Since I wrote this little book, ten years have elapsed—ten eventful
years to many of us; but the precepts and principles of sounding the
Horn remain still unchanged from what they were even ten times ten years
ago. I have read the book through again, and I see nothing to alter,
nothing to correct, and nothing to regret, except the fact that the
book, although copyright, entered at Stationers’ Hall and registered at
the British Museum in proper form, has been copied by another “author,”
some of my paragraphs literally quoted word for word, and then published
by an eminent firm who certainly ought to have known better. Imitation,
however, being the sincerest form of flattery, although not always the
pleasantest, I have not yet made this piracy a subject for Her Majesty’s
High Court of Justice.
I have, however, often been reproached, perhaps not altogether unjustly,
for the small amount of printed matter contained in the first edition;
and I have, therefore, ventured to add a few more remarks upon Coaching
affairs generally, in the hope that they will prove interesting, and
meet with the same kind approval from my readers.
I have also been asked to add to what I may call the music portion, by
putting underneath the corresponding tones or sounds which can be played
on the pianoforte; my object being that such of my readers as are not
acquainted with music sufficiently to transpose, may get their sisters,
or their cousins, or their aunts, or someone even dearer (in
prospective) to strum them over for them on the pianoforte, thereby
enabling them to pick up the various calls correctly by ear. This will
not be found such an uninteresting occupation in agreeable society on a
pouring wet day, or when locked up in the house by frost and snow; and
the result, I hope, will prove in very many cases satisfactory to all
the parties concerned. Assuming the pianoforte to be pretty well up to
concert pitch, the notes played will be found to harmonize exactly with
those which can be sounded on either of the celebrated Coach-horns, the
“Beaufort” or the “Heavy Mail,” made by KÖHLER & SON, the firm already
alluded to.
And now I will preface the following remarks by stating that I have
recently returned from a trip—a most enjoyable trip—to America, and I
was surprised, as well as delighted, to see the splendid array of
Coaches in connection with the New York Coaching Club. The horses, too,
are fine, well bred and powerful animals; and I was particularly struck
with a team of fine bays, driven, I believe, by Mr. Bronson, which went
up town from the Brunswick Hotel at a spanking rate.
May I be allowed to express the opinion that we owe a great deal of the
revival of four-in-hand driving to our transatlantic cousins; for in
1851 there were few, very few, what I may call “swell” Stage Coaches, to
be seen, at any rate, anywhere in the neighbourhood of London or the
Parks.
Years ago, poor Alf Teddar drove the Brighton Coach in conjunction with
Cracknell, as servant to the Duke of Beaufort, the noble President of
the Coaching Club, and Mr. Cherry Angell, I think. But the late Mr.
Edward Sacheverell Chandos Pole, of Radbourn, in 1866, revived the Derby
and Brighton Coaches, and did much to make the art of driving
Four-in-hand popular. Both in appearance and reality that gentleman was
my beau-ideal of a thorough coachman. Cool, calm, and decided, it was a
treat to see how cleverly he tooled his gallopers along the road; all
the time chatting pleasantly with his companions on the box seat, or
over his shoulder to his passengers. He could blow the Horn, too, and
drive at the same time; rather a dangerous feat, which requires
practice; and I would not recommend my readers to try it, although I
have seen him do it.
Other gentlemen also identified themselves with “the Road” out of
London, amongst whom are to be mentioned General Tyrwhitt, Colonel
Clitherow, Captain Cooper, Mr. Freeman, and Mr. Challoner Smith, who
were all accomplished “Whips” and thorough Coachmen, studying their
passengers as well as the horses they drove.
This brings me down to about the time when Mr. Tiffany, a New York
gentleman, and a pupil of Charles Ward, came to England and worked the
Brighton Coach with his celebrated skewbald team, and Tom Tims as Guard,
scenes carried down to posterity by the three pictures so cleverly
painted by Mr. Sturgis.
I remember this gentleman (Mr. Tiffany, not Mr. Sturgis) calling when
our old workshops were in Covent Garden, and after sounding several
Coach-horns (and hearing me blow them), he startled me by saying, “Well,
now, I want a Guard for my Coach, and I guess you’re just the man I
want. Now tell me what would you ask for the season, say three months,
till the end of September?” I said this offer would require some
consideration, but as he still pressed me for an answer, I replied that
I thought perhaps £600 would about compensate me for my absence from
business and its inevitable consequences. He burst out laughing, and for
once in my life I had the satisfaction of hearing an American say (not
that he meant it) that “he couldn’t afford it!” Another American
gentleman, too, Mr. Kane, took over the Virginia Water Coach, previously
horsed by the then Lord Macduff, Captain Dickson, and Mr. Williams,
three well-known Coachmen.
It may be a vulgar expression, but I have often heard it remarked that
Americans make money like dirt, and that they spend it likewise, and
certainly Mr. Kane spent his with great liberality, his stud at that
time consisting of a horse a mile, besides reserves.
In connection with this subject, I ought to mention with respect Mr.
Charles Hoare and his Beckenham Coach, and the one associated with Lord
Bective, Colonel Fletcher Hathorne, and Mr. Chaplin, driven through the
Garden of England to Tunbridge Wells. There was also the Epsom and
Dorking Coach, regularly worked from the White Horse Cellars by Captain
Blythe, Sir Henry de Bathe, and Mr. Hankey, another banker, through most
pleasant country.
A series of wet, very wet, summers then ensued, and although none of the
well-known gentlemen I have mentioned ever worked a Coach with any idea
of profit, still the paucity of passengers, combined with torrents of
rain, not only diminished the receipts, but cast what I may truly call
such a damper upon Coaching enterprise that it was a wonder to me that
it did not collapse altogether.
The season of 1887, however, has been a Jubilee one for Coaching as well
as for Her most Gracious Majesty; and from inquiries I have made at
Hatchett’s I find that the number of passengers have been unusually
heavy, all the Coaches being well loaded up.
In the foregoing statements I have endeavoured to trace the continuation
of Coaching, when it languished in London and its neighbourhood, at any
rate, as a fashionable amusement; although, no doubt, many private
Coaches existed and were driven in various country places and provincial
towns; and if I have given more credit than is fairly due to our
American friends for the re-establishment of the art, it must be
attributed to the remembrances connected with the trip already alluded
to, and to the kindness and hospitality I experienced when travelling in
their country.
This little book having reached that pinnacle of eminence known in the
literary profession as a “standard work,” I hope that none of the
gentlemen I have mentioned will object to see their names in print, but
should they do so, I herewith offer my humble apologies. Some of them,
alas! are no more; others have changed their names by inheriting their
titles and estates; but many of them are acquainted with the Old Guard,
and know his name very well, although I still prefer my _nom de plume_
in this instance to the one given to me by “my godfathers and godmothers
in my baptism, wherein,” etc.
With these remarks I conclude a third edition of my work, leaving it to
my readers to decide by their appreciation of my efforts whether I shall
ever be called upon to issue a fourth. In the meantime, I would ask them
to remember the old toast,
“THE QUEEN AND THE ROAD!”
BROMLEY, KENT,
_February 2nd, 1907_.