BY STAGE-COACH, DILIGENCE, AND POST.
The world moves rapidly, and the greater part of its motion, from a
traveler's point of view, is by steam. On land and on sea the steam
engine is the great propelling force; the railway train has usurped
the place of the stage-coach and diligence, and the white wings of the
sailing ship have been shrouded by the smoke of the steamer's funnel.
The sailing ship and the stage-coach still exist, but their importance
is gone, and, from present indications, there is no likelihood that
they will ever return to their former greatness. On a few routes in
England coaching has been revived, but only as an amusement, and there
is no prospect that it will gain more than a slender patronage. The
sailing ship is not a remunerative possession in competition with the
steamer, and the persons who take passage in it wherever there is
opportunity for the more expeditious form of travel are few and far
between.
Before the general adoption of the railway in the United States, the
mail-coach was in the height of its glory; all over the settled
portion of the country the crack of the driver's whip resounded, and
the vehicle, gaudy with paint, and dusty with what it had gathered
from the road, was the admiration of all who saw it. The veterans who
guided these conveyances were famous in their line as victorious
generals, and it was the proud ambition of many a noble youth to be a
first-class stage-driver on a great route. Early in the century, and
down to 1840, the triumphs of these jehus were mainly in the Atlantic
States and over the Alleghenies, but with the extension of the
railway, the stage-coach became a star of empire, and took its course
westward. The last great route of the stage-coach was covered by the
completion of the Pacific Railway, and now its services are confined
to localities that have not been reached by the iron horse.
The Pacific States have several important stage lines of a local
character, and some of them have acquired a national reputation. Every
visitor to California can tell about the drive to the Geysers, or the
road to the Yosemite Valley, where teams of six and eight horses are
driven at full speed around sharp turns, and a mishap might send coach
and passengers whirling a thousand feet down the mountain side. Those
who have journeyed north from California to Oregon are familiar with
the mountain ride of three hundred miles between the termini of the
railways of the two states, and there are several interior places of
importance where the railway has not yet penetrated. The newer states
and territories have a considerable number of stage routes in
operation, and in the summer season the whip of the stage-driver is
heard among the mountains of the eastern states, and in other
pleasure-resorts where the denizen of the city seeks coolness and
relaxation.
For traveling by stage-coach in America the preparations are not
numerous. If the journey is to be one of several days you will need a
strong constitution, as the luxuries of a palace-car, or an ocean
steamship, are not to be found on the horse-propelled vehicle. Have a
suit of clothes as near the color of dust as possible, and, if your
sex is masculine, cut your hair and beard so that your head will
resemble that of a pugilist, or the back of a bull-dog. Carry very
little baggage, the least you can possibly get along with, and don't
keep it where it will get in your way. Find a rear seat in the coach,
and, if in winter, try to have it on the side favored by the sun. Of
course you will try for a corner seat, and, if you get it, you will be
all right. These things accomplished, resign yourself to fate and the
care of the driver.
On a long ride by stage-coach you will naturally wonder how you are to
sleep. For the first twenty-four hours you have a hard time of it, and
your first night's sleep will be principally made up of wakefulness.
But Nature will assert herself; the second night is quite comfortable,
while on the succeeding nights you find yourself sleeping as well as
in your bed at home, at least so far as obtaining relief from
weariness is concerned. If you have never tried it you will be
astonished to find how little you are fatigued after a ride of five or
ten days.
In regions where there are highwaymen, facetiously termed "road
agents" by the Californians, carry as little money as possible, and
leave your valuable gold watch behind. You may have a revolver if you
like, but it is generally of very little use, as the robbers come on
you in such numbers, or under such circumstances, that your weapons
cannot be employed. Generally the first intimation of their presence
is the protrusion of several rifles or pistols into the windows of the
coach, with a request, more or less polite, for you to hand over your
valuables. When you have no alternative but to hand over, do so with
alacrity, and lead your assailants to think it the happiest moment of
your life. If you are compelled, as often happens, to step outside the
vehicle and hold your hands in the air while standing in line with the
other passengers, try and hold them a little higher, and be more in
line, than anybody else. Where resistance is useless do not make the
least attempt to oppose your uninvited interviewers, as they are a
fastidious set of gentlemen, and regard with suspicion any movement of
your hand towards your hip-pocket. The traveler who accepts the
situation, and conducts himself philosophically under such
circumstances, runs very little risk of bodily harm; the robbers are
after his valuables and not his life, as it is not the least use to
them, and they are unwilling to take it except in self-defense, or to
aid their search for his personal property.
