[72] The Circus Maximus at Rome, in which the Romans exhibited their chariot-races, was an oval building of one thousand eight hundred feet in length, and four hundred in breadth.
Nothing indeed but the form of chariot used could have ensured safety to any one. From the representations on ancient coins, it appears to have been very low, and only on two wheels, somewhat resembling our curricle. It had of course no springs; and, as there was no seat for the charioteer, much of his skill consisted in preserving his balance, and keeping upon his legs.
According to Pausanias, the following was the method of starting:—The chariots entered the course according to order, previously settled by lot, and drew up in a line. They started at a signal given, and to him who passed the pillar at the top of the course twelve times, and that at the bottom ten times, in the neatest manner, without touching it, or overturning his chariot, was the reward given.—As, however, it was the aim of every one who started to make for this pillar, as to a centre, we can easily imagine the confusion there must have been in forty, twenty, or even ten chariots, all rushing to one given point, amidst the clanging of trumpets, &c.
The following translation of a description of a chariot-race, from the Electra of Sophocles, is worthy of a place.
In a political view, these games were productive of local advantages; for, being sacred to Jupiter, they protected the inhabitants of Elis against all the calamities of war. In an economical point of view, they were of general use; for, as Greece was generally short of horses, nothing was so likely to encourage the breeding of them as the emulation thus raised among the different states. The circulation of money also was not a trifling consideration; for the olive crown was obtained at great expense. By these games being celebrated at the beginning of every fifth year, the Greeks settled their chronology and dates; and as they lasted a thousand years, a great part of the traditional history of Greece rests upon their base. That the honour of the prize was above all price, the following anecdote shows:—A Spartan having gained the victory at the Olympic games with much difficulty, was asked what he should profit by it? “I shall have the honour,” said he, “of being posted before my king in battle.” As a further proof of the value and the moral effect of these contentions for honour, it is stated that, when a conqueror returned to his native city, he made his entry through a breach in the wall—by which was implied that cities inhabited by such men had no need of walls.
A senator of Rome, indeed, says Gibbon, “or even a citizen, conscious of his dignity, would have blushed to expose his person or his horses in a Roman circus. There, the reins were abandoned to servile hands; and, if the profits of a favourite charioteer sometimes exceeded those of an advocate, they were considered as the effect of popular extravagance, and the high wages of a disgraceful profession.” The Romans, with more pride, were far less intellectual than the Greeks; but it must still be borne in mind, that, inconsistently enough, the interest taken in the charioteers of Rome shook the very foundation of the government.
In modern times, notwithstanding the sneers directed against gentlemen-coachmen and driving-clubs, it is to them chiefly that this country is indebted for the present excellent state of the roads, and for safe and expeditious travelling. The taste for driving produced, between men of property and those connected with the road, an intercourse which has been productive of the best results. Road-makers, and those who have the care of roads, if they have not acted under the immediate direction of these amateur drivers, have been greatly benefited by their advice—doubly valuable, as proceeding from knowledge of what a road ought to be. The intercourse also that has lately been carried on between proprietors of inns and of coaches, and gentlemen fond of driving, has greatly tended to direct the attention of the former to the accommodation and comfort of travellers. The improvement in carriages—stage-coaches more especially—would never have arrived at its present height, but for the attention and suggestions of such persons.
Moreover, the notice taken by gentlemen of coachmen, who are at once skilful and who conduct themselves well, has worked the reformation which has been of late years witnessed in that useful part of society.
Gentleman-driving, however, has received a check, very few four-in-hands being visible. The B. D. C., or Benson Driving Club, which now holds its rendezvous at the Black Dog, Bedfont, is the only survivor of those numerous driving associations whose processions used, some twenty years ago, to be among the most imposing, as well as peculiar spectacles in and about the metropolis.[73]
[73] The reader will bear in mind that this is many years after date. The R.D.C., which is now in the “Crescent,” promises an ascendant of no mean effulgence.—Ed. Fifth Edition.
The excellence of our present mail-coach work reflects the highest credit on the state of our roads. The hills on great roads are now cut triangularly, so that drivers ascend nearly all of them in a trot. Coachmen have found out that they are gainers here, as, in the trot, every horse does his share, whereas, very few teams are all at work together when walking.
As, however, dreadful accidents have occurred to coaches when descending hills, a very simple expedient has been suggested, by which these accidents may be avoided. It is merely a strip of gravel, or broken stone, about one yard wide, and four or five inches deep, left on the near side of the hill, and never suffered to bind or diminish. This would afford that additional friction (technically called a bite) to the two near-side wheels, so that the necessity of a drag-chain (never to be trusted) would be done away with, and even in case of a hame-strap or pole-chain giving way, one wheel-horse would be able to hold back a coach, however heavily laden. No inconvenience to the road, it is observed, could arise from this precaution, as carriages ascending the hills would never be required to touch the loose gravel, it not being on their side of the road. This has been objected to, because some of the loose stones might find their way into the middle of the road. But, admitting this might be the case, a trifling attention on the part of the surveyor would obviate the objection. A man might be employed every second or third day to rake these stones back again. At the same time, it is obvious that the neat appearance of a road is not to be put in the scale against the limbs and lives of the people.—Some more permanent contrivance than loose stones even might be found.
