ANCIENT CHARIOTEERS—CELEBRATED WHIPS—INTRODUCTION OF CARRIAGES INTO ENGLAND—MR. CRESSET'S PAMPHLET—THE STATE OF THE ROADS IN 1739—DANGEROUS CONVEYANCES—THE FLYING COACH OF 1669—DEAN SWIFT'S POETICAL LINES ON HIS JOURNEY TO CHESTER—DISCOMFORTS OF INSIDE TRAVELLING—TRAVELLING IN BYGONE DAYS.
CHAPTER I.
Before I allude to the road as it is, let me refer to what it was, and in so doing bring my classical lore into play. Pelops was a coachman, who has been immortalised for his ability to drive at the rate of fourteen miles an hour by the first of Grecian bards. Despite his ivory arm, he got the whip-hand of Œnomaus, a brother "dragsman" in their celebrated chariot-race from Pisa to the Corinthian Isthmus, owing more to the rascality of the state coachman, Myrtilus, whom he bribed to furnish his master, the King of Pisa, with an old carriage, the axletree of which broke on the course, than to his own coaching merits.
Hippolytus, too, "handled the ribbons well," but "came to grief" by being overturned near the sea-shore, when flying from the resentment of his father. His horses were so frightened at the noise of sea-calves, which Neptune had purposely sent there, that they ran among the rocks till his chariot was broken and his body torn to pieces.
Virgil and Horace sang the praises and commemorated the honours of the "whips" of their day. Juvenal tells us of a Roman Consul who aspired to be a "dragsman"—
Again, I find the following lines:—
Which may be thus rendered—"The summit of some men's ambition is to drive four-in-hand."
Propertius, too, exclaims against the tandem as rivalling the curricle—that is, according to some witty translators:—
Horace writes:—
"Tandem parcas insane;"
and to those who drive this dangerous vehicle the following line may not be inappropriate:—
"Tandem discedere campis admonuit."
In addition to the above classical names, there were, early in the present century, hundreds of whips who raised the character of coachmen to the highest pinnacle of fame. Let me instance:—
Richard Vaughan, of the Cambridge "Telegraph," 'scientific in horseflesh, unequalled in driving;' Pears, of the Southampton day coach; Wood, Liley, Wilcocks, and Hayward of the "Wonder," between London and Shrewsbury; Charles Holmes, of the Blenheim coach; Izaac Walton, the Mæcenas of whips, the Braham of the Bath road; Jack Adams, the civil and obliging pastor, who taught the young Etonians to drive; Bramble, Faulkner, Dennis, Cross, and others, all of whom have long since departed this life.
Many professional stage-coachmen were men of good education. Indeed, not a few had received the advantage of a college education, and could quote Latin and Greek in a manner that surprised some of their companions. They could also tell a good story and sing a good song; so that their society was much sought after, both on the box and in the snug bar-parlour.
I will not here stop to discuss the question of rail and road, or to lament that the "Light (coaches) of other days has faded," although many a man's heart sinks to the axle when he thinks of the past, and feels disposed to sympathise with Jerry Drag, "him wot drove," I quote his own words, "the old Highflyer, Red Rover, and Markiss of Huntley."
"Them as 'ave seen coaches," says this knight of the ribbons, "afore rails came into fashion, 'ave seen something worth remembering; them was happy days for Old England, afore reform and rails turned everything upside down, and men rode as natur' intended they should, on pikes with coaches and smart, active cattle, and not by machinery, like bags of cotton and hardware; but coaches is done for ever, and a heavy blow it is. They was the pride of the country, there wasn't anything like them, as I've heerd gemmen say from forrin parts, to be found nowhere, nor never will be again."
Mais revenons à nos moutons; my present object is to compare coaching as it is with coaching as it was.
It may not here be uninteresting to mention that coaches were introduced into England by Fitz Allan, Earl of Arundel, a.d. 1580, before which time Queen Elizabeth, on public occasions, rode behind her chamberlain; and she, in her old age, used reluctantly such an effeminate conveyance. They were at first drawn by only two horses; but, as a writer of those days remarks, "The rest crept in by degrees, as man at first ventured to sea."
Historians, however, differ upon this subject, for it is stated by Stow (that ill-used antiquary, who, after a long laborious life, was left by his countrymen to beg his bread) that in 1564, Booner, a Dutchman, became the Queen's coachman, and was the first that brought the use of coaches into England; while Anderson, in his "History of Commerce," says, on the other hand, that about 1580 the use of coaches was introduced by the Earl of Arundel.
