors, and double-bedded rooms. The familiar two, four,
and six open-berthed staterooms were conspicuous by their absence.
Of regulations there were few, and these were framed for the general
good and were strictly enforced. No dogs or cats were allowed in any part
of the ship; the playing upon any instrument, except in the music-room, was
prohibited, and this applied even to the private suites; small children and
babies were kept absolutely separate from the adults, and smoking was
forbidden except in saloons set apart for that purpose and in private rooms.
All cookery was done by electricity,[12] supplemented by charcoal, and
the scale of provisions that had to be dealt with, apart from the ship’s stores
for the crew, was Gargantuan, while fresh fruit, fish, etc., were always
obtained in addition at the various stopping places. For the round voyage,
with allowance for accidents, say forty-two days in all, there had to be put
on board for the passengers: of fish, 36,000 lbs.; fresh meat (beef, mutton,
lamb, veal, and pork), 367,700 lbs.; fowls and chickens, 16,000; ducks,
1,800; geese, 950; turkeys, 1,500; partridges, grouse, etc., 3,600 brace; 260
tons of potatoes; 560 hampers of vegetables; 4,000 quarts of ice-cream;
18,000 quarts of milk; 215,000 eggs; also canned goods, butter, flour, and
groceries in proportion. Of champagne, 18,000 bottles; 15,000 of claret;
110,000 of ale; 45,000 of stout; 87,000 of mineral waters; and 10,000
bottles of various spirits. All these, except the stimulants, were preserved in
chilled rooms, the ice being made on board.
At a pinch the Princess Ida could accommodate—besides her crew of
four hundred, a small army of servants, the stewards, and stewardesses
(there were no stokers or firemen)—six thousand souls; but to ensure
comfort, only 3,500 passengers were as a rule booked, necessarily at high
rates. All were of one class, the only difference, as in an hotel, being in the
price paid for position.
The officers were comfortably quartered in the forward part of the ship
in a manner equal to the first class of many a steamer; the crew beneath, in

the so-called forecastle, palatial in comparison with the old-fashioned
sailing ship.
By the time the handy-man had taken these notes H. M.’s mails arrived
alongside, and were put on board by electric trolleys through the central
side port. There was no stupefying, deafening escape of steam, and no
maddening ringing of great bells. The Blue Peter—some fifteen feet square
—fluttered down from the foremast, and a megaphone in sonorous tones
announced that the hour of departure had arrived, and that visitors must
leave for the shore.
The Ida began to show that she could move, and majestically and slowly
shifted her position, until her bow pointed seaward, a mighty cheer going
up from quay and ship. An unseen orchestra gave forth “Auld Lang Syne,”
and in the fading light the Princess Ida, glowing with incandescents, her
syren sounding at intervals, disappeared in the river fog on her maiden
voyage.
Going down channel at an easy fifteen knots, it was immediately
noticeable how remarkably steady the great ship was in the choppy sea.
There was an entire absence of vibration, partly attributable to the metal of
which she was constructed, and to the perfect balancing of her machinery
and nice adjustment of weight throughout her holds. Even in the Bay of
Biscay, which was wavelessly heavy in long, sullen rollers after a mighty
storm from the west had died away, the Princess behaved like a real sea-
lady, yielding slowly, but steadily, to the force majeur of the Atlantic; and
no one dreamt of being sea-sick except one very bilious-looking gentleman,
a heavy eater, hailing from Brazil.
In short, she proved herself to be a splendid sea-boat. Not a drop of
water could reach her upper decks; pitch she hardly could, as her great
length enabled her to ride quietly across the valleys between oncoming
waves.
A few hours’ detention at beautiful Madeira, and shortly afterwards
Teneriffe was reached, where it began to be warm; but the ship was so
spacious, and was kept so cool by means of refrigerators, electric fans, and
—when necessary—punkahs, that no one felt in the least inconvenienced by
the heat. There were no smuts, no smoke, and, better still, no smell of oil or
paint (neither of these being used on the ship), no cockroaches, mosquitoes,
flies, or rats!

FIG. 35. ELECTRIC LAUNCH ON THE THAMES
By permission of the Immisch Electric Launch Co., Ltd., London

Here she began to put on speed, working up to eighteen knots an hour,
her maximum (very great speed being no special consideration), and it was
then observed that so smooth and tapering were her lines, that she slipped
through the water raising but little bow wave, and almost as frictionless as a
swift ocean-fish.
An hour or so at lonely Ascension, and the same at St. Helena—in each
case to deliver and receive mails, and to keep up telegraphic
communication with London—a voyage altogether of wondrous beauty and
enjoyment, nights of solemn loveliness, and days that broke in perfect
splendour, cloudless, save for little patches of white here and there, and the
ocean a dazzling radiance of deep blue.
Cape Town—six thousand miles in sixteen days out from Tilbury—and,
greeted by thousands who had flocked from far and near to witness the
sight, the Princess Ida glided to her berth inside the great breakwater.
And there for the present I must leave her.
I think I have demonstrated that, theoretically at least, the tiny electric
launches, put on the Thames in 1889 by the Immisch Company, one of

which, the Lammda, took the then Prince of Wales through Boulter’s Lock,
was the forerunner of the ocean steamer of the twentieth century.
But there is no absolute novelty under the sun; for it is stated that in
1838 a distinguished Roman scientist, Jacobi, invented an electric motor
which drove a small boat on the Neva at two miles an hour.

CHAPTER XIX

SOME ELECTRIC LOCOMOTION DRAWBACKS

“Perfection is attained by slow degrees; she requires the hand of time.”—Voltaire.

THE DEVIL’S ADVOCATE

L ITTLE more need be said as to the advantages of the new order of
things, for however technical opinions may differ about the relative
advantages of steam or electricity, there cannot be any doubt that the
public fully recognise the immense superiority of the latter in details of
cleanliness and general comfort.
Tube railways are intensely disliked by some people, and as heartily
appreciated by millions of others. That they are an advantage in many ways
is unquestionable, though they are not yet without defects. Motor-cars
(electric or petrol), to those who use them, appear to be the safest and most
delightful of vehicles, but here again perfection has not been reached.
With these four well-known forms of traction I must now deal, and not
eulogisticallv. In the old days when some recluse renowned for his holiness
—which he had instanced by living unwashed for years in a hair shirt until
it fell to pieces—died, his admirers frequently put in a claim for his
canonisation. This necessitated the appointment of an individual called the
Advocatus Diaboli, a leader of the opposition, whose duty it was to raise all
kinds of objections to the granting of the sacred honour, and to recall
everything possible to the detriment of the candidate. Not a pleasant task,
certainly, but not altogether unnecessary.
After this fashion it is fair to bring up some sort of a case against electric
traction.
ELECTRIC RAILWAY ACCIDENTS AND BREAKDOWNS
As regards electric railway accidents and blockings of tubes, the
Advocatus Diaboli is able to quote rather too many examples. Commencing
with the United States, where in July, 1902, a car, descending the mountain
on the Mountain and Lake Electric Railway, near Gloversville, where the

grade is a thousand feet in four miles, became uncontrollable, and,
acquiring frightful velocity, collided with another car which was ascending
the slope. Both cars rushed down several feet, and then ran off the rails.
Each car contained seventy passengers, and of these fifteen were killed and
injured. Ten bodies, mangled beyond recognition, were taken from the
wreckage. Most of the victims were women.
At home there is the disastrous Liverpool Electric Overhead Railway fire
of December 23rd, 1901. The trains are run on the multiple control
principle, a motor at each end, and the accident was due to a defect in the
rear one. But as it is a typical case, I will quote in full the cause of the
accident, as assigned by Lieutenant-Colonel H. A. Yorke, the Board of
Trade Inspector. He says: “A gale of wind was blowing from the west, that
is, from the mouth of the tunnel towards the station, which caused the fire
to spread from carriage to carriage until the whole train was enveloped in
flames. It is estimated that the train was well alight about twelve minutes
after the stoppage. There were twenty-nine passengers, who, when the train
first came to a stand, were urged by the driver and guard to keep their seats,
as there was no danger. The driver and guard seem to have made some
futile attempts to put out the fire; but it soon became apparent that the fire
had obtained the mastery, and the passengers found it necessary to alight.
They had only eighty yards to walk in order to reach the station, and the
majority of them appear to have gone to their homes without any delay, and
to have suffered no ill-effects from the fire. It appears, however, from the
evidence that a few remained behind, presumably to watch the progress of
the conflagration and the result of the effort to control it.”
The inspector went on to say that in his opinion it would have been
productive of no serious danger had only the driver acted with a moderate
degree of prudence. When this man discovered that his rear motor had
failed his duty was to disconnect his rear motor by means of the plug
provided for the purpose in his apartment. He should then have run into the
station with one motor, as is often done. For some reason or other, which
cannot be conjectured, the driver, instead of disconnecting the defective
motor, and in disregard of the warning of the guard, made repeated efforts
to bring it into use, the result being that before long the woodwork of the
rear carriage was ignited by the flashes produced by the electric arc when
the current was switched on to the defective motor. While the driver was so
employed both he and the guard appear to have told the passengers to keep