Of carriages, those with two wheels are the cheapest, lightest, and most expeditious; but, however sure-footed the horse, and however skilful the driver, they are comparatively dangerous vehicles.
As to gentlemen’s carriages, in this country, it has justly been observed, that the view at Hyde Park Corner, on any fine afternoon, in the height of the London season, is enough to confound any foreigner, from whatever part of the world he may come. He may there see what no other country can show him. Let him only sit on the rail, near the statue, and in the space of two hours he will see a thousand well-appointed equipages pass before him to the Mall, in all the pomp of aristocratic pride, in which the horses themselves appear to partake. The stream of equipages of all kinds, barouches, chariots, cabriolets, &c., and almost all got up “regardless of expense,” flows on unbroken until it is half-past seven, and people at last begin to think of what they still call dinner. Seneca tells us that such a blaze of splendour was once to be seen on the Appian Way. It might be so—it is now to be seen nowhere but in London.
As to stage-coaches, their form seems to have arrived at perfection. It combines prodigious strength with almost incredible lightness; many of them not weighing more than about 18 cwt., and being kept so much nearer the ground than formerly, they are of course considerably safer. Nothing, indeed, can be more favourable to safety than the build of modern coaches. The boots being let down between the springs, keep the load, and consequently the centre of gravity, low; the wheels of many of them are secured by patent boxes; and in every part of them the best materials are used. The cost of coaches of this description is from £130 to £150; but they are generally hired from the maker at 2½d. to 3d. per mile.
It is said to be the intention of Government[74] to substitute light carriages with two horses for the present mail-coaches drawn by four. On this, a writer in the Quarterly Review observes, that when the mail-coach of the present day starts from London for Edinburgh, a man may safely bet a hundred to one that she arrives to her time; but let a light two-horse vehicle set out on the same errand, and the betting would strangely alter. It is quite a mistaken notion that a carriage is less liable to accidents for being light. On the contrary, she is more liable to them than one that is laden in proportion to her sustaining powders. In the latter case, she runs steadily along, and is but little disturbed by any obstacle or jerk she may meet on the road: in the former, she is constantly on “the jump,” as coachmen call it, and her iron parts are very liable to snap.
[74] The era of rail-roads has however now arrived, and there remains no need for such an experiment.—Ed. Fifth Edition.
It may in this place be observed, that no stage-coach should be permitted to travel the road with wheels secured only by the common linchpin. It is in consequence of this that innumerable accidents have happened to coaches from wheels coming off; and in these improving and fast times, such chances should not be allowed to exist. It may not be uninteresting to the uninitiated to learn from the same clever and experienced writer how a coach is worked. Suppose a number of persons to enter into a contract to horse a coach eighty miles, each proprietor having twenty miles; in which case he is said to cover both sides of the ground, or to and fro. At the expiration of twenty-eight days a settlement takes place, and if the gross earnings of the coach be £10 per mile, there will be £800 to divide between the four proprietors, after the following charges have been deducted, viz., tolls, duty to government, mileage (or hire of the coach to the coach-makers), two coachmen’s wages, porters’ wages, rent or charge of booking-offices at each end, and washing the coaches. These charges may amount to £150, which leaves £650 to keep eighty horses, and to pay the horse-keepers for a period of twenty-eight days, or nearly £160 to each proprietor for the expenses of his twenty horses, being £2 per week per horse. Thus it appears that a fast coach properly appointed cannot pay, unless its gross receipts amount to £10 per double mile; and that even then the proprietor’s profits depend on the luck he has with his stock.
A great change has lately taken place as to the English coach-horse; and this is the foundation of many other accompanying changes. Fifty years ago, the putting a thorough-bred horse into harness would have been deemed preposterous. In the carriages of gentlemen, the long-tailed black, or Cleveland bay—each one remove from the cart-horse—was the prevailing sort; and six miles an hour was the extent of the pace. Now, however, this clumsy-barrelled, cloddy-shouldered, round-legged animal, something between a coach and a dray horse, as fat as an ox, and, with all his prancing at first starting, not capable of more than six miles an hour, and rendered useless by a day’s hard work, is no more seen; and, instead of him, we find a horse as tall, deep-chested, rising in the withers, slanting in the shoulders, flat in the legs, with more strength, and with treble the speed.
The animal formerly in use cost from 30l. to 50l.— Two hundred guineas is now an every-day price for a cabriolet horse; and 150 guineas for a coach-horse, for a private gentleman’s work. A pair of handsome coach-horses, fit for London, and well broken and bitted, cannot be purchased under 200 guineas; and even job-masters often give much more for them to let out to their customers. The origin of this superior kind of coach-horse is still, however, the Cleveland bay, confined principally to Yorkshire and Durham, with perhaps Lincolnshire on one side, and Northumberland on the other, but difficult to be met with pure in either county. Cleveland indeed, and the Vale of Pickering, in the East Riding of Yorkshire, are the best breeding counties in England for coach-horses, hunters, and hackneys.
