W
Whendriving the coaches in the olden time, it frequently happened that I remained for the night at the stage from which I should take the coach back on the following day. On one of these occasions I accidentally spent the evening in the commercial-room at ——. I say “accidentally,” because in all provincial hotels the bagman’s room is considered sacred to commercial travellers, and I have been informed by landlords that any intrusion upon them would prove dangerous to the house’s popularity. Ihad dined early, and, unaware of the trespass, happened to look into a long, dreary, deserted room, with “Coffee-room” written upon the door; a stale number of “The Illustrated News” and a well-thumbed Post Office Directory upon the table; a very bad fire, and altogether the air of a methodist meeting-house on a weekday. I turned to another room, in which were three or four gentlemen, who appeared to be surrounded by every comfort; coats, hats, wrappers, hung in clusters against the wall, and a cheerful fire.
A stout round-faced man, much marked by smallpox, dressed in a suit of tweed dittos, with an elaborate pin in his necktie resembling the dial of a good-sized watch, appeared to be the senior officer or “boss” of the party, as much in manner and bearing as he was in size. Addressing a small-featured, light-haired, thin young man, dressed in black-silk waistcoat, he said in a stentorian voice: “Have you done floating here, Mr. Ruffins?”
“No, Mr. Staines; I’ve not done yet. I’ve quoted twice. My people won’t let me sink.”
A third party, an older man, attired in gray, with hair to match, was busily engaged at one end of the room packing a quantity of small cases into a larger one, and continuing to hold converse with himself by means of the monosyllable “yes,” differently intonated, at intervals of half-a-minute, “y-e-s—y-e-s.”
Having finished his packing, he advanced slowly towards me, and, scanning me from head to foot, resumed his affirmative expression, but at longer intervals.
“Been round this way before—y-e-s? Bulk or samples—yes?”
In answer to his first question I informed him that I was no stranger to the place, to which he replied: “Yes.”
Desks were now locked and stowed away. The table having been cleared, the stout man advanced, stirred the fire, and rang the bell.
“Give your orders, gents. I am going to stand glasses round, for a slice of luck I’ve experienced to-day.Icall it luck, though it was no more than common honesty. But I was lucky in meeting an honest man instead of a rogue. When I was on this circuit six months ago I was settling a small account with one of my clients, taking a receipt for the amount, four pounds seventeen shillings. I inadvertently handed him a cheque for seventeen pounds, saying to the clerk to whom I paid it: ‘You may keep the balance.’ The other cheque having been paid in in due course, I was quite ignorant of the error I had made; until, on meeting the party to whom I paid it, in the street this morning, although now thrown out of employ, he handed me twelve pounds three shillings, the balance of my cheque,which I thought had been drawn for five pounds.”
“One bottom of brandy and two whiskies, with hot water.”
“Draw round to the fire, sir,” he continued. “Though we have not met before we may often meet again. We travellers do run against each other in strange ways.” (Here the gray old man groaned out another “Y-e-s.”) “The commercial interest of this great country is entirely in our hands, and if we don’t take care of ourselves it is our own fault.”
The smoking tumblers having been supplied, and the party seated round the fire, the conversation became gradually more brisk, chiefly led by the man in gray, whose opinion on all points seemed absolute.
I was a tacit listener, understanding very little of that part of the conversation which related to business, viz.: “Quoting 7-18ths at 223 andsliding 347 and 19 net;” but at length anecdotes and experience took the place of business, and proved intensely amusing.
I should have enjoyed the occasion if I could have divested myself of the idea that, as regards my vocation, I was an impostor, with no right to be there.
It was evident that the gray man of the “yes” had his suspicions as to my not being a member of the craft.
Many glances he directed at me, each accompanied by a muttered “yes.” All doubts upon the subject were at length dispelled by a question from the little man in the black-silk waistcoat, Mr. Ruffins, who abruptly inquired:
“What is your route from here? Who are your clients?”
“I am not here,” I replied, “on any particular business, and, to own the truth, gentlemen, I doubt if I have any in this room.”
“Excuse me, sir, did I not see you on the coach this morning?”
“I came by the coach, and shall return with it to-morrow.”
“Then we shall be fellow-travellers. I leave my trap here, and return to —— by the coach.”
The gray man now commenced an anecdote, which I shall give in his own words.
THE COMMERCIAL ROOM? YES.
“It was in the winter of 1855. I was on the northern circuit, in the midst of a terrific snowfall which buried everything.
”At dusk one evening the wind rose and caused the snow to drift in heaps so quickly that I lost the road. My horse became frightened, and I could scarcely induce him to proceed. I did, however, force him on till I came to a small roadside inn, at which the mail changed.
