used on the standards at a cost of forty shillings, this being in his
view very cheap. Indeed, “the doing of the biggest coach all over,” he
learnt, “comes not above £6.” On his next visit to the coachmaker, he
was surprised to find several great ladies “sitting in the body of a
coach that must be ended tomorrow ... eating of bread and butter and
drinking ale.” His own coach had been silvered over, “but no varnish
yet laid on, so I put it in a way of doing.” A few hours later he
called back again,
“and there vexed to see nothing yet done to my coach, at
three in the afternoon; but I set it in doing, and stood by
till eight at night, and saw the painter varnish it which is
pretty to see how every doing it over do make it more and more
yellow: and it dries as fast in the sun as it can be laid on
almost; and most coaches are, now-a-days, done so, and it is
very pretty when laid on well, and not too pale, as some are,
even to show the silver. Here I did make the workmen drink,
and saw my coach cleaned and oyled.”
And so eager was he to have it without delay that his coachman and
horses were sent to fetch it that very evening, and on the following
gala day, May 1st,
“we went alone through the town with our new liveries of
serge, and the horses’ manes and tails tied with red ribbons,
and the standards gilt with varnish, and all clean, and green
reines, the people did mightily look upon us; and, the truth
is, I did not see any coach more pretty, though more gay, than
ours all the day. But we set out, out of humour—I because
Betty, whom I expected, was not come to go with us; and my
wife that I would sit on the same seat with her, which she
likes not, being so fine: and she then expected me to meet
Sheres, which we did in Pell Mell, and against my will, I was
forced to take him into the coach, but was sullen all day
almost, and little complaisant; the day being unpleasing,
though the Park full of coaches, but dusty and windy, and
cold, and now and then a little dribbling of rain; and what
made it worse, there were so many hackney-coaches as spoiled
the sight of the gentlemen’s; and so we had little pleasure.”
Henceforth Mr. Pepys, in spite of sundry warnings from his friend Mr.
Povey and others, continued to use his coach, and although perhaps as
he grew older, his coach was less brilliantly adorned, there seems no
reason to suppose that he ever regretted its purchase.
Though it is not my intention to speak in any detail of public
conveyances, a word must be said here of the stage-coaches,[33] which
made their appearance on English roads in 1640. These were large
coaches, leather-curtained at first—glass does not seem to have been
used until 1680—and capable of seating six or eight passengers. Their
chief feature was the huge basket strapped to the back.
“There is of late,” says Chamberlayne in his well-known
_Present State of Great Britain_ (1649), “such an admirable
commodiousness both for men and women, to travel from London
to the principal towns in the country, that the like hath
not been known in the world; and that is by stage-coaches,
wherein one may be transported to any place sheltered from
foul weather and foul ways, free from endangering of one’s
health and one’s body by hard jogging or over-violent motion
on horseback; and this not only at the low price of about a
shilling for every five miles, but with such velocity and
speed in an hour as the foreign post can make but in one day.”
Of course, there was opposition to these public coaches. In 1662, when
there was not a round dozen of them, one writer was already exhorting
their extinction on the ground that simple country gentlemen and their
simple country wives could now come to London without due occasion, and
there learn all the vice and luxury that were rampant. So in 1673, in
a singular production called _The Grand Concern of England_, amongst
the many proposals set forth for the country’s good, was one “that the
Multitude of Stage Coaches and Caravans be suppressed.” One or two
pamphlets of no particular interest appeared, both for and against
these coaches, but it may be sufficient here to observe that they
steadily increased in numbers and maintained their existence until the
mail-coaches finally superseded them.