their seats, as there was no danger. Both these men and the station foreman
seem to have exhibited a lamentable lack of judgment in this respect. It is
impossible not to feel that the sacrifice of life might have been easily
avoided. If the passengers had been hurried out of the train as soon as it
became evident that it had broken down, and if none of them had been
permitted to loiter about the station, their safety would have been secured.
And if the train men and station foreman, who deserve credit for their
efforts to prevent the fire from spreading, had only realised sooner that the
train was doomed, they too had ample time to escape. The cutting off of the
current did no good, but, by putting the place in darkness, rather increased
the difficulties and danger of the situation.
The lesson of the disaster is, that all woodwork should be removed as far
as possible from the electric machinery of the railway carriages, and that for
the purpose of insulation material should be employed which is
uninflammable.
Of blocks or stoppages on tube railways the following are examples.
Serious inconvenience was caused on December 30th, 1901, by a mishap
on the Central London Railway. It appeared that just before five o’clock in
the morning a motor was being shunted into the Bank Station to take the
first train to Shepherd’s Bush, when, though going dead slow, some of the
gear apparently fouled the current rail, and it jumped the points just where
the two tunnels join, and effectually prevented any train entering or leaving
either. The nearest “cross-over,” by which trains could be shunted from one
to the other, was at the British Museum Station, but even timely notice did
not make the walk through the wet any the more attractive to business men,
the rain having caused all the omnibuses to be filled long before they got to
the station gates. When the line was constructed it was proposed to make a
second siding at the Bank as at Shepherd’s Bush, and had this been done
there would have been no dislocation of traffic, but fears for the effects of
vibration on buildings above vetoed the proposal. On an ordinary railway a
powerful crane would probably have been run alongside, but the space in
the tube is so circumscribed that it was with the utmost difficulty that the
engine, which weighed forty-four tons, and was resting against the side of
the tunnel, could be moved. As the afternoon wore on, crowds of City men
gathered in the subway in the hope that the obstruction would soon be
removed, but it was not till five o’clock that the line was cleared and the
traffic resumed.

Once more the Twopenny Tube distinguished itself by a stoppage. It was
on December 30th, 1902, the anniversary of the precisely similar mishap in
1901, but fortunately with less serious results. Then the engine fell against
the side of the tube, and the workmen could only get at one side of it; but
this one settled itself in such a position that jacks could be got to work
under both sides. The points at the terminus very much resemble those at
the ends of the tram lines, and with the tremendous traffic passing over
them (engines 1,200 times a day) the only wonder is that accidents of this
kind do not occur more often than once a year. With a curious perversity,
the engine chose the time—four o’clock in the afternoon—when it would
cause the maximum of inconvenience, and the thousands of City men and
women going home realised more fully than ever the advantage of the tube.
The nearest cross-over is between the British Museum and Chancery Lane,
and notice was at once given that trains were running between the former
station and the western terminus. As soon as possible gangs of men got to
work, and within an hour and a half the wheels were got on, but
unfortunately it was very difficult to see what had caused the mishap, as in
getting the motor back the evidences of the cause were removed. Some little
delay was occasioned by straightening the bent rails, but at half-past eight
an engine was run to and fro over the points to see that they were all right
again, and a few minutes later the message was sent to all stations:
“Resumed bookings and ordinary working.”
These mishaps showed how necessary it was that, instead of cross-overs,
loops should be provided, round which trains could be run.
January 16th, 1902, witnessed an accident on the City and South London
Electric Railway, happily unattended with serious consequences. A train left
the Elephant and Castle Station shortly after seven a.m., and had proceeded
some two hundred yards towards the Borough when what is technically
known as a “short” occurred in the switch. This means, roughly, that the
current had chosen to go a way of its own instead of through the insulated
wires to the motor. Hence, an “arc” was produced—that is, an arc lamp on a
large scale. The insulating material began to burn and smell and smoke.
Small defects of this kind are common enough, and the flame is frequently
put out with the driver’s hand or cap. On this occasion the flame resisted all
efforts to put it out, and the driver had to stop the cars and send back for
assistance. The following trains came on slowly, and the engine pushed the
broken-down predecessor on to the Borough Station. It was found necessary

to ask the passengers (fortunately numbering only about thirty or forty) to
leave the train, and the fire was then easily extinguished, though it was
found necessary to cut off the current from the generating station for a short
time. The line was only blocked for about an hour, and the accident was of
little importance except as illustrating one advantage which, it is said, the
“engine” system of electric traction possesses over the “multiple unit.”
MEDICAL OBJECTIONS TO TUBE TRAVELLING
But apart from accidents and breakdowns, a terrible indictment is
brought against tube railways in general, and the Central London in
particular, which, if true, constitutes a veritable drawback. The accuser is
Dr. L. C. Parkes, Medical Officer of Health for Chelsea, who says: “Tube
railways are still such a comparative novelty, that the question of the
healthiness of this mode of travel has not yet been fully determined. Dr.
Wynter Blyth, in an address a year ago, gave the results of some
experiments on the ventilation and condition of the atmosphere in the tubes
and stations of the Central London Railway. The chief cause of the
movements of air in the tubes and stations, lifts and stairways, is the
passage of the trains along the tubes, which the carriages nearly fill, thus
acting as a piston in a cylinder, driving air before them and sucking it in
from behind in their progress from one station to another. The condition of
the atmosphere, was not excessively foul, the largest amount of CO
ascertained to be present, being 11·9 parts per 10,000 vols. This sample was
taken in a carriage containing twenty-seven people between the Lancaster
Gate and Marble Arch Stations. The amount of CO present in the air of the
station’s lifts and stairways varied between 8 and 11 parts per 10,000. In no
case, then, did Dr. Wynter Blyth find the amount of CO in the air of the tube
to be more than three times the amount usually present in the outer
atmosphere of the London streets (average 4 parts per 10,000). Contrasted
with the tunnel of the Metropolitan Railway between Gower Street and
King’s Cross Stations, where a sample of the air taken showed that CO was
present to the extent of 25·9 parts per 10,000, the air of the tube railway is
comparatively pure.”
Dr. Parkes continues: “It may be safely asserted that constant travelling
day after day, even if only for a limited period each day, in an atmosphere
containing 15 to 20 parts per 10,000 of CO, such CO being derived solely
from a human source, must eventually tend to injure health. There are two

other dangers in tube-travelling which require notice. First, the danger in
the warm summer and the cold winter months alike of bodily chill. In the
hot weather the traveller passes suddenly from the warm street into a much
colder atmosphere below the ground level. In the winter the reverse
happens—the passenger who has been warmed and enervated by the
devitalised air below meets the chilly wintry blast on emerging into the
street. Secondly, the air of the tube being very dry, and constantly in
movement, there must be much organic dust of human origin floating in it.
The dangers of tubercular expectoration are no doubt intensified in such a
dry and shifting atmosphere as that of the tube, and the cautionary notices
to prevent spitting are wisely exhibited in every carriage.”
On the whole, Dr. Parkes favours open air to other methods of travelling.
He recommends that as far as possible travelling should be by routes open
to the air of heaven.

CHAPTER XX

SOME ELECTRIC LOCOMOTION DRAWBACKS (continued)

TRAMWAY ACCIDENTS

W HEN the Chiswick High Road tram-line was being made the
tradesmen petitioned the London County Council against it. They
complained of the annoyance as well as of the danger of the trams.
They said that the trams, being large (carrying seventy people in all) and
running on eight wheels, made considerably more noise than the light
horse-car; that the motor was not silent, and the progress of the trolley
along the shivering overhead wire made a continuous, most unmusical, and
penetrating din; while the brake—of necessity powerful—also had a harsh
note quite its own. To this was added the noise and flash of electric sparks
and a singularly sonorous and imperative bell in place of the usual whistle;
and as the cars came along every two and a half minutes in each direction,
they who dwelt along the route did not find them altogether lovely.
Some people maintain that electric trams are not merely unlovely, but are
decidedly dangerous to travel in. There have been electric tram accidents, of
course, and very serious ones. For instance, at Huddersfield, one June night
in 1902, a car, as it approached the town and was half-way down an incline
of a mile in length, got out of control. The trolley arm left the wire,
plunging the conveyance into darkness. By this time the pace of the car was
too great to permit of anyone getting off. It went whizzing past the car
standing in the next loop; but failing to negotiate a sharp curve at the
bottom of Somerset Road, ran straight across the street, smashing the
pavement and dashing with great force into a grocer’s shop, the wooden
front of which collapsed. The front of the car was also driven in. Three
persons were killed and six seriously injured.
At Chatham a catastrophe, resulting in four deaths and many injuries, is
still fresh in people’s minds. It occurred on October 30th, 1902, and was
extraordinary in many respects, the tram being completely wrecked. The
Chatham and District Light Railway is worked as an electric tramway on
the overhead trolley system, and has been in operation about twelve
months. The scene of the mishap was at the foot of Westcourt Street, Old

