A foreigner's view of England — The packets — Roads — People — Posting — Mail and Stage Coaches — Amateur coachmen — Fast driving — Perils of travelling — A lioness attacks the Mail — Dog-carts and donkey-riding — The Streets and Houses.

What was England like at this time? I have notes enough, and to spare, de omnibus rebus, for a volume upon it; but I withdraw, and allow a foreigner to give his impressions, and we shall have the advantage of viewing England with other spectacles.[31] I extract from a book by "M. de Levis, Duke and Peer of France," an English translation of which was published in 1815.

Of course steamboats were not, and that "silver streak" between France and England, was even more of a bugbear than it is at present. "Foreigners who visit England in time of peace, usually pass through Dover; this port being the nearest point of land to the Continent of Europe. The distance is only seven leagues, but the passage is not the less uncertain; it varies from two hours to thirty-six, when it becomes excessively fatiguing; obliged to struggle against the wind in a narrow sea, and in which it is impossible to make long tacks.... The cabin is so low that you cannot stand upright; it usually contains eight beds placed two by two upon one another, like drawers, in a bureau. The disagreeable smell of the bedding, and of the whole furniture, increase the sickness which the horizontal position would tend to alleviate. This sickness is not dangerous, but it is very severe, and sometimes persons of a delicate habit experience the effects of it for several days. However, if this passage be often painful, and always disagreeable, it is, at least, very safe. In times of peace, few days pass without packet boats crossing the Channel,[32] and we never hear of shipwrecks. The usual price for the passage is one guinea for gentlemen, and half for servants; the hire of the whole vessel costs from five to ten guineas, according to the condition of the travellers."

On landing, next to the comeliness of the women and children, the men's dress seems to have struck him. "Their dress is equally remarkable for its fulness, uniformity, and neatness. Those scanty clothes, so mean, and strangely absurd, which we meet with, on the Continent, are never found in Britain, still less are the worn-out and dirty clothes, which, preserving the traces of a luxury, unsuitable to the condition of those who wear them, appear to be the livery of wretchedness: on the contrary, all the apparel here seems at first sight fresh from the manufactory, and the same taylor appears to have cut the Coats of the whole nation....

"Large scarlet cloaks, black silk bonnets, which preserve and heighten the fairness of their Complexion, distinguish the country women who come to market. When a class, so inferior, is so well dressed, we cannot doubt of the prosperity and comfort of the nation to which it belongs."

Of course there were no railroads, and people had the choice of three conveyances, as they now have the choice of three classes. For people of very slender purses, there was the Waggon—very slow, but bound to get to its destination safely—with many horses, having bells, and yokes to the hames of their Collars; broad-tyred wheels, which could not even sink in the mud of a country lane. But M. le Duc de Levis could not patronize such a vehicle—he, of course, must go post. "The Post is not, as on the Continent, an establishment dependent upon the Government; individuals undertake this business; most of the inns keep Post Chaises; they are good Carriages with four wheels, shut close, the same kind as we call in France 'diligences de ville.' They hold three persons in the back with ease; are narrow, extremely light; well hung, and appear the more easy, because the roads are not paved with stone. The postillions wear a jacket with sleeves, tight boots, and, altogether, their dress is light, and extremely neat; and they are not only civil, but even respectful.

"On your arrival at the Inn, you are shown into a good room, where a fire is kept in winter, and tea is ready every hour of the day. In five minutes at most, another Chaise is ready for your departure. If we compare these customs with those of Germany, or particularly in the North, where you must often wait whole hours to change horses, in a dirty room, heated by an iron stove, the smell of which is suffocating; or even those of France, where the most part of the post-houses, not being Inns, have no accommodation for travellers, it is evident that the advantage is not in favour of the Continent. The only inconvenience attached to the manner which I am describing, is being obliged at almost every stage to untie and pack up baggage and parcels; but English gentlemen (which will appear very extraordinary to French ladies) and English ladies carry so little with them, that this inconvenience is little felt. By this manner of travelling we avoid ennui, and immense expense, and delays caused by frequent mending of Carriages, which sometimes occasion the loss of rest on the road.

"Competition is, of course, established, and the interest of the postmasters oblige them to keep good carriages: there are many that for their neatness may excite the envy of the foreigner. The price of travelling is the same throughout England, one shilling a mile for horses and carriage, without reckoning what is given to the postillion; this is extremely cheap, considering the high price of every article, and even in proportion to other Countries; at those times when forage is dear, a few pence are added, but this is never done without the concurrence of the principal postmasters of the Country. When quick travelling is desired, four horses are provided, driven by two postillions, and then travelling is performed with a rapidity known only in Russia and Sweden in the winter season.