“Here I determined to leave my horse and trap and proceed by the coach. It was a fearfulnight, snow falling thickly, icy cold, and the roads almost impassable. The mail was three hours late, and when it did arrive there was question of the advisability of proceeding farther. I found at the inn a traveller who was storm-staid, and, whilst waiting in the bar-parlour for the arrival of the mail, displayed the most marked impatience, constantly breaking out into ejaculations.
”‘Oh dear, oh dear! what a disappointment! But if I can’t get there I can’t. Never was late before—such a lot of people too.’
“I tried in vain to reconcile him to the delay. He could do nothing but lament the accident which seemed likely to prevent his keeping his appointment at Durham on the following day.
”As we became more intimate I condoled with him, hinting that such anxiety led me to fear that it was a matter of life and death.
“‘Itisa matter of life and death,’ he exclaimed. ‘If I can’t get there in time, I shall be ready to hang myself.’
“Time wore on. The mail at length drew up, making that peculiar squeaking noise through the deep snow which indicates the heaviest draught for the horses, which were sobbing and sweating, the wet pouring in streams from their sides; the delay having been caused by the coach having got into a drift, from which it had been with difficulty extricated by a plough-team.
”The change being effected, we took our places inside, and, travelling under great difficulty, we jogged on; the guard occasionally getting down to feel for the road with a stick.
“I sympathised with my fellow-traveller, and encouraged him by expressing my conviction that we should arrive at Durham at fourA.M., instead of the usual hour, elevenP.M.; but it proved difficult to reconcile him even to this delay.
”Thus we passed hour after hour; the wheels of the mail groaning and squeaking through the drifted snow, and the horses frequently brought to a walk. By dint of perseverance, however, and the pluck of the coachman, we did arrive at Durham at half-past fourA.M., five hours late. When we alighted at the Crown I was surprised to find that my fellow-traveller appeared to excite in the night-porter a sneer of disgust. Turning his whole attention tomyluggage, he allowed the man to snatch up his own valise and depart.
“‘Nice company you’ve got into,’ growled boots.
“‘Doesn’t he stop here?’ I asked.
“‘Thank you, we don’t accommodate gentlemen ofhisprofession. They make room for him when they want him at the county gaol.’
“‘Who and what is he?’
“‘Why, don’t you know him? That’s the hangman; and he brings that there trunk with himto take away his perquisites, which is the wearing apparel of the poor wretch he’s a-going to swing off at eight o’clock this morning; and the mail being so late, he has only just saved his bacon this journey.’”
Having finished his tale, the gray man looked hard at me, and again uttered his favourite “Y-e-s,” which this time I was half inclined to interpret into a warning to his friend that, whilst encouraging outsiders in the bagman’s room, they might be entertaining an executioner unawares.
Travelling by public conveyances naturally leads to strange rencounters. It has often happened that wealth has been acquired, lost friends restored, estates bought and sold, etc., entirely through accidental meetings on the road. Men without heirs have been known in many instances to adopt a fellow-traveller, either from the fact of finding a person possessing the same name, orfrom some trifling civility or sacrifice being made in their favour by a stranger during a long and perhaps irksome journey.
There is no doubt people became acquainted, as a general rule, and shook off the rigid forms of etiquette—so essentially English—much more readily during the days of the coach travelling than now; but on the other hand, one may escape more quickly from objectionable fellow-travellers, from whom in the coaching days there was no escape till the end of the journey.
This inconvenience was more felt on the Continent than in England, where the passengers were divided into three lots, or compartments—front, back, and inside; whereas the interior of the diligence, carrying ten persons, contained barely room for each person to sit upright.
I was once returning from Madrid to Paris, after having accomplished a riding tour throughSpain, visiting most of the principal towns. On quitting Madrid I rode to Bayonne, where, my horse having a bad sore back, I left him, and proceeded by diligence.
Some consternation was caused on our arrival at the hotel at Bayonne by the mispronunciation of one of my travelling companions.
We had lived very sparely during our riding tour, oil and garlic predominating to such a degree in all the second-class “fondas” in Spain, as to prevent an English palate taking food, except he cooked it himself. As we were a party of three, this difficulty was easily got over by our taking it in turns to make the omelettes, or spatchcock a fowl at our different halting-places. This sort of diet had naturally sharpened our appetites, and even the “sniff” of a real French dinner made us ravenous. Influenced by this feeling, Colonel C——ll, addressing our hostess of The Hôtelde France, exclaimed: “Avez-vous assez, madame, parce-que j’ai beaucoup de femmes?”
