Coachmen (friends and enemies)—Roadside burial—Old John’s holiday—How the mail was robbed—Another method—A visit from a well-known character—A wild-beast attack—Carrier’s fear of the supernatural—Classical teams—Early practice with the pickaxe—Catechism capsized.

In the time when the only method of telegraphing was through the arms and legs of a wooden semaphore, and the only means of public locomotion the public highroad, competition for public favour carried opposition to the highest pitch, and the pace acquired by some of the fast coaches was extraordinary. When ten or fifteen minutes could be scored over the arrival of the opposition—if the “Telegraph” could get in four or five minutes before the “Eclipse”—it was a subject of anxious comment until this state of things was reversed. Notwithstanding this, no class of men lived on better terms with each other than stage-coachmen off the bench. They were a class of men peculiar to themselves. The very fact of the trust reposed in them invested them with a superiority. Many coachmen in those days were educated men and had occupied higher positions in life; but in cases where the taste existed, and the talent could be acquired, although the work was extremely hard—exposure to every change of weather, the unflagging strain upon the attention, the grave responsibility incurred by the charge of so many lives—there was something so fascinating in the work, that there were few instances of their relinquishing the ribbons except from physical incapacity. This love of the business followed them through life—and even after death—as exemplified by the following anecdote.

An old coachman, who had driven the Norwich mail for thirty years of his life, became at last superannuated, and retired to his native village and repose. But to the last day of his life he prepared himself at the accustomed hour to take his usual seat, being at great pains to adjust his shawl and pull on his driving-gloves, then, taking his coat upon his arm and his whip in his hand, he would shuffle down the little gravel path to the garden-gate, to await the passing of the mail. He died at the good old age of eighty-six years; but not before he had expressed his desire to be buried at the corner of the churchyard abutting upon the highroad, in order that “he might hear the coach go by.”

Another instance of the fascination of coach-driving is to be found in the case of “Old John,” who drove a pair-horse coach from Exeter to Teignmouth and back daily, a distance of forty miles, for a period of eighteen years, without missing a single day. At last, being half-teazed, half-joked by his fellow-whips into taking a holiday, he reluctantly consented to do so. Being much at a loss how to spend “a happy day,” and enjoy his leisure to the full, he at length decided upon going to the coach-office and booking himself as a passenger on the opposition coach to Teignmouth and back. “Old John” (as he was called) never drove with lamps but once, and then he upset his coach. He always buckled his reins to the iron rail of the box before starting.

The guards of the old mails were always provided with spare gear in case of accidents, as well as a tool-chest; and—though last not least—an armoury consisting of one bell-mouthed blunderbuss—a formidable weapon, which, for an all-round shot would have been as effective as a mitrailleuse, both amongst friends and enemies—two large horse-pistols (ammunition to match), and a short dirky-looking sword.

There were many instances of the mails being robbed and plundered upon the road; but the success was more attributable to intrigue and stratagem than to personal daring and courage.

The plan was this. An impediment is placed in the road by lacing cords across the track. The mail comes to a stop; the horses are in confusion; the guard steps down to render assistance, when one of the highwaymen immediately jumps up and secures the arms, and probably the bags, which were carried under the feet of the guard. Any attempt at resistance on the part of the guard is met by threats with his own arms. The coachman being rendered powerless by the traces having been cut, in many instances (the day having been carefully selected as one of those on which the bankers’ parcel travelled) mail and cargo fell a rich and easy prey to the robbers.

Apart from the mails being selected by highwaymen as victims of plunder, they were frequently used as co-operative vehicles in their iniquitous traffic.

On one occasion when the way-bill of the Dover mail bore the name of Miss ——, two inside places had been booked three weeks in advance. At the hour of leaving the coach-office, two trunks covered and sewn up in the whitest linen, two dressing-cases, two carpet-bags, besides the smaller articles, baskets, reticules, wrappers, etc., had been duly stowed in the inside. Presently the growl of a King Charles, thrusting his head out of a muff, proclaimed the advent of another occupant of the two vacant seats. A gentlemanly-looking man, with fine open features, and what was at once written down by the old ladies as a charitable expression, much wrapped up with shawls, etc., round his neck, stepped into the mail.

