Although in his after-career as Member of Parliament he was a silent representative, he could be eloquent in various ways. He had, as already hinted, the direct and forcible method in perfection, and yet could suit his style to all requirements. Coachmen, indeed, found him much more dangerous in his suave and polite moments, and much preferred to be sworn at and violently attacked, for his polite speeches generally had a sting in their tail, and earned him, among the brethren of the road, the descriptive, if also disrespectful, nickname of “Billy Bite-’em-Sly.”
The portrait of him shows a physiognomy altogether unexpected, after hearing these tales. One perceives rather a delicate and refined face than that mentally pictured, and it is only in the piercing eyes that his energy and determination are clearly seen.
Chaplin’s coaches were easily to be distinguished along the roads, not only by the device of the “Swan with Two Necks” painted on them, or later, in addition, by those of a “Spread Eagle,” “Cross Keys,” or a “White Horse,” as those inns came under his control, but by their colours, which were red and black—black upper-quarters and fore and hind boots, and red under-parts and wheels.
His coaching business gave employment to two thousand people, and included a horse-buying and veterinary department, under the control of James Nunn, who was accustomed to procure the greater number of the coach-horses from Horncastle Fair. J. F. Herring has left an excellent equestrian portrait of this indispensable personage.
JAMES NUNN, HORSE-BUYER AND VETERINARY SURGEON TO WILLIAM CHAPLIN. After J. F. Herring.
Chaplin horsed the quickest mails out of London: the Devonport, the New Holyhead, the Bristol, and five other West-country mails starting from Piccadilly. Passengers who had booked from his City offices were carried to this point by omnibuses he established, and the mails were conveyed, with the guards, in two-wheeled mail-carts from the General Post Office. In the great number of coaches he ran there were, of course, included some of the very best. His were those famous coaches, the Manchester “Defiance,” a rival of Sherman’s even more famed Manchester “Telegraph,” the Birmingham “Greyhound,” the Cambridge “Telegraph,” Liverpool “Red Rover,” Bristol “Emerald,” Cheltenham “Magnet,” and many others doing their ten miles and more an hour. He also had half-shares in the brilliant “Tantivy,” London and Birmingham, the “Stamford Regent,” the Southampton “Comet,” and others.
The signs of the times, so patent to outsiders from 1830 and onwards, but generally hid from the vision of those most interested, were not unheeded by this remarkably shrewd business man, who, like his contemporary, Joseph Baxendale, had the power of seeing things and the possible future trend of affairs from an impersonal and unprejudiced point of view. He, above all other coach-proprietors, was deeply interested in the continuance of the old order of things, and it would not have been remarkable had he brought himself to the illogical conclusion that, because he was so interested, the old order must, could, should and would be maintained. Many other coach-proprietors did arrive at such a conclusion, not, of course, by process of reasoning, but by force of being habitually engaged in a business that prejudiced their minds against steam and machinery. Their first instincts of scorn for anything that should presume to replace the horse effectually blinded them to the reality of the coming change.
Chaplin early decided that coaches must go, and that the proper policy was to make allies of the railways in early days, while they were not so sure of their own success, and would be substantially grateful for any helping hand. He and Benjamin Worthy Horne agreed with the London and Birmingham to be their very good friends in this matter, and not only withdrew all competitive coaches as the line advanced towards completion, but aided the railway in those months when a gap in the line between Denbigh Hall and Rugby cut the train journey in two. Between those two points their coaches filled the unwontedly humble position of feeders and go-betweens to the railway. The price of this amiable attitude was a share with Pickford & Co. in the goods and parcel cartage agency for the line, to the exclusion of all others. This monopoly, as Chaplin had foreseen, was an initially valuable one, and certain to constantly increase, side by side with the growing trade and mileage of the railway itself. He sold most of his coaches—who were those rash persons, greatly daring, who bought coaches in those last days?—and realised everything except what was considered necessary to start the new firm of Chaplin & Horne, carriers, and to carry on the branch coach-services on routes not yet affected by the rail. Having thus converted his fortune into hard cash and deposited it for the time being in the bank, the next consideration was what to do with it. All the preconceived ideas of investment were being uprooted, and railways, which offered many chances to the capitalist, were not in those times bracketed with Government securities as safe. Even supposing railways in general offered inducements, those were the days when they were not merely unproved, but when few had advanced beyond the point of obtaining their Parliamentary powers. They were, in fact, little but projects on paper. With these problems to consider, Chaplin did a singular thing. Leaving his fortune on deposit, he went away and utterly secluded himself in Switzerland for six weeks, to debate within himself this turning-point in a career. He was now fifty-one years of age, and might well have been content with what he had accumulated, and with the prospects of the new firm. With the advantages he had already secured he could have enjoyed a leisured life; but he took the decision to embark a large portion of his cash in the London and Southampton Railway, then under construction and very much under a cloud of depreciation. He aimed at becoming a director on that line, and had that desire speedily gratified, being further appointed Deputy Chairman in 1839. By 1843 he had succeeded to the chair, and, with one interval, remained Chairman of what became the London and South-Western Railway until 1858, when ill-health compelled his resignation. He had the satisfaction of seeing his belief in the future of that railway assured. He was also a director of the Paris and Rouen, the Rouen and Havre, and the Rhenish Railways; Sheriff of London, 1845–6; a Member of Parliament for Salisbury, 1847–57; in politics an advanced Liberal. He died at his residence, 2, Hyde Park Gardens, on April 24th, 1859, in his seventy-second year, leaving property to the value of over half a million sterling, including a quarter share in the firm of Chaplin & Horne. William Augustus Chaplin, the eldest among his eight sons and six daughters, succeeded him in the conduct of that business, and died, also in his seventy-second year, at Melton Mowbray, October 9th, 1896.