The poor woman looked thunderstruck.
“Mais, monsieur, vous m’avez rien dit de ça! Où sont-elles donc ces dames?”
I need not say that her notion that the colonel was a Turkish pasha, travelling with his harem, was soon dispelled when we took our places at the table-d’hôteen garçon.
Draught horses—The old “fly-waggon”—Weight and pace—Sagacity of mules—Hanging on by a wheel—The Refuge—Hot fighting in the Alps—Suffocation—Over at last—Railway to Paris.
T
Theselection of horses for draught purposes should be made with a view to the pace at which they are expected to work. You may get a perfect model for harness and draught, but if he is not cut according to the pattern which is required for fast work, half his energy and good intention will be exhausted in trying to do that for which he is physically unfit. He is prevented from throwing his weight and strength into his work,because it takes him all his time to keep his place.
THE OLD FLY WAGGON.
In the old days of “fly-waggons,”[8]the only means of transit for heavy goods, except by canal, the cart horse was an animal now almost extinct. He was never expected to move beyond a walk, but this walk was almost perpetual motion. He took all his food, and I may say his rest, while strolling along by day and night in the waggon. The halting-places were few and far between, and were made more for the accommodation of the few passengers who were carried in the “crate”[9]than for the convenience of the horses. In those days the brewers and millers emulated each other in the size and condition of their horses; one constantly met in the streets ofLondon a mountain of a horse, seventeen and a half hands high, loaded with flesh, legs like an elephant, drawing one small nine-gallon cask (perhaps empty) upon a truck.Mais tout cela est changé.
All waggons are now vans, cart horses machiners, and must trot at least six miles an hour. We now take for our model the Clydesdale and the Suffolk in preference to the Flemish and the Yorkshire. Even in agricultural work the style of horses and the rate of ploughing is widely different from that of half a century ago. In this particular the afternoon of the worn-out coach horse or hunter is rendered less irksome to him than formerly, as he can more readily accommodate himself to a good fair walk than to be always snatching at the chains only to find he must come back to his partners.
Weight in a horse is a great element in hiscomposition for purposes of heavy draught; but it should be taken into consideration that he has to carry that weight in addition to the work which is expected from him; and for every ounce by which he is assisted in weight, his strain in draught is increased three pounds, and so on proportionately.
Treating the subject of draught, there is no more practical illustration of the way in which the subject is understood by the animals themselves than is afforded by the long string of mules which are attached to carriages, both private and public, in crossing the Alps. The mode of putting them together is by having two at the wheel, with a continuous long string in single file before them, often as many as seventeen or twenty. The intelligence shown by these animals in threading the side of a mountain by a zigzag road is remarkable. Each mule, as he arrives at the angle, ceases to pull, apparentlyknowing that having turned out of the straight line the weight of his draught would be rather an impediment to progress.
I write feelingly upon the instinct of the Italian mules, having been once indebted to their sagacity and obedience for my escape from what might have been a very serious accident.
I was travelling from Turin to Paris. The journey over Mont Cenis was then only to be performed by Fell’s railway, or by the road, by diligence or private carriage. I took the latter, making a contract for the posting, and not binding themaître de posteto any limited number of mules for the ascent. It was in the month of December, and at the time I left Susa, at fiveP.M., the snow was falling so thickly that by the time I had completed half the ascent, the road or track was completely obliterated. It was a beautiful moonlight night. I was lost in admiration of the manner in which the ninemules, attached to a light travelling carriage, wended their way over the trackless snow.
The stupendous mountains, clothed in all the sombre grandeur of their winter attire, surged up before me, peeping, as it were, into the deep chasms beneath, on the very verge of which the mules moved cautiously along.
It was wonderful to watch, where the road twisted and turned almost at right angles, the careful manner in which each animal in turn dropped out of his work till they were again in the straight running.
Notwithstanding the beauty of the scenery and the interest with which I watched the long string of mules, which appeared at times to be actually balancing themselves upon the narrow ledges, I was not without anxiety, partly, perhaps, on account of a friend to whom I had given a seat in my carriage. He had recently broken his leg at Turin, and wastaking the earliest opportunity of a safe escort to London.
The driver had no more direct control over the mules than could be conveyed by his voice, though I must do him the justice to say that when he did open his mouth he did so to some purpose.
His mules, however, did not often require reproof, and a short grunt, with the name Garibaldi or Emanuel, sufficed to make them spring forward as if they were ashamed of being named before strangers.
