_Paxton Stables (opposite Tattersall's)._
It has been said, and not, perhaps, without reason, that a man who is
conscious that he possesses some practical knowledge of a science, and
yet refrains from giving the public the benefit of his information, is
open to the imputation of selfishness. To avoid that charge, as far as
lies in my power, I purpose, in the course of the following pages, to
give my readers the benefit of my tolerably long experience in the art
of driving four horses--an art which I acquired under the following
circumstances.--
My father was a coach proprietor as well as a coachman, and, I am proud
to say, one of the best whips of his day. He gave me many opportunities
of driving a team. I will not, however, enter into all the details of my
youthful career, but proceed to state, that at the early age of
seventeen I was sent nightly with the Norwich and Ipswich Mail as far as
Colchester, a distance of fifty-two miles. Never having previously
travelled beyond Whitechapel Church, on that line of road, the change
was rather trying for a beginner. But Fortune favoured me; and I drove
His Majesty's Mail for nearly five years without an accident. I was then
promoted to the "Quicksilver," Devonport Mail, the fastest at that time
out of London. It must be admitted that I undertook this task under
difficult circumstances--involving as it did, sixty miles a night--since
many had tried it ineffectually, or at all events were unable to
accomplish the duty satisfactorily. It is gratifying to me to reflect,
that I drove this coach more than seven years without a single mishap.
Getting at length rather tired of such incessant and monotonous nightly
work, I applied for a change to my employer, the well-known and
much-respected Mr. Chaplin, who at that time had seventeen hundred
horses employed in coaching. His reply was characteristic. "I cannot
find you all day coaches," said he; "besides, who am I to get to drive
your Mail?" I must say, I thought this rather severe at the time, but,
good and kind-hearted man as he was, he did not forget me.
Not long after this interview, the Brighton Day Mail being about to
start, he made me the offer, to drive the whole distance and horse the
coach a stage, with the option of driving it without horsing. Like most
young men I was rather ambitious, and closed with the former conditions.
The speculation, however, did not turn out a very profitable one, and,
the railway making great progress, I sold my horses to Mr. Richard
Cooper, who was to succeed me on the box. I was then offered the
far-famed Exeter "Telegraph," one of the fastest and best-appointed
coaches in England. My fondness for coaching still continuing, and not
feeling disposed to settle to any business, I drove this coach from
Exeter to Ilminster and back, a distance of sixty-six miles, early in
the morning and late at night. After driving it three years, the railway
opened to Bridgewater; this closed the career of the once-celebrated
"Telegraph." But those who had so long shared its success, were not
inclined to knock under. My brother coachman and myself, together with
the two guards, accordingly started a "Telegraph" from Devonport to
London, a distance of ninety-five miles by road, joining the rail at
Bridgewater, thus making the whole journey two hundred and fifty miles
in one day. At that time there was a coach called the "Nonpareil,"
running from Devonport to Bristol.
The proprietors of this vehicle, thinking that our's would take off some
of their trade, made their's a London coach also, and started at the
same time as we did. We then commenced a strong opposition. I had a very
good man to contend against--William Harbridge, a first-class coachman.
We had several years of strong opposition, the rail decreasing the
distance every year, till it opened to Exeter. The "Nonpareil" was then
taken off, and they started a coach called the "Tally Ho!" against the
poor old "Telegraph." Both coaches left Exeter at the same time, and
this caused great excitement. Many bets, of bottles of wine, dinners for
a dozen, and five-pound notes, were laid, as to which coach would arrive
first at Plymouth. I had my old friend Harbridge again, as my
competitor. The hotel that I started from, was a little farther down the
street than the one whence the "Tally Ho!" appeared, so that as soon as
I saw my friend Harbridge mounting the box, I did the same, and made the
running. We had all our horses ordered long before the usual time.
Harbridge came sailing away after me; the faster he approached, the more
I put on the steam. He never caught me, and, having some trifling
accident with one of his horses over the last stage, he enabled me to
reach Plymouth thirty-five minutes before he came in. My guard, who
resided in St. Albans-street, Devonport, hurried home, and as the other
coach passed, he called out and asked them to stop and have some supper;
they also passed my house, which was a little farther on, in
Fore-street. I was sitting at the window, smoking, and offered them a
cigar as they passed--a joke they did not, of course, much relish. The
next night they declared they would be in first; but it was of no use,
the old "Telegraph" was not to be beaten. Thus it went on for several
weeks; somehow they were never able to get in first. We did the fifty
miles several times in three hours and twenty-eight minutes (that is, at
the average rate of a mile in four minutes and nine seconds, including
stoppages), and for months together, we never exceeded four hours.
Still, in every contest, one party must ultimately give in; that one,
however, was not the "Telegraph." We settled our differences, and went
on quietly for the remainder of the time, occasionally having a little
"flutter," as we used to call it in those days, but we were always good
friends. Should this narrative chance to meet the eye of some of those
who used to travel with us in bygone times, they will doubtless well
remember the pace we used to go.
After a few years, the railway opened to Plymouth, and many gentlemen
asked me to start a fast coach into Cornwall, promising to give it their
patronage; I accordingly started the "Tally Ho!" making it a day coach
from Truro to London, joining the rail at Plymouth; this was a very
difficult road for a fast coach, but we ran it, till Government offered
the contract for a Mail; we then converted the "Tally Ho!" into a Mail,
and ran it till the rail opened to Truro. It will have been seen that I
kept to coaching nearly as long as there were any coaches left to drive.
I had for some years given up driving regularly, having taken the Horse
Bazaar at Plymouth, where I used to supply officers of the garrison with
teams, and give them instructions in driving; this I still continue to
do, and in every variety of driving. It gives me, indeed, much pleasure
to see many of my pupils daily handling their teams skilfully; not a few
of them giving me good reason to be really proud of them, as I know they
do me credit. In my description of my driving career, I stated that I
had never had an accident; I ought to have said, no serious casualty,
never having upset or injured any one; but I have had many trifling
mishaps, such as running foul of a waggon in a fog, having my whole team
down in slippery weather; on many occasions I have had a wheel come off,
but still nothing that could fairly be termed a bad accident.
During the last twenty-five years I have been engaged keeping livery
stables and breaking horses to harness, and in that period I have had
some very narrow escapes. In one instance, the box of a new double break
came off and pitched me astride across the pole between two young
horses; I once had the top of the pole come off when driving two
high-couraged horses; a horse set to kicking, and ran away with me in
single harness. As I was of course pulling at him very hard, my feet
went through the bottom of the dog-cart, he kicking furiously all the
time. Fortunately I escaped with only a few bruises. On another
occasion, in single harness, a mare began kicking, and, before I could
get her head up, she ran against the area railings of a house in
Princess Square, Plymouth, broke both shafts, and split the break into
matches; myself and man nearly went through the kitchen window, into the
arms of the cook; she did not, however, ask us to stop and dine.
I could mention many little events of a similar kind, and consider
myself very fortunate in having never had anything more serious than a
sprained ankle or wrist during my tolerably long career. I will now
commence my instructions.