When William IV. Was King

CHAPTER XXV.

Holborn Viaduct — Omnibuses — Cabs — Hansom's patent — Posting — Mail coaches — Stage coaches — Hotels.

On all hands, it is admitted that the streets of London were generally well paved, and there were but two bad hills, Holborn and Snow Hills, which were caused by the Valley of the Fleet. This has been bridged over in our time, but a similar viaduct was proposed in 1833. This was intended to take down the houses from the corner of Bartlett's Buildings, Holborn, to Seacoal Lane, Skinner Street, or, on the opposite side, from Hatton Garden to the top of Snow Hill, and erect a level terrace on brick arches between these points, the houses to be taken down and set back about fifty feet, or in a line with St. Andrew's Church, and the arches under the terrace to be fitted up as shops on Holborn Hill, with a handsome balustrade on the top. An ornamental arch was to be turned over Farringdon Street, on the principle of Highgate Archway. This is, virtually, what was begun about thirty years later, in 1867.

As the population of London in 1831 (taking the area as now) was only about a million and a half, it stands to reason that there would be but about a quarter of the traffic. The first omnibus started from the Yorkshire Stingo, Paddington, to the Bank, on July 4, 1829, and, becoming popular, these vehicles were very soon multiplied, and, in 1831, there seem to have been ninety running; for, at a meeting of omnibus proprietors on September 10th of that year, it was proposed, in consequence of the danger which arose from competitive racing, to stop thirty-three of them, and, as the chairman observed, "this diminution would leave fifty-seven of them to run, so that the public would have a regular conveyance every three minutes from Paddington to the Bank, from eight in the morning till ten at night."

As a specimen of omnibus amenities about this time I may mention a police case at Marylebone, on August 14, 1830. It was for an assault, but that was of very little moment; it related more to the convenience and safety of the public, especially the female portion; for it came out that by some of the cads (as the conductors were then called) it was considered fair play to take a lady forcibly from the steps of an omnibus she was inclined to enter and push her into another, and that the previous week, two ladies had been so mauled by four strong fellows, that they would not ride at all.

The royal assent was given on September 22, 1831, to "An Act to amend the laws relating to Hackney Carriages," etc., by which it was enacted that, up to January 5, 1833, they should be limited to twelve hundred, and, after that date, there was to be no limitation to their number, except that caused by the law of demand and supply. The hackney coach was a cumbrous vehicle with two horses, and, in 1823, one-horsed vehicles were introduced, called cabriolets, speedily shortened into cabs. They began modestly with twelve, and in 1831 had increased to one hundred and sixty-five. They were somewhat peculiar, as the driver sat by the side of his fare, although not with him, and the possibility of the coachman seeing the amount he was to be given, and the chance of his upsetting his passenger in case it did not meet his expectations, is humorously described in Pickwick.

On December 23, 1834, Joseph Aloysius Hansom, an architect, took out a patent, No. 6733, for "a vehicle for conveying loads, etc.," and from that time to this his name has been inseparably connected in England with cabs. Not that his cab was like the present "hansom," which is a product of much evolution. There was no back seat for the driver, and its "safety" consisted in its cranked axle. He sold his rights to a company for £10,000, but never got a penny piece of it. The only money he ever got out of it was £300, which, when the company had got into a muddle, was paid him to take temporary management and put things straight again.

Thanks to Mr. John Macadam, whose system of using broken stones is still adopted, the country roads were very much improved. He, unlike Hansom, received £10,000 from Parliament, and was appointed Surveyor-General of the Metropolitan roads in 1827. He died in 1836.

In describing travelling in England during this reign, I cannot do better than quote from Baron d'Haussez, because a foreigner looks upon things with a far more critical eye than a native, who is always used to them. Says he—

"The taste for travelling, an expensive taste in any country, is truly a ruinous one in England. If the means of satisfying it are numerous, and accompanied by all that can promote pleasure, one is steeled against this seductive consolation by the perpetual warning of a speedily drained purse.