Brompton, in the parish of Gillingham, close to the main entrance to
Chatham Dockyard, where there is a very steep gradient. A workmen’s car,
filled with mechanics and labourers on their way to work, suddenly bolted
in descending the hill, notwithstanding that the brakes had been duly
applied. The weight of the heavily laden vehicle increased the velocity
every yard of the way, and a terrific pace was obtained.
There is a sharp curve in the railway at the end of the road. The
passengers screamed as they realised their danger. The driver shouted to
them to jump off the car, which many did; and the driver and conductor
themselves took a leap for their lives, and thus avoided serious injury. As
anticipated, the curve proved fatal to the safety of the car. The heavy
vehicle toppled over on its side with a terrific crash, and the passengers,
projected in all directions, made a confused heap in the highway.
Those who were not seriously injured struggled to their feet, but others
remained prostrate, unable to move, shrieking or groaning with pain, and
several more were rendered insensible. Assistance was speedily
forthcoming, and the sufferers were removed to the Royal Naval Hospital,
which is within a stone’s-throw of the scene of the accident.
In September of the same year a remarkable accident took place at
Glasgow, also with fatal results. About half-past nine one Saturday night,
when the streets were at their busiest, a Possilpark car got out of the driver’s
control, and began to move down a slope of Renfield Street, which is the
main car artery of Glasgow. Where Renfield Street cuts Sauchiehall Street,
the principal thoroughfare of the city, the vehicle dashed into a
Pollokshields car, standing at the junction. Both cars left the rails, and the
runaway, without perceptible interruption, continued on its career, driving
the other before it, the conductors’ platforms being interlocked. A few yards
further on a Dennistown car was encountered. The two locked cars swept
down, and, driving the third in front of them, continued their course down
to Argyle Street, a distance of about six hundred yards. A long succession of
cars was moving upwards, and with the momentum the three heavy cars had
then attained a disaster seemed imminent. However, where the Dennistown
line, coming out of St. Vincent Place, joins Renfield Street, the foremost of
the three runaways took the branch points, swerved with such speed that it
failed to keep the rails, and plunged headlong across the street, being
eventually brought up by the wall of a shop. The second and third cars, still

locked together, followed the former, striking the shop almost at the same
point.
At Devonport another accident, resulting in death, occurred the same
month. About nine o’clock in the morning, a car containing eight
passengers, six of whom were on the top, got beyond the control of the
driver on the incline leading to the South-Western Railway Station. The
powerful brakes were promptly applied, but failed to check the progress of
the car, which rapidly gathered momentum, although the reversing gear was
also applied at full pressure.
At the foot of the slope, where the line takes a sharp curve into one of
the main roads to Devonport, the vehicle, which had by this time attained a
terrific pace, jumped the rails, crossed the road, and dashed into a wall
enclosing the carriage entrance to the station. The force of the impact broke
the wall, and caused the car itself partly to topple over. Some of the terrified
passengers on the top jumped into the roadway, and others were thrown off.
One young man, in jumping off, succeeded in clearing the car and the wall,
but as he alighted in the roadway, which slopes down to the entrance of the
station, a piece of granite coping, weighing several hundredweight,
dislodged by the force of the collision, fell on his head, death being
instantaneous. Other injured persons were lying in the roadway some
distance from the wrecked car, the upper part of which was a shapeless
mass of broken seats and twisted rails. The position of the car enabled it to
be seen that the brakes were gripping the wheels lightly, while the wooden
brakes, which act on the lines, appeared to be down to the utmost extent.
In this case the verdict of the coroner’s court coincided with the Board of
Trade’s subsequent report, to the effect that the accident was brought about
by the negligence and incapacity of the driver of the car, the Board of Trade
adding that the cause was excessive speed on a steep gradient and sharp
curve, that the driver was responsible for the accident in failing to use the
brake-power, and in disobeying the company’s orders by leaving the
stopping-place without a signal.
These runnings away of electric trams called for increased attention to
the question of brakes, which, though they will always hold a car on a stiff
incline on dry rails, yet when the track is greasy they introduce an element
of danger by reason of their very power. They skid the wheels, which is
always a source of great danger. In such cases safety lies in relaxing the

pressure, but it needs a wary brain and firm nerves to ease off the brake at
all when the car has already bolted.
Then there are collisions, which luckily seldom occur. In October last
one took place between two electric tramcars between Middleton and
Rhodes, near Manchester. The cars were carrying workmen, and the
accident occurred near what is known as the Parkfield loop. The vehicles
were travelling in opposite directions, and owing to some cause, at present
unexplained, they both got on the same line, instead of one waiting on the
loop. About twelve of the passengers were more or less hurt by broken
glass, and one of the drivers was injured about the leg.
Cars can be completely overturned, as was proved by an incident that
happened in December last year to one of the London County Council
trams. It left the metals at St. George’s Circus, and after jolting along for a
few yards slowly toppled over into a ditch three feet deep, which had been
dug on the near side for the purpose of laying the electrical connections.
There were about ten passengers on the top and twelve inside, and the tram
was already overturning before they had fully realised their danger.
Fortunately they retained their presence of mind, and those on the top, by
clinging to the rails, prevented themselves from being hurled into the
roadway. Two small boys, who were unable to retain their grip of the rail
when the side of the car struck the ground, were thrown off into the gutter,
but escaped with little more than a few cuts and a severe shaking. The cause
was difficult to discover, but probably as the lines were being rearranged
some piece of iron or other hard substance eluded the observation of those
put to watch, got into the groove of the metals, and caused the car to jump
the rail at a spot where excavations were being made.
In our climate tramway traffic is not exposed to any very inclement
weather, so that electric traction is not likely to prove a failure by reason of
heavy snowfalls, as in New York last winter during a blizzard.
ELECTRIC SHOCKS
There is a serious feature in the overhead trolley system which ought not
to be overlooked, as the following will show. In the centre of Sunderland
four principal streets cross, and here, about eight o’clock one Saturday night
in August, 1902, when the thoroughfares were congested with people, the
trolley-arm of a tram-car became entangled, and no fewer than three live
electric wires snapped. A woman received a severe shock through one of

them striking an iron handrail on the tram which she was boarding; but the
promptitude of a motor inspector in turning off the current averted further
personal injury.
The Fulham Public Baths tragedy at the beginning of this year
exemplified the fact that it does not require a high alternative current to kill.
Under certain conditions 200 volts are sufficient. Criminals are electrocuted
at a voltage of 2,000, the current passes in at the skull. The murderous
elephant, Topsy, in New York paid the penalty of her misdeeds by having a
current of 6,600 volts passed through her, and died in ten seconds; but a
minute before, she had swallowed 460 grains of cyanide of potassium!
My own personal experience somewhat resembles that of the woman at
Sunderland. It was at Ramsgate on a rainy day, and, the car being full
inside, I had to travel outside, seats, metal-work, and everything being
naturally very wet, and in taking hold of the iron framing of a seat I
experienced so strong a shock that I called up the conductor. He ridiculed
the idea, but while he was arguing the matter out, contending that it was an
impossibility, he inadvertently grasped the wet trolley-pole, which gave him
such an electric sensation that he yelled and fell flat on the roof. The car had
to be stopped, and until the rain ceased no passengers were allowed outside.
MOTOR-CAR ACCIDENTS
By those who dislike them, every imaginable evil is laid at the doors, or,
rather, the wheels of motor-cars, whether propelled by petrol or electricity,
and recorded accidents are quoted, chapter and verse being given to show
that they are the enemies of pedestrian, driving, and cycling mankind. Here
are some examples.
On a steep hill in the neighbourhood of Grimsthorpe, near Bourne, on
May 25th, 1902, a motor-car got out of control and overturned. The driver,
employed by Lord Willoughby de Eresby, M.P., for whom the vehicle had
been built at Birmingham, was instantaneously killed, his skull being
fractured. He had brought the car to Grimsthorpe Castle only the previous
evening, and was out with a party of friends, mostly Lord Ancaster’s
employés, when the accident happened. One man was badly injured, and
two others of the party received slight injuries, but a child, who was flung
over a hedge, escaped unhurt.
The following day a motor-car was being driven down a steep hill just
outside Stroud, when the brake failed to act, and the car ran violently into a

stone wall, carrying part of it away. One of the occupants, a local cloth
manufacturer, was seriously injured, and a gentleman who accompanied
him escaped with some ugly bruises.
An accident occurred near Rearsby, Leicestershire, on August 9th, 1902,
whereby the master of the Quorn Hunt, Captain Burns Hartopp, and Mr. A.
Burnaby were injured. The party were motoring from Little Dalby Hall to
Quorn, when, near Rearsby, the car ran into a cow, with the result that the
occupants were pitched out and the car was wrecked. Captain Burns
Hartopp was picked up in a semi-conscious condition, Mr. Burnaby was
more seriously injured, while Mr. Dashwood escaped with a shaking.
A curious escape was witnessed the same day at Monmouth. General Sir
Evelyn Wood, who was accompanied by Colonel Grierson, acting Q.M.G.,
and Captain Wood, A.D.C., had been inspecting the Monmouth Royal
Engineers (Militia) under the command of Lord Raglan. Afterwards the
General and staff proceeded in a motor-car to Abergavenny. While the
machine was being reversed towards the entrance of the Angel Hotel a
brake refused to work, and the car mounted the pavement and ran into the
wall of a shop, just missing a plate-glass window. Captain Wood, who had
alighted, narrowly escaped being caught between the motor and the wall.
The following month a motor-car accident occurred at Barnet, when the
Hon. C. S. Rolls was returning home in a motor-car from Barnet Fair. Mr.
Rolls saw a trap containing three or four persons approaching him, and he
steered his car into the hedge, but a collision could not be avoided. One of
the occupants of the trap—a youth—was thrown to the ground, and the
horse was cut on the leg. Mr. Rolls escaped with a slight shaking.
On the 17th of October last, while motoring from Chester, the Rev.
Arthur Guest, vicar of Lower Peover, with his wife and a friend, had a
startling experience. In steering past a milkcart near Lostock Chemical
Works, the car ran into a brick wall and was overturned and badly smashed.
The vicar, strange to say, escaped without injury, but his wife and friend
were not so fortunate.
A lamentable catastrophe occurred in February this year in London,
when Mr. George Edward Colebrook, an Australian merchant, of St. Mary
Axe, E.C., lost his life. It appeared that on the previous Sunday the
deceased went for his first motor-car ride with his brother-in-law,
accompanied also by the owner of the car and a professional driver. There

