A foreigner's view of England -- The packets -- Roads -- People
-- Posting -- Mail and Stage Coaches -- Amateur coachmen -- Fast
driving -- Perils of travelling -- A lioness attacks the Mail --
Dog-carts and donkey-riding -- The Streets and Houses.
What was England like at this time? I have notes enough, and to
spare, _de omnibus rebus_, for a volume upon it; but I withdraw, and
allow a foreigner to give his impressions, and we shall have the
advantage of viewing England with other spectacles.[31] I extract
from a book by "M. de Levis, Duke and Peer of France," an English
translation of which was published in 1815.
[Footnote 31:
"O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us,
To see oursels as others see us!"
BURNS, "To a Louse, on seeing one on a
Lady's bonnet, at Church."]
Of course steamboats were not, and that "silver streak" between
France and England, was even more of a bugbear than it is at present.
"Foreigners who visit England in time of peace, usually pass through
Dover; this port being the nearest point of land to the Continent of
Europe. The distance is only seven leagues, but the passage is not
the less uncertain; it varies from two hours to thirty-six, when it
becomes excessively fatiguing; obliged to struggle against the wind
in a narrow sea, and in which it is impossible to make long tacks....
The cabin is so low that you cannot stand upright; it usually
contains eight beds placed two by two upon one another, like drawers,
in a bureau. The disagreeable smell of the bedding, and of the whole
furniture, increase the sickness which the horizontal position would
tend to alleviate. This sickness is not dangerous, but it is very
severe, and sometimes persons of a delicate habit experience the
effects of it for several days. However, if this passage be often
painful, and always disagreeable, it is, at least, very safe. _In
times of peace, few days pass without packet boats crossing the
Channel_,[32] and we never hear of shipwrecks. The usual price for
the passage is one guinea for gentlemen, and half for servants; the
hire of the whole vessel costs from five to ten guineas, according to
the condition of the travellers."
[Footnote 32: My italics.--J. A.]
[Illustration: Market Women.]
[Illustration: The Waggon.]
On landing, next to the comeliness of the women and children, the
men's dress seems to have struck him. "Their dress is equally
remarkable for its fulness, uniformity, and neatness. Those
scanty clothes, so mean, and strangely absurd, which we meet with,
on the Continent, are never found in Britain, still less are the
worn-out and dirty clothes, which, preserving the traces of a luxury,
unsuitable to the condition of those who wear them, appear to be
the livery of wretchedness: on the contrary, all the apparel here
seems at first sight fresh from the manufactory, and the same taylor
appears to have cut the Coats of the whole nation....
"Large scarlet cloaks, black silk bonnets, which preserve and
heighten the fairness of their Complexion, distinguish the country
women who come to market. When a class, so inferior, is so well
dressed, we cannot doubt of the prosperity and comfort of the nation
to which it belongs."
Of course there were no railroads, and people had the choice of three
conveyances, as they now have the choice of three classes. For people
of very slender purses, there was the Waggon--very slow, but bound to
get to its destination safely--with many horses, having bells, and
yokes to the hames of their Collars; broad-tyred wheels, which could
not even sink in the mud of a country lane. But M. le Duc de Levis
could not patronize such a vehicle--he, of course, must go post. "The
Post is not, as on the Continent, an establishment dependent upon the
Government; individuals undertake this business; most of the inns
keep Post Chaises; they are good Carriages with four wheels, shut
close, the same kind as we call in France '_diligences de ville_.'
They hold three persons in the back with ease; are narrow, extremely
light; well hung, and appear the more easy, because the roads are not
paved with stone. The postillions wear a jacket with sleeves, tight
boots, and, altogether, their dress is light, and extremely neat; and
they are not only civil, but even respectful.