"Posting, placed on a totally different footing from that service in the rest of Europe, is not the object of an exclusive privilege. By means of a licence, which cannot be refused, relays of post-horses are established according to the caprice or will of those who possess them. The rivalry arising from this practice does not lower the price of posting, which, London excepted, is nearly the same on all roads, and differs but little from the price of relays in France. The number of horses is always fixed at two or four, without regard to the number of travellers, or to the form or weight of the carriages. When you desire a post-chaise, the innkeeper is obliged to furnish it, without your paying an additional price. These chaises, in the shape of our coupÉs, are well hung, and very clean and commodious.

"England has not, as we find in France, a breed of horses specially appropriated to posting. The greater part of the post-horses in England are hunters or carriage-horses, which, having become unfit for either of these purposes, wear out the remnant of their strength in post-chaises, before they are transferred to hackney coaches and waggons. Their speed answers in a great degree to what one would expect from their breed. You travel at the rate of eight or nine miles an hour (about three and a half leagues), which includes the time of changing horses.

"The height of the postillions (always chosen among the smallest men), and their dress, consisting of a jacket, short breeches, and half boots, are calculated with a view to reduce to the smallest possible compass the burden of the horses. There is no difference between the town harness and that which is kept for posting. They are both in excellent condition.

"The mail coaches destined for the transport of letters are carriages with four inside and six outside places. Behind the coach the guard is seated, with a blunderbuss and a pair of pistols before him. These coaches travel at the rate of ten miles, or four leagues an hour; but their small size (for the English, in general tall and thick, appear to have little regard to their personal proportions in the size of their carriages), and the short time they stop to refresh, render them very unpleasant modes of conveyance.

"Stage coaches are very elegant carriages, built to carry fifteen or eighteen travellers, and a considerable weight in packets, but on admirable roads. This is an indispensable condition. Without it, the height of the carriages, the arrangement of the whole of the luggage on the imperial, and the lightness of the body and the axletree, would give rise to frequent accidents.

"The inside of the coach contains only four places. The seat of the coachman, and another seat placed immediately behind it, admit of six persons, and two seats facing each other, at the hind wheels, afford places for six or eight more. These seats are fixed over boots or boxes for stowing away the luggage. Such parcels as these cannot contain are placed on the imperial.

"The desire to breathe the fresh air, rather than economical considerations, induce even the richest English to give a preference to outside places. They only go inside when compelled by bad weather. The place most in request—one knows not wherefore—is to the left of the coachman; it is considered as the place of honour, and is reserved for fashionables, and even for lords, who do not disdain to travel thus. The sole advantages, which such a station appeared to me to present, were the being placed near a well-dressed coachman, and the escaping the chance of travelling by the side of a butcher, a shoemaker, or some other individual of that class. Each time the coachman descends from his box, his neighbour has the advantage of being made the forced depositary of his reins and whip. These are placed in your hands, as they are taken out of them again, without the least ceremony.

"The appointments of an English coach are no less elegant than its form. A portly looking coachman seated on a very high coach-box, well dressed, wearing white gloves, a nosegay in his button-hole, and his chin enveloped in an enormous cravat, drives four horses perfectly matched and harnessed, and as carefully groomed as when they excited admiration in the carriages of Grosvenor and Berkeley Squares. Such is the manner in which English horses are managed, such, also, is their docility, the effect either of temperament or training, that you do not remark the least restiveness in them. Four-horse coaches are to be seen rapidly traversing the most populous streets of London, without occasioning the least accident, without being at all inconvenienced in the midst of the numerous carriages, which hardly leave the necessary space to pass. The swearing of ostlers is never heard at the relays, any more than the neighing of horses; nor are you interrupted on the road by the voice of the coachman, or the sound of his whip, which differs only from a cabriolet whip in the length of the thong, and serves as a sort of appendage, rather than a means of correction in the hand which carries it. In England, where everything is so well arranged, where each person knows so well how to confine himself to the exigencies of his proper position, the horses do better what they have to do than the horses of other countries, and that, too, without the need of a brutal correction. One may travel from one end of England to the other without hearing the sound of a whip, or the hallooing of conductors, which in France fall so disagreeably on the ears of travellers.

