An Old Coachman's Chatter, with Some Practical Remarks on Driving

by Edward Corbett

I can imagine I hear someone say, "Oh, yes, it might have been pleasant enough for those swells who could afford to pay for four horses, but how about the smaller fry who were obliged to be contented with the modest pair?" Well, I must confess that the odd mile or two an hour did make a difference, and posting in a travelling carriage packed with all its boxes, and containing four or five persons about it, such, in fact, as was called by the postboys a "bounder, having everything except the kitchen grate," was often, especially in winter, not unattended with discomfort and tediousness. How well can I recollect, when quite a child, at the end of a day's travelling of seventy or eighty miles on a winter's day, when twilight was fast sinking into darkness, envying the people who I could see through the windows of the houses, sitting round a blazing fire! And, indeed, the blacksmith, blowing up the fire on his hearth and making the sparks fly from the iron by the blows administered by his brawny arms, possessed much attraction. This, however, was quite made up for on the down journey later in the year. This, indeed, was unalloyed delight. After having been "cribbed, cabined, and confined" in London for five months, with nothing more nearly approaching to the country than Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens (and in those days there was not a flower-bed in either of them), when one emerged from the suburbs, which was sooner done in those days than now, and the eye beheld the fields and green hedges, made brilliant by wild flowers, it seemed a very Elysium; and to hold in one's hand a posy of dog-roses was bliss itself, even though they had received a peppering of road dust. I have always loved a dog-rose since, and shall continue to do so as long as I live. The longest summer day was hardly long enough for taking in such happiness. No amount of railway travelling will ever leave behind such happy reminiscences of childhood. Then, again, there was time and opportunity for other things, which can never be the case in railway travelling; amongst which was the childish pleasure of being fitted with a new straw hat whilst the horses were being changed at Dunstable. It was not all couleur de rose, neither was it all labour and sorrow. Like all other things in this world, it had its lights and shades.

Perhaps it may be urged against this that there is no time for such a mode of travelling now. It may be so, but, as a nearly worn-out old roadster, it strikes me there may be too much haste for comfort. It was undeniably slow and expensive, though it may be doubted whether people generally spent more money in travelling than they do now. The facilities offered by railways cause the present generation to move about a great deal more freely than did their ancestors.

But all this is skirting, and I must return to the scent, which was, I think, very much the sort of horses which we coachmen had to drive. They were, indeed, often a very queer lot, but they had to be driven, and were driven. Of course, four of this sort were not put all together; there were always one or two steady ones among them. But even if they had been, and all had determined to do wrong, it is most improbable that all would have gone wrong in the same way, and one could have been played off against another. This is one great advantage in four. In single harness, if the horse takes to bad ways, you have the whole team against you, but that is, as I have said, very unlikely with four. Perhaps this may account for the old saying that "half the coachmen were killed out of gigs."

When I got a horse that was very troublesome, I always found that doubling him, that is, making him run his stage double, brought him to his senses in the course of a week or two. Some may say it was not right to risk the lives and limbs of the passengers, by using unruly horses, but, practically, very little danger was incurred. I will not say that no accidents ever occurred from this cause, but they were very rare. If an accident should have happened, and a life been lost from that cause, the old law of "deodand" would have touched up the proprietor's pockets severely; besides which, horses of this description were only entrusted to the hands of well-tried men.

Notwithstanding all this, however, accidents did occasionally happen from this cause, and sometimes of a very serious nature, one or two of which I will now produce. The first was an exceedingly calamitous one, and I think I cannot do better than use the words of a friend of mine, who was an eye-witness to the scene, as they will be more likely to convey a full idea of the horrible appearance presented by the mingled heap of injured human beings and horses, with the coach on the top of them, than anything I can say at second hand. He says: "I was staying at the 'White Horse,' at Hockliffe, for a few days, and on the first night I was disturbed by a man knocking at the front door and shouting, 'Get up, the "Greyhound" is overturned and all the passengers are killed.' Upon hearing of this terrific slaughter," he proceeds to say, "I got up, and with others started to the scene of the catastrophe, which was about a mile and a half distant, opposite to a large mansion called 'Battleden House,' then the residence of Sir G. P. Turner, and there we found a mass of human beings and horses all of a heap. The coachman was under the coach with his leg broken, many of the passengers dangerously injured, and two horses had legs broken. It was a shocking sight to witness, and melancholy to hear the squealing of horses, and the passengers moaning."

After all, however, it was found that there was not so much damage done here to the passengers as would have been expected. None were killed, nor any so seriously injured but that they were able to be conveyed to their destinations in a few days.

The cause of the accident originated in the near side wheeler accomplishing what she had tried to do many times before, viz., kick over the pole, which broke, when, of course, all control was lost, and the coach was overturned into the ravine where it was found.

In the other case no injury was sustained by anyone except the culprit himself, who must have been an exceedingly violent brute.

In October, 1839, when near Maidenhead a horse in the Bristol mail kicked so violently that he broke the pole-hook and harness, and put out his own shoulder in his fall.

Blind horses, again, found their way into coaches, and, if high mettled ones, performed very good work. The worst of them was, that they became too knowing about the corners, and when at wheel, where they were generally driven (though in Ireland I have had both leaders blind), if the coachman was not on the look out for it, might hang him into one. Some however, were very bold, and high couraged. I recollect one which ran in the lead of the "Greyhound" out of Shrewsbury, of this sort. He was so handsome a horse, that, if he had been all right, he would have commanded at least a hundred guineas for a gentleman's carriage, but being blind, of course, was only fit for a coach. One day, when I was travelling by that coach, and was as usual driving, he quite won my heart by the high couraged manner in which he elbowed his way through the large droves of cattle which were being driven along the road from Shrewsbury fair.