"On your arrival at the Inn, you are shown into a good room, where a
fire is kept in winter, and tea is ready every hour of the day. In
five minutes at most, another Chaise is ready for your departure. If
we compare these customs with those of Germany, or particularly in
the North, where you must often wait whole hours to change horses,
in a dirty room, heated by an iron stove, the smell of which is
suffocating; or even those of France, where the most part of the
post-houses, not being Inns, have no accommodation for travellers, it
is evident that the advantage is not in favour of the Continent. The
only inconvenience attached to the manner which I am describing, is
being obliged at almost every stage to untie and pack up baggage and
parcels; but English gentlemen (which will appear very extraordinary
to French ladies) and English ladies carry so little with them, that
this inconvenience is little felt. By this manner of travelling we
avoid _ennui_, and immense expense, and delays caused by frequent
mending of Carriages, which sometimes occasion the loss of rest on
the road.
[Illustration: The Post Chaise.]
[Illustration: The Mail Coach.]
"Competition is, of course, established, and the interest of the
postmasters oblige them to keep good carriages: there are many that
for their neatness may excite the envy of the foreigner. The price
of travelling is the same throughout England, one shilling a mile
for horses and carriage, without reckoning what is given to the
postillion; this is extremely cheap, considering the high price of
every article, and even in proportion to other Countries; at those
times when forage is dear, a few pence are added, but this is never
done without the concurrence of the principal postmasters of the
Country. When quick travelling is desired, four horses are provided,
driven by two postillions, and then travelling is performed with a
rapidity known only in Russia and Sweden in the winter season.
"The Mail Coaches also afford means of travelling with great celerity
into all parts of England. These are Berlins, firm and light, holding
four persons; they carry only letters, and do not take charge of any
luggage. They are drawn by four horses, and driven by one Coachman;
they travel never less than seven to eight miles an hour.
"Stage Coaches are very numerous, they are kept in every City, and
even in small towns; all these Carriages have small wheels, and hold
six persons, without reckoning the outside passengers. About twenty
years ago a carriage was invented in the form of a gondola; it is
long, and will hold sixteen persons, sitting face to face; the door
is behind, and this plan ought to be generally adopted, as the only
means of escaping a great danger when the horses run away. What
adds to the singularity of these carriages is, that they have eight
wheels; thus dividing equally the weight, they are less liable to be
overturned, or cut up the roads; they are, besides, very low and easy.
"When these long coaches first appeared at Southampton, a City much
frequented in summer by the rich inhabitants of London, who go there
to enjoy sea bathing; they had (as every new thing has) a great run,
so that it was nearly impossible to get a place in them.
"One of the principal Innkeepers, jealous of this success, set up
another, and, to obtain the preference, he reduced the fare to
half-price, at that time a guinea. In order to defeat this manoeuvre,
the first proprietor made a still greater reduction, so that, at
last, the receipts did not cover the expenses. But the two rivals did
not stop here; for one of them announced that he would take nothing
of gentlemen who might honour him by choosing his Coach, but he would
beg them to accept a bottle of Port before their departure."
After this, I think I must, for a while, leave my French Duke, and
follow my own Notes, on the road.
This was a transition age. Sedan Chairs were still used, especially
for State occasions. March 26, 1814: "The Queen and Princesses
went in Sedan Chairs on Thursday evening, in the same order as on
Wednesday evening, to dine with the Prince Regent at Carlton House."
Nor is this the only example that could be adduced.
Then, as now, there was among a certain class, an ambition to do
something, if only to drive a Coach. By the way there is no ambition
among "Noble Swells" to drive Omnibuses. Like "Tommy Onslow," who
could not only drive a Coach and two, but a Coach and four, the
gilded youths of that time sought a cheap renown, as do our modern
bankers and linendrapers, by driving public coaches!! _Chacun à
son gout._ As Artemus Ward said: "It isn't my fort," but it gives
pleasure to somebody else, and nobody ought to grumble at it. It may
give amusement to some noble lords, or otherwise, to ape the fashion
of the late James Selby, or some other professional Jehu, or for a
barber's Clerk to pay a trifle extra to sit on the box seat by the
side of My Lord; but, in the old days they took things at a better
value, and pointed out its folly. January 26, 1811: "The education
of our youth of fashion is _improving_ daily; several of them now
drive Stage Coaches to town, and open the door of the Carriage for
passengers, while the Coachman remains on the box. They farm the
_perquisites_ from the Coachman on the road, and generally pocket
something into the bargain."