He caressed, admired, and noticed Bess. He helped to adjust shawls, and placed the windows entirely at the disposal of the ladies, though he looked as though he might be suffocated at any moment.

The conversation was animated; the stranger entering freely into all the views and opinions of his fellow-travellers—politics, agriculture, history—endorsing every opinion which they might express. Both inwardly pronounced him a most charming companion, and blessed the stars which had introduced them to such society.

“You reside in the neighbourhood of Charlton, madam?”

“Yes; we have a lovely villa on the edge of Blackheath.”

“Blackheath! that is a favourite neighbourhood of mine. In fact I am going to Woolwich to join my regiment this evening, and I intend to get out at Blackheath to enjoy an evening stroll over the Heath.”

“Are you not afraid of being molested at night over Blackheath? Isn’t it very lonesome?”

“Sometimes it is lonesome, but I often meet very useful agreeable people in rambling over the Heath.”

Arrived at Blackheath, the two ladies descended, and, feeling that they had established a sufficient acquaintance with the polite gentleman who had been their fellow-traveller, they invited him to partake of a cup of tea at their residence before proceeding on his journey, which invitation he gratefully accepted.

As the evening wore on, a rubber of whist was proposed, the gentleman taking “dummy.”

After a short lapse of time, looking at his watch as by a sudden impulse, he observed that it was growing late, and he was afraid he was keeping them up.

“I shall now take my leave, deeply impressed by your kind hospitality; but before I make my bow I must trouble you for your watches, chains, money, and any small articles of jewellery which you may have in the house.”

The ladies looked aghast, hardly able to realise the situation. Their guest however remained inflexible, and having, with his own dexterous hands, cleared the tables of all articles sufficiently portable, was proceeding to ascend the stairs, when one of the ladies uttered a piercing scream. On this, he sternly assured them that silence was their only safety, whilst giving any alarm would be attended by instant death. Then, having possessed himself of all the money and valuables he could command, he left the house, telling the ladies with a smile, that they had conferred a most delightful and profitable evening on Mr. Richard Turpin.

There are instances on record of attacks of other descriptions upon the royal mails. History records the strange adventure of the Salisbury mail, on its journey from London to Exeter in the year ——. Whilst passing the neighbourhood of Winterslow Hut, on Salisbury Plain, the coachman’s attention was attracted to what he at first thought was a huge calf cantering alongside of his leaders. The team at once became very fretful, and evinced such fear that the driver had some difficulty in keeping them in the road. Suddenly the creature he had mistaken for a calf made a lightning spring on to the back of one of the leaders, and swinging round so as to catch it by the throat, clung like a leech to the paralysed and terrified animal. The guard displayed great presence of mind, and taking his firearms with him, ran forward and delivered a coup de grÂce to the attacking monster, which proved to be a lioness escaped from a travelling menagerie. This was her second exploit of the kind. She had previously pounced upon a horse drawing a carrier’s cart, and killed, but not mutilated, the animal, the driver being far too much bewildered and alarmed to dream of resistance.

“A team well put together is half driven,” was an old and true adage, and of more certain application than many of the same character, as for example: “A bird well marked is half bagged.” Not a bit of it. The bird is awake, and, expecting to be flushed again, gets up much sooner than he is expected and flies awkwardly. “A bottle of physic well shaken is half taken.” I trust my readers have discovered this way of diminishing the dose.

In illustration of the first adage, I may mention that I had an innate love for driving, dating from so early a period as my keeping in my desk at school a well-matched team of cockchafers, until, finding them too slow for my work, I established in their place a very fashionable team of white mice, all bred on the premises. These when harnessed to a “Gradus” as a break were very safe and steady. With a Greek grammar or “Delectus” they could fly.