had been a sharp fall of snow and hail, and the roads were in a bad state.
When attempting to pass at a moderate pace another car in the Finchley
Road, near the Royal Oak at Hendon, the hind wheels skidded. The car
turned round and ran against a raised footpath and then overturned. Mr.
Colebrook was fatally injured, and died on Tuesday night from concussion
of the brain, having been unconscious from the time of the accident. His
brother-in-law received a fractured arm and other injuries.
THE GENERAL VERDICT
Thus much for the opposition, and the Advocatus Diaboli now resumes
his seat. His accusations appear formidable; but it might be justly pointed
out that if a catalogue were compiled of the serious results caused by the
shortcomings of the horse, motor-car accidents would be found few in
comparison. It might be demonstrated that in twelve days 17 persons had
been killed and 143 injured in accidents attributable to that noble animal.
When the foregoing tram and motor casualties are analysed, it will be
found that the majority were due to lack of control over the brake power, to
ignorance, or to careless driving.
As I have observed before, many evils have been laid to the charge of
electric traction. Last year it was reported in the papers that a young woman
had been instantaneously killed at Shepherd’s Bush by the overhead wires.
The fatality was attributed to one of the guide-wires breaking at the extreme
end (an accident which had really occurred on the line), but it had been
replaced before the young lady fell down in the road, and it was proved at
the inquest that she died in the normal way of heart disease.
In the old coaching days the dire forebodings of evil arising from
travelling by steam were much more comprehensive than those of the
present day from electric travelling. Horse-breeding, it was said, would
cease and farmers become ruined, their crops perhaps destroyed by sparks
from passing engines; human beings would be asphyxiated while rushing
through the air at tremendous speeds; high roads would fall to rack and
ruin; and every innkeeper on coach routes would be bankrupted! In fact, a
lamentable social revolution was bound to be brought about by
Stephenson’s pestilential proposals!
Of electrical traction, its greatest detractors can only urge—and with
truth—that it is not yet without drawbacks, not yet so perfected as to render
accidents impossible. And the Advocatus Diaboli, after due consideration of

his own arguments, generously acknowledges that he has failed to make out
his case.

CHAPTER XXI

ELECTRIC LOCOMOTION AND OUR NATIONAL LIFE

“Long sleeps the summer in the seed;
Run out your measured arcs, and lead
The closing cycle rich in good.”—Tennyson.

HOW IT AFFECTS EXISTING RAILWAYS

T HOMAS ALVA EDISON is reported to have said, “Electricity will
displace steam,” and, taking his prediction as a text, I will begin by
quoting a few figures; for Britishers, though they may affect otherwise,
dearly love statistics.
Well, in the year that Queen Victoria ascended the throne the capital
invested in railways might have been expressed in a few figures. When she
died, the “iron horse” represented the vast sum of twelve hundred millions
sterling.
Twenty years ago investments in electric traction enterprises amounted
to not more than £100,000. To-day they involve immense sums, the County
Council’s scheme for London alone running up to £50,000,000! But this is
nothing to the probabilities of the near future, as Mr. Percy Sellon pointed
out to the London Chamber of Commerce. “Within the next ten years,” he
said, “electric supply and traction may be expected, with a fair field, to
engage at least 250 millions of capital”; and this estimate seems to be by no
means exaggerated; in fact, it is underrated. As one of the leading “dailies”
observes, “Apart from such a large project as the electrification of the
District and Metropolitan Railways, there is scarcely a municipal authority
in Great Britain which has not in hand some scheme of electric railway,
tramway, or lighting. It is as well to think that electricity is not the agent of
the future, but of the present, and an era which has already dawned. In
displacement of steam, electricity is evidently destined to be one of the
products of the first quarter of the twentieth century.”
It may be surmised that by the time Mr. Sellons ten years have expired
all the great railway companies in the kingdom will have adopted electricity

as motive power, certainly on their suburban lines, and for the passenger
traffic on the main lines.
With what effect, and at what cost?
The latter question can hardly be answered, but the former may be
guessed at. For a long time the railway companies will naturally be
reluctant to bring about such a revolution as the substitution of electricity
for steam. Engines of enormous power, such as the new Great Eastern
“Decapod” or ten-wheeler, will be requisitioned to accelerate the working
of trains; and, to save fuel, petroleum will be extensively adopted on others.
But electricity the public will have, if it is shown to be more economical
in the long run.
Still, to entirely dispense with a great stock of costly locomotives,
substituting up-to-date motor engines—with the possibility looming in the
future that these, too, in their turn, by the perfecting of storage batteries,
may be displaced—to, perhaps, build new cars, or completely remodel
existing rolling-stock; to erect new buildings (in many cases) for power
stations; to lay down third rails; all this would involve an expenditure that
even long-suffering shareholders would rebel against. While, if the steam
locomotives were retained to work an accelerated goods service on separate
tracks, the widening of bridges, cuttings, and viaducts, the duplication of
tunnels on many lines, and the enlargement of stations and sidings, would
entail disastrous expenditure. However, the change will doubtless be made
gradually, perhaps commencing with the suburban lines, probably as a
direct result of the electrification of the Inner Circle Railway, over whose
system several main lines have important running powers, and which will
then be compelled to abandon steam. Or should some enterprising
Socialistic Government come into power with no such trifling matters as
Education, Water, Gas, or Tube Bills on its hands, it might by the year 1913,
in its anxiety to carry theory into practice, decide to nationalise and electrify
our railways wholesale, and at any cost—to the ratepayers!
The effect, anyhow, would not be so very startling, for by that time
electric travelling would be a matter of course, and disused locomotives of
the type so familiar on the “Underground” would be inquired for by relic
hunters and presented as curios to every big town.
Already the change on the great lines has begun, and it is a significant
fact that the North Eastern have decided to adopt electricity on some thirty-

seven miles of their system in the neighbourhood of Newcastle-on-Tyne,
and a modified form of it in the shape of auto-cars with petrol engines and
dynamos generating the current, on the short line between Hartlepool and
West Hartlepool.
Of electric lines in progress or projected, we have the Manchester and
Liverpool, the London and Brighton, the Edinburgh and Glasgow, and
others.
In London all the big termini will be linked together, and connected with
the metropolitan Tube systems, whatever form the latter may ultimately
assume. This may have the effect of increasing the crowding and bustling of
our big stations, but, on the other hand, a vast number of wealthy people
will use motor-cars from “house-to-house,” dispensing altogether with the
railway.
Trains, more speedily and more economically run, will start more
frequently. Goods traffic will be on entirely separate lines, and passenger
trains will be able to follow one another in rapid and safe succession.
Exteriorily all the termini will look as they do now, minus the presence
of horsed four-wheelers and hansoms. But Victoria will be greatly enlarged
along Buckingham Palace Road; while Euston, nearly doubled in size, will
have its frontage brought forward to Euston Square. Within, there will be
less confusion, as either the American check system of booking luggage
will be adopted, or that of collecting it beforehand by the railway
company’s swift motor-vans, and there will be less steam. On the whole,
however, the old stations will probably be unchanged—Paddington, with its
familiar transept roof, impressive as in 1854, when the late Queen,
travelling from Windsor, paid it her first visit; the Midland, remarkable for
its noble span roof, soaring one hundred feet above the level of its eleven
lines of rail and its four platforms; the Great Eastern, the largest terminus in
the kingdom, under five great spans—four parallel and one transverse—of
glazed roofing, with its eighteen arrival and departure platforms; and
Waterloo, once a mere shed propped up by arches, but now second in size
only to Liverpool Street, a maze to the uninitiated.
The large provincial stations will most likely remain much as they are at
present—Bristol, Exeter, York, Glasgow, Liverpool, all splendid specimens
of important termini and junctions; Swindon, Crewe, Manchester, and
Warrington, greatly improved, if not entirely rebuilt.

Power machinery will be housed in existing railway buildings when
practicable, and intermediate sub-stations will be marked features along the
railway routes. Pumping-houses, water-tanks, coalyards, stages, and sidings
will have disappeared.
Sleepy wayside stations, with their pleasant gardens and rural
surroundings, will probably remain untouched by the new order of things,
save that the rapid delivery of farm produce by horseless vehicles or by
light railways, acting as feeders, will wake them up.
THE IMPROVEMENT OF STREET TRAFFIC
The general use of horseless vehicles will do more—at any rate in
London—towards the sanitation of great cities than all the enactments of
county or borough councils. Medical experts are agreed that the condition
of the roads, however well kept, in dry weather particularly, is highly
conducive to the spread of all kinds of throat diseases, not to mention
influenza; while if the roads are neglected, the peril is increased and every
sense is offended. Horses, as beasts of burden, should have no place in
crowded thoroughfares, and their presence in numbers produces on wood-
paving a pernicious and offensive ammoniacal result which anyone can test
in, say, Broad Street, after the omnibuses have ceased running for the day,
or, rather, for the night. All over London, and even in the suburbs, the
streets are Augean stables, which no effort of the Hercules of Spring
Gardens or the Guildhall can effectually cleanse. It is estimated that at the
present time there are over 16,000 licensed horse carriages in London,
besides tradesmens vans and other vehicles, and that 200,000 horses are
stabled every night, necessitating the removal of thousands of tons of
manure and refuse daily.
Noise, too—that distracting rattle and rumble of vans, light carts,
omnibuses, and cabs—will be done away with, and how much this will help
to restore the nervous system of Londoners who can tell? Horses having
almost vanished, the space each one would occupy—some seven feet in
length—will be saved on each vehicle, and thus the increase of traffic will
be partly provided for. Collisions and the running-down of cars will be
unheard of, the steering and stopping powers of the electric motors being
perfect.
ITS SOCIAL RESULTS