American highwaymen have not yet learned the art of carrying travelers
away and holding them for ransom. This accomplishment is of Italian
origin, and flourishes in Italy, Sicily, and other parts of Southern
Europe. It was introduced into Mexico by the Italian emigrants who
went there with Maximilian, and prevails to some extent in South
America.
Accidents on stage-coaches are much more rare than one might expect
when the occasional badness of the roads and the apparently reckless
driving are considered. The fact is the driving is more reckless in
appearance than in reality; the stage companies generally employ men
who understand their business, though they may not be altogether
Chesterfieldian in their manners. If you have any doubts as to the
merits of the man who is to conduct you they can be generally settled
by consultation with the agents of the company; the story they tell
you may not be true, but there will be a vast amount of comfort in it.
A great many stories, mostly apocryphal, are told of stage accidents
in the far west. One is to the effect that a driver once informed a
timid traveler that nobody was ever hurt on his stage, though a good
many had been killed. The stranger naturally asked an explanation, and
received the following:
"There used to be a good many accidents," said he, "and lots of people
were killed or wounded. The killed ones didn't make any fuss; the
company just settled with their relatives, and that was the end of it,
but them that was hurt made a good deal of trouble. They were always
bringing suits for damages for large amounts, and generally getting
'em, and so I made up my mind to put a stop to it. When we have an
accident nowadays I just take a linch-pin and go round and finish up
all the wounded ones, and we find things going on much better."
For a short ride in good weather an outside seat is preferable,
especially where there is fine scenery along the route. The place by
the driver is usually the post of honor, and if that worthy is
talkative, as he generally is, a good deal of information can be
gleaned from him. He is usually unaffected by temperance principles,
and a pull at a flask will serve to loosen the cords of his tongue.
The American coaches are of varied size and construction, according to
the character of the roads where they are used. The old-fashioned
stage-coach usually had a capacity for carrying twenty-one passengers,
twelve inside and nine out, and was suspended on leathern braces. The
form is still retained in the so-called Troy coaches and Concord
coaches, but in many vehicles steel springs have taken the place of
leather. A form of coach largely used in the far west is the
"mud-wagon," which can traverse routes impassable for the larger and
heavier carriage, and is specially preferred where the roads are bad.
On some of the California routes, when the roads are moulting in the
spring, there is often a depth of several inches of mud, and only the
lightest vehicles can pass through it.
The diligence in Europe corresponds to the stage-coach in America;
like the latter it has seen its sphere diminished by the construction
of railways, and like it, too, it reflects the institutions of the
countries where it exists. On the American coach there is no
distinction; all seats have an equal price, and the first-comer has
the choice. On the diligence there are grades and classes, and the
seats are numbered and reserved like those of a theatre. The most
costly places are in the _coupé_, which is beneath the driver's seat,
and has windows in front above the level of the horses' backs; then
comes the _banquette_, which is behind the driver, and is an excellent
spot in fine weather, but disagreeable in a storm. The _interieur_, as
its name implies, is an inside affair, and affords very little view of
the road, and the _rotonde_ is at the back of the _banquette_, and
cheapest of all, as it is also the poorest. Particular places may be
secured for days ahead; on some of the Swiss diligences you may take
your place thirty days in advance by payment at the office, or by
enclosing the price of the fare with your card and a memorandum of the
day and hour of departure.
Diligences are in use all over Europe to reach towns and villages that
are not accessible by rail. Their fares are regulated by government,
and the hours of departure and arrival may be relied upon as exactly
as those of railway trains. At present the greatest country of
diligences is Switzerland; they are to be found on many roads of that
mountainous region, and on some routes they have a heavy patronage.
Between Geneva and Chamouny, a distance of about fifty miles, there
are sometimes a dozen diligences each way daily in summer, all of them
filled with passengers. The diligences on this route are a solution of
the problem, often declared impossible by American stage-drivers, of
making a coach where all the seats are outside ones. The body of the
vehicle contains the baggage, and the seats are in rows on the top,
over which an awning is spread. The only exceptions to the rule of
putting all the seats outside is in the _coupé_, which commands a
higher price than the _banquette_, but in fair weather is far less
desirable. The old-fashioned diligence with _coupé_, _interieur_,
_banquette_, and _rotonde_, is not much used on pleasure-routes, as
very few of the seats are desirable for tourists.