I inherited the love of driving from my father, who was a very good coachman; and in early days would frequently hang on a single leader to his carriage, making a “pickaxe” team, merely for the sake of initiating me in the manipulation of four reins. The promotion from donkies to ponies rather interrupted my practice; as, though we could always borrow mokes to make up a four-in-hand, it was not so easy to do so with ponies.

A real stage-coach passed our gates twice each day; and for the convenience of the contractor who horsed it, a stable was built upon my father’s premises. The incentive given to me by the desire to get my dismissal from my tutor in time to see the coach change horses conduced more to my classical acquirements than any other circumstance.

The regularity of coach work is one of its greatest merits, and operates more upon the well-conditioning of the men, horses, and all concerned, than is usually supposed.

It is a pretty sight to see a team of coach horses at a roadside change prepared and turned round, each one listening anxiously for the horn which proclaims the arrival of the coach, and the commencement for them of a ten-mile stage, which may have to be done perhaps in fifty-two minutes, with a heavy load, woolly roads, and the wind behind.

This does not sound like attraction to create much pleasurable impatience; but such is the fascination of coaching work that all horses, except, of course, those underbred vulgar screws which can take delight in nothing, whatever their antecedents may have been, become so moulded into their work and places (for this is a most important feature in my text) that it perfects them for the work expected of them in every particular. Bad tempers are subdued and become amiable; bad feeders become after a time so ravenous as to be able to entertain a “duck in their mess;” nervous fretful horses become bold and settled. Old Crab, who persistently refused to drink out of a bucket when he came here, or even to allow a stable bucket to be brought near him, has overcome all his scruples, and, to use the horsekeeper’s own words: “He wun’t wait for his turn, but when the bucket is ’ung on to the nose of the pump he’ll go and stick his old nose in it, and begin to neigh and ’oller like anything.”

A coach horse, although he has apparently few opportunities of employing his intelligence to his own advantage, whose life is spent in the stable, except when taken to the forge, or to the horsepond, will evince to his employers, in spite of this monotony, some habits and tastes which, if he is indulged in them, will nearly double his value. For instance, every coach horse has a favourite place in a team, and will go well and do well in that place; and by careful watching it will soon become evident to the coachman and to the horsekeeper which is the place selected by his taste.

Regard to this is most important. The same animal which becomes a “lawyer,” because “he won’t do no more than we pay him for,” and is often forgotten at the near-side wheel, and is always coming back to you if put on the off-side, or, better still, before the bars, will be straight, steady, and cheerful in his work, with a mouth you might control with a thread.

This is when you have found out the place with which he is pleased and satisfied. Try him on the opposite side, and you will find him laying his whole weight upon the pole, his partner on your fingers.

“Everything in its place and a place for everything” was a maxim constantly preached by the head-master of a certain public school, founded by one Sutton; and the proof of his theory was put to the test by a strange fancy he had taken. He was watching the evolutions of a small Carthusian army, under the command of a colour-sergeant of the Scots Guards, and observed that his first word of command was to “fall in” and “size.” This was quickly done, and the effect so much tickled the doctor, that, on the following Sunday morning, when his catechism class was arranged before him, he thought it would be well to impress a little of the military element into the arrangement of the boys; so he requested the young gentlemen to take their places according to their sizes. Of course they were very obtuse, and could not for the life of them understand his order. Even when he placed them with his own hands, there was a deal of shuffling and confusion to get back to their old places. The doctor, however, had his way, and M or N, who was a short, thick, rosy-cheeked boy, was supplanted by a tall, overgrown, sickly-looking youth of double his stature, and so on according to height, the lowest being in the centre. No. 2 agreed to his “godfather” and “godmother” having given the name of M or N to No. 1; but he could not tell why No. 3, when asked what his sponsors then did for him, preserved an obstinate silence, and, when much pressed, said they were both dead! In fact, arranged as the class then was, if the doctor had asked the questions in High Dutch and expected the answers in Hebrew, he would have got as much information; whereas, if they had kept their own places there would not have been a word in the answers omitted.