[Illustration: _Early (?) French Gig at the South Kensington Museum_]
One other public carriage of this time also deserves mention. This was
the _carosse à cinq sous_, which appeared in the streets of Paris in
1662. The history of this primitive omnibus is well told by Mr. Henry
Charles Moore.[34]
“The leading spirits in this enterprise were the Duc de
Rouanès, Governor of Poitou, the Marquis de Sourches, Grand
Prévôt, the Marquis de Crenan, Grand Cup-bearer, and Blaise
Pascal, the author of _Lettres Provinciales_. The idea was
Pascal’s, but not being sufficiently wealthy to carry it out
unaided, he laid the matter before his friend the Duc de
Rouanès, who suggested that a company should be formed to
start the vehicles. Pascal consented to this being done, and
the Duc set to work at once to prevail upon members of the
aristocracy to take shares in the venture.” After obtaining a
royal decree, “seven vehicles to carry eight passengers each,
all inside, were built, and on March 18th, 1662, they began
running. The first one was timed to start at seven o’clock
in the morning, but an hour or two earlier a huge crowd had
assembled to witness the inauguration ceremony, which
was performed by two Commissaires of the Châtelet, attired
in their official robes. Accompanying them were four guards
of the Grand Prévôt, twenty men of the City Archers, and a
troop of cavalry. The procession, on arriving at the line of
route, divided into two parts, one Commissaire and half of
the attendants proceeded to the Luxembourg, and the others
to the Porte St. Antoine. At the latter place three of the
twopenny-halfpenny coaches were stationed, the other four
being at the Luxembourg. Each Commissaire then made a speech,
in which he pointed out the boon that _carosses à cinq sous_
would be to the public, and laid great stress on the fact
that they would start punctually at certain times whether
full or empty. Moreover, he warned the people that the king
was determined to punish severely any person who interfered
with the coaches, their drivers, conductors, or passengers.
The public was also warned that any person starting similar
vehicles without permission would be fined 3000 francs, and
his horses and coaches confiscated.
“At the conclusion of his address, the Commissaire commanded
the coachmen to advance, and, after giving them a few words
of advice and caution, presented each one with a long blue
coat, with the City arms embroidered on the front in brilliant
colours. Having donned their livery, the drivers returned to
their vehicles and climbed up to their seats. Then the command
to start was given, and the two vehicles drove off amidst
a scene of tremendous enthusiasm. The first coach each way
carried no passengers—a very unbusinesslike arrangement—the
conductor sitting inside in solitary state. But the next two,
which were sent off a quarter of an hour after the first,
started work in earnest, and it need scarcely be said that
there were no lack of passengers. The difficulty experienced
was in preventing people from crowding in after the eight
seats were occupied. At the beginning of every journey the
struggle to get into the coach was repeated, and many charming
costumes were ruined in the crush. Paris, in short, went mad
over its _carosses à cinq sous_, and the excitement soon
spread to the suburbs, sending their inhabitants flocking to
the city to see the new vehicles. But very few of the visitors
managed to obtain a ride, for day by day the rush for seats
became greater. The king himself had a ride in one coach, and
the aristocracy and wealthy classes hastened to follow his
example, struggling with their poorer brethren to obtain a
seat. Many persons who possessed private coaches daily drove
to the starting-point, and yet failed to get a drive in one
for a week or two.
“Four other routes were opened in less than four months, but
at last the fashionable craze came to an end, and as soon as
the upper classes ceased to patronise the new coaches the
middle and lower classes found that it was cheaper to walk
than to ride. The result was that Pascal, who died only five
months after the coaches began running, lived long enough to
see the vehicles travelling to and fro, half, and sometimes
quite, empty.
“For many months after Pascal’s death the coaches lingered on,
but every week found them less patronised, and eventually they
were discontinued. They had never been of any real utility,
and were regarded by the public much in the same light as we
regard a switchback railway.”
And, indeed, it was a century and a half before the next omnibus was
tried.
So then, at the middle of the century, when heavy and slow
stage-coaches were making their appearance on the English country
roads, and the unsuccessful _carosse à cinq sous_ was being tried in
the streets of Paris, the success of the _berlin_, the _brouette_,
and other chariots, was in process of remodelling men’s ideas upon the
most feasible carriage for town use. The older coaches, as I have said,
were still retained for particular occasions, and, indeed, continued to
be built with more ornamentation than ever before. The very spokes of
the wheels were decorated, paintings appeared on the panels, and every
inch of the coach made as brilliant as possible. France in particular
possessed carriages of the most gorgeous possible description. These
were not only entirely gilded over, but in some cases actually
bejewelled. The richest stuffs lined their interiors, and masters
painted their panels. Immense sums were spent. There is preserved at
Toulouse a carriage of this date which shows most of these features.
