Tag Archive | The Exeter Road

The Exeter Road in 1823: A Myriad of Changes in Fifty Years

The following post is the seventh of a series based on information obtained from a fascinating book Susana recently obtained for research purposes. Coaching Days & Coaching Ways by W. Outram Tristram, first published in 1888, is chock full of commentary about travel and roads and social history told in an entertaining manner, along with a great many fabulous illustrations. A great find for anyone seriously interested in English history!

Fifty Years Later

Mr. Tristram, our illustrious author, wants us to know that travel has undergone a great deal of change from 1773, so he tells us the story of our hero Mirabel (see previous posts) fifty years later, when he’s in his seventies, having lived most of his life overseas and now is returning to England to take the same route to Exeter. Dressed in much the same way he did then, he waits outside the Gloucester Coffee-house for the Exeter Fly, where the young bucks stare at his old-fashioned attire.

Perhaps Mirabel looks like Mr. Bennet from P&P?

The Comet

He expects to see the Exeter Fly—a trifle improved upon possibly—but still the Exeter Fly. And what does he see in its stead rapidly approaching? Why, a turn-out drawn by four spanking grays, which he takes to be a gentleman’s carriage, and which would do credit to a crowned head.

The Comet on the way to Brighton

It’s called the Comet and our friend Mirabel soon learns where its name came from. He mistakes the coachman, who is well-dressed and genteel (for he is also the proprietor of the coach) for a gentleman. The Hercules Pillars at Hyde Park Corner no longer exists (recall that Apsley House replaced it soon after our last trip to Exeter), and the roads are macadamized and therefore much smoother than when they were made with stone.

The Comet travels at ten miles an hour and arrives at Hounslow fifty-five minutes after leaving Hyde Park Corner, not stopping at Brentford at all. Mirabel is eager for some breakfast since being told that the coach would change horses there.

The proprietor, smiling superior, blandly tells him that they have changed horses while he was putting on his spectacles. “Only one minute allowed for it at Hounslow, sir, and it is often done in fifty seconds by those nimble-fingered horse-keepers.”

He then proceeds to urge the horses forward in such a way as to cause the coach to rock violently and alarm our valiant Mirabel (remember when he apprehended the highway back in 1773?). In response to his concerns, the proprietor says simply: “Oh, sir, we always ‘spring them’ over these six miles.”

He looks out and sees death and destruction before his eyes, the horses going at the rate of a mile in three minutes, and the coachman in the act of taking a pinch of snuff.

The King’s Arms at Bagshot

At Staines, the coach takes on a fine thoroughbred “with a twitch on his nose” and Mirabel feels queasy, but the proprietor says, “Let ’em go, and take care of yourselves.” Just as Mirabel expected, the thoroughbred takes off and soon the horses are galloping and the coach rocks unmercifully, but the proprietor manages to steady them, and when Mirabel descends from the Comet at Bagshot, he is grateful to be alive and determined to find a slower and safer coach to take for the remainder of the journey.

The Regulator

Assured that the Regulator will be there in hour, Mirabel finally gets his breakfast and is ready and waiting when the Regulator draws up to the King’s Arms.

He sees…that it is a strong, well-built drag, painted chocolate, bedaubed all over with gilt letters, a bull’s head on the doors, a Saracen’s head on the hind boot, and drawn by four strapping horses.

The inside being full, Mirabel rides on the outside, and is relieved when the Regulator travels at a steady pace for the first five miles out of Bagshot. Once they reach the Hartford Bridge Flats, however, the coachman “springs ’em” to a gallop, and they go so face they catch up to the Comet. In the words of the coachman:

“He [Mirabel] was seated with his back to the horses, his arms extended to each extremity of the guard irons, his teeth set grim as death, his eyes cast down towards the ground, thinking the less he saw of his danger the better;”

and in this state he arrived at Hartford Bridge. Here he dismounted from the Regulator with the alacrity of lightning. “I will walk into Devonshire,” he cries. Then he thinks better of this, and says he will post; then he is told that posting will cost him twenty pounds; and then he says that will never do, and asks whether the landlord of The White Lion can suggest no coach to his notice that does not carry luggage on the top.

The Quicksilver Mail (the Devonshire)

The landlord advises him to take the Quicksilver mail, which travels at night, well-armed, with lamps and guards, and when asked about the speed, demurs and doesn’t mention that the Quicksilver mail (the Devonshire) is the fastest coach in England and commonly called the miracle of the road. But it doesn’t have luggage on top, at least.

Mirabel loses his head, and in spite of the assurances of the passengers that all is right, thrusts it out of the window to see where the deuce they are going to, sees nothing but dust and whirling wheels, and loses his wig.

Alas, we never find out whether or not poor old Mirabel ever got to Exeter, just that the coach reached Basingstoke, and presumably left our elderly hero there.

At least it wasn’t snowing as it did the last time!

