THE TELEPHONE
If there was one thing more than another which must have seemed to our
forefathers essential to conversation it was the presence of two or more
individuals within what we call speaking distance of one another. Even
in the cases where men have believed themselves to be in communication
with the unseen world, the spirit with whom they held intercourse has
been with them or near them. The one thing of which they could never
have dreamed was, that in London you could talk rationally to a friend
in Paris on the price of Consols or the state of the weather.
Yet the idea of the telephone is older than many of us think. Robert
Hooke in 1667 described how by the aid of a tightly drawn wire bent in
many angles, he propagated sound to a very considerable distance.
Wheatstone in 1821 actually invented an instrument which he called a
telephone, and in a criticism of this a journal made the remarkable
prophecy: “And if music be capable of being thus conducted, perhaps
words of speech may be susceptible of the same means of propagation.” A
still more significant prophecy was made by Charles Bousseul, a
Frenchman, who said: “It is certain that in a more or less distant
future speech will be transmitted by electricity. I have made
experiments in this direction: they are delicate, and demand time and
patience, but the approximations obtained promise a favourable result.”
Experiments went on, the musical telephone was advanced considerably in
effectiveness, but it was not until 1876, when Graham Bell patented his
invention in the United States, that the speaking telephone was actually
born.
It is a curious fact that Graham Bell's father, Alexander Melville Bell,
was a teacher of elocution in Edinburgh; he was the author of numerous
text-books on the art of speaking correctly. He was also the author of
an ingenious sign language which he called “Visible Speech.” Every
letter in the alphabet of this language represented a certain action of
the lips and tongue, and a new method was provided for those who wished
to learn a foreign language or to speak their own language correctly.
The son became, like his father, a teacher of elocution, learned in the
art of voice production. He came to London, met among others Sir Charles
Wheatstone, and was fired with ambition to follow in that great man's
footsteps. He went to America, devoted himself to scientific study, fell
in love, neglected his professional duties, and his future father-in-law
refused his consent to the marriage unless he abandoned his “foolish
telephone.” Bell was not perhaps in the eyes of many of the fair sex an
ideal lover, for he worked on and on until the great day of the 10th
March 1876, when “the apparatus actually talked.” He was too poor to pay
for his own railway ticket to the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia
to show off his instrument. It attracted at first but little attention
until, such is the veneration for crowned heads in a republican country,
it received notice from a royal visitor. Dom Pedro, the Emperor of
Brazil, took up the receiver, and Bell went to the transmitter. In a few
moments Dom Pedro exclaimed, with a look of utter amazement, “My God! it
talks.” This is what everybody repeated who made the same experiment; it
is what many are still saying to-day.
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[Illustration]
_Photo_ _Clarke & Hyde._
THE TELEPHONE DETECTIVE.
The observation table at the great telephone exchange at the
General Post Office. An observer is sitting with a split
second stop watch in front of him. He records the exact time
taken by operators to establish connection between
subscribers, together with their treatment of subscribers.
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At the meeting of the British Association in the same year, Sir William
Thomson gave his experiences at the Philadelphia Exhibition. “In the
Canadian Department I heard 'To be or not to be ... there's the rub'
through an electric wire: but scorning monosyllables, the electric
articulation rose to higher flights, and gave me passages taken at
random from the New York newspapers. 'S.S. Cox has arrived' (I failed to
make out the S.S. Cox). 'The City of New York,' 'Senator Morton,' 'the
Senate has resolved to print a thousand extra copies.' 'The Americans in
London have resolved to celebrate the coming 4th of July.' All this my
own ears heard spoken to me with unmistakable distinctness by the then
circular disc-armature of just such another little electro-magnet as I
hold in my hand.”
Mr. William Preece, who was in after years knighted, and who was at the
time Divisional Engineer to the General Post Office, exhibited at this
same meeting Bell's telephone, which he had brought from the United
States, and Graham Bell himself gave further illustrations.