"The Mail Coaches also afford means of travelling with great celerity into all parts of England. These are Berlins, firm and light, holding four persons; they carry only letters, and do not take charge of any luggage. They are drawn by four horses, and driven by one Coachman; they travel never less than seven to eight miles an hour.

"Stage Coaches are very numerous, they are kept in every City, and even in small towns; all these Carriages have small wheels, and hold six persons, without reckoning the outside passengers. About twenty years ago a carriage was invented in the form of a gondola; it is long, and will hold sixteen persons, sitting face to face; the door is behind, and this plan ought to be generally adopted, as the only means of escaping a great danger when the horses run away. What adds to the singularity of these carriages is, that they have eight wheels; thus dividing equally the weight, they are less liable to be overturned, or cut up the roads; they are, besides, very low and easy.

"When these long coaches first appeared at Southampton, a City much frequented in summer by the rich inhabitants of London, who go there to enjoy sea bathing; they had (as every new thing has) a great run, so that it was nearly impossible to get a place in them.

"One of the principal Innkeepers, jealous of this success, set up another, and, to obtain the preference, he reduced the fare to half-price, at that time a guinea. In order to defeat this manoeuvre, the first proprietor made a still greater reduction, so that, at last, the receipts did not cover the expenses. But the two rivals did not stop here; for one of them announced that he would take nothing of gentlemen who might honour him by choosing his Coach, but he would beg them to accept a bottle of Port before their departure."

After this, I think I must, for a while, leave my French Duke, and follow my own Notes, on the road.

This was a transition age. Sedan Chairs were still used, especially for State occasions. March 26, 1814: "The Queen and Princesses went in Sedan Chairs on Thursday evening, in the same order as on Wednesday evening, to dine with the Prince Regent at Carlton House." Nor is this the only example that could be adduced.

Then, as now, there was among a certain class, an ambition to do something, if only to drive a Coach. By the way there is no ambition among "Noble Swells" to drive Omnibuses. Like "Tommy Onslow," who could not only drive a Coach and two, but a Coach and four, the gilded youths of that time sought a cheap renown, as do our modern bankers and linendrapers, by driving public coaches!! Chacun À son gout. As Artemus Ward said: "It isn't my fort," but it gives pleasure to somebody else, and nobody ought to grumble at it. It may give amusement to some noble lords, or otherwise, to ape the fashion of the late James Selby, or some other professional Jehu, or for a barber's Clerk to pay a trifle extra to sit on the box seat by the side of My Lord; but, in the old days they took things at a better value, and pointed out its folly. January 26, 1811: "The education of our youth of fashion is improving daily; several of them now drive Stage Coaches to town, and open the door of the Carriage for passengers, while the Coachman remains on the box. They farm the perquisites from the Coachman on the road, and generally pocket something into the bargain." January 30, 1811: "The prominent figure cut by our young men of fashion on the Coach box makes them a fit subject for ridicule on any stage."

They used to drive fast in those days. "Mr. Milton, the Horse-dealer, has made a match for seven hundred guineas to drive four-in-hand, 15 miles in 48 minutes, to start the week before the Epsom races commence, and to be done within 20 miles of London. Betting is against the undertaking." One more Newspaper cutting re fast driving, and I have done. May 16, 1815: "We have been much shocked by reading in some papers accounts of the extraordinary expedition of the several Leeds Coaches, occasioned, we suppose, by opposition among themselves. One Coach boasts of having reached Newark from London in 12 hours, a distance of 124 miles, and which takes the Edinburgh Mail 17 hours to perform. Another is said regularly to reach Leeds from London (194 miles) in less than 21 hours! This is certainly most astonishing velocity, but how great must be the sufferings of the poor horses thus unnaturally urged."

Brighton was not only the abode of the Regent, but, naturally, every one who wanted to be somebody, went there, to pay their Court. As we know it now, it is the promised land of the Hebrew, and the delight of 'Arry and 'Arriette, shrimps, winkles, and the small half-quartern glass bottle. But, dear me! Brighton had fast Coaches then, as now—when fools and professionals drive them, and are cheap heroes; and they gloried in publishing the fact that a horse could go quicker than a man! A noble Ambition! Put this and that of our times together, and how do we—in Australian language—"pan out." We, nationally, do not seem to get wiser as we get older.