When the Cleveland mare is crossed by a three-fourth or thorough-bred horse of sufficient substance and height, the produce is the coach-horse most in repute, with his arched crest and high action. From the same mare and the thorough-bred of sufficient height, but not of so much substance, we obtain the four-in-hand, and superior curricle horse. From less height and more substance, we derive the hunter, and better sort of hackney. From the half-bred, we have the machiner, the poster, and the common carriage-horse.
The best coach-horse is a tall, strong, over-sized hunter. The hackney has many of the qualities of the hunter on a small scale. There is some deception, however, even as to the best of these improved coach-horses. They prance nobly through the streets, and they are capable of more work than the old clumsy, sluggish breed, but still they have not the endurance that is desirable; and a pair of poor post-horses, at the end of the second day, would beat them hollow.
In this carriage-horse, the bending of the upper joints, and the consequent high lifting of the feet, are deemed an excellence, because they add to the grandeur of his appearance; but this is necessarily accompanied by much wear and tear of the legs and feet, the effect of which is very soon apparent. The most desirable points in the coach-horse are—substance well placed, a deep and well-proportioned body, bone under the knee, and sound, open, tough feet.
One part of the old system, however, remains—namely, that although little horses, well bred, are the fashion, large horses are still employed in heavy work. It must indeed be so. Horses draw by their weight, and not by the force of their muscles, although these, by carrying forward the centre of gravity, assist the application of that weight. It is the weight of the animal which produces the draught, and the power of the muscles serves to direct it. The hind feet form the fulcrum of the lever by which this weight acts against a load, and the power exerted is in proportion to the length of the lever, if the weight remains the same. Large animals, therefore, draw more than small ones, though they may have less muscular power, and are unable to carry weight so well. Nothing can better show that horses draw by their weight than the frequent occurrence that a horse is unable to draw a cart out of a slough until a sack of corn is thrown on his back, when he has little difficulty in doing it. Thus it is, that what are technically called lobbing-goers take more weight with them than horses of better action.
As the application of the weight or force proceeds from the fulcrum formed by the hind feet, good hind legs and well-spread gaskins are essential points in a coach-horse. We even sometimes see that a waggon-horse, when brought to pull, will not touch the ground at all with his fore feet. Another reason why little horses are unfit for heavy work is, that they will seldom walk and draw at the same time; for if they walk, they catch at their collars, and do but little. They never take anything like an even share of draught.
By calculations as to the mean strength of animals, it appears that a horse drawing horizontally, and at the rate of two miles and a half in an hour, can work for eight hours in succession against a resistance of 200 pounds. If that pace be quadrupled, he finds an eighth part of the time sufficient. Thus we can pretty nearly measure a horse’s power in harness. Whether we are carrying supposed improvement too far, and sacrificing strength and endurance to speed, is a question not difficult to be resolved.
A horse at a pull is enabled, by the power and direction of his muscles, to throw a certain weight against the collar. If he walk four miles in the hour, part of the muscular energy is expended in the act of walking; and consequently, the power of drawing must be proportionally diminished. If he trot eight miles in the hour, more of that energy is expended in the trot, and less remains for the draught; but the draught continues the same, and, to enable him to accomplish his work, he must exert his energies in a degree so severe and cruel, that it must speedily wear him out. Hence, there is no truth so easily proved, or so painfully felt by the postmaster, as that it is the pace that kills. Moreover, many a horse used on our public roads is unable to employ all his natural power, or to throw his weight into the collar, in consequence of being tender-footed, or lame. Being bought, however, at little price, he is worked on the brutal principle that he may be “whipped sound!”—and so he is apparently. At first he sadly halts; but, urged by the torture of the lash, he acquires a peculiar mode of going. The faulty limb keeps pace with the others, but no stress or labour is thrown upon it; and he gradually contrives to make the sound limbs perform among them all the duties of the unsound one. Thus he is barbarously “whipped sound,” and cruelty is for the time undeservedly rewarded. After all, however, what is done? Three legs are made to do that which was almost too much for four. Of course, they are most injuriously strained, and quickly worn out; the general power of the animal is rapidly exhausted; and, at no remote time, death releases him from his merciless persecutors.