Mr. Preece was at that time watching the progress of the telephone with
a keen eye for the interests of the Post Office, but so also were
business men who saw a profitable opening for private enterprise. To put
the matter briefly, the instrument was at once captured by private
speculators and exploited for all it was worth and a good deal more
besides. The Telephone Company, Limited, was formed in 1878 to acquire
Bell's patent, and in 1879 the Edison Telephone Company of London was
formed. By this time it was being generally discussed whether these
people were not poaching on the manor of the Postmaster-General. That
official asked Parliament to insert a clause in a Telegraph Bill which
was under discussion declaring that “the term 'telegraph' included any
apparatus for transmitting messages or other communications with the aid
of electricity, magnetism, or any like agency.” But Parliament has
usually a very tender heart for the private speculator, and refused to
agree to this proposal. It is a habit with many ill-informed people to
blame the officials of the Post Office for not collaring the telephone
from the first, but if there were any blame attached to them it must be
shared by Parliament. There was possibly in official circles a little
jealousy of this new rival to the telegraph: it must be remembered that
State telegraphs were yet in their infancy, and officials were still at
work organising the new system all over the country at great expense to
the State. We have seen in a previous chapter that just at the time when
the mail coach service had been magnificently organised, and vast sums
of money had been spent on improving the roads, the steam engine upset
all the calculations of the postal officials. Something of the same kind
seemed to be likely to happen in the case of the telephone and
telegraph. It is easy to be wise after the event, but the telegraph was
still a new toy in the hands of the postal officials, and their
strongest efforts were being directed to improve this branch of the
service.
But if the Post Office was not over enthusiastic in its welcome of the
new medium it was at any rate keen in the assertion of its own rights.
When the Edison Company announced its intention to start telephone
business in London the Postmaster-General at once instituted proceedings
against the company for infringement of his monopoly rights under the
Telegraph Act of 1869. This was a test action, and Mr. Justice Stephen,
who was the judge, decided that the telephone was in the meaning of the
Act a telegraph, and that telephone exchange business could not legally
be carried out except by the Postmaster-General or with his consent. The
decision covered also future inventions in regard to “every organised
system of communication by means of wires according to any preconcerted
system of signals.” This, it has been said, was the psychological moment
when the Government might then and there have taken advantage of its
position and have incorporated the telephone with the telegraph system.
But Great Britain acts cautiously in these matters, and as I have said
she has an intense respect for private enterprise. It is only when
competition between rival companies obviously fails to meet the wants of
the public that she consents to allow her Government to step in and do
the work itself. It was characteristic of our nation that divided
counsels should so long have been allowed to continue over the telephone
business; it was characteristic of our officials also, that they were
not prepared to launch out into any fresh expenditure of public money
with the purchase of the telegraphs still weighing heavily on their
consciences.
Public opinion would not have allowed the Post Office to act the dog in
the manger over the business, even if it desired to do so, and it
proceeded to grant licences to the telephone companies to work within
certain areas. In 1883 the Post Office did in fact propose to engage in
active competition with the companies, but the Treasury opposed the
policy on the ground that the State should at most be ready to
supplement and not to supersede private enterprise.
The various telephone companies united in 1889 under the name of the
National Telephone Company, but their work was carried on under many
restrictions. They were not allowed to lay wires underground, and for a
long time they were not permitted to establish trunk lines. The Post
Office was perhaps still inspired too much with the idea that it was a
profit-making institution, and it was making a fight for the telegraph,
with which the telephone was now in serious competition. Another
opportunity for the Post Office to step in and buy out the companies
happened in 1890, but it was not taken. But in 1892 the Post Office
compelled the company to sell their trunk lines to the Government,
leaving the local exchanges in the hands of the company. So things went
on until 1898, when a Select Committee was appointed by Parliament to
consider whether the telephone service is calculated to become of such
general benefit as to justify its being undertaken by municipal and
other local authorities, and if so, under what conditions. The decision
of the Committee was that so long as the telephone service was not
likely to become of general benefit the present practical monopoly in
the hands of a private company should continue. The telephone, we see,
was still considered only a luxury for the few, and although certain
foreign countries were making great strides in the direction of a
general use of the system, Parliament was not yet prepared to sacrifice
the private speculator. The committee, however, recommended competition
by the Post Office and local authorities, and in pursuance of this
policy the Post Office in 1899 decided to establish a telephone system
in London in competition with the company.