For a long journey the _coupé_ is the most comfortable part of
the diligence; it contains three and sometimes four seats, but one or
two persons may secure it by paying for the whole space. The French in
Algeria have introduced the diligence, and the writer has pleasant
recollections of some night rides in a capacious _coupé_, while
journeying with a friend to and from the Desert of Sahara. The
_coupé_ or any other part of the vehicle, once engaged, it cannot
be invaded by any other person, and not even a Prince, Grand Duke, or
any other titled individual would dream of taking it from you.
Posting is still in vogue in some parts of Europe, especially in
Russia. Where the system exists it is under control of government, and
the supervision is usually pretty strict. One may travel by post in
many parts of Switzerland; he may have his own carriage or he can hire
one from the government or from a private individual. One hour's
notice is required for hiring a conveyance of this sort, and the
changes at the relay stations generally take from 15 to 30 minutes. As
in stage coaching, or any other travel by horse-power, the less
baggage you have the better.
The country _par excellence_ of posting is the Asiatic portion of
Russia, commonly called Siberia. European Russia was formerly
traversed by post routes, but the construction of railways has caused
most of them to be discontinued. In Siberia there are as yet no
railways, the country is large and the roads are excellent. All these
conditions are favorable to the posting system, and by means of it you
may travel from the Ural mountains to the Sea of Okhotsk without a
break. The writer once journeyed by post from the head of navigation
on the Amoor River, in Siberia, to Nijne Novgorod, in European Russia,
a distance of nearly five thousand miles. Fourteen hundred miles of
this was accomplished in a wheeled carriage (called a _tarantass_) and
3,600 in a sleigh. A brief account of this journey will describe the
Russian posting system.
The first requisite for the road is a _Padarojnia_, or road pass,
which is issued by the government authorities, and without it no one
can pass a single station of the route or obtain horses. The document
states the name, residence, and destination of the bearer, the number
of horses to which he is entitled, and the grade of his pass. There
are three grades of road passes, the first for government couriers and
high officials, the second for lesser lights in the official
firmament, or for distinguished civilians, and the third for the
common civilian. Horses are kept waiting for the first, and are
generally forthcoming for the second, but the holder of a third class
Padarojnia will often wait for hours before he can be supplied, unless
he is willing to pay an extra fee to the station master for
expeditious service.
Baggage must be in flat and broad valises of soft leather, and all
hard boxes and square parcels should be thrown away at the start.
These broad valises, or _chemidans_, are spread on the bottom of
the vehicle; straw or hay is laid over them and the whole is covered
with a heavy coarse quilt. You sit, recline, or lie at full length on
this soft flooring; no seats are in the vehicle, and one very soon
learns that he is far better off without them. A couple of thick and
strong pillows are necessary to hold you in your corner and save you
from the frequent thumps you would otherwise receive.
You can travel in the vehicle (_telega_) belonging to the government
stations, but in this event you must change at every station, a
performance that speedily becomes a nuisance, especially in a cold
night. It is best to hire a tarantass to be taken through, or, if you
cannot hire one, you had better purchase it outright and sell for what
you can get at the end of the journey. The tarantass is mounted on a
pair of stout and flexible poles that serve as springs, and sometimes
they are so long that the two axles are at least twelve feet apart. It
has a hood like an old-fashioned chaise, and is equipped with a boot
and an apron, so that it can be quite shut in at night or in a storm.
To protect him from the cold the writer had a suit of thick clothing,
covered with a sheepskin coat that buttoned tight around the neck and
descended to the ankles. Over this he had a deerskin coat with the
hair outside; it reached to his heels, trailing like a lady's dress
when he walked, and was large enough inside for a man and a boy. The
collar was a foot wide, and the sleeves were six inches longer than
the wearer's arms; they were very inconvenient when he wanted to pick
up anything, and when the collar was turned up and brought around in
front it suggested the idea of a man without a head. For wraps he had
a robe made of nine sheepskins, sewed together and backed with heavy
felting; the robe was about three yards square and as impervious to
cold as the side of an ordinary house. Then he had a fur cap fitting
close to the head, fur gloves for his hands, and a mitten of sable
skin for his nose. He discarded the ordinary boot of civilization and
wore, over his ordinary socks, a pair of socks of squirrel skin with
the fur inside. Over these he had sheepskin stockings reaching to the
knees, with the wool inside, and over these he had deerskin boots that
rose to the bifurcation of his legs, and were held in place by thongs.
