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Publié par | Read Books Ltd. |
Date de parution | 01 décembre 2020 |
Nombre de lectures | 0 |
EAN13 | 9781528762854 |
Langue | English |
Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0350€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.
Extrait
COACH DRIVING IN THE
1800s
THE ROADS OF BRIGHTON, BATH AND DOVER
BY
HENRY CHARLES SOMERSET
Contents
THE BRIGHTON, BATH, AND DOVER ROADS
The Red Rover in a gale.
THE BRIGHTON, BATH, AND DOVER ROADS.
O N these roads there were many coaches and many coachmen of high reputation, and I select them for description as it chances that my experiences of them date back many years, and have been constant and considerable. Castle Square, Brighton, in the morning and evening was crowded with people assembled to see the departure and arrival of the various coaches. The Square had as many coach offices as other houses. I will begin with the Times office, belonging to Samuel Goodman. He had the seven o clock Times, which left in the morning and ran to the Golden Cross, Charing Cross, in about five hours and fifteen minutes. From Castle Square to the Elephant and Castle is fifty-two miles; thence a pair-horse branch coach took the passengers to the City. The coach was timed five hours to the Elephant. It returned from the Golden Cross at two, and reached Brighton at 7.15. A heavy family coach, called the Regent, left both ends at ten, and was supposed to do the journey in six hours, but it was really six hours and a half. Goodman had also the four o clock Times, which left both ends at four and was due in London and Brighton at 9.15. He generally drove this coach himself, and as he had a farm six or seven miles out of Brighton on the roadside, he had a man who often took it out of and brought it into Brighton, Goodman getting down and sleeping at his farm. There was a very peculiar old fellow who drove the Regent. He was a very slow safe old coachman, who would not have liked to drive any faster than he did. In 1833, my mother not being very well, my father took a house at Brighton-Western House, which is next to the easternmost house of Brunswick Terrace. He was then in the House of Commons, and had to go up and down between London and Brighton often. Being a very fine coachman-very powerful, and with hands as fine on a horse s mouth as a woman s-he could drive any horses; indeed I have known him drive horses that went pleasantly and without pulling with him, when it had been declared that no man could hold them. He was in the habit of driving many of the coaches on the Oxford, Bath, Portsmouth, and Southampton roads, and was well known as a first-rate artist. Goodman-a surly cross-grained fellow-would not let him drive. My father, vexed at the uncourteous treatment he had received, went to Alexander s, a large horse and coach proprietor in the Borough. In the lapse of time I have lost the name of his large stables, but well do I remember that whilst business was being discussed I used to wait in the coffee-room. Coffee! save the mark-no whiff of the fragrant berry ever sweetened that den. Dog s-nose, gin, the smell of stale bad tobacco smoke, sand, sawdust, and spittoons offended the nose and eyes! All coffee-rooms all over England had boxes-fancy an old-fashioned church pew, only higher, say six feet high, a brass rod above it, another eighteen inches or two feet, and a dirty red stuff curtain (stuffy too), a narrow table in the centre of each, and a narrow ledge to sit upon against the side of the pew on each side, and you have the box presented to your view.