The driver himself frequently makes short cuts across the angles of the road as he plods through the snow, leaving the mules to thread their way entirely according to their own judgment.
It was on one of these occasions, when the driver loitering out of sight, perhaps to cut his tobacco, was absent somewhat longer thanusual, that the mules appeared to be feeling their way with more than ordinary caution, while the uneasy motion of the carriage indicated that we were not travelling upon a plain surface. Almost instinctively, I ejaculated at the top of my voice, imitating as near as I could the driver’s intonation: “Wo-a-a-h!” Every mule stopped dead short. If they had not done so, or moved on one single inch, this incident would never have been recorded by me!
Opening the door of the carriage I beheld a frightful precipice, over which we were literally hanging; while, turning round in order to step out with greater caution, I found that the weight of my body perforated the lightly-packed snow, and that I could not feel the ground beneath it. Had it not been for the firm grip I had of the wing of the carriage, I must inevitably have been precipitated intothe abyss of snow-covered boulders many hundred feet deep below.
When I had recovered my footing by clinging to the wheels of the carriage, I found that there was not more than an inch of ground between us and eternity. Thus, but for the admirable patience and obedience of the mules, we must in another instant have been launched bodily down the precipice.
We looked round in vain for the driver, and it was not till I had succeeded in pulling out my lame companion, and seating him in the snow, that I saw the fellow come strolling up the hill in a cloud of tobacco smoke, singing at the top of his voice one of the patois refrains.
To punch his head was my first impulse; but this was soon dispelled by the duties imposed on me at this moment of peril.
OVER MOUNT CENIS IN A MULE CARRIAGE.
First, if the mules moved an inch thecarriage, with baggage, etc., must have lost its balance and gone down.
Second, the attention required by my poor friend, who, unable to stand in consequence of his accident, sat by the roadside in the snow, praying me to seek for his crutches.
Third, the doubt if it would be wise to unhitch the mules from the carriage, a dangerous experiment, as I verily believe the weight of the carriage was sustained in a great measure by the traces of the wheelers.
There are upon Mont Cenis houses of Refuge, at intervals of about an English mile, occupied by people employed by the Government, to render assistance and shelter to travellers who may be overtaken by snowstorms. Countless lives have been rescued by means of the appliances which these afford. They are conducted upon something the same principle as our Humane Society. During the winter season when the snow drifts, it is nouncommon thing for travellers to be snow-staid in these Refuges for eight or ten days.
On the occasion of which I write the snow continued to fall thickly, and, there being wind enough to cause a drift, I was anxious to get my sick friend into one of these houses with as little delay as possible.
Now came the difficulty. To get the carriage back on to the road without letting it slip over the ridge required skilful engineering. The mules at the wheels hung on with exemplary perseverance. Had they relaxed in the slightest degree the carriage must have taken them, and probably some more of the string, down the frightful precipice.
The intelligent animals appeared to understand the situation as well as we, and scarcely needed the driver’s ceaseless cautious “W-o-a-a-h! w-o-a-a-h!”
I decided first upon lightening the carriage,by removal of the heavier luggage. This I did with the double view of relieving the mules from the strain they were maintaining, and of rescuing some at least of our worldly goods from impending danger. Whilst thus engaged the snow continued to fall in such blinding clouds as to darken the air; and the wind drifted it, and hurried it about, half burying every article of baggage as we detached it in turn from the carriage.
My next object was to rescue the carriage from its imminent peril, as being the only means of getting my lame friend to the Refuge, a quarter of a mile distant.
I therefore detached the string of mules from those at the wheel—the latter holding on like grim death to the carriage during the necessary delay—then, taking three from the string of single mules (there was no room for more on the road), I fastened their rope-traces round the body of the carriage, when, all being ready, a few gruntsfrom the driver made them spring across the track and land the carriage on its side in the road. The two mules who had held on so resolutely came over also, and, from the draught becoming irregular, some confusion occurred; chiefly owing to the stupidity of the driver, who uttered in the same breath “Wo-a-a-h!” and “U-u-u-p!” one being the word to stop, the other to proceed. All this occurred in the midst of heavy blinding clouds of snow, covering every article which impeded its course.
Having arrested the carriage in its downward course, the next thing was to get it on its perpendicular; and this we accomplished with the assistance of the same three mules which had capsized it. Right glad was I to replace my poor friend in his seat. He had been suffering agony from cold whilst sitting in the snow, incapable, through his accident, to render me the least assistance. Finally, I collected such of ourtraps as could be recovered from the snow, and, having hitched on the string anew, proceeded cautiously to the Refuge.
