COACHMEN: WHERE DID THEY COME FROM?
Coachmen, as they used to be, are now nearly, or quite, lost to sight,
and it is difficult to describe them. Most of the descriptions given
of them have been, more or less, caricatures; still, from the time of
Tony Weller, they have been a rather peculiar people, although that
character, as depicted by Dickens, was more in keeping with a previous
generation, and even highly coloured for that, and as unlike what they
were in the palmy days of coaching as were two men I saw at Hatchetts
a summer or two ago, dressed in such great-coats as were never seen
down any road, and with such hats upon their heads as, I should think,
never made their appearance anywhere, unless it was on the stage. They
were a sort of Gog and Magog of the road.
The coachman of the fastest and best days, which really lasted for a
comparatively small number of years, was better educated, and was
rarely slangy in his dress, which was well suited to his avocation,
and, except in winter, would not generally attract attention. At that
season, however, he did require to be well protected against weather,
for he had to face all sorts, and that for nearly a whole day or night
at a time. On one journey the rain might fall incessantly, on another
our changeable climate would produce clear weather accompanied by
intense frost, whilst on the following day there might be a driving
snow, the wind blowing the flakes into the eyes till it was almost
impossible to see the road.
Now all these alternations of weather had to be taken into account,
and, I believe, the art of resisting them had well-nigh reached
perfection; therefore, with the dread before my eyes of wearying some
of my readers, I am tempted to enter with some minuteness into the
subject, as, judging from the garments now usually worn, the art is
lost in the present day. It was a well established fact that two
moderately thick coats gave more warmth and kept out wet better than
one which was very thick, and besides which, a very thick coat becomes
insufferably heavy after being out many hours in the rain.
Indeed, a great change had taken place in the dress of coachmen. As
the pace increased, and better bred horses were employed, and greater
activity was required in the coachmen, the cumbersome old great-coat,
with innumerable capes, had to make room for garments which interfered
less with the movements of the wearer. I need hardly say to those who
have had much experience, that there is no hope of keeping dry and
warm if the neck is not secured by an ample upper neckcloth; for,
tying up this part of the body not only excludes the wet and cold, but
also has the effect of keeping in the natural heat of the body.
Nothing chills worse than a cold draught passing up the sleeves and
coming out at the neck, and to prevent this what were called
coachman's cuffs were employed. These consisted of a piece of cloth
about six inches in length, which buttoned over the sleeve of the
ordinary coat, and when over these were added, first, a strong cloth
coat, and over that a waterproof cape with sleeves, and ample enough
to spread well over the apron, no wet and little cold could penetrate.
Protected in this way, and with a relay of dry woollen gloves and
whips, a not unpleasant day might be spent on the coach box even when
the elements were unpropitious.
When a man is cased in all these clothes, he can hardly help being a
little stiff in his movements, and this imparted a peculiar gait which
betrayed the occupation. The left hand also generally acted as a tell
tale, as the rounded position in which the wrist was necessarily held
during many hours of the day could not be altogether thrown off at
other times. It was not uncommon for guards in the fast day coaches to
wear red coats, not the post-office guard's livery, as I have seen at
Hatchett's, but an ordinary hunting coat.
As roads improved pace increased, and fast day coaches gradually
appeared, notably the three "Tallyhoes" between Birmingham and London,
distinguished from one another by the words "Eclipse," "Patent," and
"Independent;" also the "York House," Bath, and the "Berkely Hunt,"
Cheltenham.
It was not, however, till about the year 1825 that the "Wonder"
commenced running between Shrewsbury and London, a distance of one
hundred and fifty-four miles, and it ceased running the whole journey
through in the year 1840 or 1841. And this having been the first coach
which attempted to cover so long a journey in one day, it marks with
sufficient accuracy the time during which coaching was at its zenith.
Of course, there were many fast and good coaches running after this
date; but subsequent to the year 1842, most of the roads, taking their
start from the Metropolis, were, more or less, pressed upon by
railways, and the coaches were either taken off altogether, or else
the distance run was curtailed. We may therefore put down about
twenty-five years as the period during which the coaches covered the
roads, though many equally good ones continued to run in Scotland,
Wales, and other remote places for many years later.
[Illustration: J. Sturgess del. et lith. M&N. Hanhart imp.
EXTRA PAIR OF HORSES FOR FAST COACHES, FOR STEEP
ASCENTS.]
During this quarter of a century the fun was fast, not to say furious,
and with such rapidity did coaches increase and multiply, that it is a
wonder how the demand for coachmen was satisfied, for to become one
fit to be entrusted with a fast coach, and one which loaded heavily,
necessitates no little practice.