January 30, 1811: "The prominent figure cut by our _young men of
fashion_ on the Coach box makes them a fit subject for ridicule on
any stage."
They used to drive fast in those days. "Mr. Milton, the Horse-dealer,
has made a match for seven hundred guineas to drive four-in-hand,
15 miles in 48 minutes, to start the week before the Epsom races
commence, and to be done within 20 miles of London. Betting is
against the undertaking." One more Newspaper cutting _re_ fast
driving, and I have done. May 16, 1815: "We have been much shocked
by reading in some papers accounts of the extraordinary expedition
of the several Leeds Coaches, occasioned, we suppose, by opposition
among themselves. One Coach boasts of having reached Newark from
London in 12 hours, a distance of 124 miles, and which takes the
Edinburgh Mail 17 hours to perform. Another is said regularly to
reach Leeds from London (194 miles) in less than 21 hours! This
is certainly most astonishing velocity, but how great must be the
sufferings of the poor horses thus unnaturally urged."
Brighton was not only the abode of the Regent, but, naturally, every
one who wanted to be somebody, went there, to pay their Court. As
we know it now, it is the promised land of the Hebrew, and the
delight of 'Arry and 'Arriette, shrimps, winkles, and the small
half-quartern glass bottle. But, dear me! Brighton had fast Coaches
then, as now--when fools and professionals drive them, and are cheap
heroes; and they gloried in publishing the fact that a horse could
go quicker than a man! A noble Ambition! Put this and that of our
times together, and how do we--in Australian language--"pan out." We,
nationally, do not seem to get wiser as we get older.
Under date October 17, 1816, we read: "A new coach was started by
some Jews in the Spring to run to Brighton, a distance of 52 miles,
in six hours, with a pledge, that if they did not accomplish the
journey in that time, they would carry the passengers gratis; to
accomplish which the horses were kept upon a gallop all the way;
and, notwithstanding this great risk, the coach was always filled
with passengers. In one of the journeys the Coachman broke three
whips. In one week 15 horses died." The authorities had, however, to
interfere, as they considered this speed both dangerous and cruel. On
July 14, 1888, a professional coachman, named James Selby, who had
accepted a bet of £1,000 that he could not drive from White Horse
Cellars, Piccadilly, to Brighton and back to the same place, within
eight hours, did it, and had ten minutes to spare. In 1818 there were
thirty-seven coaches which left and returned to Brighton daily.
There were perils in travelling then, as now, only perhaps for the
percentage of travellers, rather more so. There were highwaymen,
though they were getting somewhat scarce. But the wheels came off,
horses kicked over the traces, reins broke; and there are a thousand
and one little accidents arising from man's subjugation of the
horse, which are almost inseparable from their mutual positions;
but we hardly expect to hear that on October 27, 1812, one of the
Hampstead stages got blown over by the wind. We have already heard
that passengers were occasionally frozen to death outside a Coach.
But there is one peril one would scarcely have discounted. In Railway
travelling, if a cow gets on the line, and tilts with dire onslaught
at the train, Stephenson's grim speech, "So much the worse for the
Coo," is verified; but when a lioness breaks loose, and attacks
the horses of a Stage Coach, it strikes me that the "Coo" is the
passenger thereby.
This was a little item of news which enlivened the good folks of
1816, for on October 20th of that year the Exeter Mail Coach, on its
way to London, was attacked, at Winterslow-hut, seven miles from
Salisbury, by a lioness who had escaped from a travelling menagerie;
she sprang at one of the leaders, and for some time things were
rather mixed. Two inside passengers hurriedly got out, rushed into a
house close by, and locked themselves in. The driver wanted to get
down and emulate the old Roman gladiatorial feats, by attacking the
lioness with his pocket-knife, but the wiser counsels of his Guard
restrained him. Then appeared a _Deus ex Machina_, in the shape of a
large Mastiff dog, who "went for" _Madame la Lionne_, and made her
retreat, her keepers afterwards capturing her. I believe the horse
attacked afterwards died. But the incident, although ending fairly
happily, created a great sensation at the time.