This being the first heavy fall of snow of the winter, our arrival was rather a surprise, and found the inhabitants somewhat unprepared. It was the work, however, but of a few minutes to kindle an enormous wood fire, in front of which we soon became dry and warm.
The inmates of the Refuge, who were of the peasant class, overwhelmed us with simple attentions. The supply of provisions was small and presented no great variety, comprising chiefly black bread, macaroni, dry beans, and hard sausages, with a little oil.
The first night spent at the Refuge was amusing from its novelty, and as we all slept in the same apartment with the Piedmontesefamily, we had to make ourselves at home as best we could. One of the daughters, a girl of sixteen, had served a campaign in London with a tambourine as an accompaniment to her own voice and her brother’s barrel-organ. The boy was about twelve, with very black eyes and a long Italian chin. When addressed, his countenance relaxed into a beseeching smile, showing a set of the whitest teeth, thrusting forward his half-open palm, and jerking his long forelock with the other hand, he whimpered out: “Carità, signori, si vi piaci. Signori, pauvre geen-peeg.” He had carried a guinea-pig on the top of his organ when in England, but all their property had been confiscated for arrears of rent, and they were sent home as paupers by the Italian consul.
What was our horror when on the following morning we looked out upon mountains of snow,without the slightest indication of any track. Our prospect of being able to proceed was doubtful enough. Both our host and the muleteer returned from reconnoitring with hopeless faces. Snow had been falling all night, and, until a track had been cleared, the road was quite impassable even for mules without a vehicle, and we were unfortunately so near the summit as to be beyond communication with either base. There was nothing for it but to remain where we were, and to be thankful for our escape.
The prospect of passing another night in these wretched quarters was not exhilarating; but my lame friend was so unequal to any exertion, that I did not dare (in opposition to the opinions of the driver and the padrone) to make any attempt to proceed. Moreover, we were getting more accustomed to the smell of oil and garlic, with which the whole atmosphere of the Refuge wasimpregnated. The surprise and confusion consequent upon our arrival had worn off; and we had fallen into our places more as members of the family than strangers.
As the second evening advanced, I took my last look of the snowy world, and found it dismal in the extreme. The sheds and yard in which the mules were picketed were barricaded against attack from the wolves which infest these Alpine ridges, two lamps being hung at either entrance as the best safeguard against these ferocious marauders, who become so bold during the winter months, as to carry away goats and sheep from beneath the very roofs of inhabited dwellings.
I now turned my attention to the prospects for the night; and having arranged a comfortable shake-down with the cushions of the carriage, I stretched myself on a bench; where our late exposure to the cold, added to the anxiety of the circumstances, aided and encouraged by the heatof a superb fire composed of roots and peat, lulled me into a profound sleep.
During this state of unconsciousness I travelled over miles of snow, the surface being sufficiently hard to carry my horses and sleigh without perforating it. I saw myriads of wolves and bears, which grinned and snarled at me as I passed, but did not interrupt my progress; on the contrary, they encouraged me by their gestures to proceed, always pointing onwards. It would have been well for me if I had disregarded their direction, as I flew on, urging my horses to a gallop, always ascending the hill, though I did not appear to get any higher; at length I turned upon the trackless height, out of consideration for my horses; and was about to descend into a ravine, when I found myself surrounded by hundreds of savages engaged in hot warfare. I was in the thick of the fight.
No firearms, no smoke; but a great deal of yelling and screaming.
I was surrounded by both sides; and though my appearance upon the field caused a momentary truce, hostilities were soon resumed, and I was struck in the chest by an arrow—which, being barbed, could not be extricated. I made great efforts to protect my lame friend from being trampled upon in themêlée. No more violence was offered, and I hoped, from the more subdued tones of the contending warriors, that negotiations for a peaceful solution of the strife—whatever it might be—were taking the place of the fight.
I tried to persuade myself that I had been dreaming, and that the barbed arrow in my breast was the effect of the hard savoyard upon which I had supped; but there was the reality. There was my poor friend imploring me to keep them off his broken limb. There were the savages, yelling and disputing in unknown languages, covered by their shields, and encased in armourwhich looked like straw bands bound round their legs to the knee.
The reader will have guessed the solution; and he is right. The savoyard and black bread upon which I supped, succeeded by the heavy sleep which was induced by the roaring fire, occasioned the dream which supplies the story. Late in the night the Refuge was invaded by a crowd of Piedmontese peasants, who are engaged to cut passes in the snow to enable the traffic to be carried on. These gangs are hired without reference to character or conduct; consequently, when the first deep snow of the winter occurs, it brings together many opposite feuds and factions, who take this opportunity of settling, either by stiletto or by words and wrangling, all existing differences.