The effect of universal electric traction on our social life may be far-
reaching and prodigious. It may result in a partial decrease in the resident
population of London, the working-classes living largely in the country and
travelling up and down at uniform penny fares, clerks and others doing the
same; while the wealthy and the well-to-do may use their motor-cars to
such an extent as to habitually sleep outside the town boundaries, as may
also members of both Houses. Only those persons whose duties compel
them, will live within hearing of Big Ben.
Society will be still more restless, but its members will be healthier, as
fresh air will readily be obtainable. There will be even less time for reading
than now. Formal calls will largely cease; friends in luxurious electro-cars
will “pop in” en route on short surprise visits, and hospitality will, on the
whole, diminish.
In these vehicles, touring parties (without Cook and Son, or Gaze and
Co.) will be constantly arranged to traverse the world. House rents
generally will be lower, save at the seaside and other health resorts, where
they may actually become higher. So that for those who elect to remain in
town, it will be possible to live on a moderate income, rates and taxes, it is
to be hoped, also being lessened.
The cost of living will be reduced, produce of all kinds being more
extensively home-grown and more economically brought to market.
Horses, being discarded for draught purposes, will be plentiful and
cheap; cavalry remounts will be readily obtained, and all over Europe
mounted forces may be the order of the day. The smallest farmer will be
able to employ several horses on his farm, and everyone in the country,
grown tired of cycling and motoring, will have their stables full at low cost,
while in the season Rotten Row will be more crowded than ever with
equestrians.
Wages will be higher, and there will be a wider field and less
competition.
Lastly, hygienic conditions being vastly improved, and smoke abolished,
the death-rate of London and all large cities will be reduced. But the
greatest boon electrical traction can bestow, will be reserved for the
working and poorer classes. Take London, for example.
THE EFFECT ON OVERCROWDING

“Overcrowding! Why, everybody knows what that means!” said the
Hon. John Middlemass. “Only the other day I had to travel to town from
Southampton, and the first-class compartment actually filled up—a beastly
nuisance, for we could not play whist as we had hoped. And in the
afternoon, when on my way to pay a visit at Lancaster Gate, I couldn’t get a
seat in the Twopenny Tube, but had to stand all the way, holding on by one
of the straps in the roof! Overcrowding! Why, the last time I dined at the
Gresham Club in the City, there was not a table to be got to one’s self. They
were all packed, and the waiters could hardly move about. And that evening
at Lady Danby’s reception in Piccadilly we couldn’t even stir, I can assure
you, once we were in her big drawing-room. While as for supper, it was a
fight to get near the buffet, and when I did manage to get some consommé
for Sybil Clare, who was positively starving, just as I was piloting it out of
the crush, some fool jobbed my elbow, and sent the lot of it right into old
Colonel Curry’s face, and made him swear like a trooper! To make matters
worse, I stepped upon the Dowager Lady Harvey’s train, which had no
business on the floor at all, and, I am told, tore three breadths out of it,
whatever that may mean. Anyhow, I was not asked to any of her dinners
again that season.
“Overcrowding! Yes! You should have been stopping with me at
Rookfort Castle the Christmas after young Lord Staunton had come of age!
Two in each bedroom, I assure you, and they actually had the cheek to ask
some of us to put up with the box-room at the top of the house, as every
square foot of the place was occupied. Oh, yes, I know what trying to put
too many eggs in one basket means! I went through it all on board the P.
and O. Arabia, from Bombay. Six in a cabin; no room to dress, had to take
it by turns; all the grub served in double relays; baths out of the question,
unless a fellow sat up all night to grab one; and the promenade-deck like the
enclosure at Ascot on Cup Day; which reminds me that I never was at any
of the big races when the grand stand wasn’t crowded out.
“Then, as to overcrowding in small houses, used I not to call upon poor
Bristowe, my chum at Eton, who became a lawyer’s clerk at £300 a year,
got married, had eleven children, and lives in a poky little house down
Fulham way—only eight rooms—and I believe some of them sleep in the
bathroom and the kitchen, and the slavey in the scullery!”
Evidently the Hon. John did not know much about the social problem of
overcrowding amongst the poor, and how it has arisen.

“It is not good that man should be alone,” and ever since that divine
maxim was enunciated, man has taken good care to act upon it, in more
senses than one. His nature is gregarious, and as the world he was sent into
ceased to give him its fruits spontaneously, he was obliged to take to a
country life to obtain the means of existence by the sweat of his brow. He
did not readily adapt himself to the new conditions, and, as the history of
Babel shows, there was always a tendency to congregate, build great cities,
and get as much agricultural work done as possible by slaves.
Nowadays the dislike of solitude is more marked than ever. Who does
not know of beautiful country vicarages whose inmates would give their
souls to go and live in towns; of farms where wife and daughters pass their
time in grumbling because it is so dull at the old house; of squatters far
away in Gipp’s Land or Maneroo Plains, who, as soon as they make their
pile, leave the roomy verandahed station, and, importuned by an impatient
family, settle down at St. Kilda, Toorak, Darling Point, in Melbourne, or
Sydney? Even peasants, country born and bred, seeking to “better
themselves” in Canada, often cannot, or will not, bear the absence of such
small excitement as falls to their lot in their native village.
This is illustrated by a case known to myself, where a labouring lad,
assisted out to the far West, and there obtaining good wages, and—what to
him was luxury indeed—unlimited eggs to eat, threw up his situation and
came back to his home in Kent and to his wretched wages, simply because,
as he said, “It was too lonely in Manitoba; there was no amusement and no
village inns.”
As Mr. Rider Haggard has remarked, “Some parts of England are
becoming almost as lonesome as the veldt of Africa.”
Therefore there is the danger ahead that Goldsmith’s foreboding may be
realised:—
“Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates and men decay.
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade,
A breath can make them as a breath has made,
But a bold peasantry, their country’s pride,
When once destroyed can never be supplied.”

Hodge, as a class, cannot emigrate. He has muscle, he has a wife and
usually several children, but he has no capital, and the colonies, with the

exception of Canada, do not encourage him or want him without. His
advent also means a disturbance in the labour market and lowers the wage
rate. So millions of acres of fertile land in our dependencies where there is
room, and more than room, for all, remain untilled, dependencies created by
British capital, defended from invasion by British fleets, helped by British
taxpayers, but allowed by a succession of Governments, with the precedent
of the American colonies in their minds, to surround themselves with
chevaux-de-frise of exclusiveness.
No longer do great clipper ships leave these shores crowded with
hopeful emigrants, the refrain of “Cheer, boys, cheer,” on their lips, and
speed across wide oceans to the Antipodes. A new order of things prevails.
Workmen’s wages in Australasia must be maintained at a fixed standard,
come what may. Heavy duties must be levied to effect this, and everything
must be “protected,” except the interests of Great Britain.
But Hodge wants to move somewhere and earn more money, so he and
his belongings migrate to London, side by side with other kinds of
impoverished labourers; but, alas! for them, side by side also with the poor
alien, who is unquestionably one great cause of the congestion in certain
districts. Russians, Poles, and Germans swarm into the world’s metropolis,
whose streets, they have been told, are paved with gold that only requires
picking up! They are willing to pay almost any price for wretched
accommodation near their work, where they herd together under conditions
as low as they can well be.
The following illustrates this. At the London Hospital in December of
last year Mr. Wynne E. Baxter held an inquest on the body of Mary
Moretsky Libermann, aged nine, who was accidentally burnt to death. The
coroner said the only articles in the room where the fatality took place were
a small bed and a broken chair, and that the mother and two children slept
in the bed, and four other children on the floor. The woman, it appeared,
came from Russia, and had only been in England seven weeks. For the
small room she paid 3s. 6d. a week. A juryman urged that there ought to be
some sort of supervision over the kind of house in which this woman and
her family existed.

FIG. 36. WHERE THE POOR LIVE
Original drawing by Hanslip Fletcher
By permission of Mr. Hanslip Fletcher

The presence of aliens and their competition also lowers the already
sufficiently low rate of wages. Houses, therefore, in these localities—once
tenanted by a single family—are let off at exorbitant rates to as many as can
be crammed into them. Lucky, indeed, is the married labourer who can
anywhere secure a single room for 4s. to 6s. a week. And such a room! No
means of preparing a real meal, the family fare generally consisting of tea,
“two-eyed steaks” (herrings), and a “couple of doorsteps” (two slices of
bread) per head.
But, as “General” Booth says, “A home is a home be it ever so low, and
the desperate tenacity with which the poor cling to the last wretched
semblance of one is very touching. There are vile dens, fever-haunted and
stenchful crowded courts, where the return of summer is dreaded because it

means the unloosing of myriads of vermin which render night unbearable,
which (the dens) nevertheless are regarded as havens of rest by their hard-
working occupants. They can scarcely be said to be furnished. A chair, a
mattress, and a few miserable sticks constitute all the furniture of the single
room in which they have to sleep and breed and die; but they cling to it as a
drowning man to a half-submerged raft.... So long as the family has a lair
into which it can creep at night, the married man keeps his footing, but
when he loses that solitary foothold, there arrives the time, if there be such
a thing as Christian compassion, for the helping hand to be held out to save
him from the vortex that sucks him downward, aye, downward to the
hopeless under-strata of crime and despair.”
Truly in such cases one realises the truth of these lines:—
“God made the country, and man made the town,
What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts
That can alone make sweet the bitter draft
That life holds out to all, should most abound
And least be threatened in the fields and groves.”