It was Buckingham, the favourite, who about 1619 began to have a team of six horses, which "was wondered at as a novelty, and imputed to him as a mastering pride." Before that time ladies chiefly rode on horseback—either single, on their palfreys, or double, behind some person, on a pillion. A considerable time elapsed before this luxurious way of locomotion was enjoyed by more than a very few rich and distinguished individuals, and a very much longer time before coaches became general.
In the year 1672, at which period throughout the kingdom there were only six stage-coaches running, a pamphlet was written and published by Mr. John Cresset, of the Charterhouse, urging their suppression; and amongst the grave reasons given against their continuance was the following:—
"These stage-coaches make gentlemen come to London on every small occasion, which otherwise they would not do but upon urgent necessity; nay, the convenience of the passage makes their wives often come up, who, rather than come such long journeys on horseback, would stay at home. Then when they come to town they must presently be in the mode, get fine clothes, go to plays and treats, and, by these means, get such a habit of idleness and love of pleasure as makes them uneasy ever after."
What would Mr. Cresset have said had he lived some forty years ago, in the palmy days of coaching—coaches full, able dragsmen, spicy teams, doing their eleven miles an hour with ease, without breaking into a gallop or turning a hair? Or how surprised would the worthy chronicler of 1672 be at the present annihilators of time and space—the railroads, when "the convenience of the passage" enables parties to come up to London from Liverpool, Birmingham, Manchester, Bath, and Bristol in time for the play or opera, and return home for dinner the following day.
In 1739 Pennant writes:—
"I travelled in the Chester stage to London, then no despicable vehicle for country gentlemen. The first day, with much labour, we got from Chester to Whitchurch (twenty miles), the second day to the Welsh Harp, the third to Coventry, the fourth to Northampton, the fifth to Dunstable, and, as a wondrous effort, on the last to London, before the commencement of the night. The strain and labour of six horses, sometimes eight, drew us through the slough of Mireden and many other places. We were constantly out two hours before day, and as many at night. Families who could afford to travel in their own carriages contracted with Benson and Co., and were dragged up in the same number of days by three sets of able horses."
These coaches must have been not only very lumbering, but very dangerous conveyances, as the following newspaper paragraph, dated the 2nd of September, 1770, will prove:—
"It were greatly to be wished that stage-coaches were put under some regulation as to the number of persons and quantity of luggage carried by them. Thirty-four persons were in and about the Hertford coach this day, which broke down, by one of the traces giving way. One outside passenger was killed on the spot, a woman had both legs broken; very few of the number, either within or without, but were severely bruised."
Rich or poor, high or low, prior to this were obliged either to walk or ride in the same manner that Queen Elizabeth did from Greenwich to London, behind her Lord Chancellor. Queen Victoria is a graceful horsewoman. Previous to the lamented decease of the Prince Consort, Her Majesty constantly appeared on horseback, and for all we know to the contrary, Lord Cairns is able to "match the world with noble horsemanship;" still we think that such an entrée into London as that performed by the Virgin Queen would surprise the weak minds of the present generation.
One can scarcely now realize the state of things when a passenger starting by the waggon from the metropolis at five o'clock in the morning, did not arrive at Blackheath until half-past nine. For four hours and a half were the unfortunate travellers tossed, tumbled, jumbled, and rumbled over a road full of holes and wheel-ruts, out of which extra horses were employed to drag the lumbering vehicle. Break-downs(not the popular dance of that name) were frequent; much time was occupied in repairing the waggons, and it often happened that, when a wheelwright could not be got, the road was blocked up by a broken-down vehicle.
Macaulay tells us that, during the year which immediately followed the Restoration, a diligence ran between London and Oxford in two days. The passengers slept at Beaconsfield. At length, in the Spring of 1669, a great and daring innovation was attempted. It was announced that a vehicle, described as the flying coach, would perform the whole journey between sunrise and sunset.
"This spirited undertaking was solemnly considered and sanctioned by the heads of the University, and appears to have excited the same sort of interest which is excited in our own time by the opening of a new railway. The Vice-Chancellor, by a notice which was affixed in all public places, prescribed the hour and place of departure.