Happily, art is doing what humanity refuses. Railroads are rendering draught comparatively easy. An instance has been described of the power of a horse when assisted by art, as exhibited near Croydon. The Surrey iron railway being completed, a wager was laid that a common horse could draw thirty-six tons for six miles along the road, drawing his weight from a dead pull, and turning it round the occasional windings of the road. A numerous party assembled near Merstham to see this. Twelve waggons loaded with stones, each waggon weighing above three tons, were chained together, and a horse taken promiscuously from a timber cart, was yoked to the train. He started from a house near Merstham, and drew the chain of waggons with apparent ease almost to the turnpike at Croydon, a distance of six miles, in one hour and forty-one minutes, which is nearly at the rate of four miles an hour. In the course of the journey he stopped four times, to show that it was not by any advantage of descent that his power was facilitated; and, after each stoppage, he again drew off the chain of waggons with great ease. A person who had wagered on the power of the horse then desired that four more loaded waggons should be added to the cavalcade, and with these the same horse set off again with undiminished pace. Still further to show the effect of the railway in facilitating motion, the attending workmen, to the number of fifty, were directed to mount on the waggons, and the horse proceeded without the least distress. Indeed, there appeared to be scarcely any limit to the power of his draught. After this trial, the waggons were taken to the weighing-machine, and it appeared that the whole weight was as follows:—
| tons. | cwt. | qrs. | ||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 12 | waggons first linked together | 38 | 4 | 2 |
| 4 | ditto, afterwards attached | 13 | 2 | 0 |
| Supposed weight of fifty labourers | 4 | 0 | 0 | |
| 55 | 6 | 2 | ||
It is fortunate for breeders of horses that a perfect form is not necessary to a good coach-horse. Some of those, indeed, which the London dealers sell at high prices for gentlemen’s work, are such brutes, when out of harness, that no man would ride them for their worth. The strong and lengthy shoulder, with well-bent hind legs, are not absolutely necessary; and a good head and tail, with a little high action, are all that is essential.
The following are useful hints for purchasers of coach-horses:
No gentleman should purchase a horse without a good trial of his mouth and temper. To be perfect in the first respect, he should be what is called on the road “a cheek horse,”—that is, should require very little curb, should always be at play with his bit. and yet not afraid of it, and should have each side of his mouth alike. To a gentleman’s leader, a good mouth is most essential, and then, the higher his courage, the safer he is to drive. With stage-coach horses, mouth is not of so much consequence, because they are always running home, and there is no turning and twisting, as in gentlemen’s work, which is often in a crowd. A whistle, or a click with the tongue, should make a gentleman’s leader spring to his collar in an instant: one that requires the whip should be discharged.
With wheel horses which are steady, and hold well, a coachman may almost set his leaders at defiance; but if they are otherwise, danger is at hand. It is not a bad plan to purchase wheelers out of coaches, after they have been about six months in regular work. For from sixty to eighty guineas, the best of any man’s stock may be picked; and a sound, well-broke coach-horse is not dear at that price. The coach-horses of gentlemen should be high in flesh, as it enhances their appearance, and is no obstacle to pace. A sound five-year-old horse, with good legs and feet, and driven only in harness, will last, on an average, from six to ten years in gentlemen’s work, and will afterwards be very useful for other purposes.
The average price of horses for fast stages is about 23l. Fancy teams, and those working out of London, may be rated considerably higher; but, taking a hundred miles of ground, well horsed, this is about the mark. The average period of each horse’s service does not exceed four years in a fast coach—perhaps scarcely so much. In a slow one, it may extend to seven. In both cases, horses are supposed to be put to the work at five or six years old. The price named as the average may appear a low one; but blemished horses find their way into coaches, as do those of bad temper, &c. As no labour, while it lasts, is harder than that of coach-horses in fast work, it is wrong to purchase those which are infirm, as many proprietors do. Generally speaking, such horses are out of their work half their time, and are certain to die in their owner’s debt. As the roads now are, blind horses are less objectionable than infirm ones. A blind horse that goes up to his bit is both pleasanter and safer to drive than one with good eyes that hangs away from his work. Blind horses, however, work best in the night.
A horse cannot be called a coach-horse unless he has good legs and feet. As a wheel-horse, he is never to be depended upon down hill, if he has not sound limbs. He cannot resist weight, if he be weak in his joints. To bad legs and feet are owing numerous accidents to coaches, many of which the public hear nothing of. If horses, on the contrary, have good legs and feet, they will last, even in the fastest work, many years, provided they are shod with care, and well looked after. Proprietors of coaches have at length found out that it is their interest to be humane and liberal to their horses, because the hay and corn market is not so expensive as the horse market. They have, therefore, one horse in four always at rest; in other words, each horse lies still on the fourth day. Generally considered, perhaps, no animal toiling solely for the profit of man, leads so comfortable a life as the English coach-horse: he is sumptuously fed, kindly treated, and if he does suffer a little in his work, he has mostly twenty-three hours in the twenty-four of perfect ease; he is now almost a stranger to the lash, nor do we ever see him with a broken skin. No horse lives so high as a coach-horse. Hunters, in the hunting season, do not eat the quantity of corn that coach-horses do; for the former are feverish after their work, which is not the case with the latter, as they become accustomed to this almost daily excitement. In the language of the road, the coach-horse’s stomach is the measure of his corn—he is fed ad libitum[75]. The effect of this is that he soon gathers flesh, even in this severe work,—for there is none more severe while it lasts; and good flesh is no obstacle to speed, but the contrary.
[75] Some coachmasters give their horses all manger-meat; but this is wrong, as it often produces indigestion and disease. A certain portion of long hay is necessary.