Under date October 17, 1816, we read: "A new coach was started by some Jews in the Spring to run to Brighton, a distance of 52 miles, in six hours, with a pledge, that if they did not accomplish the journey in that time, they would carry the passengers gratis; to accomplish which the horses were kept upon a gallop all the way; and, notwithstanding this great risk, the coach was always filled with passengers. In one of the journeys the Coachman broke three whips. In one week 15 horses died." The authorities had, however, to interfere, as they considered this speed both dangerous and cruel. On July 14, 1888, a professional coachman, named James Selby, who had accepted a bet of £1,000 that he could not drive from White Horse Cellars, Piccadilly, to Brighton and back to the same place, within eight hours, did it, and had ten minutes to spare. In 1818 there were thirty-seven coaches which left and returned to Brighton daily.

There were perils in travelling then, as now, only perhaps for the percentage of travellers, rather more so. There were highwaymen, though they were getting somewhat scarce. But the wheels came off, horses kicked over the traces, reins broke; and there are a thousand and one little accidents arising from man's subjugation of the horse, which are almost inseparable from their mutual positions; but we hardly expect to hear that on October 27, 1812, one of the Hampstead stages got blown over by the wind. We have already heard that passengers were occasionally frozen to death outside a Coach. But there is one peril one would scarcely have discounted. In Railway travelling, if a cow gets on the line, and tilts with dire onslaught at the train, Stephenson's grim speech, "So much the worse for the Coo," is verified; but when a lioness breaks loose, and attacks the horses of a Stage Coach, it strikes me that the "Coo" is the passenger thereby.

This was a little item of news which enlivened the good folks of 1816, for on October 20th of that year the Exeter Mail Coach, on its way to London, was attacked, at Winterslow-hut, seven miles from Salisbury, by a lioness who had escaped from a travelling menagerie; she sprang at one of the leaders, and for some time things were rather mixed. Two inside passengers hurriedly got out, rushed into a house close by, and locked themselves in. The driver wanted to get down and emulate the old Roman gladiatorial feats, by attacking the lioness with his pocket-knife, but the wiser counsels of his Guard restrained him. Then appeared a Deus ex Machina, in the shape of a large Mastiff dog, who "went for" Madame la Lionne, and made her retreat, her keepers afterwards capturing her. I believe the horse attacked afterwards died. But the incident, although ending fairly happily, created a great sensation at the time.

Among the minor scenes of the road, with which people were then familiar, were little carts drawn by dogs, as are the milk carts at Brussels at this day. I even recollect them, and their being put down. There is no doubt but it was in the power of a Costermonger (for they even existed in those days) to overload and ill treat his dog; but I believe the same liberty is even now accorded to him with respect to his donkey.

Apropos of these useful animals, my readers may not be aware of a highly important historical fact, which my researches have unearthed. "August 21, 1817: Donkey-riding is introduced on Hampstead Heath, and the Ladies of the neighbourhood, notwithstanding the vicinity of the Metropolis, enjoy the mode of taking the air without interruption. About a dozen donkies stand for hire on the Heath every morning, most of them with side-saddles. There are also donkey carts, and whiskies with ponies."

From the Road to the Streets, and from the Streets to the Houses, are only graceful and legitimate transitions, and here we can again learn something from the Duc de Levis, by using his eyes, and he thus writes of the general aspect of London, as he saw, and judged it. It may not be flattering to us, but we must remember, that in the Georgian era, especially in the long reign of George III., domestic architecture had reached its lowest depth. Mean frontages to houses, oblong windows, small panes of bad glass; no sanitary arrangements to speak of; a bath almost unknown; it was a time of the dullest mediocrity. It has been reserved to the last twenty-five years of our time to make things architectural more truly beautiful, and to restore, with some degree of knowledge, the legacies which our veritable art-loving ancestors left to our care.

M. le Duc says, "At length arrived in London, I should like to be able to give an idea of this immense city, by comparing it with other great capitals, a method which I prefer to all others; on this occasion, unfortunately it is not. In vain have we visited Paris, Vienna, Rome, Venice. Should you have even been at St. Petersburg or Moscow, none of these cities can give you a just idea of the English Capital. The greater part of large cities offer a collection of irregular hotels, palaces, and buildings; others, like Turin, are distinguished by long arcades. Amsterdam, Dantzic, contain a multitude of Canals; but nothing of all this resembles London. I must therefore have recourse to a particular description of it.