From whence then was this demand supplied? Principally, I believe,
like that in other trades, on the hereditary principle. It was no
uncommon thing for old coachmen to have several sons at work; but, as
the box of a good day coach was a lucrative post, a considerable
number of men were gradually attracted to it from superior positions
in life. The value of a "drive" differed very much, according to the
loading of the coach, distance driven, whether single or double
journey, or whether the passengers were what was called "_good
cloth_," or the contrary; but one which did not bring in twenty
shillings a day was not thought much of, and some were worth double.
This may appear a large remuneration to be received for a day's work,
seldom occupying more than nine or ten hours; but I know it is not
overstated, as I have not only been told it by others, but have myself
fingered forty-five shillings in one day. Perhaps, however, I should
add that I was then driving as much as ninety-three miles a day, and
had no guard.
There were also other sources from which money was made, and from
which coachmen driving slow coaches were enabled to make amends for
the inferior quality of their passengers; and, indeed, in quite old
days, the best wheel of the coach was often his. The late Mr. Jobson,
who for many years kept the "Talbot Hotel" in Shrewsbury, and horsed
the "Nimrod," which ran opposition to the "Wonder," had previously
driven the "Prince of Wales" coach between that town and Birmingham,
during which time he had the opportunity of buying up the guineas,
when they were called in by the Mint, at a trifle under their standard
value, and being able to dispose of them at their full price he
realised a handsome profit.
Again, fish was not an unusual article to be made the subject of
trading, and I once was tempted to embark in this business myself,
but, as the sequel will show, not with satisfactory results. When I
was driving the "Snowdonian," I was frequently asked by friends and
acquaintances on the road to bring some fish from Caernarvon, as the
towns through which I passed were badly supplied with it.
Accordingly, one morning, hearing that a good catch of fish had been
brought in, I invested, before starting, in forty pounds of very nice
small salmon at sixpence a pound, with the expectation of obliging
friends, and at the same time making some profit for my trouble.
However, I was soon undeceived. As I went from place to place I
announced with a feeling of much complacency that I had got the
long-wanted article, but in most cases the answer was that they did
not want salmon--any other fish would have been acceptable.
Consequently, when I arrived at the end of my journey, I found that
more than half was left in hand. Pickled salmon was the standard dish
on my table for a fortnight. It was my first and last appearance in
the character of a fishmonger. I tried no other sort of fish, as I
thought they were too dainty if they could not eat salmon. But perhaps
I have digressed too far, and will return to where coachmen sprang
from in the required numbers.
I once sat by the side of a Captain Douglas, who had seen service in
the Peninsular war, and was then driving the Birmingham and Sheffield
mail out of the former town, and a quiet, nice coachman he was. He had
a long stage of sixteen miles to Lichfield, and brought his team in
fresh at the end of it.
From the officer coachman I come to the private. He was named Marsh,
and had served at Waterloo with the 14th Regiment, and after leaving
the army, had driven a coach between Maidstone and London for many
years. When I first became acquainted with him, he had, like a good
many others, followed the receding tide to the west, and was driving
one side of the Aberystwith and Shrewsbury mail, between the former
place and Newtown, during which time I occasionally worked for him;
but, like an old soldier, he was always, if possible, ready for duty.
It is curious enough that I first came across him on a Waterloo day,
when he modestly remarked, upon the subject being alluded to, "I
happened to be there." I had lost sight of him for some years, till I
observed a notice of him in the _World_ newspaper of July 11th, 1888.
It occurred in a short account of Lord Albemarle, and mentioned the
interest he took in "the old soldier Matty Marsh, private 14th Foot,
who was wounded at Waterloo, witnessed the funerals of Wellington and
Napoleon, drove a coach from Maidstone for many years, and recently
died at the advanced age of ninety-four years." I never heard him
allude to either of the funerals, and don't very well see how he could
have been at that of Napoleon's; but so far as I know, he may have
attended both.
A few postboys were elevated to the "bench," notably little Dick
Vickers, of the Holyhead mail; but few of them were equal to the task,
and, indeed, some of them could not even handle four-horse reins
sufficiently well for black work, and consequently the night coachmen
were occasionally pressed into this service, much to their dislike,
and this once led to a rather droll scene. A gentleman, who had taken
to professional coach driving, found himself one day let in for the
job of driving a hearse, and, of course, was obliged to get himself up
for the occasion something like a mute, when catching sight of himself
in a glass, he was so much struck with his personal appearance, that
he remarked, "Well, if only some of my family could see me now, I
wonder what they _would_ say?"
Indeed, it is difficult to determine from what ranks and professions
the large body of coachmen required in those days was not recruited. I
suppose few would have looked among the list of publishers for one,
but, nevertheless, one, at any rate, from that business was drawn into
the service of the road, not having been successful in the former
trade. A letter from an old friend of mine, also a coachman, will, I
think, interest or amuse some readers, and will show that he possessed
a considerable amount of grim humour, as well as some acuteness in
business.