It is not found, however, that (barring contagious diseases) where their owners are good judges of condition, coach-horses are much subject to disease. After a hot summer, coach-horses are most liable to derangement; and the month of October is the worst in the year for them, in consequence of it being their moulting season. Coach-horses, indeed, are certain to sweat three days out of four, which keeps their blood pure, and renders almost unnecessary medicine, of which, in general, they have but a small portion—perhaps less than they should have. It is a mistake, however, that fleshy horses cannot go fast in harness; they are more powerful in draught than thin ones; and, having only themselves to carry, flesh does not injure their legs, as in riding. In a fast coach, then, a horse ought not to work more than four days without rest, as he becomes leg-weary, and wears out the sooner; and he becomes also too highly excited. A horse a mile, reckoning only one side of the ground, is about the proportion. Thus we may suppose that ten horses work the coach up and down a ten-mile stage, which gives eight at work, and two at rest. Every horse, then, rests the fourth day. In slow, heavy work, however, coach-horses will do their ground every day, barring accidents or illness.
In slow work, the average duration of coaching stock may be from six to seven years, provided they are at first fresh, and firm on their legs. In fast work, their time may be from three to four years, or scarcely perhaps so much. Coach proprietors on a large scale should have a break for their young horses, previous to going into regular work. The practice of putting a young horse unaccustomed to harness into a coach laden with passengers is most reprehensible; and when injury is sustained by it, it should be visited by the severest penalties the law can inflict.
In the manufacture of harness we have arrived at a degree of perfection, to which the invention of the patent shining leather has mainly contributed. A handsome horse well harnessed is a noble sight; yet in no country, except England, is the art of putting a horse into harness at all understood. If, however, our road horses were put to their coaches in the loose awkward fashion of the continental people, we could not travel at the rate we do. It is the command given over the coach-horse that enables us to do it.
In regard to mails, it should be observed that the proprietors who horse them are not sufficiently attentive to the state of the harness on the ground worked by night; whereas it should in reality be the best. If anything break by daylight, it is instantly observed; but it is not so in the night, as lamp-light is uncertain and treacherous. In speaking of particulars, it may be observed, that bearing-reins are a relief to the arm of the driver, but by no means to the horses. Indeed, they materially lessen the power of horses in drawing, become insufferable to them in a long journey, and fatigue them much sooner than they would otherwise be. Not only do these reins by no means serve to keep horses up; but they prevent their rising after having fallen.
When a wheel-horse has the habit of throwing up his head, which greatly annoys the mouth of the leader before him, a nose-martingale should be used. This, however, is rarely sufficient. Indeed, it is a bad custom to run the leader’s reins through terrets over the heads of the wheelers; for then every movement which the wheelers make with their heads, acts powerfully on the mouths of the leaders, whether they be good or bad. If the former, it is sometimes attended with danger: thus, a wheeler throws up his head, suddenly and powerfully shortens the rein of the leader, who is checked, and as the wheeler goes on, he brings the bar with force against the hocks of the leader, which instantly flies forward, and mischief ensues.
This, perhaps, does not last long; but one evil only takes the place of another: leaders soon learn to be, from custom, equally heedless of this check and of their driver’s hand: and their mouths become steeled by the constant tossing of the wheeler’s heads. It is thus that we sometimes hear of leaders choosing their own road in spite of the best efforts of good coachmen; and so it will always be till terrets are totally abolished. This may easily be done by conducting the leader’s rein through the rosette in which the wheeler’s outside bearing-rein, of which we have just disapproved, at present passes, and thus supersede the terret.
Terrets, however, are supposed to look well, and to have the advantage of keeping the head steady. To obviate their disadvantages, therefore, in some measure, rollers are placed in the bottom of each terret, over which the rein passes. This, in some degree, obviates the evil, as the rein no longer holds in the terret, but slides easily, giving the wheeler’s head more freedom. In all kinds of work, a tool-box is a necessary appendage to the coach. It should contain a strong screw-wrench, wheel and spring clips, a spring shackle or two, with bolts and nuts, and two chains—one for a trace, and the other shorter, with a ring at one end and hook at the other, in case of a tug giving way. In his pocket the coachman should have a short strap with a buckle at each end, as in case of almost any part of the reins, or indeed most parts of the harness breaking, it comes into use in a moment.
The following are interesting extracts on this subject, from an article in a late number of the Quarterly Review; and the work quoted and referred to in the article is intitled Bubbles from the Brunnens of Nassau. “With regard to the management of horses in harness, perhaps the most striking feature to English eyes is, that the Germans intrust these sensible animals with the free use of their eyes. ‘As soon as, getting tired, or, as we are often apt to term it, lazy, they see the postilion threaten them with his whip, they know perfectly well the limits of his patience, and that after eight, ten, or twelve threats, there will come a blow. As they travel along, one eye is always shrewdly watching the driver; the moment he begins his slow operation of lighting his pipe, they immediately slacken their pace, knowing as well as Archimedes could have proved, that he cannot strike fire and them at the same time: every movement in the carriage they remark; and to any accurate observer who meets a German vehicle, it must often be perfectly evident that the poor horses know and feel, even better than himself, that they are drawing a coachman, three bulky baronesses, their man and their maid, and that to do this on a hot summer’s day is no joke.’