"First of all, represent to yourself wide streets running in a straight line, with good foot-paths; iron rails, upwards of five feet in height, are placed the whole length, which separate the houses from the footway, by an area, narrow, and of little depth, which lights the under stories; there are the kitchens, and the offices; a flight of steps serves at the same time for a communication out of doors. Over this kind of under storey is the ground floor, then the first and the second floor, but seldom a third, and never an elevated roof; neither is there any architectural decoration.

But every house, which has seldom more than three windows in front, has the door ornamented with two wooden pillars, painted white, surmounted by a heavy pediment; a small glass window gives light to the passage; in the front is the dining parlour; underneath a room, almost dark, because it looks only into a small opening, a few feet wide, which does not deserve the name of a court-yard. The staircase is sometimes of stone, but mostly of wood, and always covered with a Carpet.

"The first storey contains the drawing-room, and a tolerably large closet behind, where sometimes a bed is placed, but the proper bed-chambers are in the second floor. Under the roof are garrets for the servants. The furniture agrees with the simplicity of the building; it is much the same among all the opulent classes. The mantelpieces are usually of wood; no time-pieces; vases, candelabras, brackets, bronzes, are hardly known; and of all the arts, gilding is the least advanced. The only thing which shines is the Grate, in which Sea coal is used; the front is polished steel, and kept extremely bright; the tables, and the rest of the furniture being mahogany, take a fine polish. The paper-hangings are of an insipid colour, and insignificant design; the dining parlour and the halls are painted in fresco, mostly of a pale blue colour.

"The bed-chambers are still more plainly furnished than the drawing-room; true it is that they are made use of only for sleeping in, as they never use them for sitting-rooms; and the bed-chambers of the women are as inaccessible to the men as the Harems of the East. The beds are of white dimity or calico, with mahogany posts; and their form is simple, and does not vary. The beds, in the best houses, are but indifferent, especially the feather beds, which they usually cover with a blanket, and which, being placed immediately under the sheet, is not agreeable to foreigners, particularly in the summer season. The boudoir is unknown in England. This is, however, the manner of living even among the most wealthy. The progress of luxury has only lately induced them to adopt chimney-pieces of marble, and mirrors have become more frequent.... "It is impossible to invent anything better adapted for walking the streets of a great city than the footpaths of London; too seldom imitated elsewhere, and always imperfectly. They are paved with broad flag-stones, brought more than a hundred miles, and with a magnificence that reminds us of antiquity. If the whole were put together, they would cover the space of several square miles. They are so even, that you walk without fatigue; and we endeavour to forget the rough and slippery pavement on the Continent. These footpaths are kept constantly swept, and free from dust and dirt; and, as they are on a gentle slope, the wind and the sun soon dry them.

"Neither is here experienced the inconvenience of gutters, which, elsewhere, inundate passengers; and in storms, heavy rains, and floods, stop the way. The English have an ingenious method of getting rid of these rainy torrents; their roofs are almost flat, and the front wall, rising above the upper floor, forms a double slope like our terraces. The waters, being thus collected, descend by a spout into the drains, and are lost in the great common sewer under the middle of the streets. Sometimes they are led into cisterns. It is not that London is destitute of this precious element; a small river, brought at an immense expense, from a great distance; and immense engines, worked by the Thames, distribute the water in all quarters. "Sea coal, whose black dust attaches so easily to furniture and clothes, is kept in cellars under the footway. In a word, Stables, and, with them, dunghills, with the smells inseparable from them, occupy back streets, and have no communication with the inhabited houses. The lamps are placed on both sides of the street, upon posts a little elevated; they are very numerous, and are always lighted before sunset....

"They have even gone so far as to pave, with flat stones, those places where you cross the street, to make an easier communication from one side to the other, and these paths are swept. Carriages are not driven at a dangerous pace in the interior of the city; lighter equipages go the same pace as the humblest coach. The horses—so swift on the road, that they seem to fly rather than run, forgetting their rapid pace—only go a gentle trot; and we never see Coachmen endeavouring to pass by and break the line at the peril of the passenger."

If I want to give a living touch to this book, I must still quote, because, to be honest, I must do it. Others assimilate bodily, or paraphrase facts: then, they are "men of genius," and they call me, in reviews, "a mere compiler." Granted; I take the latter as a compliment, for I give the very living age, and sink myself; because the quotations are better than can now be written—they are of the time. We have novels—we have plays—mostly imaginative, because of the ignorance of the writer; but an honest historian ought only to give the history of the times as he has found it, and, to any one who has conscientiously worked, the crass ignorance, and superficial knowledge, of the present time is stupendous.

The suburbs of London were still being built, and it is pleasant to read an outside criticism upon them.

