The harness of the present day is the ne plus ultra of good taste: it is infinitely lighter than formerly, although equally strong, and the less a horse is encumbered the better. Look how superlatively neat are the traces of the coaching clubs; they are narrow, but the strength lies in the thickness, and the collars fit to a nicety. The four-in-hand clubs have set a laudable example; they have produced emulation, and emulation produces good horses.
Cuique sua voluptas—which, I believe, literally construed, means "every hog to his own apple;" and, delightful as driving a private drag is—for it pleases the ladies, and all goes "merry as a marriage bell" in an excursion to Richmond, Greenwich, Maidenhead, the Crystal or Alexandra Palaces—it, perhaps, was exceeded by the pleasure of sitting on the box-seat of one of the Royal mails, with four fresh horses every eight miles, and a guard decked out in regal livery behind to whisper in your ear if you did not keep your time. The night-mail was very preferable to a day coach—first, because you seldom met any seedy old fellows outside the mail enveloped in stuff cloaks, with cotton umbrellas, which on a rainy day acted as a spout to convey the water down your neck, and who, on seeing the coachman give up the ribbons would instanter bawl out.
"I say, coachman, I can't allow that."
Then the pace on the mail was always good. Again, the mail was not encumbered with huge piles of massive black boxes, fantastically worked with brass nails, belonging to the lady passenger inside; and last, not least, there was a sort of glorious autocratical independence when you felt that every vehicle on the road made way for the Royal mail.
There is no circumstance of greater importance, as tending to the pleasure and facility with which horses are driven, than that of putting them well together; this, of course, applies to a four-horse team. By this term the due regulation of the harness and the most appropriate place for each horse are implied. If properly attended to, it is wonderful the ease with which four horses may be driven, compared with the effort—in some cases risk—consequent upon an injudicious and unskilful disposition of the appointments. With regard to the team, a little extra power in the wheel-horses is desirable, inasmuch as they have a greater portion of labour to perform in holding back the vehicle down hill; while the high-couraged and free-goers will be most advantageously driven as leaders. Practice alone will render a man a proficient in driving four horses.
To explain the proper mode of handling "the ribbons," except by actual example, is not an easy task; and the attempt to give hints from which the sine quâ non of a good coachman—hands—are to be acquired, is still more difficult. A few general remarks may, however, not be out of place.
The position of the hand and arm has much to do with appearance, and a vast deal more with the art of driving. The left hand should be carried nearly parallel with the elbow, covering about one third of the body: in that position it is ready for the immediate aid of the right whenever the two are required, which in bearing to the right or left of the road, or in turning, is generally the case, as likewise in shortening the hold of the reins.
The right hand should at all times be kept as free as possible, so as to be able to make a judicious use of the whip when required. A good mouth is essential to comfort and safety; it enables a horse to be guided simply by a turn of the wrist. Many a good mouth, however, has been spoilt by the heavy, dead pull of an inexperienced driver. The greatest care, then, should be taken not to irritate or suddenly check the animal, but by a certain yielding of the hands (the reins being divided in each), enable him to drop his head and play with the bit.
The experienced driver may easily be recognised from the novice the moment he approaches the vehicle he is about to ascend. He invariably casts his scrutinising eye over his horses, his harness, and his carriage, and, if the least thing be out of place, detects it in an instant; nay, more, he will assist in putting to the horses; and, if I required an illustration of what I have asserted, I should find it in the person of the Duke of Beaufort, who, at the sale of Sir Thomas Barrett Lennard's hunters, last October, before mounting the box, aided in putting the team together, and, when his Grace ascertained that all was right, started off in a manner that would have gratified the heart of Sir Henry Peyton had he been alive to witness it.