Thus began the first direct connection of the Post Office with the
working of the telephone. But there is always something unsatisfactory
and not in accord with the fitness of things when the State enters into
competition with any of its members in business undertakings, and this
attempt was certainly not advantageous to anybody. In 1901 the Post
Office came to an agreement with the company in regard to the London
business. The company agreed to free intercommunication between its
subscribers and those of the Post Office, and undertook to charge rates
identical with those fixed by the Department. The long struggle of the
company to obtain permission to lay underground wires was settled by the
Post Office agreeing to provide these wires for the company at a rental.
Finally the Post Office undertook to buy out the National Telephone
Company in the year 1911.
Briefly stated, this is the story of how the Post Office came to
possess, as was already the case with the telegraph, the working of the
telephone. Even now there are persons who are of opinion that although
there should be one single authority to work the telephone, this should
not be the Post Office. Let me submit a few considerations why I think
the right policy has been adopted. The telephone has undoubtedly become
a formidable competitor to the telegraph, and it is desirable, with a
view to the economical adjustment of facilities, that both systems
should be under one direction. In this case the one service becomes the
natural complement to the other, and one or the other can be developed
or reduced as circumstances demand. Moreover, there are hundreds of
miles of underground pipes all over the country laid at an expense of a
million and a half, and a single cable may contain from 100 to 200 wires
used indiscriminately for telegraph and telephone services. Many
thousands of miles of route are furnished with poles used for both
services.
Then there is the familiar illustration of the post office existing in
every village and town. What other authority would think of touching the
unremunerative parts of the country, or would think it worth while to
take up the business which the Post Office now undertakes as a matter of
course? If the two services were separated all this plant and
accommodation would have to be duplicated (or dropped) for telephones.
All the work would have to be controlled by officials just as at
present, with this difference, that they would be entirely free from the
effects of popular criticism and control. Everybody claims the right to
attack a Department of the State, and if their grievances are not
attended to, the member of Parliament for their constituency can ask a
question in the House of Commons. The Postmaster-General is considered
fair game for attack by every telephone subscriber; far less
satisfaction would be got out of a dispute with an official not directly
responsible to Parliament.
A telephone subscriber, writing from the Junior Constitutional Club in
reply to a pressing request for payment of subscription, wrote: “Anyhow,
£5 is more easily paid than £8 at the present moment. I don't suppose
the P.M.G. is quite so short for a day or two as I am.”
And in a further letter he said: “It would be an act of grace on the
part of an exalted and powerful man like the P.M.G. to show clemency
under the cruel circumstances and forego his rights.”
There would be no satisfaction in writing such letters from your club to
the secretary of a company. To have the opportunity to be saucy to a
member of his Majesty's Government is only given to some people when
they make use of the Post Office.
Men point to the loss to the Post Office in working the telegraphs. “Is
this not a proof of the inefficiency of the permanent official?” But
certain things should be remembered before making such accusations. What
are the chief causes of the loss? Parliament insisted upon sixpenny
telegrams, and they are certainly not remunerative; no private company
would touch them at that price, except perhaps to certain towns and
districts where the business would pay its way. The Post Office
telegraphs everywhere at that price. Parliament also insisted upon cheap
Press telegrams, which are a loss to the Post Office, though a great
gain to the public. And as a contributory cause to the loss must be
mentioned the telephone itself, which has to a certain extent destroyed
the most remunerative portion of telegraph work, the transmission of
short messages. Nearly every village has its telegraph. Numbers of
offices are kept open all night. The railway companies have an immense
free service over the whole Post Office system. But the man whose
telephone service has for the moment gone wrong forgets all this, and in
his indignation he attacks the whole system.