"The success of this experiment was complete. At six in the morning the carriage began to move from before the ancient front of All Souls' College, and at seven in the evening the adventurous gentlemen who had run the first risk were safely deposited at their inn in London. The emulation of the sister University was moved, and soon a diligence was set up which in one day carried passengers from Cambridge to the Capital."
In 1678 a contract was made to establish a coach for passengers between Edinburgh and Glasgow, a distance of forty-four miles. This coach was drawn by six horses, and the journey between the two places, to and fro, was completed in six days.
At the close of the reign of Charles II. flying carriages ran thrice a week from London to all the chief towns; but no stage-coach appears to have proceeded further north than York, or further west than Exeter. The ordinary day's journey of a flying coach was about fifty miles in the Summer; but in Winter, when the ways were bad and the nights long, little more than thirty miles.
The Chester coach, the York coach, and the Exeter coach generally reached London in four days during the fine season, but at Christmas not till the sixth day. The passengers, six in number, were all seated in the carriage; for accidents were so frequent that it would have been most perilous to mount the roof. The ordinary fare was about twopence half-penny a mile in Summer, and somewhat more in Winter.
"This mode of travelling, which by Englishmen of the present day would be regarded as insufferably slow, seemed to our ancestors wonderfully, and indeed alarmingly rapid; for, in a work published a few months before the death of Charles II., the flying coaches are extolled as far superior to any similar vehicles ever known in the world. Their velocity is the subject of special commendation, and is triumphantly contrasted with the sluggish pace of the Continental posts. But with boasts like these was mingled the sound of complaint and invective.
"The interest of large classes had been unfavourably affected by the establishment of the new diligences, and, as usual, many persons were, from mere stupidity and obstinacy, disposed to clamour against the innovation. It was vehemently argued that this mode of conveyance would be fatal to the breed of horses and to the noble art of horsemanship; that the Thames, which had long been an important nursery of seamen, would cease to be the chief thoroughfare from London up to Windsor, and down to Gravesend; that saddlers and spurriers would be ruined by hundreds; that numerous inns at which mounted travellers had been in the habit of stopping would be deserted, and could no longer pay any rent; that the new carriages were too hot in Summer and too cold in Winter; that the passengers were grievously annoyed by invalids and crying children; that the coach sometimes reached the inn so late that it was impossible to get supper, and sometimes started so early that it was impossible to get breakfast.
"On these grounds it was gravely recommended that no public carriage should be permitted to have more than four horses, to start oftener than once a week, or to go more than thirty miles a day. It was hoped that, if this regulation were adopted, all except the sick and the lame would return to the old modes of travelling on horseback and by water. Petitions embodying such opinions as these were presented to the King in Council from several companies of the City of London, from several provincial towns, and from the justices of several counties."
It is difficult to determine the exact period at which a stage-coach first appeared upon the road, for there is a wide difference between the stage-coach of the last century and the flying coaches of the previous one. Although the stage-coach may have improved in speed, its discomfort still existed, as may be gleaned from the following lines written by Dean Swift on his journey from London to Chester:—
As Dean Swift died in 1745, at the green old age of seventy-eight, the above lines were probably written about the close of the previous century; and certainly not much progress was made for the comfort of passengers, as I can myself bear testimony. I well remember the lumbering, slow coach that used to convey me from London to Chichester thrice a year, when the holidays from Westminster came about. It started at five o'clock in the morning, reaching its destination late in the evening, six inside passengers being stuffed in a small space capable of holding four comfortably. At all the hills—and there are plenty on this road—we were politely asked to descend from the vehicle, as the wretched horses could scarcely drag their heavy load even on level ground. It was always considered in those days dangerous to mount the roof; still any risk was better than being stifled inside, and often have I, despite the inclemency of the weather, taken the box seat, getting thoroughly wet through before half my journey had been accomplished.
This reminds me of a witticism of a guard who, being told by a passenger that he had tried every sort of waterproof coat, but that nothing would keep him dry,
"Why, then," said the other, "don't you invest a penny in a Yarmouth bloater? Eat that, and I warrant you'll be dry all day?"