Finding the snow not sufficiently settled to proceed with their operations, they had sought the nearest refuge to their work to await thelulling of the storm, their huge wooden shovels slung across their shoulders, and the straw bands round their legs doing duty for the shields and armour of the contending savages.
The remainder of the night was passed in a dense cloud of the smoke of bad tobacco, mingled with the vapours arising from our damp visitors.
I could not in common humanity leave my disabled comrade to the rough treatment of this army of road-cleaners, or I should have much preferred the outside elements, with all their severity, to the offensive atmosphere of the Refuge.
The dawn of day, however, brought with it a slight change in the direction of the wind, which had very much abated in its violence, and this enabled the men of the wooden shovels to clear out and continue their work. It was not till late on the following morning that the track hadbeen sufficiently worked out for us to proceed. We then attached our mules to a sleigh and crawled to the summit, where we left our long team and proceeded, with one pair of horses, to descend the mountain.
When the snow has fallen in sufficient quantities to cover the road, carriages on wheels are abandoned, and the traffic is carried on by means of sleighs.
The descent is performed in a marvellously short time, the horses being very clever, and the driver having sufficient nerve to let them use their own discretion as to pace.
The railway terminus at St. Jean de Maurienne affording a good buffet, we were right glad of an opportunity of refreshing our exhausted systems with some civilised food, and, having done so, took the train to Paris.
Right as the mail—Proprietors and contractors—Guards and coachmen—A cold foot-bath—A lawyer nonsuited—Old Mac—The Spectre squire—An unsolved mystery.
“R
“Rightas the mail,” is an expression which even now conveys an impression of perfection; and what indeed could have been more thoroughly adapted to the work for which it was designed than the old English mail? There was an air of solidity and importance about the royal mail to which everything gave way. The origin of the term “Right as the Mail,” arose more from the fact that the guards (Government servants) were supplied with chronometers which were compared daily at theGeneral Post Office, and consequently dictated the correct time to all the clocks and watches down the road.
As some of my younger readers may not have seen a stage-coach, it may be well to describe one. The weight was about one ton. It was painted red, having a royal coat-of-arms on the panel of the door. It was constructed to carry four inside and four out, having a bag or basket for luggage, the roof being reserved for heavy mail-bags. A round seat behind, covered with a skin, was for the guard, pockets for pistols being placed on either side.
Contracts for horsing the mails did not often change hands, though tenders were formally invited every year.
Nelson, Shearman, and Chaplin were amongst the largest contractors. The latter had at one time one thousand seven hundred horses employed in coaching. A story is told of himwhich proves that, whilst he was a kind and considerate master, he always kept his weather eye open. He used to dine with his coachmen once every year, when one of his toasts was “Success to shouldering!”[10]adding: “But let me catchyouat it!”
One great source of profit to a mail was the oil which was allowed by the General Post Office. A mail was always expected to have its lamps lighted after sunset, moonlight or not, consequently the amount of oil “shouldered,” or charged for, though not used, was considerable.
THE ROYAL MAIL.
It was a beautiful sight to see the mails on the King’s birthday assembled at the General Post Office—the men all dressed in new liveries, and in most cases with new harness; the horsesdecorated with bouquets of flowers—making a promenade through the principal streets in the west of London.
This parade did not in any way interfere with the regular work, and nearly all the night mails assembled at the General Post Office at eight o’clock to receive their bags. Some of the Western and Southern mails were met by a mail-cart with their bags at their own booking offices in the West-end. The fastest mail out of London was the “Devonport,” commonly called the “Quicksilver;” and who that ever saw can forget it, with its four chestnuts, driven by Charles Ward, leaving the White Horse Cellars at half-past eight!
How it rattled through Piccadilly! passing all the other mails, eight in number, and arriving first at Hounslow, where they all changed horses.
Ward drove on to Bagshot, returning withthe up-mail about threeA.M.; sixty miles a-night, and this for seven years.
Another coachman, Bill Harbridge, to whom I have already referred in these pages, drove the “Manchester” mail for two years out of London, performing one hundred miles a-night; fifty miles down and fifty miles up. I have his own authority for saying that he used to take as much as fourteen pounds to sixteen pounds a-week in fees, the Manchester merchants used to pay so well. The General Post Office also allowed him two guineas a-week. He was another instance of the total want of prudence, unfortunately so common to his class, and died in the workhouse.
