A practical treatise on coach-building historical and descriptive

by James W. Burgess

On the continent, there seems to have been a great deal of opposition to the use of carriages. In 1294, Philip, King of France, issued an ordinance prohibiting the citizens’ wives the use of cars or chars; and later on, Pope Pius IV. exhorted his cardinals and bishops not to ride in coaches, according to the fashion of the time, but to leave such things to women; and it really was thought infra dig. for a man to travel other than on horseback. Even his Holiness the Pope rode upon a grey horse; though to indemnify him for the exertion, his horse was led, and his stirrup held by kings and emperors.

These exhortations had about the same effect as James I.’s “Counterblast to Tobacco;” they created an increased demand, and the people showed their sense in preferring the ease that does no injury to the self-denial that does no good, in spite of the opposition of their superiors.

The first coach made in England was for the Earl of Rutland, in 1555, and Walter Rippon was the builder. He afterwards made one for Queen Mary. Stow’s “Summerie of the English Chronicle” is the authority upon which this statement is made.

In a postscript to the life of Thomas Parr, written by Taylor, the Water Poet (and a mortal enemy to land carriages), we find the following note: “He (Parr) was eighty-one years old before there was any coach in England (Parr was born in Edward IV.’s reign in 1483); for the first ever seen here was brought out of the Netherlands by one William Boonen, a Dutchman, who gave a coach to Queen Elizabeth, for she had been seven years a queen before she had any coach; since when they have increased with a mischief, and ruined all the best housekeeping, to the undoing of the watermen, by the multitudes of Hackney coaches. But they never swarmed so much to pester the streets as they do now till the year 1605; and then was the gunpowder treason hatched, and at that time did the coaches breed and multiply.” Taylor is to be thanked, not only for his information, but for his capital though unconscious burlesque upon those fancied philosophers who talk of cause and effect, where events, because they happen in sequence, are made to depend one on the other, when the fact of their being two things apart makes them independent existences.

We have not space to dwell upon these old specimens at length. Queen Elizabeth’s coach is called by an old author “a moving temple.” It had doors all round, so that when the people desired, and the virgin queen was agreeable, they might feast their eyes on the beauty of its trimming or linings.

The following entry in Sir William Dugdale’s diary may be interesting: “1681. Payd to Mr. Meares, a coachmaker in St. Martin’s Lane, for a little chariot w^ch I then sent into the country, £23 13s. 0d., and for a cover of canvas £01 00s. 00d.: also for harness for two horses £04 00s. 00d.”

The opposition on the part of the watermen to the introduction of coaches assumed rather serious proportions, more especially as the populace sided with them; to such a height did the antagonism run that a movement was made to introduce a Bill into Parliament to prevent the increase of coaches; the apology for its introduction being, that in war time it would be a matter of great difficulty to mount the troops if so many horses were monopolised for these coaches. Luckily, however, it came to nothing, and the antipathy gradually died out.

Coaches and vehicles of all descriptions now became general, and in 1635 a patent was granted to Sir Saunders Duncombe for the introduction of sedans; their purpose being “to interfere with the too frequent use of coaches, to the hindrance of the carts and carriages employed in the necessary provision of the city and suburbs.” A rivalry now sprung up between coach and sedan, and gave rise to a humorous tract, in which they hold a colloquy as to which should take precedence, a brewer’s cart being appointed umpire.

The coaches at this period were fearfully and wonderfully made. There are several examples of them scattered about in the various museums. The people who used them at this time had no great ideas of them, for so formidable an affair was the undertaking of a journey reckoned, that even from Birmingham to London a departure was the signal for making a will, followed by a solemn farewell of wife, children, and household!

Towards the end of the seventeenth century improvements began to take place. In Wood’s diary mention is made of a machine called the “Flying Coach,” which performed the journey between Oxford and London in thirteen hours! This was express rate for that age, especially as there was some talk of making a law to limit the ground covered by a coach to thirty miles a day in summer, and twenty-five miles a day in winter. Oh, those good old times! The outcry lessened, and the imperfect vehicles and bad roads were left to passengers unmolested. What the latter were may be imagined from the fact that, when Charles III. of Spain visited England, and Prince George of Denmark went out to meet him, both princes were so impeded by the badness of the roads that their carriages were obliged to be borne on the shoulders of the peasantry, and they were six hours in performing the last nine miles of their journey.