“Now, what is our method? ‘In order to break-in the animal to draught, we put a collar round his neck, a crupper under his tail, a pad on his back, a strap round his belly, with traces at his sides; and, lest he should see that, though these things tickle and pinch, they have not power to do more, the poor intelligent creature is blinded with blinkers, and in this fearful state of ignorance, with a groom or two at his head, and another at his side, he is, without his knowledge, fixed to the pole and splinter-bar of a carriage. If he kick, even at a fly, he suddenly receives a heavy punishment which he does not comprehend; something has struck him, and has hurt him severely; but, as fear magnifies all danger, so, for aught we know or care, he may fancy that the splinter-bar which has cut him is some hostile animal, and expects, when the pole bumps against his legs, to be again assailed in that direction. Admitting that in time he gets accustomed to these phenomena—becoming, what we term, steady in harness, still, to the last hour of his existence, he does not clearly understand what it is that is hampering him, or what is that rattling noise which is always at his heels;—the sudden sting of the whip is a pain with which he gets but too well acquainted, yet the unde derivatur of the sensation he cannot explain—he neither knows when it is coming, nor what it comes from. If any trifling accident or even irregularity occurs—if any little harmless strap which ought to rest upon his back happens to fall to his side, the unfortunate animal, deprived of his eyesight, the natural lanterns of the mind, is instantly alarmed; and, though from constant heavy draught he may literally, without metaphor, be on his last legs, yet if his blinkers should happen to fall off, the sight of his own dozing master, of his own pretty mistress, and of his own fine yellow chariot in motion, would scare him so dreadfully, that off he would probably start, and the more they all pursued him the faster would he fly!’”
DESCRIPTION OF PLATE XLIII.
In placing horses in a team, we speak of near and off horses. The term of “near” is probably a borrowed one. In a waggon, the near horse is the one which is nearest the driver, who always walks with the horses to his right hand; and the other, running abreast of him, is called the off or far horse, because he is the farthest from the driver. This term indeed does not refer to coaching so well as to waggoning, as the coachman does not walk by the side of his horses; but many of the terms of coachmanship are drawn from the same source, and the expression “near” horse seems to be among the number.
The word “near” having been thus made use of in its original acceptation, has, in some counties, gradually superseded the word left, in contradistinction to right; as we hear occasionally of the “near side of the road,” the “near wheel of a carriage,” the “near leg of a horse;” in short, it is substituted for the word left. Or the term may have arisen intermediately from this: that on the first introduction of carriages into this country there was no driving on the box, but on the saddle, and that hence the term “near” was used to distinguish the saddle-horse, and the term “off,” of course, the other horse. These terms were afterwards applied to the road, where, in meeting carriages, according to the adage, “If you go to the left, you are sure to go right;—if you go to the right you are wrong.”
Wheel-horses have the hardest place, as they are at work up hill and down. Nevertheless, if favour be shown, it must be to the leaders, because a tired wheeler may be dragged home; but, in the road phrase, if a leader cuts it, you are planted. It is a rule always to put the freest leader on the near side, as he is better in hand than on the other. If a leader be weak, and cannot take his bar, the wheeler that follows him must be tied up, and this will place him by the side of his partner. Leaders should be fast trotters for fast coaches; for, if they gallop, the bars are never at rest, and consequently much of the draught is lost in the angles described. To a coach-horse in fast work, wind is almost as essential as to a hunter. Many high-blowers, however, keep their time very well, with a little attention on the part of the driver. If he see them distressed, he ought to keep them off their collar, and let them only carry their harness for a hundred yards or so, when they will recover, if their condition be good. They work best as night-horses; and, if driven in the heat of the sun, they ought to be out of the throat-lash. Indeed, a leader should never be throat-lashed in very hot weather, if he can be driven without it. Many horses pull, and are unpleasant in it, but go temperately out of it.
In coach-horses, temper is much to be regarded. Some contend that a horse should never know his place,—should go either wheeler or leader, and on either side. If, however, a horse working constantly in a coach prefer any place, he should have it, and he will generally pay for the indulgence. Some horses, indeed, care not where they are put—working equally well or ill in all places. As to the mode of putting young horses in harness, the best way is to put one, for the first time, with only one other, which ought to be steady, good-collared, and quick. A great deal of room should be given his head, and he should be driven at the cheek of an easy bit, with his pole-piece rather slack. There is great want of judgment in throat-lashing a young horse—either wheeler or leader.
Many horses go perfectly quiet as leaders, that would never go as wheelers, because they will not bear being confined by the pole-piece. All ought to have their sides frequently changed, particularly young ones. As to horses’ mouths, some will not bear a curb-chain at all, while the bars and chins of others are so hard, that it is difficult to make an impression upon them; the latter being most prevalent.
