Social England under the Regency 25

Social England under the Regency 25

"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.