The United States is practically the only country of any importance in
which the telephone system is not owned and worked by the State. The
General Manager of the Post Office Telephone Service, who paid an
official visit to the United States in 1910, in answer to an inquiry as
to whether the service in New York is as good as it is usually
represented to be, stated frankly that “the service given in New York
City, where the telephone problems are similar to those that confront us
in London, is unquestionably superior to ours. But,” he added, “I
believe that we are rapidly catching up, and I feel sure that at no
distant date it will be commonly acknowledged that the service in London
is equivalent to that of New York.”
As regards the trunk lines and long-distance business in the United
States, there are often complaints of high charges and other
inconveniences, but the telephone service is developed there much more
extensively than in Great Britain. The Americans suffer more than we do
from cyclones and storms and interruptions to their telephone system.
Everything is on a magnificent scale, even the weather. My readers may
remember the story of the Scot who was explaining to an American what
severe winters they experienced in his native country. “Why, it is
nothing at all to the cold we have in the States,” said the American. “I
recollect one winter when a sheep jumping from a hillock to a field;
became suddenly frozen on the way, and stuck in the air like a mass of
ice.” “But,” said the solemn Scot, whose first consideration is always
love of the naked fact, “the law of gravity would not allow that.” “I
know that,” was the ready answer, “but the law of gravity was frozen
too.” No wonder, with such possibilities, the American long-distance
telephone service occasionally breaks down.
Technical terms are difficult to understand in this country, but America
often helps us out of difficulties by her picturesque language. For
instance, a “snooper in” is a person who listens to other people's
conversations on the telephone. And “the trouble man” is an excellent
name for the individual who investigates faults on a wire.
It is the long-distance calls which appeal most strongly to our sense of
the marvellous. Owing to our insular position the extension of the range
of telephonic speech has always been a difficult engineering problem, as
the insertion of a length of submarine or underground cable in a
telephone circuit has a “choking” effect, and materially limits the
distance over which speech is possible. In order to minimise this
difficulty, which affects Great Britain so adversely, a cable treated
with loading coils was laid in 1909 between Abbot's Cliff, Dover, and
Cape Grisnez on the French coast. It is the resistance capacity and
induction of a circuit which decides whether a long-distance
conversation will be satisfactory or not, and the insertion of “loading
coils” in a cable artificially increases the induction, thus increasing
the volume and improving the quality of speech received at the end of a
circuit in such a cable.
There are sometimes difficulties in the maintenance of a cable in a busy
waterway like the English Channel, as it is no uncommon occurrence for
vessels to foul cables with their anchors, and sometimes even in lifting
the anchor the cable is heaved to the surface.
Everybody asks the question, “How far can I speak on the telephone?” In
this country at least that will ultimately depend on the way the
difficulties of the submarine cable are surmounted. You can talk in
England to Paris and Brussels and many provincial towns in France and
Belgium. The new cable has enabled telephonic communication to be made
between Paris and Glasgow: Manchester can speak to Paris, Nottingham to
Lyons, and Ipswich to Bordeaux. The engineers of the Post Office talk of
the possibility of a conversation between London and Astrachan.
The scene at a large telephone exchange is very curious and striking.