Among the minor scenes of the road, with which people were then
familiar, were little carts drawn by dogs, as are the milk carts at
Brussels at this day. I even recollect them, and their being put
down. There is no doubt but it was in the power of a Costermonger
(for they even existed in those days) to overload and ill treat his
dog; but I believe the same liberty is even now accorded to him with
respect to his donkey.
_Apropos_ of these useful animals, my readers may not be aware of a
highly important historical fact, which my researches have unearthed.
"August 21, 1817: _Donkey-riding_ is introduced on Hampstead
Heath, and the Ladies of the neighbourhood, notwithstanding the
vicinity of the Metropolis, enjoy the mode of taking the air without
interruption. About a dozen donkies stand for hire on the Heath every
morning, most of them with side-saddles. There are also donkey carts,
and whiskies with ponies."
From the Road to the Streets, and from the Streets to the Houses,
are only graceful and legitimate transitions, and here we can again
learn something from the Duc de Levis, by using his eyes, and he thus
writes of the general aspect of London, as he saw, and judged it.
It may not be flattering to us, but we must remember, that in the
Georgian era, especially in the long reign of George III., domestic
architecture had reached its lowest depth. Mean frontages to houses,
oblong windows, small panes of bad glass; no sanitary arrangements
to speak of; a bath almost unknown; it was a time of the dullest
mediocrity. It has been reserved to the last twenty-five years of
our time to make things architectural more truly beautiful, and
to restore, with some degree of knowledge, the legacies which our
veritable art-loving ancestors left to our care.
M. le Duc says, "At length arrived in London, I should like to be
able to give an idea of this immense city, by comparing it with
other great capitals, a method which I prefer to all others; on this
occasion, unfortunately it is not. In vain have we visited Paris,
Vienna, Rome, Venice. Should you have even been at St. Petersburg
or Moscow, none of these cities can give you a just idea of the
English Capital. The greater part of large cities offer a collection
of irregular hotels, palaces, and buildings; others, like Turin,
are distinguished by long arcades. Amsterdam, Dantzic, contain a
multitude of Canals; but nothing of all this resembles London. I must
therefore have recourse to a particular description of it.
"First of all, represent to yourself wide streets running in a
straight line, with good foot-paths; iron rails, upwards of five feet
in height, are placed the whole length, which separate the houses
from the footway, by an area, narrow, and of little depth, which
lights the under stories; there are the kitchens, and the offices; a
flight of steps serves at the same time for a communication out of
doors. Over this kind of under storey is the ground floor, then the
first and the second floor, but seldom a third, and never an elevated
roof; neither is there any architectural decoration.
But every house, which has seldom more than three windows in front,
has the door ornamented with two wooden pillars, painted white,
surmounted by a heavy pediment; a small glass window gives light to
the passage; in the front is the dining parlour; underneath a room,
almost dark, because it looks only into a small opening, a few feet
wide, which does not deserve the name of a court-yard. The staircase
is sometimes of stone, but mostly of wood, and always covered with a
Carpet.
"The first storey contains the drawing-room, and a tolerably large
closet behind, where sometimes a bed is placed, but the proper
bed-chambers are in the second floor. Under the roof are garrets
for the servants. The furniture agrees with the simplicity of the
building; it is much the same among all the opulent classes. The
mantelpieces are usually of wood; no time-pieces; vases, candelabras,
brackets, bronzes, are hardly known; and of all the arts, gilding
is the least advanced. The only thing which shines is the _Grate_,
in which Sea coal is used; the front is polished steel, and kept
extremely bright; the tables, and the rest of the furniture being
mahogany, take a fine polish. The paper-hangings are of an insipid
colour, and insignificant design; the dining parlour and the halls
are painted in fresco, mostly of a pale blue colour.
