Young coachmen--Save your horses--The ribbons--The whip--A
professional Jehu--An amateur--Paralysed fingers.
To a man who has a taste for driving, what can be more fascinating
than to find himself upon the box of his own drag, with four
three-parts-bred, well-matched horses before him, of which he is
master? But how is this supreme pleasure to be arrived at? He may
give fabulous prices for his horses, his coach and appointments may
be faultless, all selected with great judgment, and still there will
be moments when aching arms, paralysed fingers, and animals who
seem determined to go "no how," will compel him to wish himself in
any other position. In order to guard against this, I would enjoin
a young beginner not to run away with the idea that because he has
driven four horses without getting into trouble, or, as still more
frequently occurs, because he can drive a tandem, he can be in any
degree a match for a team of horses with spirit and mettle, unless
he have first carefully mastered the rudiments of the ribbons. There
are many self-taught men who are excellent coachmen, and who, from
long habit and experience, may be as much at home, in cases of sudden
difficulty, as some of the more educated; but they invariably lack a
certain precautionary system which makes almost any team go well and
comfortably, and reduces the chance of an accident to a minimum. There
are, alas, very few preceptors of the old school, but why the present
generation should not be as well able to instruct themselves as were
the men of fifty years ago is to me an unexplained marvel.
It is quite true that when coaching was a most important business, and
when the component parties--contractors, coachmen, horsekeepers, and
horses--sprang into existence, apparently for the purpose of carrying
it on, there was a professional caste about the whole affair which
kept it distinct and separate from all others. A proprietor was a big
man, and his importance was measured by the ground he covered. There
was an emulative rivalry between these gentlemen, which reflected very
healthily upon the style in which their coaches were done.
The contractor supplied such horses as the proprietor required to cover
the ground at a given coaching price.
The coachman had to keep such time as was laid down by the rules of
the coach, and this was a point upon which depended much of the merit
of the man. A coachman who, from an intimate knowledge of his ground,
knew when to bustle and where to save his horses, was an invaluable
acquisition to his employer. Horses themselves will sometimes suggest
a little judicious springing, by which some of the most trying hills
are more easily negotiated; but there is nothing better than to keep an
even pace throughout the stage, jogging up all hills, easing them at
the top, and coming steady off the crown of a descent. If circumstances
should arise by which the time has been stolen from the horses, let me
enjoin you, in the name of the whole equine race, not to attempt to
make it up by showing your expertness with the whip up the hills; this
is downright cruelty; and, in nine cases out of ten, the extra exertion
and nervous efforts to respond are all made by one horse more sensitive
than the rest of the team. It is better to wait for time than to race
after it, the latter invariably resulting in one horse being so much
more baked than the others as to cause the knowing eyes around the
White Horse Cellars to wink when you do arrive.
To make my reader comfortable with his team as quickly as possible, I
would here offer a few hints, which I venture to think will be found
valuable to all not too proud to learn.
Being, then, comfortably attired, taking care that no part of his
clothing approaches to tightness, supplied with a good thick shoe and
gaiter, an easy (very easy) dogskin glove, taking care that the fingers
are not too long (he should always be provided with a pair of woollen
gloves in case of wet weather), we may safely leave supplementary
garments to his own taste.
Having looked round his horses--a proceeding which no coachman should
neglect--he walks up to the flank of the off-wheeler and takes _all_
his reins, which should have been doubled and tucked into the tug on
the off-side. Stepping back a pace, he separates his leading-reins,
and pulls them through the terrets till he has gathered up the slack.
He then slips his wheel-reins on either side of his right hand
middle-finger, the near-side leading-rein over the forefinger, and the
other over the wheel-rein between the fore and middle fingers of his
right hand.
If he changes his whip it will be laid across the cruppers of the
wheelers, and must be taken up, caught, and placed in the same hand
with the reins, so as to leave the left free to seize the step of the
front-boot, when, by stepping on the fore-wheel, and throwing the
weight of his body well before it, the walk up on the bench will be
comparatively easy and graceful. Having arrived there, still keeping
the whip and reins in the right hand, he quickly settles his seat and
apron, then shifting his reins to his left hand, in the same order
which they occupied in the right, he proceeds to shorten them till he
just feels the mouths of his horses.
The beauty and grace of a driving-seat is to assume such a posture as
does not admit of any constraint. Without freedom of the wrist and
arm, the whip, instead of being a most interesting plaything, will be
a constant source of annoyance and difficulty to a young coachman. "It
won't catch." "Why not?" Always because he will not let the bow of the
thong swing sufficiently away from him, but tries it with a stiff arm.
When once the knack is acquired it will last a lifetime, and there is
no instrument the proper handling of which gives such a finish and
proficiency, as a well-poised "yew" or a properly-weighted "holly."
