Romance of Modern Invention — Horseless Carriages

HORSELESS CARRIAGES.

A body of enterprising Manchester merchants, in the year 1754, put on the road a “flying coach,” which, according to their special advertisement, would, “however incredible it may appear, actually, barring accidents, arrive in London in four and a half days after leaving Manchester.

” According to the Lord Chancellor of the time such swift travelling was considered dangerous as well as wonderful--the condition of the roads might well make it so--and also injurious to health.

“I was gravely advised,” he says, “to stay a day in York on my journey between Edinburgh and London, as several passengers who had gone through without stopping had died of apoplexy from the rapidity of the motion.

” As the coach took a fortnight to pass from the Scotch to the English capital, at an average pace of between three and four miles an hour, it is probable that the Chancellor’s advisers would be very seriously indisposed by the mere sight of a motor-car whirling along in its attendant cloud of dust, could they be resuscitated for the purpose.

And we, on the other hand, should prefer to get out and walk to “flying” at the safe speed of their mail coaches.

[Illustration: _By kind permission of The Speedwell Motor Co. _ _M.

Serpollet on the “Easter Egg,” which at Nice covered a kilometre in the record time of 29-4/5 secs.

(over 75 miles per hour).

This car is run with steam.

_] The improvement of highroads, and road-making generally, accelerated the rate of posting.

In the first quarter of the nineteenth century an average of ten or even twelve miles an hour was maintained on the Bath Road.

But that pace was considered inadequate when the era of the “iron horse” commenced, and the decay of stage-driving followed hard upon the growth of railways.

What should have been the natural successor of the stage-coach was driven from the road by ill-advised legislation, which gave the railroads a monopoly of swift transport, which has but lately been removed.

The history of the steam-coach, steam-carriage, automobile, motor-car--to give it its successive names--is in a manner unique, showing as it does, instead of steady development of a practical means of locomotion, a sudden and decisive check to an invention worthy of far better treatment than it received.

The compiler of even a short survey of the automobile’s career is obliged to divide his account into two main portions, linked together by a few solitary engineering achievements.

The first period (1800-1836), will, without any desire to arrogate for England more than her due or to belittle the efforts of any other nations, be termed the English period, since in it England took the lead, and produced by far the greatest number of steam-carriages.

The second (1870 to the present day) may, with equal justice, be styled the Continental period, as witnessing the great developments made in automobilism by French, German, Belgian, and American engineers: England, for reasons that will be presently noticed, being until quite recently too heavily handicapped to take a part in the advance.

_Historical.

_--It is impossible to discover who made the first self-moving carriage.

In the sixteenth century one Johann Haustach, a Nuremberg watchmaker, produced a vehicle that derived its motive power from coiled springs, and was in fact a large edition of our modern clockwork toys.

About the same time the Dutch, and among them especially one Simon Stevin, fitted carriages with sails, and there are records of a steam-carriage as early as the same century.

But the first practical, and at least semi-successful, automobile driven by internal force was undoubtedly that of a Frenchman, Nicholas Joseph Cugnot, who justly merits the title of father of automobilism.

His machine, which is to-day one of the most treasured exhibits in the Paris Museum of Arts and Crafts, consisted of a large carriage, having in front a pivoted platform bearing the machinery, and resting on a solid wheel, which propelled as well as steered the vehicle.

The boiler, of stout riveted copper plates, had below it an enclosed furnace, from which the flames passed upwards through the water through a funnel.

A couple of cylinders, provided with a simple reversing gear, worked a ratchet that communicated motion to the driving-wheel.

This carriage did not travel beyond a very slow walking pace, and Cugnot therefore added certain improvements, after which (1770) it reached the still very moderate speed of four miles an hour, and distinguished itself by charging and knocking down a wall, a feat that is said to have for a time deterred engineers from developing a seemingly dangerous mode of progression.

Ten years later Dallery built a steam car, and ran it in the streets of Amiens--we are not told with what success; and before any further advance had been made with the automobile the French Revolution put a stop to all inventions of a peaceful character among our neighbours.

In England, however, steam had already been recognised as the coming power.

Richard Trevethick, afterwards to become famous as a railroad engineer, built a steam motor in 1802, and actually drove it from Cambourne to Plymouth, a distance of ninety miles.

But instead of following up this success, he forsook steam-carriages for the construction of locomotives, leaving his idea to be expanded by other men, who were convinced that a vehicle which could be driven over existing roads was preferable to one that was helpless when separated from smooth metal rails.

Between the years 1800 and 1836 many steam vehicles for road traffic appeared from time to time, some, such as David Gordon’s (propelled by metal legs pressing upon the ground), strangely unpractical, but the majority showing a steady improvement in mechanical design.