Although coachmen and guards, when coaching was in its zenith, were in receipt of comfortable incomes, it is very rare that an instance is found of their having provided for a rainy day, and still more rare to find any instanceof their having taken service in any railway establishment.
Many of the coaches, when there was not too much opposition, would earn from five pounds to six pounds a-mile per month. If corn and beans were not unusually high, three pounds a mile was said to pay.
The profits of a coach were divided monthly, and all outgoings disbursed—the mails having considerable advantage from their having neither duty nor gates to pay. One of the largest sources of revenue was derived from the booking of parcels, each article being charged twopence. Articles of value were registered, and paid according to the amount insured.
Some years ago I was driving a fast coach in the north of England, when a singular surprise occurred to me.
It was sometimes the custom to give the mailteams a rest, by letting them run over a longer stage, where they were not expected to go so fast as the mail was timed. This change had been made, on the occasion of which I write, from Barnby Moor.
We rattled along over the eight miles of ground allotted to the mail stage, and here was their natural stop. No remark had been made to me either by the coachman or by the proprietor (who happened to be upon the coach), and who then cautioned me that the horses would want to run up to the place where the mail pulled up to change. I took precautionary measures accordingly, in order to get them by it. I had succeeded (as I thought) admirably, and, having passed the place, was looking round rather with a view of inviting a compliment from the professional coachman who was sitting behind me, when, all at once, as if shot out of a gun, the whole team bolted out ofthe road, and we found ourselves in the middle of a deep horsepond.
This team was accustomed, when taken out of the mail, to be ridden at once into the pond to be washed. They had run cheerfully past their stable, but the temptation of the horsepond was irresistible, so in they went.
There were two elderly ladies inside the coach, who screamed out loudly for help and a lifeboat.
It was one of those deep roadside ponds, with a white rail round it; plenty of room to get in, but very little room to get out. Here we were planted, water up to the axles, inside full, and the team, in the greatest confusion; although each horse looked satisfied that he had done the right thing, and was in no particular hurry to get out.
After much splashing and pawing we got theleaders off, and, by backing her on the lock, I got the coach safely ashore; not, however, before the old ladies had got a thorough ducking.
I superintended personally the administration of two glasses of hot brandy-and-water to each of the ladies who had been involuntarily subjected to a cold foot-bath.
There was so much opposition, in the days of which I am writing—forty years ago—that coach proprietors were only too anxious to make reparation in the most liberal manner for any little inconvenience to which passengers might be accidentally exposed. In this case the proprietor was present, and would readily have complied with any reasonable wish expressed by the passengers.
Modesty almost forbids me to mention here that, when the coach was ready to start, I was requested by the proprietor to continue to drive; which, to an amateur, and a young amateur, wasno small compliment—evidently showing that our immersion in the horsepond had not been caused by any want of skill or experience on my part.
When opposition was at its height in England, every device was resorted to in order to render one coach more popular than another. Advertising was carried to a very great extent, and squibs were unreservedly circulated in order to lower the prestige of the contending parties. As, for instance, notice was given that a certain coach had reduced its rate for carrying pigs and poultry; no charge would be made for children under twelve, provided they sat upon the knees of their parents, or those of some other passenger; great care was taken that “hospital linen” should be stowedinside.
Although opposition between the coaches was carried to great extremes, it never got to quite sohigh a pitch as amongst the postmasters, amongst whom within the last fifty years the emulation was so rife upon the North Road that the horses of a private carriage would be forcibly taken off and a fresh pair attached at the Red Lion at Barnet, and the next stage to St. Albans (nine miles) performed without charge, in order to prevent the “turn” from going to the White Hart, where the traveller might have partaken of a sandwich and a glass of sherry gratis.
This state of things could not last long, especially as in its next phase it entailed the hiring of a staff of fighting-men to secure the employment of the Red Lion horses.
Matters having arrived at such a pitch as to cause a free fight in the highroad whenever a posting job hove in sight, the local authorities were obliged to interfere, and Messrs. Newman and Bryant, the landlords of the two hotels, were bound over to keep the peace and abide by theregular tariff of one shilling and threepence a mile, and threepence the postboy.
The guard of the mail, apart from his being a certificated newsmonger, was held in great respect by the idlers who collected to see the mail change in every town or village through which he passed. What he said was absolute, there was no time for argument, and the few words which he addressed to the customary group afforded matter for the smoking-room for a whole evening. Many trifling incidents and occurrences, by the time they had passed through a jury of gin-and-water and churchwardens, were distorted into the most terrible and tragic facts.