Booth writes chiefly of the East of London; but of all overcrowded vile
dens, perhaps none are so bad as those in the West End, frequently not a
stone’s-throw from fashionable thoroughfares and luxurious residences.
At Notting Dale, Kensington, is a district comprising five streets,
consisting entirely of common lodging-houses and “furnished rooms,”
whose occupants are thieves, rogues, professional beggars, hawkers, and
“unfortunates.” It has been rightly named the “West End Avernus,” and so
offensive are the habits of its unwashed crowds, that the policeman on his
beat is often compelled to hold his handkerchief to his nose as he passes by.
Still lower in the grade of accommodation for a married labourer is the
“part of one room” system; and, lowest of all, the common lodging-house,
where over-crowding is inevitable.
In one alley in Spitalfields there were last year ten houses in whose fifty-
one rooms (none of them more than 8 ft. by 9 ft.—about the size of a
biggish bathroom) no fewer than 254 human beings were distributed; from
two to nine in each apartment, but nine in the room was not the maximum.
There is an old story to the effect that a district visitor, sympathising
with an occupant of some such lodging as the above in St. Giles’-in-the-
Fields, where four families respectively tenanted the four corners, was met

with the philosophic reply, “Oh, yes, we should have been comfortable
enough if the landlord hadn’t gone and let the middle of the room to a fifth
family.”
Think of all this, fathers and mothers, who jealously guard your children
from every possible source of moral contamination, whose daughters’
modesty would be startled if accidentally a bedroom window momentarily
revealed their toilettes, whose children at boarding-schools feel sensitive
about dressing and undressing before others.
Yet this is nothing! A well-known rector in the East End says: “From one
of my parochial buildings I have seen through the thinly-veiled windows of
a house, four men and six women retiring for the night in one room, all of
them respectable, hard-working people, and the majority of them sleeping
in beds on the floor,” the rent per week being eight shillings.
As to the alleged dislike of the very poor to the use of soap and water, it
is chiefly because the privacy essential for tubbing is simply non-existent.
Probably the lowest depth is attained, as I have said, in the common
lodging-house, where all kinds of characters assemble under conditions
which make innocence and decency impossible, children looking without
any emotion upon sights they ought never to see, and listening to language
they ought never to hear.
The victims of this result of overcrowding are human beings like
ourselves, “fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to
the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the
same winter and summer.”
It is not from choice that men, women, and children are thus herded
worse than cattle. Necessity compels them to dwell within a certain area,
especially the “docker,” who cannot afford to take a journey in search of
work, while the smallness and uncertainty of their earnings, together with
the high rent they pay, deprive them of the power to exist otherwise.
Figures prove little, but it is a fact that for all London the average
population per acre is fifty-seven; and an idea of the extent of overcrowding
in certain localities may be gathered by comparing this with that of St.
George the Martyr, Southwark, which is 210; with Whitechapel, 225; and
with Spitalfields, 330; the latter equivalent to crowding into the area of
Grosvenor Square (six acres), tenements containing 1,980 souls, instead of
342! On the other hand, in the wealthy parts of London there is far too

much room, great mansions that could comfortably accommodate scores of
people being habitually left almost empty.
The moral effect of it all is terrible. Thousands of infants, ill-born,
tainted, ill-fed, ill-clothed, ill-housed, are growing up under conditions
where purity of thought is impossible, growing up to taint future
generations and undo the good work effected elsewhere in social
regeneration. Why keep the main stream pure if foul rivulets be allowed to
arise and pollute it again? Why make clean the outside only of the cup and
platter?
But, as Cervantes says, “there is a remedy for everything but death.” And
for the “submerged tenth,” who cannot move away to the suburbs, no doubt
in time vast barracks built of steel with garden roofs, unsightly but
utilitarian, will be created in every poor quarter, resembling the Park Row
Buildings in New York, 380 feet in height, and consisting of thirty stories;
or the Fisher, the Marquette, and the Champlain blocks in Chicago, of
seventeen stories each.
These buildings would accommodate thousands of lodgers—British
subjects only—at low rentals, under decent and sanitary conditions. While
for workmen and others in receipt of fair wages cheap electric traction,
enabling them to go to and from their daily task, will solve the problem of
overcrowding so far as they are concerned.
Overcrowding, however, is only one out of a host of problems and
questions that characterised the closing decades of the last century, and
beset the opening of the present one.
We are haunted with problems, and if none existed we should probably
regret it, and try to invent them. There are endless political and economic
problems, the naval and military, the religious and educational, the national
food supply, and with it the land and agricultural question, the labour
question, and the relief of the poor, who are always with us.
Social problems bristle on all sides, and every active lady appears to
belong, not to one, but to many of the societies for the reform or abolition
of this, and for the bringing about of that, which abound. Mr. Jellyby’s little
project for civilising the natives of Borrioboola-Gha on the left bank of the
Niger, and providing them with blankets, would be but a drop in the
philanthropic ocean of to-day!

Temperance, morality, smoking, marriage laws, vaccination, funeral
customs and cremation, early closing, domestic service, cooking, dress,
hygiene, our boys and girls and what to do with them, in fact, everything in
life, seems to have been converted into a “Question,” and provides a text
upon which more or less eloquent sermons are preached.
Everyone seems to work hard, and has no time for anything. Everyone,
too, is restless and expectant, eager for excitement and change, while
miracles of discovery and invention are wrought so frequently as to be
almost unnoticed.
All nations are being chained together by iron roads or lines of swift
steamers, and everybody travels. Locomotion is the order of the day, a sign
of the times, and electricity is the great factor that has brought it about.
Just as in the building of some vast cathedral unsightly scaffolding
conceals the graceful proportions of the uprising building, so in what is
going on around us may appear much confusion and absence of purpose.
But out of it is being evolved a state of readiness for the coming era, when
wars shall cease and vexed problems be finally solved.
Meantime the world’s feverish workers might well despair, were it not
that they
“...see in part
That all, as in some piece of art,
Is toil co-operant to an end.”

INDEX
A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W.
Accidents on electric railways, 251-256
— to motor-cars, 264-267
— tramway, 258-263
Adaptability of shallow underground system to London, 198, 199
Advance of motoring, 202
Agricultural motor vehicles, 218, 219
Agriculture, Decay of, 277, 278
Aldershot trials of motor vehicles, 215-217
Aliens and overcrowding, 279, 280
American capital and London’s railways, 61, 160, 161

Balfour’s, Mr., views on motor-cars and public highways, 228, 229
Ballybunion and Listowel Railway, 36, 37
Barnet motor-car accident, 266
Birmingham electric tramways, 170, 171
Black country, Facts and statistics respecting the, 177-179
Board of Trade Committee upon vibration in Tubes, 87
— — Report of upon shallow underground system, 199
— — — — vibration in Tubes, 87-89
Boer war and motor-cars, 214, 215
Boston shallow underground railway, 190-194
Brighton Beach Electric Railway, 13, 14
British Electric Traction Co.’s tramways, 180-182
Brunel’s shield and Thames Tunnel, 76, 77
Buda-Pesth shallow underground railway, 190

Cabs, new and old, 212, 213
Cars, Curious uses of motor, 221-223
— Description of various motor, 206
— — electric tram, 137, 138
Central London Electric Railway, The, 63-73
— — — — Description of, 66-68

— — — — Effect on omnibus traffic of, 70
— — — — History of, 63-65
— — — — Its annual sale of lost articles, 72, 73
— — — — Its City subways, 65, 66
— — — — Means of exit from cars of, 72
— — — — Ventilation of, 70-72
Centres of Great Britain, Manufacturing, 174-177
Chatham electric tramway accident, 259, 260
Chester motor-car accident, 266
City and South London Railway, The, 15-18, 22, 23
— — — — A trial trip in, 19-22
Claims for damage by railway tubing, 83-86
Combination omnibus (electricity and petrol,) 210, 211
Conveyances, Public, 208-213
County Council, The London, 143
— — — and rehousing, 143, 144
County Council’s, The London, design for shallow underground railway,
187, 188
— — — tramway system, 140-150
— — — tramways, Business journey on, 151-156
Country, Changes produced by electric locomotion in the, 273
Crimean war and traction engine, 217

Devonport electric tramway accident, 261, 262

Earth tremblings, 89
Electric haulage on tramways by accumulators, 137
— — — closed conduit, 134
— — — open conduit, 133, 134
— — — overhead trolley, 134-137
— locomotion, Devil’s Advocate and, 250, 251
— — Drawbacks of, 250-267
— — our national life and, 269-286
— — Various forms of, 9, 10
— motor-cars, 206, 208
— — vehicles, 214, 219
— omnibuses, 211, 212

Electric railway accident in United States, 251
— — — on Liverpool Overhead, 251-253
— — accidents, official report upon causes of, 251-253
— — breakdown on City and South London, 255, 256
— — breakdowns on Central London, 253-255
— railways, Accidents on, 251-256
— — Pioneer, 11-30
— — Remarkable, 31-46
— traction undertakings, Investment of capital in, 269, 270
— tramcars, Description of, 137, 138
— tramway accidents, Official report upon causes of, 261, 262
— — traction, Various methods of, 131-138
— tramways generally, 128-140
— — Objections to, 258
Electricity, amount required to cause death, 264
— Definition of terms used in, 8, 9
— for traction, how produced, 7, 8
— Signs of the times and, 285
— Storage of, 235
— — applied to navigation, 230-249
— — Edison’s system, 235, 236
Emigration and overcrowding, 278, 279

Factories, Removal from London of, 144-146
Flourishing state of motor-car industry in Great Britain, 204-206