The interior “is, or rather was, lined with white brocade embroidered
with a diaper of pink roses, the roof being lined with the same, while
its angles are hidden by little smiling cupids gilded from top to toe.
The surface of the panels is, or rather was, a piece of opaque white,
exceedingly well varnished, and edged with a thick moulding of pink
roses; the foliage, instead of being green, was highly gilded and
burnished.”
But the ever-increasing traffic rendered necessary a much smaller
vehicle than these monstrosities for general use, and this led,
somewhere about 1670, to the introduction of the _gig_. This was a
French invention, which, while no doubt the logical outcome of the
_brouette_, bore resemblance to the old Roman _cisium_, and led
ultimately to the cabriolets, once so popular both in France and
England. Certain experiments tending towards a gig had been made
earlier in the century with a chair fixed to a small cart. The first
successful gig was a slender, two-wheeled contrivance, “the body little
more than a shell,” says Thrupp, provided with a hood “composed of
three iron hoop-sticks joined in the middle to fall upwards.” It was
the prototype of the _calèche_ in France, the _carriole_ of Norway, the
_calesso_ of Naples, and the _volante_ of Cuba. Gozzadini describes
one of them as “an affair with a curved seat fixed on two long bending
shafts, placed in front on the back of the horse and behind upon the
two wheels.” They were introduced into Florence, he says, in 1672,
and “so increased in numbers that in a few years there were nearly a
thousand in the city.” An early gig of this kind is preserved at South
Kensington. It is a forlorn-looking vehicle. The body is curved, but
there is no hood. The seat is absurdly small and “beneath the shafts
are two long straps of leather and a windlass to tighten them—this
apparatus was, no doubt, to regulate the spring of the vehicle to the
road travelled over.”
The gig speedily underwent several minor changes of form. In France
it was known as _calèche_[35] or _chaise_, in England, as _calash_,
_calesh_, or _chaise_, in America as _shay_. Unfortunately there is
small mention of them in contemporary writings, and one is left to
suppose that for some time they did not, except in certain cities,
prove serious rivals to the _berlins_ and other four-wheeled chariots.
It may be that the _berlin_ itself was taken as a model from which
these lighter carriages were evolved. You had first the big double
_berlins_ for four people, then you had a _vis-à-vis_ for two or more
persons facing each other. Later the front part of the carriage would
be cut away for the sake of lightness. When not covered such a vehicle
as this seems to have been known as a _berlingot_. Two could travel in
these _berlingots_ sitting side by side, “while a third person might
travel uncomfortably in front on a kind of movable seat, which was not
much patronised; for it was not only dangerous, but what was much worse
in the eyes of the grand court gentlemen who used them—ridiculous.”
There was also evolved a smaller and narrower _berlin_ with the
front cut away and capable of holding only one passenger, called the
_désobligeante_. The bodies of the ordinary chaises, which seated
one or two people, seem to have differed from those of the older
_berlins_ in being placed partly below the frame. There were no side
doors, but one at the back which opened horizontally. When and where
all such changes were made, however, it is impossible to say. The
accounts, such as they are, are often contradictory, and the same
names used to describe what are obviously not identical carriages.
But the two-wheeled gig having appeared there was nothing to prevent
improvements of every conceivable sort or shape, and innumerable hybrid
carriages appeared, some of which are only known by name.
There is mention of a truly remarkable calash which was tried in
Dublin in 1685. Exactly who the inventor was is not known, but Sir
Richard Bulkeley interested himself in the experiments, and read a
paper on his carriage before the Royal Society. Evelyn was one of those
who were present on this occasion.
“Sir Richard Bulkeley,” he says, “described to us a model
of a chariot he had invented which it was not possible to
overthrow in whatever uneven way it was drawn, giving us a
wonderful relation of what it had performed in that kind, for
ease, expedition, and safety; there were some inconveniences
yet to be remedied—it would not contain more than one person;
was ready to take fire every few miles; and being placed
and playing on no fewer than ten rollers, it made a most
prodigious noise, almost intolerable.”