"Many years ago," says my friend, "I took up my residence for a short
time at the 'Kentish Hotel' in Tunbridge Wells--the best hotel there,
and at that time there were very few houses built upon the Common.
After stopping there some time, the season ended, and the exodus of
visitors had commenced, I took the box seat on Stockdale's coach. I
must tell you he had been a large publisher in Piccadilly, but failed,
and then took to the road, this being the first coach he had driven,
and being part proprietor. He was an exceedingly good amateur whip,
but still, not a first-rate artist, as he would try to make you
believe.
"A short time before we started, a lady with her maid, who had been
stopping in the hotel, sent her luggage to be placed on the coach, and
upon Stockdale seeing it, he said to the porter, 'How many passengers,
Tom?' 'Two, sir,' says Tom. 'Scale it, Tom,' says he, which he
immediately did. When twelve shillings was demanded for extra luggage,
the lady said, 'I never paid it before, and have taken two inside
places.' 'You see, _ma'ame_,' says he, 'I horse this coach over
Maramscote hill, and I cannot carry your luggage for nothing; you will
bring the kitchen range next time if you have nothing to pay.'
"Having seated myself very comfortably on the box seat, our friend
Stockdale and myself lit our cigars, going at a fair pace till we were
descending Maramscote hill, the skid-pan being on the wheel. The wheel
horses did not step well together, and we rocked very considerably,
which led me to observe he had better be careful, or he would put the
passengers down to count them. Upon this he turned round to me,
looking daggers, and asked me to look what was painted on the board at
the side of the hill, and looking, I read, '_Dry rubbish may be
thrown here_.' You may be sure I did not offer any more advice for
the remainder of the stage; but our _contretemps_ soon cooled
down, and when we were changing horses, 'I say, governor!' says he,
'forget the dry rubbish, and come in and take a little cold brandy and
water. It's the only place I ever go into on the road, for it's the
only place where you can escape being poisoned.' After our refreshment
we went at a very jolly pace, having Robert Nelson's horses, which
were first-rate, and soon arrived at the Belle Sauvage, Ludgate Hill,
where we found a great bustle of coaches, and luggage just come by
other coaches, arriving from different parts of the country, and
porters were calling out, 'Any passengers for Leeds "Courier," "Hope,"
"Halifax,"'" etc., etc.
It was not only necessary that a coachman should be able to drive
well, which required time and practice to acquire, but, what was of
nearly equal importance, he had to learn how to get his coach quick
through the country. Indeed, his was a position of no small
responsibility, for he had the lives and limbs of the passengers in
his hands, and as, when was sometimes the case with a strong
opposition, his orders were simply "_be first_" his was no very
enviable situation. When he could do all this with the minimum of wear
and tear of the stock, he was a very valuable man to his employers.
As a rule, I think they were fairly careful of the stock, though
certainly on slow coaches, when a little time lost could be recovered
without much difficulty, the horses by no means always reaped the full
benefit of the time allowed them. This, however, it must with justice
be admitted, was not altogether the fault of the coachmen. The
proprietors were too prone to encourage delay for the custom it
brought to the "bar," and if a coachman was heard to decline the offer
of a glass of sherry or brandy and water from his box passenger, he
might expect black looks.
Of course, with the fastest coaches, such delays were impossible,
neither could the coachman find time to pull up and patronize the
house of a friend, as was frequently done by his brethren on the
slower drags.
I have heard of the late Mr. Isaac Taylor, of Shrewsbury, when he
wanted to select from among his coachmen one fitted for a fast coach,
adopting the following plan: One of his coaches was driven by a man
who he knew to be coachman enough for the job, but he was not so sure
about his power of getting through the country. He, therefore, one
day, quietly seated himself inside this man's coach, and after a time
his doubts were confirmed, for on pulling up at a roadside inn, the
landlady, without observing him, said to the coachman, "Mr. So-and-So,
how will you have your eggs done to-day? Shall they be poached or
boiled?" I need hardly add, he remained on the slow coach.
A smart coachman usually took his place in changing horses, and it is
quite possible, as I know from experience, having been timed by a box
passenger, to effect the change in one minute and a half, with only
one horse-keeper, assisted by coachman and guard; but to do this, each
one must know his own place; they must not be tumbling over one
another. The best drill I ever knew for this purpose was as follows:
As the coach gradually stopped, the guard got down, and ran forward to
unhook the near leader's outside trace, and then drew the near lead
rein through the territs, after which he changed the near wheel horse,
and finished by running the near lead rein. The horse-keeper, on the
off-side, unhooked the remaining lead traces, uncoupled the wheel
horses, and changed the off-side one. The coachman, getting down from
his box as fast as he could, finished changing the leaders. The horses
had, of course, previous to the arrival of the coach, been properly
placed; one wheeler on each side of the road, and the leaders coupled.