_The Daily Chronicle_ some time ago gave a very vivid description of
what meets the eye and ear when you enter the room. “A low, confused
murmur falls pleasantly on the ear, with a dim suggestiveness of
activity in being. It is like the hubbub of a far-off multitude or an
echo of Babel heard through the electrophone. It is the negation of
noise, and yet it bespeaks energy and meaning. Around the room many
girls are seated with their faces to the wall. On their heads a bright
metal band is fastened, and against the hair of the brunettes it gleams
like a barbaric ornament. With the intuition of womanhood these young
ladies must be aware that this implement of their toil becomes them, for
they carry it with a certain grace and coquetry. But they have no eyes
for the intruder. All the time they are intent on something else,
listening constantly to the voices of the unseen. All London is speaking
to them—nay, all England. Though the voices are those of strangers, they
respond readily and reply promptly to the words they hear. They are the
intermediaries of communication, and they bring together millions who
are miles apart. Heaven knows how much purposeless chatter they
encourage, yet they also make possible the most momentous conversations,
fraught with grave consequences to individuals and communities. Yet all
the while they are calm and unmoved, speaking in a voice that is ever
soft, gentle, and low—'an excellent thing in woman'—and they deftly
handle coloured cards and push plugs into thousands of small holes in
the framework before them. A few soft-footed superintendents walk up and
down the room, but there is no sound to conflict with the murmurous
harmony of subdued speech.”
There are as many jokes about the use of strong words on the telephone
as there are about golf and bad language. The telephone is always a
trial to the impatient person. “Is there a doddering idiot on this
telephone?” shouted an irascible old gentleman down the transmitter.
“Not at this end,” came the ready reply of the young lady at the
exchange.
The ordinary rules which govern the art of conversation in polite
circles do not fit in with the telephonic talk. When the conversation is
to be abruptly broken off in three minutes it is something like
endeavouring to pour out your soul on a sixpenny telegram.
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[Illustration]
_Photo_ _Clark & Hyde_
THREE MINUTES’ CONVERSATION BY TELEPHONE.
The calculagraph is a clock which registers the exact time
occupied by each conversation. The operator depresses the
handle on one side when the conversation begins, and
depresses the other when the conversation is finished.
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_The Daily Mail_ once published an article entitled “Learning Languages
by Telephone,” which laid the newspaper open to _Punch's_ obvious retort
that “telephone girls, we understand, have learnt quite a lot of
language that way.”
An employer and his office boy were having a conversation over the
telephone, in the course of which the employer found it necessary to
remonstrate with his employé and to express somewhat forcibly his
opinion of the latter's actions or behaviour. At the conclusion of his
master's remarks the boy inquired: “Are you done? Are you quite sure you
are done? Well, all them names you called me you is.”
The possibilities of the Post Office Telephone Service when fully
developed are enormous. In the United States, for instance, there are
to-day more telephones in use by farmers than the whole number in use by
commercial and all other classes in the United Kingdom. And these
telephones are found to add to the profits and comfort of the farmers to
an extent which makes the cost of the telephone seem negligible.
The British Post Office, following the American example, has arranged
that if a sufficient number of subscribers living on or near a country
road leading to a town where there is a telephone exchange will agree to
use one line, they can telephone as much as they please to people on
that exchange for the moderate charge of £3 a year.
A British farmer can speak from his farm to all the country round. The
telephone saves him inconvenient and expensive journeys to neighbouring
towns, while he and his family can talk to their friends and neighbours
and can arrange social functions.
The proverbial dulness of the country-side may be relieved considerably
by the development of the telephone system, and curious results may
eventually be seen in our national habits in the future. With a talking
instrument installed at every post office and perhaps every house, the
whole nation may gradually accustom itself to social intercourse over
the wires. The Scotsman may lose some of his reserve, and the Englishman
much of his class feeling. On the other hand, the Irishman will find
increased opportunities for his natural eloquence.
Shall we require in such circumstances to visit one another so
frequently? Will railway receipts fall off? Will the taxi-cab wait in
vain for a call? There is one certain thing the popularising of the
telephone will effect—it will test the sincerity of our friend who
protests that he is anxious to see us, and to be in our company. If this
sentiment, as is often the case, arises merely out of a desire to hear
himself talk, the man may simply use the telephone. We, too, have an
advantage: we can cut him off.