General verdict upon drawbacks of electric locomotion, 267, 268
Giant’s Causeway Electric Railway, The, 11-13
Glasgow electric tramway accident, 260, 261
— tramways, 166-168
Great Northern, Brompton, and Piccadilly Circus Railway, The, 117, 118,
127
— — — — — — Advantages of, 117, 118
— — — — — — Aristocratic character of, 126, 127
— — — — — — Route of, 118-126
Grimsthorpe motor-car accident, 264, 265

Haulage on tramways, Various methods of, 130, 131
High-speed railways, 38-40
History of tramways, 128-130
Horseless vehicles, electrical and otherwise, 200-229
— — in the past, 203, 204
How railway Tubes are bored, 77-81
Huddersfield electric tramway accident, 258, 259

Improvements in railway travelling, 2-4
Inner Circle, Rejuvenating the Metropolitan, 47-62
Introduction of tramways by G. F. Train, 128, 129
Investment of capital in electric traction undertakings, 269, 270

Legislation respecting motor-cars, 226
Light Railway Act of 1896, 162-166, 171, 172
— — — — Effect on rural tramways of, 163, 164
Liverpool electric tramways, 168, 169
— Overhead Railway, The, 26-30
Local authorities and rural tramways, 182-185
Locomotion, Electric, Changes in the country produced by, 273
— — — at London termini produced by, 272, 273
— — Devil’s Advocate and, 250, 251
— — Drawbacks of, 250-267
— — — General verdict upon, 267, 268
— — Improvement of street traffic arising from, 273, 274
— — Its effect upon existing railways, 270, 272
— — Our national life and, 269-286
— — overcrowding, Effect of, on, 257-286
— — Social results of, 274, 275
— — Various forms of, 9, 10
— New and old order of, 1-9
Locomotives, Steam railway, 2, 4
— Steam in railway, 4, 5
London County Council, The, 143
— — — and rehousing, 143, 144
— — Council’s tramway system, 146-150
— — — tramways, Business journey on, 151-156

— Motor-car accident in, 266, 267
— Overcrowding in, 279-284
— Removal of factories from, 144-146
— termini, Changes at, produced by electric locomotion, 272, 273
— tramcar overturned, 262, 263
— tramways in the past, 129, 130
— United Tramways Company, 156-160
— — — — Extension to Hampton Court, 156, 159
London’s congested traffic, 186, 187
— latest and longest Tube, 117-127
— railways and American capital, 61, 160, 161
— — Royal Commission on, 112-116, 142, 143
— — Selection of central authority respecting, 115, 116
London’s street traffic, 141, 142
— tangled Tubes, 107-116
— congested traffic, suggested remedy for, 108, 109
— tramways, 141-161

Maintenance of tramway tracks, 150, 151
Manchester and Liverpool Electric Express Railway, The, 40-46
— — — — — — Advantages of, 41, 42, 45
— electric tramways, 169, 170
— tramcar collision, 262
Manufacturing centres of Great Britain, 174-177
Medical objections to railway travelling in Tubes, 256, 267
Mercantile motors, 220-223
Metropolitan and Metropolitan District Railways, Construction of, 48-51
— — — — Differences of opinion between the New, 61, 62
— — — — Chelsea power house of, 51-54
— District Railway, New, Driving power of trains on the, 54, 55
— — — rejuvenated, Rolling stock of, 55-57
— — — Rejuvenation of, 51-59
— — — — Stations and tunnels of, 57-59
— Inner Circle, Rejuvenating the, 47-62
— Railway, Rejuvenation of the, 59, 60
— railways fifty years ago, 47, 48
Modern social questions, 284, 285

Mole, Tube at work, The, 81
— — — — Objections to, 82
Monmouth motor-car accident, 265, 266
Mono-railway, Ballybunion and Listowel, 36, 37
— — Behr’s, 35, 36
— — Manchester and Liverpool Electric Express, 40-46
— railways, 31-38
Motor-car accident at Barnet, 266
— — at Chester, 266
— — at Grimsthorpe, 264, 265
— — in London, 266, 267
— — at Monmouth, 265, 266
— — at Rearsby, 265
— — at Stroud, 265
— industry, Flourishing state of British, 204-206
Motor-cars, Accidents to, 264-267
— Boer War and, 214, 215
— Curious uses of, 221-223
— Description of various, 206
— Electric, 206, 208
— Private, in country, 203
— — in town, 202, 203
— Public highways and, 227-229
— — — Mr. Balfour’s views on, 228, 229
— Speed of, 224-226
Motor-cars, Speed of, Legislation respecting,226
— Unpopularity of, 200-202, 226
— Usefulness of, 226, 227
Motor-cycles, 220, 221
Motor vehicles, Agricultural, 218, 219
— — at Aldershot, Trials of, 215-217
— — Rider Haggard and, 219
— — Warfare in, 214, 217, 218
Motors, Mercantile, 220-223
Motoring, Advance of, 202, 203
Municipal tramways in the British Isles, Extent of, 164-166

Navigation, Electricity applied to, 230-249
New and old order of locomotion, 1-9
— order of locomotion, 5-8
New York shallow underground railway, 194-198

Official report upon causes of electric railway accidents, 251, 253
— — — — tramway accidents, 261, 262
Old and new order of locomotion, 1-9
— order of locomotion, 1-5
Omnibuses, Advantages of horseless, 212
— Combination (electricity and petrol), 210, 211
— Electric, 211, 212
— Existing, 208, 209
— Steam, 209, 210
Overcrowding and aliens, 279, 280
— and emigration, 278, 279
— Effect of electric locomotion on, 275-286
— in London, 279-284
— — — Facts and statistics relating to, 283, 284
— — — Possible remedy for, 284
— What it is like, 280-283
— What it is not like, 275-277

Paris shallow underground railway, 188-190
Parliament, Tube Bills in (1902), 110, 111
— — — (1902), Authorised, in, 112
— — — (1903), Postponed, 114, 115
Piccadilly, Associations of, 122-126
Pioneer electric railways, 11-30
Princess Ida, The, 230-249
— — Construction of, 239-243
— — Description of, 239
— — Provisioning of, 245, 246
— — Recreations and conveniences on board, 243-245
— — Visit to, 238, 239
— — Voyage to the Cape of, 247-249
Private motor-cars in country, 203

— — in town, 202, 203
Provincial tramways, 162-185
— rural tramways, 171-174
Public conveyances, 208, 213
— highways and motor-cars, 227, 228
— — — Mr. Balfour’s views on, 228, 229

Questions, Modern social, 284, 285

Railway accident on Liverpool Overhead Electric, 251-253
— — in United States, Electric, 251
— breakdown, City and South London Electric, 255, 256
— breakdowns, Central London Electric, 253-255
— Electric, Brighton Beach, 13, 14
— — Central London, 63-73
— — City and South London, 15-18, 22, 23
— — Giant’s Causeway, 11-13
— — Great Northern, Brompton, and Piccadilly Circus, 117-127
— — Liverpool Overhead, 26-30
— — Manchester and Liverpool Express, 40-46
— — Metropolitan, 59, 60
— — — District, 51-59
— — Waterloo and City, 23-26
— Light, Act of 1896, 162-166, 171, 172
— — — Rural tramways effect on, 163, 164
— Metropolitan, Rejuvenation of, 59, 60
— — District, Rejuvenation of, 51-59
— — — New, Driving power of trains, 54, 55
— — — — Power house at Chelsea, 51-54
— — — — Rolling Stock of, 55-57
— — — — Stations and tunnels of, 57-59
— Mono, Behr’s, 35, 36
— travelling, Improvements in, 2-4
— — in Tubes, Medical objections to, 256, 257
— Tubes, Annoyance from vibration in, 86-89
— — — — Official Commission upon, 87
— — — — — — Report of upon, 87, 89

— — Depths of, 81
— — How they are bored, 77-81
— Tubing, Claims for damage by, 83-86
Railways, Construction of Metropolitan and Metropolitan District, 48-51
— Differences of opinion between the Metropolitan and Metropolitan
District, 61, 62
— Electric, Accidents on, 251-256
— — Remarkable, 31-46
— Existing, Effects of electric locomotion upon, 270-272
— High-speed, 38-40
— London’s, Royal Commission on, 112-116, 142, 143
Railways, London’s, Selection of Central authority respecting, 115, 116
— Metropolitan, fifty years ago, 47, 48
— Mono, 31-38
— Tube, open for traffic in London, 110
Ramsgate tramcar shock, 264
Rearsby motor-car accident, 265
Rider Haggard and motor vehicles, 219
Rural tramways, 162-185
— — and local authorities, 182-185
— — New order of, 179-182
— — Old order of, 173, 174
— — Provincial, 171-174
— — Usefulness of, 172, 173
Rush for the London tramways, 138-140

Shallow underground railway, Boston, 190-194
— — — Buda-Pesth, 190
— — — London County Council’s design for, 187, 188
— — — New York, 194-198
— — — Paris, 188-190
— — — system, The, 186-199
— — — — Board of Trade report upon, 199
— — — — Its adaptability to London, 198, 199
Ships and steamers, Development in size of, 230-235
— — Use of aluminium in building, 234
Signs of the times and electricity, 285

Social results of electric locomotion, 274, 275
Speed of motor-cars, 224-226
— — Legislation respecting, 226
Steam railway locomotives, 2, 4
— in railway locomotives, 4, 5
— omnibuses, 209, 210
Storage of electricity, 235
— — Edison’s system, 235, 236
Street traffic, Improvement in, arising from electric locomotion, 273, 274
Stroud motor-car accident, 265
Subways and suburban lines, 109, 110
Sunderland tramcar shock, 263