As it will be impossible, without writing a small book, to name all the English constructors of this period, we must rest content with the mention of the leading pioneers of the new locomotion.

Sir Goldsworthy Gurney, an eminent chemist, did for mechanical road propulsion what George Stephenson was doing for railway development.

He boldly spent large sums on experimental vehicles, which took the form of six-wheeled coaches.

The earliest of these were fitted with legs as well as driving-wheels, since he thought that in difficult country wheels alone would not have sufficient grip.

(A similar fallacy was responsible for the cogged wheels on the first railways.

) But in the later types legs were abandoned as unnecessary.

His coaches easily climbed the steepest hills round London, including Highgate Hill, though a thoughtful mathematician had proved by calculations that a steam-carriage, so far from mounting a gradient, could not, without violating all natural laws, so much as move itself on the level!

Having satisfied himself of their power, Gurney took his coaches further afield.

In 1829 was published the first account of a motor trip made by him and three companions through Reading, Devizes, and Melksham.

The pace was, we read, at first only about six miles an hour, including stoppages.

They drove very carefully to avoid injury to the persons or feelings of the country folk; but at Melksham, where a fair was in progress, they had to face a shower of stones, hurled by a crowd of roughs at the instigation of some coaching postilions, who feared losing their livelihood if the new method of locomotion became general.

Two of the tourists were severely hurt, and Gurney was obliged to take shelter in a brewery, where constables guarded his coach.

On the return journey the party timed their movements so as to pass through Melksham while the inhabitants were all safely in bed.

The coach ran most satisfactorily, improving every mile.

“Our pace was so rapid,” wrote one of the company, “that the horses of the mail-cart which accompanied us were hard put to it to keep up with us.

At the foot of Devizes Hill we met a coach and another vehicle, which stopped to see us mount this hill, an extremely steep one.

We ascended it at a rapid rate.

The coach and passengers, delighted at this unexpected sight, honoured us with shouts of applause.

” In 1830 Messrs. Ogle and Summers completely beat the road record on a vehicle fitted with a tubular boiler.

This car, put through its trials before a Special Commission of the House of Commons, attained the astonishing speed of 35 miles an hour on the level, and mounted a hill near Southampton at 24-1/2 miles an hour.

It worked at a boiler pressure of 250 lbs.

to the square inch, and though not hung on springs, ran 800 miles without a breakdown.

This performance appears all the more extraordinary when we remember the roads of that day were not generally as good as they are now, and that in the previous year Stephenson’s “Rocket,” running on rails, had not reached a higher velocity.

The report of the Parliamentary Commission on horseless carriages was most favourable.

It urged that the steam-driven car was swifter and lighter than the mail-coaches; better able to climb and descend hills;

safer; more economical; and less injurious to the roads; and, in conclusion, that the heavy charges levied at the toll-gates (often twenty times those on horse vehicles) were nothing short of iniquitous.

As a result of this report, motor services, inaugurated by Walter Hancock, Braithwayte, and others, commenced between Paddington and the Bank, London and Greenwich, London and Windsor, London and Stratford.

Already, in 1829, Sir Charles Dance had a steam-coach running between Cheltenham and Gloucester.

In four months it ran 3500 miles and carried 3000 passengers, traversing the nine miles in three-quarters of an hour; although narrow-minded landowners placed ridges of stone eighteen inches deep on the road by way of protest.

The most ambitious service of all was that between London and Birmingham, established in 1833 by Dr. Church.

The rolling-stock consisted of a single very much decorated coach.

The success of the road-steamer seemed now assured, when a cloud appeared on the horizon.

It had already been too successful.

The railway companies were up in arms.

They saw plainly that if once the roads were covered with vehicles able to transport the public at low fares quickly from door to door on existing thoroughfares, the construction of expensive railroads would be seriously hindered, if not altogether stopped.

So, taking advantage of two motor accidents, the companies appealed to Parliament--full of horse-loving squires and manufacturers, who scented profit in the railways--and though scientific opinion ran strongly in favour of the steam-coach, a law was passed in 1836 which rendered the steamers harmless by robbing them of their speed.

The fiat went forth that in future _every road locomotive should be preceded at a distance of a hundred yards by a man on foot carrying a red flag to warn passengers of its approach_.

This law marks the end of the first period of automobilism as far as England is concerned.

At one blow it crippled a great industry, deprived the community of a very valuable means of transport, and crushed the energies of many clever inventors who would soon, if we may judge by the rapid advances already made in construction, have brought the steam-carriage to a high pitch of perfection.

In the very year in which they were suppressed the steam services had proved their efficiency and safety.

Hancock’s London service alone traversed 4200 miles without serious accident, and was so popular that the coaches were generally crowded.