This, of course, could only be carried out when the team was pretty
quiet to "put to," for with queer tempered ones, all sorts of dodges
had to be resorted to, attended sometimes with considerable loss of
time.
Occasionally, it would be necessary to run a leader's rein the first
thing, and then the coachman had to bustle up to his box as quick as
he could, trusting to the horse-keeper and guard to get the traces
hooked as best they might. Again, some wheelers could not bear to be
poled up till after the coach was started. Horse-keepers were often
exceedingly smart at this sort of work, though they varied a good
deal, so much so, that it was no uncommon thing for "queer ones" to
start better from one end of the stage than the other.
These said horse-keepers were a rough lot, and no great wonder, for
they had rough work to do. They were frequently expected to attend to
eight horses, four out and four in, every day, or to take charge of
six, with eight out and eight in, during the course of the day. But,
what was worse than the work, they constantly had vicious horses to
attend to, and such as it was dangerous to approach in the stall. To
meet this difficulty, I have known a long cord used, with one end
fastened to the head collar, and the other made fast to the
stall-post, by which the horse could be pulled back far enough to
enable the horse-keeper to keep clear of his heels whilst entering the
stall. I was once travelling at night, when, upon arriving at the end
of a stage, the coachman said to the horsekeeper, "Mind what you are
about with that horse," pointing to a fresh one, "he bit a piece out
of a man just before starting." It struck me as not a very enviable
position to be left, in the middle of a dark night, to look
single-handed after four dirty horses, and one of them a "savage."
But to return to changing horses, for it was an item of the very
greatest importance in fast work. It was necessary at times to use a
twitch with kickers, or to strap up one foreleg, though I have known
this latter insufficient to keep the hind feet on the ground, and was
once compelled to "Rarey" a mare before she would suffer herself to be
put to the coach. She was, from some cause or another, the worst
tempered horse I ever met with. When I first knew her, she was the
property of a gentleman residing at Dolgelly, but her temper was so
violent and untractable, that she had got the better of one or two
breakers, and the ostler at the "Wynnstay Arms" at Machynlleth, having
undertaken to conquer her, she had been taken there for that purpose.
It happened that I had promised to drive, a day or two afterwards, for
another coachman, who wanted a rest, and as his coach did not start
till after I had arrived with the "Harkaway" from Barmouth, and was
back again in time for my return coach, I was able to oblige him,
little thinking what I had undertaken.
On looking over the team before mounting my box, what should I espy
but this very animal at off-lead. "Oh," says I, "then this is the way
you are going to be broken? Well, we shall see how we can agree." And
taking up the reins, I mounted the box. Cautioning the horse-keeper
not to touch her, but to keep alongside the other leader through the
archway out of the inn yard, and to be sure and make him carry his bar
well, we started, the hitherto unmanageable mare giving very little
trouble, and, after a few more journeys in the coach, she was
considered to have finished her education, and returned home.
I suppose, however, that she was not much to the taste of her owner,
as she was very soon purchased, for a small sum, by my partner, Mr. E.
Jones, of the "Ship Hotel," Dolgelly, and put to run in the
"Harkaway." I drove her for many months, and considered that she was
quite subdued, though it was always necessary to strap up a foreleg
when putting her to the coach, and she was always nasty in the stable.
All of a sudden, however, as spring came on, she returned to her old
tricks, and thought so little of having a leg strapped up, that she
kicked her bar over the top of the coach, and was so violent that it
was impossible to "put her to." I determined, therefore, to "Rarey"
her, so, getting a long rope, and fastening it to the foreleg which
was not strapped, and passing it over her withers, I gradually pulled
her down, and, after the most approved "Rarey" fashion, sat upon her.
After a few minutes, I allowed her to get up, but she seemed still to
be very light behind, so I put her into her place at near-lead, all
the while keeping a strain upon the rope, and so kept her peaceable
whilst the traces were hooked, the rein run, etc. Then, handing over
the rope to the guard, I got into my place, when it became, "Let 'em
go, and take care of yourselves." The brute went right enough for
about a couple of hundred yards, when all of a sudden, she ran her
head into the near-side hedge, and set to kicking in earnest; but as
this movement exposed her flank, I was soon able to make it too hot
for her, and she finished the stage to Dolgelly quietly. I drove her
again the next day, but she continued so violent that, as we carried a
great many ladies and children at that time of year, she was taken
away for fear of alarming them, especially as some parts of the road
were not of the safest.