None except those who have been victims to the misery of inside berths can imagine the wretchedness of them—a coach licensed to carry six inside—for so small was the space, so low was the roof, that the legs of the inmates were cramped, and their backs doubled up. Then the atmosphere was most oppressive—forty, sometimes fifty, stone of human beings huddled together, with both windows up. Again, the occupants—occasionally a fat nurse and a squalling baby; a farmer, rude in health and manners; a painted old Jezebel, redolent of Macassar oil and patchouli; a fledgling dandy, strong of musk; a bloated publican, on the verge of delirium tremens, who, as the old song says, "kept his spirits up by pouring spirits down;" a snuffy old maid, whose nasal organ was so supplied with "lundyfoot" that it set her companions sneezing immoderately. Then the inside passengers were to be fed, and a strong odour of cheese, apples, oranges, cakes, brandy, rum, gin, beer prevailed everywhere.
Often in my early days have I travelled from London to Brighthelmstone (now called Brighton) in a coach thus described:—
"Lewes and Brighthelmstone—new machine to hold four persons, by Charley, sets out by the 'George Inn,' in the Haymarket, St. James's at six o'clock in the morning, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, in one day to the 'Star' at Lewes, and the 'Old Ship' at Brighthelmstone, and returns from there every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Inside passengers to Lewes to pay thirteen shillings; to Brighthelmstone, sixteen shillings. To be allowed fourteen pounds weight of baggage, all above to pay one penny per pound."
The above was a great improvement upon a coach previously drawn by six long-tailed black horses, thus described:—
"Batchelor's Old Godstone, East Grinstead, and Lewes stage continues to set out every Tuesday at nine o'clock and Saturday at five o'clock from the 'Talbot Inn', in the Borough, returning every Monday and Thursday. Children in lap and outside passengers to pay half price. Half of the fare to be paid at booking. Performed, if God permit, by J. Batchelor."
I may here remind my readers that when the Prince Regent, afterwards George IV., selected Brighton, as a marine residence, and squandered thousands and thousands of pounds upon the Pavilion, the journey from London to this then small fishing town occupied two days; the first night being passed at Reigate or at Cuckfield, according to the road the stage travelled.
About seventy-five years ago an attempt was made to run through in one day, and, to the surprise of many, was accomplished; but it was not until 1823 that the Brighton road became (what it continued to be until the rail was introduced) the first in England for well-appointed coaches, first-rate teams, and gentleman-like drivers.
Harry Stevenson, who was educated at Cambridge, was the first to introduce the fast light coach, called the "Waterwitch," and truly did he "witch the world with noble coachmanship." After a time this beau-ideal of dragsmen started another coach in lieu of the "Waterwitch," which he called the "Age," and which was unrivalled. Who that ever saw that fancy team, the skewbald, dun, chestnut, and roan, sightly and full of action, leave the Castle Square, witnessed that which never has been and never can be equalled, in this or in any other country. With Stevenson commenced the rage for driving public conveyances by noblemen and gentlemen, to which I shall refer in a future chapter.
It may here not be out of place to lay before my readers a statement of the working of the stage-coaches in bygone days. In 1742 a stage-coach left London for Oxford at seven o'clock in the morning, and reached Uxbridge at midday. It arrived at High Wycombe at five in the evening, where it rested for the night, and proceeded at the same rate for the seat of learning on the morrow. Here, then, were ten hours consumed each day in travelling twenty-seven miles, and nearly two days in performing what was afterwards done under six hours by the "Defiance" and other coaches. To go from London to York used to take six days.
In 1784 I read of the Edinburgh diligence, horsed with a pair, which set off daily from the "Saracen's Head," in the Gallowgate, Glasgow, at seven o'clock in the morning, and arrived at Edinburgh at eight o'clock at night. This conveyance stopped at Cumbernauld for an hour and a half in order to give the passengers time for breakfast, and again for the same time at Linlithgow for dinner. A third stoppage took place in order that the passengers might enjoy their tea, when they again proceeded on their road, and were finally set down safely in the Grassmarket of Edinburgh at eight o'clock at night.
About this period there was a ponderous machine with six broad wheels, and drawn by eight horses, called the Newcastle waggon. In addition to passengers, it generally carried a great portion of the Glasgow linen and cotton manufactures to the London market. It travelled at the rate of twenty-five miles a day, and was three weeks upon the road between Glasgow and London, resting always upon the Sundays. At that time the best mode of conveyance from Glasgow to the English capital was by a trading vessel from Borrowstounness; and so remarkable was a sight of London considered in Glasgow, that a worthy citizen who bore the same Christian and surname as another friend was, after his return from London, distinguished as "London John."