"The bed-chambers are still more plainly furnished than the
drawing-room; true it is that they are made use of only for sleeping
in, as they never use them for sitting-rooms; and the bed-chambers
of the women are as inaccessible to the men as the Harems of the
East. The beds are of white dimity or calico, with mahogany posts;
and their form is simple, and does not vary. The beds, in the best
houses, are but indifferent, especially the feather beds, which they
usually cover with a blanket, and which, being placed immediately
under the sheet, is not agreeable to foreigners, particularly in the
summer season. The boudoir is unknown in England. This is, however,
the manner of living even among the most wealthy. The progress of
luxury has only lately induced them to adopt chimney-pieces of
marble, and mirrors have become more frequent....
"It is impossible to invent anything better adapted for walking the
streets of a great city than the footpaths of London; too seldom
imitated elsewhere, and always imperfectly. They are paved with
broad flag-stones, brought more than a hundred miles, and with a
magnificence that reminds us of antiquity. If the whole were put
together, they would cover the space of several square miles. They
are so even, that you walk without fatigue; and we endeavour to
forget the rough and slippery pavement on the Continent. These
footpaths are kept constantly swept, and free from dust and dirt;
and, as they are on a gentle slope, the wind and the sun soon dry
them.
"Neither is here experienced the inconvenience of gutters, which,
elsewhere, inundate passengers; and in storms, heavy rains, and
floods, stop the way. The English have an ingenious method of getting
rid of these rainy torrents; their roofs are almost flat, and the
front wall, rising above the upper floor, forms a double slope like
our terraces. The waters, being thus collected, descend by a spout
into the drains, and are lost in the great common sewer under the
middle of the streets. Sometimes they are led into cisterns. It is
not that London is destitute of this precious element; a small river,
brought at an immense expense, from a great distance; and immense
engines, worked by the Thames, distribute the water in all quarters.
"Sea coal, whose black dust attaches so easily to furniture and
clothes, is kept in cellars under the footway. In a word, Stables,
and, with them, dunghills, with the smells inseparable from them,
occupy back streets, and have no communication with the inhabited
houses. The lamps are placed on both sides of the street, upon posts
a little elevated; they are very numerous, and are always lighted
before sunset....
"They have even gone so far as to pave, with flat stones, those
places where you cross the street, to make an easier communication
from one side to the other, and these paths are swept. Carriages are
not driven at a dangerous pace in the interior of the city; lighter
equipages go the same pace as the humblest coach. The horses--so
swift on the road, that they seem to fly rather than run, forgetting
their rapid pace--only go a gentle trot; and we never see Coachmen
endeavouring to pass by and break the line at the peril of the
passenger."
If I want to give a living touch to this book, I must still quote,
because, to be honest, I must do it. Others assimilate bodily, or
paraphrase facts: then, they are "men of genius," and they call
me, in reviews, "a mere compiler." Granted; I take the latter as a
compliment, for I give the very living age, and sink myself; because
the quotations are better than can now be written--they are _of the
time_. We have novels--we have plays--mostly imaginative, because of
the ignorance of the writer; but an honest historian ought only to
give the history of the times as he has found it, and, to any one
who has conscientiously worked, the crass ignorance, and superficial
knowledge, of the present time is stupendous.
The suburbs of London were still being built, and it is pleasant to
read an _outside_ criticism upon them.
"Scarcely a year passes without hundreds of houses being built;
and even thousands, on the North East side of London; the most
healthy part of the City, on account of its elevation: besides, the
parks hinder any increase on the west. Many of the new houses are
inhabited by bankers, and rich merchants, who establish themselves
there, with their families; they, however, keep their counting
houses in the city, where they transact business till Change-time.
These daily journeys (for the distance is sometimes several miles)
would appear insupportable in any other country; but it agrees very
well with the active habits so common to all classes of the English
nation. Besides, the women, who possess, here, more influence than
is generally imagined, and who are as much afraid of damps as they
dislike noise and dirt, persuade their husbands to keep these
separate establishments, as soon as their circumstances will permit.
