One, properly belonging to the seventeenth century, concerned a new steel spring, patented in 1691 by a Mr. John Green. It was thus advertised:—
“All the nobility and gentry may have the carriages of their coaches made new or the old ones altered, after this invention, at reasonable rates; and hackney and stage coachmen may have licences from the Patentees, Mr. John Green and Mr. William Dockwra, his partner, at the rate of 12d. per week, to drive the roads and streets, some of which having this week began, and may be known from the common coaches by the words patent Coach being over both doors in carved letters. These coaches are so hung as to render them easier for the passenger and less labour for the horses, the gentleman’s coaches turning in narrow streets and lanes in as little or less room than any French carriage with crane neck, and not one third of the charge. The manner of the coachman’s sitting is more convenient, and the motion like that of a sedan, being free from the tossing and jolting to which other coaches are liable over rough and broken roads, pavements or kennels. These great Conveniences (besides others) are invitation sufficient for all persons that love their own ease and would save their horses draught, to use these sort of carriages and no other, since these carriages need no alteration.”
Here, in addition to the spring, there was some kind of turning head—a question which occupied the attention of designers throughout the next century, but nothing more of Mr. John Green or of his partner was heard of, and his patent coaches found few if any purchasers.
The other contrivance was a primitive form of gear invented by one James Rowe. In 1727 this Rowe wrote a book—not, however, published until 1734—called All Sorts of Wheel Carriage, Improved. This was a small tract “wherein is plainly made to appear, that a much less than the usual Draught of Horses, etc., will be required, in Waggons, Carts, Coaches, and all other Wheel Vehicles” by the application of small “friction wheels and pulleys.” Rowe obtained a patent for his gear and apparently applied his small wheels to the axle just within the ordinary wheels, but his own coach was probably the only one ever to be so fitted. It was felt no doubt that the whole question was one of roads rather than of carriages. Improve your roads, and the discomforts of travelling would disappear.
The British stage-coaches of this time were, according to Sir Walter Scott,
“constructed principally of a dull black leather, thickly studded, by way of ornament, with black-headed nails tracing out the panels; in the upper tier of which were four oval windows, with heavy red wooden frames, and green stuff or leathern curtains. Upon the doors, also, there appeared but little of that gay blazonry which shines upon the numerous quadrigae of the present time; but there were displayed in large characters the names of the places whence the coach started, and whither it went, stated in quaint and ancient language. The vehicles themselves varied in shape. Sometimes they were like a distiller’s vat; sometimes flattened, and hung equally balanced between the immense front and back springs; in other instances they resembled a violincello case, which was past all comparison the most fashionable form; and they hung in a more genteel posture, namely, inclining on to the back springs, and giving to those who sat within the appearance of a stiff Guy Faux, uneasily seated. The roofs of the coaches, in most cases, rose into a swelling curve, which was sometimes surrounded by a high iron guard.... The coachman, and the guard, who always held his carabine ready bent, or, as we now say, cocked upon his knee, then sat together; not as at present, upon a close, compact varnished seat, but over a very long and narrow boot, which passed under a large spreading hammer cloth, hanging down on all sides, and finished with a flowing and most luxurious fringe. Behind the coach was the immense basket stretching far and wide beyond the body, to which it was attached by long iron bars or supports passing beneath it; though even these seemed scarcely equal to the enormous weight with which they were frequently loaded. They were, however, never very great favourites, although their difference of price caused them frequently to be well filled, for, as an ancient Teague observed, ‘they got in so long after the coach, that they ought to set out a day sooner, to be there at the same time. Arrah!’ continued he, ‘can’t they give it the two hind wheels, and let it go first?’ The wheels of these old carriages were large, massive, ill-formed, and usually of a red colour; and the three horses that were affixed to the whole machine—the foremost of which was helped onward by carrying a huge long-legged elf of a postillion, dressed in a cocked hat, with a large green and gold riding coat—were all so far parted from it by the great length of their traces, that it was with no little difficulty that the poor animals dragged their unwieldy burthen along the road. It groaned, and creaked, and lumbered, at every fresh tug which they gave it, as a ship, rocking or beating up, through a heavy sea, strains all her timbers with a low-moaning sound, as she drives over the contending waves.”
No wonder, said Scott, that at this time people invariably made their wills before setting out on a journey of any length. The dangers were manifold and very real.
In France the stage-coaches, or diligences, were very similar “with large bodies, having three small windows on each side and hung by leather braces on long perch carriages, with high hind wheels and low front wheels, without any driving box and fitted with large baskets, back and front for passengers or luggage; they were drawn by five horses and driven by a postillion on the off wheeler instead of the near wheeler as in England.” One, at any rate, of these diligences had springs of a kind. Another public coach in France at this time was the gondola, holding ten or twelve passengers inside, these sitting sideways with one at each end, a second attempt at a kind of omnibus. Still another public vehicle popular about this time in Paris was the coucou. Of this weird machine Ramée says:—
“Figure a box, yellow, green, brown, red, or sky blue, open in front, having two foul benches which had formerly been stuffed, on which were placed six unfortunate voyagers. In the sides it had, right and left, one or two square openings, to give air during the day or in summer. While the interior was sufficiently open to the world, there was built an apron in front, framed in woodwork and covered with sheet iron. Upon this apron was thrown a third bench, on which were seated the driver of the coucou and two passengers who were termed lapins (rabbits).”
The coucou was regularly to be seen lumbering painfully along with its ten or a dozen passengers, its snail’s pace giving it the ironical name of vigoureux. The poorer people almost exclusively used the coucou, although a smart woman with her pet dog, or a gentleman who had been unable to find a place in the more aristocratic gondola, were occasionally to be seen in its interior sandwiched in between two peasants.