The use of stage-coaches rapidly extended itself, and there was scarcely a town through which some stage-coach did not pass. After a time, the heavy six-inside lumbering vehicle gave way to the light four-inside fast coach; and from the year 1825 until the introduction of railways, nothing could exceed the "turns out" on the principal roads. In 1833 the distance between London and Shrewsbury (one hundred and fifty-four miles), Exeter (one hundred and seventy-one miles), and Manchester (one hundred and eighty-seven miles) was done in a day. The Mail to Holyhead performed the journey (two hundred and sixty-one miles) in twenty-seven hours, and that to Liverpool (two hundred and three miles) in twenty-one hours. The journey to Brighton was accomplished at the rate of twelve miles an hour, including stoppages, and the Bath, Bristol, Southampton, Oxford, and Cambridge coaches were famed for their excellent arrangements.
In 1807 one of the Stamford stage-coaches that daily ran to London performed the journey (ninety-nine miles) in nine hours and four minutes from the time of starting; although the passengers were allowed time to breakfast and dine upon the road. The coach must necessarily have run at the rate of twelve miles an hour.
The fast coach had nearly a horse to every mile of ground it ran, reckoning one way, or "one side of the ground"—for example, from London to Shrewsbury the distance is one hundred and fifty-eight miles, and the number of horses kept for the "Wonder" coach was one hundred and fifty.
The average price of horses for these coaches was about £23. Fancy teams, and those working out of London, were rated considerably higher; but, taking a hundred miles of ground, well horsed, the above was about the mark. In these days it would be nearly if not quite double. The average period of each horse's service did not exceed four years.
DANGERS OF TRAVELLING—ANECDOTES OF HIGHWAYMEN—INNKEEPERS AND HIGHWAYMEN—STAGE-COACH ROBBERIES—A 'CUTE LADY—A JOURNEY TO LONDON UNDER DIFFICULTIES—TRAVELLING IN 1770—VANBRUGH'S DESCRIPTION OF AN M.P.'S JOURNEY—SYDNEY SMITH ON MODERN IMPROVEMENT.
CHAPTER II.
In the days I write of, Macaulay tells us that the mounted highwayman, a marauder known to the present generation only from books, was to be found on every main road. Hounslow Heath on the Great Western Road, Finchley Common on the Great Northern Road, were, perhaps, the most celebrated of these spots; but there was hardly an open common or steep hill which was not infested with these enterprising plunderers.
Upon two occasions I fell in with these gentlemen of the road. Once, when travelling in very early youth from London to Goodwood, the Chichester coach was stopped by two ill-favoured scoundrels, who were about to levy black mail on the inside passengers, when, fortunately, the sound of a travelling-carriage was heard, and thinking, probably, that the inmates of it might be armed, the robbers scampered off.
The second adventure occurred to me when returning very late at night from Tunbridge Wells in a dennet with my trusty batman, John Hargreaves, by my side. We were ascending the hill that leads into Sevenoaks, my servant walking up it and I driving, when I heard a shrill whistle from one side of the road, which was immediately responded to. Anticipating some mischief, I said "Jump in," and, obedient to orders, Hargreaves did so.
Happily, we had reached the summit of the hill, when one man rushed forward and attempted to seize the horse's bridle, while another tried to hang on behind the gig. Hargreaves had my stick in his hand, a good ash plant, with which he struck the fellow a blow across the face, which made him relax his hold, while I gave a smart lash of the whip to my most willing horse, who started off at a tremendous pace down the hill, leaving my assailant sprawling on the ground, and within an inch of having his head run over by the wheel.
"Stage-coach robberies were of daily occurrence, and it was generally supposed that they were connived at by many innkeepers; so much so, indeed, that proclamations were issued warning all innkeepers that the eye of the Government was upon them. Their criminal connivance, it was affirmed, enabled banditti to infest the roads with impunity. That those suspicions were not without foundation is proved by the dying speeches of some penitent robbers of that age, who appear to have received from the innkeepers services much resembling those which Farquhar's 'Boniface' rendered to 'Gibbet.'"
In the "Domestic Intelligence" I read that "several passengers, both men and women, to the number of fifteen, going in three or four coaches towards Bath and Bristol, were set upon by some highwaymen (supposed to be soldiers) well armed, about Stoke Church, in Oxfordshire (a very desolate part at that time), who robbed them all of very considerable value."