It is to be deeply regretted that there is no print of this remarkable
carriage, but further details may be found in a letter, dated May 5th,
1685, from Sir Richard Bulkeley himself.
“Sir William Petty,” he writes, “Mr. Molyneux, and I have
spent this day in making experiments with a new invented
calesh, along with the inventor thereof; ’tis he that was
in London when I was there, but he never made any of these
caleshes there, for his invention is much improv’d since he
came from thence: it is in all points different from any
machine I have ever seen: it goes on two wheels, carries one
person, and is light enough. As for its performance, though it
hangs not on braces, yet it is easier than the common coach,
both in the highway, in ploughed fields, cross the ridges,
directly and obliquely. A common coach will overturn, if one
wheel go on a superficies a foot and a half higher than that
of the other; but this will admit of the difference of three
feet and a half in height of the superficies, without
danger of overturning. We chose all the irregular banks, the
sides of ditches to run over; and I have this day seen it, at
five several times, turn over and over; that is, the wheels so
overturned as that their spokes laid parallel to the horizon,
so that one wheel laid flat over the head of him that rode in
the Calesh, and the other wheel flat under him; so much I all
but once overturned. But what I have mentioned was another
turn more, so that the wheels were again _in statu quo_, and
the horse not in the least disordered: if it should be unruly,
with the help of one pin, you disengage him from the Calesh
without any inconvenience. I myself was once overturned, and
knew it not, till I looked up, and saw the wheel flat over my
head; and, if a man went with his eyes shut, he would imagine
himself in the most smooth way, though, at the same time,
there were three feet difference in the heights of the ground
of each wheel. In fine, we have made so many, and so various
experiments, and are so well satisfied of the usefulness of
the invention, that we each of us have bespoke one; they are
not (plain) above six or eight pounds a-piece.”
[Illustration: _Early Italian Gig at the South Kensington Museum_]
Why the nobility, gentry, and worthy burgesses of England, Scotland,
and Ireland did not go and do likewise, history hides from us. There is
no further mention of Sir Richard’s truly remarkable carriage, and one
is left to imagine that some of the Irish roads were too bad even for
its freakish agility.
On the other hand, they were probably superior to the Scottish roads
of the time, even those in the more civilised southern districts.
“It is recorded,” says Croal, “that in 1678”—the year after the
founding of the Coach and Coach-Harness Makers’ Company in London—“the
difficulties in the way of rapid communication were such that an
agreement was made to run a coach between Edinburgh and Glasgow, a
distance of forty-four miles, which was to be drawn by six horses, and
to perform the journey to Glasgow and back in six days!”
Cross-country travelling, indeed, was very bad, and the rough tracks
over which the heavy stage-coaches rumbled along would have proved too
much for the lighter chariots and gigs which were so popular in town.
I may conclude this chapter by quoting an amusing description of such
cross-country travelling at the end of the century, taken from Sir John
Vanbrugh’s _Provoked Husband_. A family is going in its private coach
from Yorkshire to London:—
_Lord Townley._ Mr. Moody, your servant; I am glad to see you
in London. I hope all the family is well.
_John Moody._ Thanks be praised, your honour, they are all in
pretty good heart, thof’ we have had a power of crosses upo’
the road.
_Lady Grace._ I hope my Lady has no hurt, Mr. Moody.
_John._ Noa, an’t please your ladyship, she was never in
better humour: There’s money enough stirring now.
_Manly._ What has been the matter, John?
_John._ Why, we came up in such a hurry, you mun think that
our tackle was not so tight as it should be.
_Manly._ Come, tell us all: pray how do they travel?
_John._ Why i’ the auld coach, Measter; and cause my Lady
loves to do things handsome, to be sure, she would have a
couple of cart horses clapt to th’ four old geldings, that
neighbours might see she went up to London in her coach and
six! And so Giles Joulter the ploughman rides postilion!
_Lord Townley._ And when do you expect them here, John?