Thames Tunnel and Brunei’s shield, 76, 77
Touring in the Tubes (a sketch), 90-106
Traction engine used in Crimean War, 217
Traffic, London’s congested, 186, 187
— — street, 141, 142
Tramcar collision at Manchester, 262
— overturned in London, 262, 263
— shock at Ramsgate, 264
— — Sunderland, 263
Tramcars, Electric, Description of, 137, 138
Tramway accidents, 258-263
Tramway tracks, maintenance of, 150, 151
— traction, various methods of electric, 131-137
Tramways, Birmingham, 170, 171
— British Electric Traction Co.’s, 180-182
— Electric, Accident at Chatham, 259, 260
— — — Devonport, 261, 262
— — — Glasgow, 260, 261
— — — Huddersfield, 258, 259
— — Accidents, Official report upon causes of, 261, 262
— — accumulators, Haulage of by, 137
— — closed conduit, Haulage of by, 134
— — generally, 128-140
— — Municipal, Extent of, in British Isles, 164-166

— — Objections to, 258
— — open conduit, Haulage of by, 133, 134
— — overhead trolley, Haulage of by, 134-137
— Glasgow, 166-168
— haulage on, Various methods of, 130, 131
— History of, 128-130
— Introduction of, by G. F. Train, 128, 129
— Liverpool, 168, 169
— London County Council’s system of, 146-150
— — in the past, 129, 130
— — United Company, 156-160
— — — — Extension to Hampton Court, 156-159
— London’s, 141-161
— Manchester, 169, 170
— Provincial, 162-185
— — rural, 171, 174
— Rural, Effect of Light Railways Act, 1896, on, 163, 164
— — Local authorities and, 182-185
— — New order of, 179-182
— — Old order of, 173, 174
Tramways, Rural, Usefulness of, 172, 173
— Rush for the London, 138-140
Trial trip in the City and South London Railway, 19-22
Tube Bills in Parliament (1902), 110, 111
— — — — Authorised, in, 112
— — — (1903), Postponed, 114, 115
— London’s latest and longest, 117-127
— mole at work, The, 81, 82
— — — Objections to, 82
— Railway, Central London, 63-73
— — City and South London, 15-18, 22, 23
— — Great Northern, Brompton, and Piccadilly Circus, 117-127
— — Waterloo and City, 23-26
— railways, Depths of, 81
— — How they are bored, 77-81
— — open for traffic in London, 110
Tubes, London’s tangled, 107-116

— — — Suggested remedy for, 108, 109
— Railway travelling in, Medical objections to, 256, 257
— Touring in the (a sketch), 90-106
Tubing, Claims for damage caused by railway, 83-86
Tubular system, The, 74-89
— — Origin of, 75, 76

Unpopularity of motor-cars, 200-202, 226, 227
Usefulness of motor-cars, 226, 227
— of rural tramways, 172, 173

Vehicles, Electric motor, 206, 208
— Horseless, electrical and otherwise, 200-229
— — in the past, 203, 204
Vibration of railway Tubes, Annoyance from, 86-89
— — — — — Board of Trade Committee upon, 87
— — — — — Report of Board of Trade Committee upon, 87-89

Warfare, motor vehicles in, 214-218
Waterloo and City Railway, 23-26
PLYMOUTH
WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON
PRINTERS

FOOTNOTES:
[1] This is by no means the oldest steam-engine at work in the kingdom, the doyen being
one built as far back as 1767, and used continuously ever since at Charles Clifford and Sons’
Metal-rolling Mills, Birmingham. It is of beam type, and the oak beam was only replaced at the
end of last year by one of iron. In 1812 a new cylinder was put in, but the rest of the engine
remains as it was 136 years ago, even to the connecting-rod for rolling-mill purposes. It is said
that this G.O.M. is more economical than many of the modern engines used in the trade.
[2] The biggest and most powerful locomotive in the world is stated to be the “Bessemer,”
built in 1900 at the Pittsburg Locomotive Works, U.S.A., weighing with its tender 175 tons. Its
height is 16 feet from rail to top of smoke-stack, and it is capable of easily drawing a train of
4,000 tons at 25 miles an hour, or 8,000 tons at 15 miles an hour. Its hauling power is therefore
enormous, and so it ought to be, as the diameter of the smallest ring of the boiler is 7 feet 10
inches. The nearest approach in size to this monster was constructed in Great Britain for the
Santa Fé Railway in Argentina, and weighed 150 tons.
[3] See Chapter I.
[4] These have since given place to motor-cars built in America.
[5] Report of Parliamentary Committee on Housing of the Poor, 1902.
[6] vide Chapter V.
[7] One of the largest tramway schemes ever promoted is contained in the Nottinghamshire
and Derbyshire Tramways Bill, which came before Parliament in March last. The routes have a
total length of 80 miles, and pass through a district with a population of close upon three-
quarters of a million. The idea is to connect, by means of electric tramways, the towns of
Nottingham, Long Eaton, Derby, Ilkeston, Ripley, Alfreton, Sutton-in-Ashfield, Pleasley,
Mansfield, Eastwood, Bulwell, and Hucknall Torkard.
[8] In England the motor-car is beginning to play an important part in country
parliamentary elections. Motor-cars are used by commercial travellers, and are being tried for
the official work of the police about the metropolis. The General Post Office is also giving
motor carriers a trial for letters and parcels; and motors are utilised for dust-carts.
[9] A very curious and, to the superstitious, significant coincidence was recently reported
from Ireland.
Last year, when permission was asked to repair the road between Newcastle and Kilcoole, a
member of the rural council opposed, declaring that it was good enough for farmers, and they
did not want to encourage “galoots in motor-cars” and “go-boys on bicycles” in their
neighbourhood. This councillor was, not long since, killed through the wheel of his cart
catching in one of the ruts complained of!
[10] Both Brunel and Scott Russell, the eminent shipbuilder, argued that from scientific
theory and actual experience there need be no limit to the size of a ship when constructed on
the tubular principle, except that which the quality of the material imposed.
[11] The Hamburg-American Line’s luxurious yacht Prinzessin Victoria Luise has a
splendidly-equipped gymnasium, where the passengers can indulge in horse-riding, cycling,
and rowing, on the various apparatus installed. On one of the decks is a first-class “cricket-
pitch,” a tennis-court, and an archery ground.

[12] A heater devised by Mr. E. G. Rivers, chief electrical engineer to the Office of Works,
brings the problem of electric heating for domestic purposes well within the bounds of practical
utility. It renders possible the employment of electricity for heating buildings, for cooking, and
for other uses in a manner hitherto impossible. Mr. Rivers is engaged in developing his
invention in the direction of applying it to cooking-ranges, and expects very shortly to adapt it
to that use.

Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
safeguard against breaksdown=> safeguard against breakdowns {pg 8}
Motor tricycles and bicylces=> Motor tricycles and bicycles {pg 205}

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TUBE, TRAIN,
TRAM, AND CAR; OR, UP-TO-DATE LOCOMOTION ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be
renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law
means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the
Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States
without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying
and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the
PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a
registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook,
except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying
royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge
anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is
very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg
eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do
practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by
U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license,
especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any
other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you
agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg License
available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing
Project Gutenberg electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg electronic work,
you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the
terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright)
agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement,
you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg
electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy
of or access to a Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to
be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on
or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be
bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can
do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works even without complying
with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a
lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg electronic works if you
follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to
Project Gutenberg electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation”
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual
work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are

located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works
based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are
removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg
mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing
Project Gutenberg works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for
keeping the Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can
easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when you
share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a
constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the
laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before
downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating
derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg work.
The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status
of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work on which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied
or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License included with
this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in
the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country
where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is derived from
texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice
indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the
work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without
paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a
work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on
the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs
1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted with the
permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply
with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed
by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project
Gutenberg License for all works posted with the permission of the
copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg License
terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any
other work associated with Project Gutenberg.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently
displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or
immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format other than “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the
official Project Gutenberg website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no
additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of
exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work
in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format
must include the full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph
1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing,
copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works unless you comply
with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to
or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works provided that:

• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the
use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the
owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has agreed to donate
royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days
following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to
prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly
marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about
donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”

• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does
not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You
must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works
possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all
access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.

• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.

• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution
of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in
this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project

Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3
below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works
not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and
the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as,
but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription
errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or
damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that
damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except
for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to
you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE
THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT
EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE
THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY
DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE
TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL,
PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE
NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you
discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you
can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the
defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund.
If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to

you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work
electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you
may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the
problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in
paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING
BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR
FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or
limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable
to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum
disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity
or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that
arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause
to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg work, (b)
alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg
work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project
Gutenberg

Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic
works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including
obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the

efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of
life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance
they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg’s goals and ensuring
that the Project Gutenberg collection will remain freely available for
generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for
Project Gutenberg and future generations. To learn more about the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations
can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)
(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of
Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service.
The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541.
Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax
deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s
laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 41 Watchung Plaza #516,
Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and
official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the
number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment

including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are
particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States.
Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort,
much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these
requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not
received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or
determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit
www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have
not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against
accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us
with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any
statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the
United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods
and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including
checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit:
www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg
electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with
anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg
eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed editions,
all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a

copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in
compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility:
www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg, including how
to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation,
how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email
newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back

back