Often have I been obliged to give away old favourite "crops" because
mine would "catch" and others would not.
A good coachman shows his proficiency as well by the manner of his
getting up on the bench as by the necessary preliminaries to make a
comfortable start after he is seated. A lady, who must have been a
close observer, once remarked to me that a certain gentleman, who was a
mutual acquaintance, must be a very careful coachman, for, when riding
upon the box-seat with him, he constantly asked her to hold the whip
for him, while he went through a process of what appeared to her like
"plaiting the reins." There is a right way and a wrong way, and, at the
risk of being a trifle wearisome, I venture to introduce a few hints
for the benefit of such of my young readers as may desire to be guided
in the acquirements of an art at once useful and agreeable, by tracing
some of the oldest habits of the profession, and thus, in coaching
parlance, picking up some of the "dodges of the road."
Let us attempt to follow a professional "Jehu" over a stage or two of
his ground.
His coach loaded and passengers placed, he takes a careful look round
to see that every part of his harness is in its place and properly
adjusted, and, if reminded by seeing any particular horse that he had
gone uncomfortably on his last journey, to endeavour to find out the
cause and have it altered. I have known a horse, usually straight and
pleasant in his work, all at once take to snatching the rein and run
away wide of his partner, and this occasioned only by the winker-strap
being too short, causing the winker to press against his frontal-bone,
the apparently trifling irregularity causing so much pain as to drive
him almost mad.
A wheeler sometimes takes to _diving_ suddenly with his head, and
almost snatching the rein out of the driver's hand. This can only be
prevented by putting a bearing-rein upon him; and though this has often
been censured (on the road), it has as often been condoned at the end
of the stage. His inspection made, he mounts his box, according to
the foregoing rules, and having given some parting instructions to his
horsekeeper--"Send 'Old Giles' down o' the off-side to-morrow, and rest
the 'Betsy Mare,' etc. etc."--the office to start is given; when the
lightest feel of their mouths (wheelers having a little the most room)
and a "klick" ought to be enough to start them.[3] Nothing is such "bad
form" as to start with the whip; in dismissing which latter article I
would caution young coachmen against the practice of carrying it in the
socket. The moment when it may be required cannot be foreseen.
A well-organised team soon settles, and though for a mile or two they
may appear to pull uncomfortably and not divide the work evenly, this
is often occasioned merely by freshness and impatience, when presently
they will settle down and go like "oil."
A young friend, who lived not one hundred miles from Queen's Gate,
once asked me to come and see a splendid team he had purchased. I was
indeed struck by their appearance when they came to the door. All
roans, sixteen-and-a-half hands, very well bred, decorated all over
with crest and coronet. There was a small party for the drag, with, of
course, some muslin on the box, and I took my place behind the driver.
I very soon observed that, although they were very highly bitted,
they were carrying too many guns for our coachman; and we had not
proceeded far when I ventured to remark that he was going rather fast
(at this moment three were cantering), and in reply my friend candidly
declared "he could not hold them." "Then pull them all up at once,"
I said promptly, "or they'll be away with you." Failing in this he
accepted an offer of assistance, and, taking the reins, I, not without
difficulty, stopped the runaways, and effected several alterations in
their couplings, bittings, and harness.
I expected my friend would have resumed his post, but his hand was so
paralysed that he could not grasp the reins. The explanation of this
episode is twofold--firstly, the team was improperly put together;
secondly, my friend discovered when we got to Richmond that he had
been attempting to drive in a tight wrist-band, which, next to a tight
glove, is of all things to be avoided. We had had unquestionably a
narrow escape from what might have been a very serious accident.
When four high-couraged horses, all very green and not properly
strung together, get off "the balance" with a weak coachman, it is
time to look out for a soft place. After I had made this team more
comfortable in their harness, and their mouths more easily reached by
the coupling-reins, they became, in my hands, perfectly temperate and
docile, and gave every promise of becoming a handy pleasant lot.
It is a dangerous thing for a young coachman to embark with a team
without somebody with him who can relieve his paralysed fingers and
wrists if occasion requires; and this danger is increased tenfold if
the team is composed of high-mettled cattle unused to their work or
their places. I have found it very useful to condition the muscles of
the arm by dumb-belling or balancing a chair upon the middle-finger of
the left hand with the arm extended.
I trust that the foregoing hints may not be received with disdain. How
many men there are who, from mistaken self-sufficiency, go through
a whole life in practising what must be very uncomfortable, merely
because they have been too proud to learn the A B C of the business.
Without confidence--I may almost say without courage--no man can
enjoy driving "a team." He will be in a constant state of fret and in
apprehension of all sorts of imaginary eventualities. The misgiving
that they are either going too fast or not fast enough, not working
straight, won't stop the coach down hill, and a thousand other qualms,
might all have been prevented by spending a few pounds at The Paxton.