"The shops are regularly distributed in all parts of London, yet
without being anywhere _en masse_, as they are at Petersburg, and at
Moscow. The finest are in the environs of St. James's, because it is
here that the most money is spent. The English are unrivalled in the
art of displaying their goods to the greatest advantage; they dispose
their various kinds of merchandise with the most fascinating effect;
and, even, with an elegance quite uncommon; they thus find means
to give them an appearance far beyond their value.... The English
ladies often tax the patience of shopkeepers by making them take
down a multitude of goods, without even intending to buy anything.
Without being obsequious, these tradesmen are civilly officious, and
an air of urbanity is visible in their manners. One might suppose,
from their grave and serious deportment, that they had determined to
abate nothing from the price demanded. They are, however, like their
fellows in other countries: it is, therefore, necessary to bargain
with them.
"Foreigners act very imprudently when they speak French to each other
in shops. There are, perhaps, ten thousand shops in London, where the
French language is understood; and this number increases daily. This
is not suspected. Instead of the officious eagerness, always blended
with vanity, with which the people of the south of Europe begin to
speak a foreign language, as soon as they know a few words of it;
English sensibility is afraid of committing itself, in the use of a
language which is not their own: necessity only forces it upon them.
It is as much owing to the curiosity continually excited by the
novelties of these shops, which, each in their way, are taking to the
eye, as well as to the conveniences afforded by the foot-paths, that
we are to attribute the preference given by the idlers of London to
certain streets, instead of the public walks and parks.
"That which has been the most fashionable, for a long time, is called
Bond Street, and communicates with St. James's Street and Pall Mall,
by Piccadilly on one side; and Oxford Street on the other. When the
weather is fine, it is the rendezvous of good company; thus, in
novels, and in plays, coxcombs are all called _Bond Street Loungers_.
This latter appellation comes from the pastry cook's shops, where
they find means to wait with some patience for dinner; by taking some
slight refreshment, which the English call _a lunch_. This happens
between one and two o'clock. These shops are always supplied with
a great variety of pastry, in which currants are most used. The
refreshments consist of lemonade, or orgeat; and, in summer, very
inferior ices. At other shops forced fruit is sold at a high price.
"The public squares are almost all regularly built; their form is
oblong, from whence they take their name (?). The centre of the
greater part of the squares is laid down in grass, planted with
shrubs, and divided by gravel walks; these grounds are surrounded by
iron rails, like the 'Palais Royal' at Paris; they are always kept
shut. The neighbouring houses only, have keys, which they make use
of for an airing for children and sick persons."
Speaking of St. James's Park he says that "In the centre is a meadow,
with cattle grazing, watered by a canal, and surrounded with wooden
rails." The Green Park he dismisses in a few words, and of Hyde Park
he says that it is "the general rendezvous of all classes, who parade
here in great numbers, on foot, on horseback, and in carriages. It is
supposed that sometimes a hundred thousand persons assemble there.
This assertion seems, at first, spoken at random; but it is grounded
on probability, and even on calculation."
Then, after treating of Kensington Gardens, he says: "There are
no other gardens in London that deserve notice, except those at
Buckingham House, the usual residence of the Queen; and a few,
attached to the houses of the great. There are two or three other
gardens in the City, the access to which is not difficult, belonging
to public bodies, but they are neither large nor pleasant: besides,
the streets are so convenient and straight, that this deficiency is
less felt than elsewhere. In the suburbs, on every side, are numerous
tea gardens, where tea and other refreshments are provided. Here
bowls are played on a green as level as a billiard table; indeed they
are called bowling-greens; from whence we get our word _boulin grin_.
These public places are frequented by citizens, and their families,
on Sundays; the tranquillity, and decency, which is observed at these
places is surprising to foreigners, who recollect the turbulent
gaiety of the _Ginguettes_ of Paris, and other capitals of Europe." I
may be wrong, but, personally, I lament over the loss of the London
"Tea Gardens": they were places of innocent enjoyment, and their
popularity may be estimated, by this generation, by the open-air
gatherings at the various exhibitions at South Kensington.