"Among the wonders of English civilization, the inns should be mentioned. In many of the larger towns they are magnificent, and they are good and well supplied in the smallest. In the greater part of them the servants are in livery, and in all their attendance is prompt and respectful. On their arrival, travellers are received by the master of the house, whose decent dress indicates a respectful feeling towards strangers. Introduced into a well-heated, well-furnished room, they have never to wait for a meal, the simplicity of which, in the way of cookery, is atoned for by the elegance, often the richness, of the plate and ware, and the superior quality of the meat. A sleeping-room, as comfortable as this kind of apartment (so neglected in England) can be, completes the agrÉment of your sojourn. Your discontent does not commence till the exorbitant bill proves that such attentions, far from being disinterested, are, on the contrary, dearly charged for. Seldom do you separate from your host with a reciprocation of politeness. Yet, notwithstanding the coldness with which his attentions are received, the landlord does not cease to remain by the side of the traveller till his carriage is in motion."

With regard to the London hotels, travellers by the coaches generally stopped where they stopped, and were very fairly treated. Of course, there was none of the palatial magnificence of the modern hotel, but there was an amount of homely comfort to which the people of those days were accustomed. The West End hotels, save those for awful swells, were about Covent Garden, and Morley's Hotel at Charing Cross was one of the best. The first monster hotel in London was the Great Western, and its financial success led the way to the palaces that now adorn our West End thoroughfare.

There is an amusing anecdote re "Mine Host" given in the New Sporting Magazine, and quoted in the Times of March 27, 1835—

"Innkeeper's Ways.

"I will conclude with a story told me the other day, by a Kentish gentleman, of an innkeeper's 'ways' on the Dover Road. Two gentlemen having dined and stayed all night, called for the bill in the morning, and one of them happened to be within earshot when the waiter went to the landlord to have it made out, and overheard the following colloquy: Waiter: 'Please, sir, the gemmen in No. 5 wants their bill.'—Landlord: 'Very well' (taking down a printed form), 'let me hear what they had.'—Waiter: 'Soup, sir.'—Landlord: 'Soup; very well; what sort was it?'—Waiter: 'Mock turtle.'—Landlord: 'Mock turtle, 3s. Did they make any remark about it?'—Waiter: 'No, sir; only one of them said it was werry good.'—Landlord: 'Did they eat of it twice?'—Waiter: 'Yes, sir.'—Landlord: 'Oh, then, mock turtle, 5s.; now go on.'—Waiter: 'Fried sole and shrimp sauce.'—Landlord: 'Fried sole, 2s.; shrimp sauce, 1s.; 3s. Did they make any remark about that?'—Waiter: 'One of them said that the fish was werry fresh.—Landlord: 'Indeed! then, fried sole, 3s.; shrimp sauce, 1s. 6d.; 4s. 6d. Now go on.'—Waiter: 'Small leg of Welsh mutton, potatoes, and French beans.'—Landlord: 'Mutton, 5s.; potatoes, 1s.; French beans, 5s.; rather early for French beans, isn't it?'—Waiter: 'Yes, sir; both the gemmen remarked that it was werry early.'—Landlord: 'Oh, then, French beans, 10s.'"

Of the coaching hotels enough has been written from Smollett's time, or before, to date; and, as for their number, any visitor to Barnet can judge, by those that remain, several having been made to serve other purposes. This was the first change out of London, on the great North Road, and even I remember fifteen coaches running each way, and the last one being run off. I think it was either the Luton Coach or the Bedford Times.

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