_John._ Why, we were in hopes to ha’ come yesterday, an’ it
had no’ been that th’ owld wheaze-belly horse tired; and then
we were so cruelly loaden, that the two fore-wheels came crash
down at once in Waggon-Rut Lane; and there we lost four hours
’fore we could set things to rights again.
_Manly._ So they bring all their baggage with the coach then?
_John._ Ay, ay, and good store on’t there is. Why, my Lady’s
gear alone were as much as filled four portmantel trunks,
besides the great deal box that heavy Ralph and the monkey sit
on behind.
_Lady Grace._ Well, Mr. Moody, and pray how many are there
within the coach?
_John._ Why, there’s my Lady and his Worship, and the young
squoire, and Miss Jenny, and the fat lap-dog, and my lady’s
maid Mrs. Handy, and Doll Tripe the cook; that’s all. Only
Doll puked a little with riding backward, so they hoisted her
into the coach-box, and then her stomach was easy.
_Lady Grace._ Oh! I see ’em go by me. Ah! ha!
_John._ Then, you mun think, Measter, there was some stowage
for the belly, as well as th’ back too; such cargoes of plum
cake, and baskets of tongues, and biscuits and cheese, and
cold boiled beef, and then in case of sickness, bottles of
cherry-brandy, plague-water, sack, tent, and strong beer, so
plenty as made the owld coach crack again! Mercy upon ’em! and
send ’em all well to town, I say.
_Manly._ Ay! and well on’t again, John.
_John._ Ods bud! Measter, you’re a wise mon; and for that
matter, so am I. Whoam’s whoam, I say; I’m sure we got but
little good e’er we turned our backs on’t. Nothing but
mischief! Some devil’s trick or other plagued us, aw th’ day
lung. Crack goes one thing: Bawnce goes another. Woa, says
Roger. Then souse! we are all set fast in a sleugh. Whaw!
cries Miss; scream go the maids; and bawl! just as thof’ they
were struck! And so, mercy on us! this was the trade from
morning to night.
_Chapter the Sixth_
_EARLY GEORGIAN CARRIAGES_
“May the proud chariot never be my fate,
If purchased at so mean, so dear a rate.
Oh, rather give me sweet content on foot,
Wrapt in my virtue and a good surtout.”
GAY’s _Trivia_.
Few new private carriages seem to have been designed during the
earlier decades of the eighteenth century, although improvements and
small alterations were constantly being carried out. There is an
isolated reference to a _sociable_ built apparently in Germany, and
the _four-wheeled chaise_, or _chariot à l’Anglaise_, which was to be
so popular thirty or forty years later, put in an appearance about
this time. Of the sociable little enough can be said. The particular
carriage mentioned from its small size would appear to have been built
for the royal children. It was a low-hung, open carriage over a single
perch, and with seats facing each other. The four-wheeled chaise was a
small chariot with a wide window in front.
Gray, writing to his mother in 1739, speaks of the French chaise in
which he was making the grand tour with Horace Walpole.
“The chaise,” he writes, “is a strange sort of conveyance,
of much greater use than beauty; resembling an ill-shaped
chariot, only with the door opening before instead of the
side. Three horses draw it, one between the shafts, and the
other two on each side, on one of which the postillion rides,
and drives too: This vehicle will upon occasion, go fourscore
miles a day, but Mr. Walpole, being in no hurry, chooses to
make easy journies of it, and they are easy ones indeed; for
the motion is much like that of a sedan, we go about six miles
an hour, and commonly change horses at the end of it. It is
true they are not very graceful steeds, but they go well, and
through roads which they say are bad for France, but to me
they seem gravel walks and bowling-greens; in short, it would
be the finest travelling in the world, were it not for the
inns.”
Such a chaise as Gray describes came to be known as a _diligence_,
while in England the one-horse chaise was more frequently spoken of as
a _one-horse chair_. Contemporary prints of carriages, however, are
scarce, and for the most part show only the larger coaches.
[Illustration: _The State Carriage of Bavaria. Early Eighteenth Century_
(_From Smith’s “Concise History of English Carriages”_)]