"Scarcely a year passes without hundreds of houses being built; and even thousands, on the North East side of London; the most healthy part of the City, on account of its elevation: besides, the parks hinder any increase on the west. Many of the new houses are inhabited by bankers, and rich merchants, who establish themselves there, with their families; they, however, keep their counting houses in the city, where they transact business till Change-time. These daily journeys (for the distance is sometimes several miles) would appear insupportable in any other country; but it agrees very well with the active habits so common to all classes of the English nation. Besides, the women, who possess, here, more influence than is generally imagined, and who are as much afraid of damps as they dislike noise and dirt, persuade their husbands to keep these separate establishments, as soon as their circumstances will permit.

"The shops are regularly distributed in all parts of London, yet without being anywhere en masse, as they are at Petersburg, and at Moscow. The finest are in the environs of St. James's, because it is here that the most money is spent. The English are unrivalled in the art of displaying their goods to the greatest advantage; they dispose their various kinds of merchandise with the most fascinating effect; and, even, with an elegance quite uncommon; they thus find means to give them an appearance far beyond their value.... The English ladies often tax the patience of shopkeepers by making them take down a multitude of goods, without even intending to buy anything. Without being obsequious, these tradesmen are civilly officious, and an air of urbanity is visible in their manners. One might suppose, from their grave and serious deportment, that they had determined to abate nothing from the price demanded. They are, however, like their fellows in other countries: it is, therefore, necessary to bargain with them.

"Foreigners act very imprudently when they speak French to each other in shops. There are, perhaps, ten thousand shops in London, where the French language is understood; and this number increases daily. This is not suspected. Instead of the officious eagerness, always blended with vanity, with which the people of the south of Europe begin to speak a foreign language, as soon as they know a few words of it; English sensibility is afraid of committing itself, in the use of a language which is not their own: necessity only forces it upon them. It is as much owing to the curiosity continually excited by the novelties of these shops, which, each in their way, are taking to the eye, as well as to the conveniences afforded by the foot-paths, that we are to attribute the preference given by the idlers of London to certain streets, instead of the public walks and parks.

"That which has been the most fashionable, for a long time, is called Bond Street, and communicates with St. James's Street and Pall Mall, by Piccadilly on one side; and Oxford Street on the other. When the weather is fine, it is the rendezvous of good company; thus, in novels, and in plays, coxcombs are all called Bond Street Loungers. This latter appellation comes from the pastry cook's shops, where they find means to wait with some patience for dinner; by taking some slight refreshment, which the English call a lunch. This happens between one and two o'clock. These shops are always supplied with a great variety of pastry, in which currants are most used. The refreshments consist of lemonade, or orgeat; and, in summer, very inferior ices. At other shops forced fruit is sold at a high price.

"The public squares are almost all regularly built; their form is oblong, from whence they take their name (?). The centre of the greater part of the squares is laid down in grass, planted with shrubs, and divided by gravel walks; these grounds are surrounded by iron rails, like the 'Palais Royal' at Paris; they are always kept shut. The neighbouring houses only, have keys, which they make use of for an airing for children and sick persons."

Speaking of St. James's Park he says that "In the centre is a meadow, with cattle grazing, watered by a canal, and surrounded with wooden rails." The Green Park he dismisses in a few words, and of Hyde Park he says that it is "the general rendezvous of all classes, who parade here in great numbers, on foot, on horseback, and in carriages. It is supposed that sometimes a hundred thousand persons assemble there. This assertion seems, at first, spoken at random; but it is grounded on probability, and even on calculation."

Then, after treating of Kensington Gardens, he says: "There are no other gardens in London that deserve notice, except those at Buckingham House, the usual residence of the Queen; and a few, attached to the houses of the great. There are two or three other gardens in the City, the access to which is not difficult, belonging to public bodies, but they are neither large nor pleasant: besides, the streets are so convenient and straight, that this deficiency is less felt than elsewhere. In the suburbs, on every side, are numerous tea gardens, where tea and other refreshments are provided. Here bowls are played on a green as level as a billiard table; indeed they are called bowling-greens; from whence we get our word boulin grin. These public places are frequented by citizens, and their families, on Sundays; the tranquillity, and decency, which is observed at these places is surprising to foreigners, who recollect the turbulent gaiety of the Ginguettes of Paris, and other capitals of Europe." I may be wrong, but, personally, I lament over the loss of the London "Tea Gardens": they were places of innocent enjoyment, and their popularity may be estimated, by this generation, by the open-air gatherings at the various exhibitions at South Kensington.