It is difficult, however, to handle a coach-horse, particularly a leader, whose mouth is very tender. A snaffle is not safe, as, in case of his dropping or bolting, it has not sufficient power to catch him up quickly, at such a distance from the driver’s hand. Fora gig-horse, it may occasionally answer. The usual plan then is to “cheek him,” as it is technically called, that is, to put his coupling-rein to the cheek instead of the bottom of the bit. Should this be severe for him, and he swing his head too much towards his partner, his draught-rein should be put down to the bit, which will bring him straight. He should have liberty in his bearing-rein, and his curb-chain should not be tight. A check-rein to a nose-martingale is often of service in this case, as it keeps his head steady, and makes him face his work. Such horses in general work more pleasantly out of the throat-lash.
Horses with very hard mouths require the bit with double port, the Chiffney bit, or the plan of putting the curb-chain over the tongue instead of under the chin, which in some prevents what is termed a dead mouth. Letting out the head of the bridle in the middle of a stage, has also considerable effect, as causing the bit and curb-chain to take hold in a fresh place. A check-rein likewise is sometimes put to the middle link of the curb-chain, to retain the bit in the middle of the mouth, and to keep it alive, as it is termed. In hard pullers, moreover, putting the bearing-rein to the top, and the coupling-rein to the lowest loop in the bit, creates a counter-action, not only making the bit more severe, but keeping the mouth in play. A hard puller is generally safest, and more in place before the bars than at wheel; for, with a good pair of wheel-horses, leaders are soon checked, and he pulls less with a free than with a slack partner.
A coach-horse, if obedient to the hand, cannot well carry his head too high, while a horse that goes with his head down has a mean appearance in harness. The horse, however, that carries his head higher than his partner, should have his coupling-rein uppermost. A coach-horse should not be broken in a fast coach, as in fast work there is no time to try his temper, and to humour him. By being put at first into quick work, many horses get into a habit of cantering, and never trot well afterwards.
A kicking wheel-horse should be put on the near side, where he is less liable to be touched by any thing that might annoy him; for, on the off side, throwing the reins on his back, or touching his tail when getting any thing out of the boot, may set him off, and cause mischief.—A kicking leader should have a ring on the reins, for many accidents arise by a leader’s getting a rein under his tail, owing to the want of this. With first-rate coachmen, however, this precaution is the less essential, that they generally have their horses better in hand. With horses very fresh in condition it sometimes happens, especially in a turn, that a wheeler kicks over his trace, and an accident is sometimes the consequence. A light hip-strap prevents this, by taking the trace up with him when he rises. In London, this is particularly useful; for, when horses are turning short, or in a crowd, they frequently have their traces slack, and therefore more easily kicked over. The hip-strap looks slow, but it is safe.
COACHMEN.
Of late years, a superior class of men form our coachmen; and for this we are mainly indebted, first, to the driving clubs, and the notice taken of coachmen by men of fortune; and, secondly, to the boxes being placed on springs. The latter renders it a common practice for passengers to pay an extra shilling for the box-place, whereas formerly a man would have given something to be any where else. We are told that good coachmen are becoming, in proportion to their number, more scarce every year, because, owing to the fine state of the roads, the condition of the cattle, and the improved method of road-work, coach-horses are so above their work, that the assistance of the driver is seldom required. When in town, says a writer in the Sporting Magazine, “I sometimes take a peep at the mails coming up to the Gloucester Coffee-house; and such a set of spoons are, I should hope, difficult to be found: they are all legs and wings; not one of them has his horses in hand; and they sit on their boxes—as if they were sitting on something else.”
Certain it is that coach-work in perfection is not to be seen a hundred miles from the metropolis—seldom so far. The build of coaches, the manufacture of harness, and the stamp and condition of horses are greatly inferior in the northern counties; and as to the coachmen, few that at all deserve the appellation. There are few things in which knowledge of an art without execution is of less value than in driving four-in-hand; for, although a coachman may have knowledge, it is possible that, from natural awkwardness, he may be unable to put it into practical effect with a neat and appropriate movement of his arms and hands; and seldom is a certain propriety and neatness more required than in handling the reins and whip. To make a man a good driver, there is one requisite, and that is, what are called on the roads “hands”—a nice faculty of touch. No man with a hard, heavy hand can ever make a good horseman or driver. Neither will a nervous man ever be safe on a coach-box, for presence of mind and strong nerve are there very often called into action.
The air and manner of a coachman have been cleverly described by some periodical writers. Let us, say they, suppose the horses put to their coach, all ready for a start—the reins thrown across the off wheel-horse’s loins, with the ends hanging upon the middle terret of his pad, and the whip thrown across the backs of the wheelers.—The coachman makes his appearance. If he be a coachman, a judge will immediately perceive it; for, as a certain philosopher observes, “every situation in life serves for formation of character,” and none more so than a coachman’s. I was going to say—only let a judge see him come out of his office, pulling on his glove; but this I will say—let one see him walk round his horses, alter a coupling-rein, take up his whip and reins, and mount his box, and he will at once pronounce him a neat, or an awkward one.—The moment he has got his seat and made his start, you are struck with the perfect mastership of his art—the hand just over his left thigh, the arm without constraint, steady, and with a holding command, that keeps his horses like clockwork, yet, to a superficial observer, with reins quite loose. So firm and compact is he, that you seldom observe any shifting, except perhaps to take a shorter purchase for a run down hill, which he accomplishes with confidence and skill untinctured with imprudence.
In a coachman, temper is also one of the essentials to a good workman.—We are told of a great artist, that, having four “rum ones” to deal with, and being unable to make them work to please him, he threw the reins on the footboard, and exclaimed, “Now, d—n your eyes, divide it among you, for I will be troubled with you no longer.” The impertinences of passengers sometimes increase this irritability. In steam-vessels, they adopt the plan of writing in large letters on the wheel which directs the helm, “Do not talk to the helmsman.” It would be as well in some coaches to have the same rule adopted—“Do not babble to the coachman.”