It is therefore hard to believe that these vehicles did not supply a public want, or that they were regarded by those who used them as in any way inferior to horse-drawn coaches.

Yet ignorant prejudice drove them off the road for sixty years; and to-day it surprises many Englishmen to learn that what is generally considered a novel method of travelling was already fairly well developed in the time of their grandfathers.

_Second Period_ (1870 onwards).

--To follow the further development of the automobile we must cross the Channel once again.

French invention had not been idle while Gurney and Hancock were building their coaches.

In 1835 M. Dietz established a service between Versailles and Paris, and the same year M. D’Asda carried out some successful trials of his steam “diligence” under the eyes of Royalty.

But we find that for the next thirty-five years the steam-carriage was not much improved, owing to want of capital among its French admirers.

No Gurney appeared, ready to spend his thousands in experimenting; also, though the law left road locomotion unrestricted, the railways offered a determined opposition to a possibly dangerous rival.

So that, on the whole, road transport by steam fared badly till after the terrible Franco-Prussian war, when inventors again took courage.

M.

Bollée, of Mans, built in 1873 a car, “l’Obéissante,” which ran from Mans to Paris; and became the subject of allusions in popular songs and plays, while its name was held up as an example to the Paris ladies.

Three years later he constructed a steam omnibus to carry fifty persons, and in 1878 exhibited a car that journeyed at the rate of eighteen miles an hour from Paris to Vienna, where it aroused great admiration.

After the year 1880 French engineers divided their attention between the heavy motor omnibus and light vehicles for pleasure parties.

In 1884 MM.

Bouton and Trépardoux, working conjointly with the Comte de Dion, produced a steam-driven tricycle, and in 1887 M. Serpollet followed suit with another, fitted with the peculiar form of steam generator that bears his name.

Then came in 1890 a very important innovation, which has made automobilism what it now is.

Gottlieb Daimler, a German engineer, introduced the _petrol gas-motor_.

Its comparative lightness and simplicity at once stamped it as the thing for which makers were waiting.

Petrol-driven vehicles were soon abroad in considerable numbers and varieties, but they did not attract public attention to any great extent until, in 1894, M. Pierre Giffard, an editor of the _Petit Journal_, organised a motor race from Paris to Rouen.

The proprietors of the paper offered handsome prizes to the successful competitors.

There were ten starters, some on steam, others on petrol cars.

The race showed that, so far as stability went, Daimler’s engine was the equal of the steam cylinder.

The next year another race of a more ambitious character was held, the course being from Paris to Bordeaux and back.

Subscriptions for prizes flowed in freely.

Serpollet, de Dion, and Bollée prepared steam cars that should win back for steam its lost supremacy, while the petrol faction secretly built motors of a strength to relegate steam once and for all to a back place.

Electricity, too, made a bid unsuccessfully for the prize in the Jeantaud car, a special train being engaged in advance to distribute charged accumulators over the route.

The steamers broke down soon after the start, so that the petrol cars “walked over” and won a most decisive victory.

The interest roused in the race led the Comte de Dion to found the Automobile Club of France, which drew together all the enthusiastic admirers of the new locomotion.

Automobilism now became a sport, a craze.

The French, with their fine straight roads, and a not too deeply ingrained love of horseflesh, gladly welcomed the flying car, despite its noisy and malodorous properties.

Orders flowed in so freely that the motor makers could not keep pace with the demand, or promise delivery within eighteen months.

Rich men were therefore obliged to pay double prices if they could find any one willing to sell--a state of things that remains unto this day with certain makes of French cars.

Poorer folks contented themselves with De Dion motor tricycles, which showed up so well in the 1896 Paris-Marseilles race; or with the neat little three-wheeled cars of M.

Bollée. Motor racing became the topic of the hour.

Journals were started for the sole purpose of recording the doings of motorists; and few newspapers of any popularity omitted a special column of motor news.

Successive contests on the highroads at increasing speeds attracted increased interest.

The black-goggled, fur-clad _chauffeur_ who carried off the prizes found himself a hero.

In short, the hold which automobilism has over our neighbours may be gauged from the fact that in 1901 it was estimated that nearly a thousand motor cars assembled to see the sport on the Longchamps Course (the scene of that ultra-“horsey” event, the Grand Prix), and the real interest of the meet did not centre round horses of flesh and blood.

The French have not a monopoly of devotion to automobilism.

The speedy motor car is too much in accord with the bustling spirit of the age;

its delights too easily appreciated to be confined to one country.

Allowing France the first place, America, Germany, and Belgium are not far behind in their addiction to the “sport,” and even in Britain, partially freed since 1896 from the red-flag tyranny, thanks to the efforts of Sir David Salomons, there are most visible signs that the era of the horse is beginning its end.