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.
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.”
It is not possible to obtain a better idea of a good coachman than from the following account of one who is said to be the first coachman in England for bad horses. “Having all his life had moderate horses—some strong and heavy, some light and blood-like, old hunters, old posters,—most of the teams going and returning,—their work at the utmost stretch, always overpowering,—having also had always, besides difference in character, weak horses to nurse,—this ordeal has worn him down to a pattern of patience. With these, and great weight upon severe ground, he is steady, easy, very economical in thong and cord, very light-handed and sometimes playful.—I observed him closely, and discovered from his remarks, as well as from what I saw, that his great secret of keeping his nags in any thing like condition, and preserving them when apparently worn out, is by putting them properly together, by constantly shifting their situations, and by the use of check-reins with remarkable judgment—by which means he brings their powers as near to equality as possible, besides preventing the evil of boring. Indeed, his horses all go light and airy; and though at times his hold of necessity becomes powerful, yet, generally speaking, he takes his load without a severe strain upon his arms.—I own it is this particular knack which always wins me. Both in driving and riding, give me the man who can accomplish his object with a light hand.”
The duty of a coachman is apt to injure the eyes—particularly in cold blowing weather. He must keep his eye forward; and it is found that the sight cannot be fixed upon any thing beyond the head of the wheel-horses (not so far as this, in short men,) without raising the eyelids, and consequently exposing the eyes to the weather. Six parts of cold spring water, to one of brandy, is a good lotion when the eyes suffer from this cause.—Coachmen should also preserve their feet and bodies from cold. In very cold weather, the chin should be protected by a shawl, and the knees by thick cloth knee-caps. In very severe weather, the breast should be protected; for which purpose hare-skins are now manufactured, and are getting into use on the road.
A coachman ought not to drive more than seventy miles a day; and, if this is done at two starts, so much the better. The wearing of the frame, under daily excitement, must tend to produce premature old age, and to shorten life; and this excitement must be very considerable when a man drives a fast coach eighty or a hundred miles a day without a stop—particularly if his coach be strongly opposed. Coachmen who wish to keep themselves light, take walking exercise in their hours of rest from road-work.
As to amateur coachmen, it has been observed, that if a diet were formed, before whom gentlemen-coachmen were to be examined previous to their being considered safe, it would not be amiss if they were put to the test of having the harness of four horses taken to pieces, strap from strap, and then requested to put it together again in the presence of the judges. There would be no hesitation in pronouncing him safe who succeeded in this, as his experience on the road must have been considerable. How these amateurs are trusted with the reins, coachmen are now obliged to be careful, owing to the speed of coaches, and the improved breed and condition of coach-horses. Hence, we see fewer amateurs at work than formerly. It would indeed be highly culpable in a coachman to trust the lives of passengers and his master’s property to any one whom he did not know to be safe, or even without reflecting that a man may be a very safe coachman with horses he knows, and a very unsafe one on some roads with horses to which he is a stranger.
To gentlemen who wish to drive, and are really capable of doing so, the following is recommended as not a very bad way of doing business:—“When travelling with a coachman I do not know,” says an amateur, “I always adopt the following plan—that is, if I wish to work. In the first place, I never got upon a coach-box yet with any thing like half-pay about me; such as a black handkerchief around my neck, or in blue pantaloons; neither do I think I ever shall. I always take care to have a good deal of drag about me:—a neat pair of boots, and knee-caps, if cold weather: a good drab surtout—if not a poodle; a benjamin or two about the coach, and a little of the spot about the neck. For the first mile, I always observe a strict silence, unless broken by coachee; but at this time he generally runs mute. He is perhaps but just awake, or is considering about his way-bill—reckoning his passengers, thinking what he has to do on the road, and, if a workman, looking over his team to see if all is right. Leave him alone for a short time, and when his mind is at ease, he will look you over as you sit beside him. He will begin with your boots, proceeding upwards to the crown of your hat, and if he like you, and you make a remark or two that please him, and show you to be a judge of the art, the first time he stops he will say—‘Now, sir, have you got your driving gloves on; would you like to take ’em?’—I am here alluding to country work, and not to the roads near London.”
Coachmen’s expenses on the road being heavy, should be taken into consideration by passengers. They have their horse-keepers to pay every week, or they will not do their best for them; and the wear and tear of their clothes is a heavy tax on their pockets. They are satisfied, however, with one shilling under, and two shillings for anything over, thirty miles; and they are well entitled to that sum—more especially when we recollect that they are liable to have empty coaches. No man, certainly, should give them less than a shilling, and if he often travel the same road, his money is not ill bestowed. In respectable coaches, no great difference is now made between the fees given by in and outside passengers, as it often happens that the latter are best able to pay.
Guards on mail coaches are necessary appendages to the establishment; and, that they may be equal to their duty, they go only moderate distances—as from sixty to eighty miles, when they are relieved by others. Those on the long stages, however, are imposed upon by their masters; and, by being made to do more than they are equal to—many of them two nights up for one in bed, are half their time asleep. Some go from London to Exeter, Shrewsbury, and other places equally distant, without stopping more than three quarters of an hour on the road, which, in bad weather, is hard enough. Indeed, it is wonderful how with their means they always contrive to live.