Every road has its legend, and guards of the coaches make stock-in-trade of the ghosts and supernatural appearances as it suits their opportunity. A tale may be so often repeated that, however sceptical the narrator is at first, hebecomes quite ready to vouch for the whole truth of it on more intimate acquaintance.
Some ghosts are more profitable than others, their feats and appearances being varied in character.
An old mail guard, who had served the Government in that capacity for forty years, and who was in receipt of a pension of eighty pounds per annum, was in the habit of coming to London during the summer season and taking service on one of the “Revival” coaches; he rode behind me for three seasons to Rochester, and two to Brighton, and behind Chandos Pole, upon that road, for many more. His anecdotes were inexhaustible; he recounted the most incredible catalogue of accidents, attacks, delays, impediments to the mails he had been on, in all of which he had played the hero’s part. His quixotic triumphs over every sort of difficulty were most amusing, and not without result, as I know, onone occasion, he declined a Saturday journey behind me to Brighton. He had one ghost only upon this road, whose appearances, however, were so innocent and evident that he was obliged to draw largely upon his imagination, and borrow matter from other goblins, in order to make him sufficiently sensational. I give the naked tale, and leave the garnishing of “Old Mac” to the imagination of my readers.
Upon the side of the highroad to Brighton, not a hundred miles from Handcross, there stands, in its own ornamental grounds, one of those very picturesque residences which is neither a villa nor a mansion, though it combined the modesty of the one with the importance of the other. The house was sufficiently retired from the road to admit of a spacious lawn studded with ornamental trees of considerable size, which gave the whole thing a park-like appearance, and, standingas it did upon an eminence, presented a generally picturesque appearance.
The owner of this property was a gentleman of independent means, and of rather eccentric habits. He resided all the year round at ——, never went into society, and never entertained friends at home.
Many years were passed in the quiet routine of everyday life; nothing remarkable occurred except that the owner was absent daily for several hours, and could not be induced to give any explanation of whither he went, or otherwise account for his absence. When closely questioned by his wife, he used to evade the subject, and implore her not to press her inquiry upon him, as, if he were to disclose the secret, he might never be allowed to return.
Time went on, and the anxiety (to say nothing of the curiosity) of the wife to solve this mysteriousabsence and the secrecy it involved, induced her to communicate with a private inquiry office to solve it.
This step was no sooner taken than an end was put to all local evidence, by the sudden disappearance of the gentleman, without leaving the slightest clue to his whereabouts. Coverts were searched, ponds dragged, rewards offered, all in vain. No word was ever heard from that day to this of the missing gentleman. The wife continued to live at —— until her death, which occurred several years after the mysterious disappearance of her husband. And, during these years, the room which had been occupied by the gentleman, upon the ground-floor (window opening upon the lawn) was still visited on occasions by an apparition, who frequently changed his hat and gloves, leaving old ones behind, and taking those which were always neatly brushed and laid out for his use.
There is a broad quick-set hedge, cut square upon the top, separating the premises from the highroad, and, walking upon this hedge, may be seen on almost any night the “Spectre Squire.”
The apparition of the squire was not seen only by a few of the neighbours, but sceptics came from long distances, and returned satisfied that they had seen (and some that they had conversed with) the phantom.
An old man who kept a turnpike-gate, not a quarter of a mile from the haunted residence, assured me that he had seen him, night after night, and described it as follows:
“I’d a-come in, and was sitting in the porch doorway, aboutlebeno’clock, as fur as I remember. My old ’oman she kep’ ’ollering out to me: ‘Why don’t you ope’ the gate; there’s a funeral a-coming?’ I thought she was mazed. ‘There’s nobody there,’ says I. Well, whilst I was there I could see nothing, but the gate took andswung open of itself, and come back on the bolt, and this it did four or five times! I took and I got up and put the chain on the gate and locked it. Oh dear, oh dear! Down he come, and he was that angry! He walked backwards and forwards through the gate, right through the middle—that never stopped him a minute!
”Since that I’ve a-seed him scores of times doing the same thing, and he takes no notice of me, only scowling-like.
“I chain and lock the gate o’ nights, but I always find it open in the morning; and I can’t tell how.”
This was one of the best-conducted ghosts I have come across; as, apart from scaring the villagers by his midnight rambles, he bore the best of characters in the neighbourhood.
This house and premises to this day share the fate of others which have fallen into the handsof unexplained tenants, and are subject to visits from supernatural agents.
Strange noises are heard; windows, which were barred and fastened overnight, are found open in the morning. Servants will not remain in the situation, and do not like to explain the cause of their wishing to leave. The turnpike-house is pulled down, as no one could be found to inhabit it.