Thus equipped one may bid defiance to the low temperature of a winter
journey across Siberia.
At Irkutsk, the capital of Eastern Siberia, he remained a month, till
the snows fell and the winter roads were good. Then he bought a sleigh
(_kibitka_), constructed after the general pattern of the tarantass,
save that it was on runners instead of wheels. With a slight
expenditure for repairs he carried this sleigh through to Nijne
Novgorod (3,600 miles), or rather was carried by the sleigh. A
Siberian journey may begin at any hour of the day the traveler
chooses, and is continued day and night till it closes. The usual
custom is to order the post horses to be brought around about 10 P.M.;
the day and evening have been spent in feasting and farewells, and
towards midnight the departing traveler nestles down among his
garments and thick wraps, and is ready to go to sleep while the team
dashes over the road at a rattling pace. Sometimes he is escorted to
the first station by a party of friends, and in this case they set off
all together about sunset and make an evening of it.
The horses are changed at distances varying from ten to twenty-five
miles; they are paid for at each change, and the traveler must be
provided with a bag of copper coin, so that he will never be at a loss
to make out the exact amount that may be due. The driver expects a
small gratuity, and he generally earns it by driving at a lively gait;
a placard is hung in every station, showing the distance to the
stations on each side, and the price per horse, so that the best
intentions of the station master to cheat the wayfarer are frustrated.
Everything included, cost of padarojnia, hire of horses, and
gratuities to drivers, the expense of posting in Siberia is about four
cents a mile; two persons may occupy a kibitka, and some of these
vehicles will hold three, and the number of persons makes no
difference in the cost except when it is so large as to call for more
horses.
The station master is required by law to furnish travelers with hot
water and bread, at a fixed price, and he may sell anything else that
he chooses. Eggs can generally be had at the stations, but no other
article of food can be relied on. The traveler will carry his own tea,
coffee, brandy, and edibles generally; in winter the frost preserves
them perfectly, and he is under no apprehension that his perishable
provisions will perish. Soup is carried in cakes like small bricks;
roast beef resembles red granite, and must be carved with an axe.
There is always a fire in the travelers' room at the stations, and no
difficulty in preparing one's dinner, which is seasoned with that best
of all sauces, a keen appetite.
The sleigh glides merrily over the smooth roads and bounds the reverse
of joyously where the way is rough. As long as the harness holds
together and the team is in motion the driver pays no attention to the
passengers, but lets them rattle about as they will. Occasionally
there is a spill, but it rarely amounts to anything more than a
disagreeable shaking up and a scattering of one's property along the
road. To guard against a mishap of this sort it is customary to lash
the baggage into its place by passing a strong cord over it a
half-dozen times or more.
On and on you go, changing horses at the stations, and alighting two
or three times a day for meals. In the cities and large towns you may
halt a day or two for relief from the monotony, and for any repairs
that your sleigh may need. The road is long; there are 209 changes of
horses between Irkutsk and Nijne Novgorod, and some 90 odd between the
head of the Amoor and Irkutsk. It gets tiresome after a while, and you
gladly hear the whistle of the locomotive which tells you that your
long ride is at an end.
The winter is by far the best season of the year for traversing
Siberia. In summer the roads are dusty, the delays at the river
crossings are frequently long and vexatious, mosquitoes and flies fill
the air, provisions will only keep fresh for a day or so, and the
tarantass is a heavy vehicle to draw. The frost seals the rivers,
shuts up the flies and mosquitoes, lays the dust, extinguishes the
malaria of the marshes, and preserves your animal food for an
indefinite period. If you intend taking the longest and most
exhilarating post ride in the world, by all means make up your mind to
try it in winter.
The whole of Asiatic Russia enjoys the benefits of the posting system,
and one may go by the government roads to the shores of the Arctic
ocean in the north, or to the country of the Kirghes and Turcomans on
the south. Whenever a new region in Central Asia is conquered and
brought under the Russian rule, a post route is opened and stations
are established, so as to afford certain and quick communication. The
post route is to Russia what the railway is to the United States in
developing new territory, and carrying to it the blessings, as well as
the curses, of civilization.