Guards are by no means useless appendages to stage coaches; for no coach, running a long distance and in the night, should be without one; but such guards should be provided with fire-arms in good repair. Setting aside the idea of highway robbery, it is impossible that, in the night, a coachman can see to the luggage on his coach,—nor indeed, can the guard, if he be asleep, and asleep he must be a great part of his time, if worked in the way above stated. He should not go more than one hundred miles, and he should be paid by the proprietors. But if the public should not be left to pay an armed guard, it is monstrous that they should pay an unarmed one. As to mail-guards, government allows them only a mere pittance of a few shillings a week, leaving the public to pay them; whereas the public have nothing to do with them, and it is the most impudent imposition that these servants of government should be paid by persons travelling. That they carry fire-arms is true; but it is to protect the letter-bags—property which government is paid to protect—that they would use these arms, and not on account of passengers. Strictly speaking, they have nothing to do with the passengers, nor their luggage; their sole duty being to protect the mail. As, therefore, government is paid for carrying the mails, government, and not the public, should pay the persons who actually do protect them.
Before getting upon the box, a coachman should walk round his horses’ heads, to see that his curb-chains and coupling reins are right, and, above all, that the tongues of his billet-buckles are secure in their holes. Many accidents have arisen from the want of this precaution. No man is a safe coachman who does not see to these things. Of mounting and dismounting, there is nothing particular to be said; except that, in the former, the reins are to be taken in the right hand, and transferred to the left as soon as the seat is reached.
The driver should sit in the middle of the box, quite straight towards his horses, rather upright or backward, than forward, with his knees nearly straight, and with his feet together, toward the edge of the footboard. With the exception of a pliant motion of his loins, on any jolting of the coach, his body should be quite at rest, and particularly so when he hits a horse. Independently of appearance, a firm seat on a box is very necessary for safety to a coachman and his passengers, for a trifle will otherwise displace him.
Before starting, four horses should stand clear, or at their proper length from each other. They should have some notice—a click, or a whistle given them to move. If the whip is used, the wheelers should be touched, as generally the ablest horses.
It is with coach-horses as with mankind—that where the physical strength is in the governed, they must be humoured a little. When starting, the coachman must not pull at their heads, but feel their mouths lightly, or they may bolt, throw themselves down, or break through their harness. If they are old, and the stage commences with a descent, they should be allowed to go a couple of hundred yards before they are put to their usual pace. A young horse should be started very quietly, making the old horse take collar first. This is especially necessary if the young one is inclined to be hot, as it will prevent his plunging.
A young horse should first be started in a wide space, so that he may get off without a check. If he be alarmed, and inclined to bounce, he should not be held hard, and still less stopped; for, if so, he may not like, particularly if high mettled, to start again. The old horse will prevent his running far. If a young horse be shy of his collar, he should not at first be pressed to it; as he may thereby take a dislike to it, and become a jibber.
A young horse, when first put to a coach, should be turned to the pole very carefully, to prevent its touching his hind quarter, which might make him kick. When he has been driven long enough to be steady, he should be taken up in his bearing-rein, put down lower on his bit, and driven in a wide circle, or figure eight—keeping the inner horse well up to his collar and bit. In breaking, he should be frequently stopped, but not held after being pulled up, as, if high mettled, it will make him restless, and if dull, he does not require it. If, on the contrary, a young horse is heavy, and not ready to start when the command is given, he should be whipped till he answer it.
These, in driving, must always be a walk or a trot—never a canter, which, owing to the draught, would be equally injurious to the horse and to the carriage. Either of these paces, moreover, should be suited to the nature of the road. Rapid driving, on the stones especially, exposes a carriage to injury, both from shocks against others, and from those which attend its own motion. However, it is sometimes for a moment necessary, in order to get out of the way of carts, waggons, &c.
In public coaches, the pace is often too rapid; and, should any passenger plead for the horses, on the score of the excessive heat, the coachman with the utmost sang froid replies that he must keep his time, although the probability sometimes is, that one or more of them may drop, by which considerable time may be lost, as well as reduction in force ensue for the rest of the stage. Horses should be more frequently watered during hot weather than they generally are; increased perspiration renders it necessary.
However well pleased thoughtless people may be at going at an accelerated rate, it is certainly hard that other passengers should be obliged to hazard their existence at the pleasure of a reckless driver, who, in answer to all remonstrance, coolly answers, he must “keep his time.” Something should certainly be done to prevent the cantering system[76]; for no coach, be it ever so well built, can preserve its equilibrium so well when the horses are in the canter or gallop, as when in the trot. At the same time, it is to be borne in mind, that, at the rate our coaches now travel, some slight degree of it may sometimes be unavoidable, owing to horses trotting so variably, and its being very difficult to obtain teams every individual of which shall be able to trot through the distance at the required rate.