Index to all the posts in this series

1: The Bath Road: The (True) Legend of the Berkshire Lady

2: The Bath Road: Littlecote and Wild William Darrell

3: The Bath Road: Lacock Abbey

4: The Bath Road: The Bear Inn at Devizes and the “Pictorial Chronicler of the Regency”

5: The Exeter Road: Flying Machines, Muddy Roads and Well-Mannered Highwaymen

6: The Exeter Road: A Foolish Coachman, a Dreadful Snowstorm and a Romance

7: The Exeter Road in 1823: A Myriad of Changes in Fifty Years

8: The Exeter Road: Basingstoke, Andover and Salisbury and the Events They Witnessed

9: The Exeter Road: The Weyhill Fair, Amesbury Abbey and the Extraordinary Duchess of Queensberry

10: The Exeter Road: Stonehenge, Dorchester and the Sad Story of the Monmouth Uprising

11: The Portsmouth Road: Royal Road or Road of Assassination?

12: The Brighton Road: “The Most Nearly Perfect, and Certainly the Most Fashionable of All”

13: The Dover Road: “Rich crowds of historical figures”

14: The Dover Road: Blackheath and Dartford

15: The Dover Road: Rochester and Charles Dickens

16: The Dover Road: William Clements, Gentleman Coachman

17: The York Road: Hadley Green, Barnet

18: The York Road: Enfield Chase and the Gunpowder Treason Plot

19: The York Road: The Stamford Regent Faces the Peril of a Flood

20: The York Road: The Inns at Stilton

21: The Holyhead Road: The Gunpowder Treason Plot

22: The Holyhead Road: Three Notable Coaching Accidents

23: The Holyhead Road: Old Lal the Legless Man and His Extraordinary Flying Machine

24: The Holyhead Road: The Coachmen “More Celebrated Even Than the Most Celebrated of Their Rivals” (Part I)

25: The Holyhead Road: The Coachmen “More Celebrated Even Than the Most Celebrated of Their Rivals” (Part II)

26: Flying Machines and Waggons and What It Was Like To Travel in Them

27: “A few words on Coaching Inns” and Conclusion

The Exeter Road: A Foolish Coachman, a Dreadful Snowstorm and a Romance

Aug4

The following post is the sixth of a series based on information obtained from a fascinating book Susana recently obtained for research purposes. Coaching Days & Coaching Ways by W. Outram Tristram, first published in 1888, is chock full of commentary about travel and roads and social history told in an entertaining manner, along with a great many fabulous illustrations. A great find for anyone seriously interested in English history!

Breakfast at The Three Pigeons Inn, Brentford

The Brentford Market and the Three Pigeons Inn

In the 17th and 18th centuries when Brentford was a thriving market and resort town, the Three Pigeons Inn was famous for its post-horses, of which it could stable up to one hundred. Its varied entertainments can be found in such literature as The Roaring Girle or Moll Cut-Purse (1611), She Stoops to Conquer (1773), The Merrie Conceited Jests of George Peele—The Jests of George Peele with Four of His Companions at Brainford (1607) and The Alchemist 1610).

Decisions! Decisions!

It’s snowing when our intrepid passengers are refreshed after their breakfast at The Three Pigeons. “…the coachman’s nose beams a benignant purple, and the ostler recommends another glass as an antidote to the weather, of which he presages the worst.”

Following their earlier adventure with the highway (see the previous post), the ladies are more concerned with the possibility of further encounters with outlaws. Mirabel, our gallant hero, squeezes the lovely Belinda’s hand in reassurance and they exchange “delicious looks.”

Upon reaching Hounslow, the coach begins to jolt and stops at The George Inn, where the landlord, who has six empty beds, warns them that the Bath Flying Machine has been snowed up at Colnbrook and that they had best stop for the night. “As sole answer to this appeal, the coachman, full of valour, calls for more brandy, and two more horses to take them over the heath…”

The first thing they encounter is the Salisbury Fly in a snowdrift.

The driver of the Exeter Fly observes this catastrophe, but he does not regard it, or regards it purely as a landmark, and majestically avoids the pit into which his unfortunate brother has fallen.

“The snow drives; the wind blows it full in their faces; the horses begin to show signs of suddenly capitulating.” The coachman whips them unmercifully, but they slow down to a walk. The passengers begin to believe they are lost, but then the snow relents, and the coach pulls in to The Bush at Staines. The landlord counsels them to stay for the night, and the passengers, if truth be told, would like to follow that advice.

Success, stimulant, and the lull in the snow storm have, however, made the coachman daring. He observes thickly that he is an Englishman, and declares his intention of inning at Bagshot for the night, whether the passengers leave the coach or stick to it. Upon this, the young captor of the highwayman [Mirabel] says, blushing with ingenuous shame, that he is willing to go on; upon which the lady [Belinda], blushing also, says that she is willing too. This necessitates the mother also putting her neck in jeopardy, and she, too, re-enters the coach.

A = Brentford, B = Bagshot

After this, the lawyer and the captain cannot honorably refuse, so the coach takes off with a full quota of passengers, and the snow begins to fall once more. Nerves on edge, the captain and the lawyer bicker, the guard, fearing highwaymen, takes out his blunderbuss, and the coachman tries to urge the horses to go faster as they approach Bagshot Heath. “…but highwaymen are not such fools as to be out in such weather, and the driver, who can see nothing at all, drives into a rut a yard deep.”

The gallant Mirabel takes the opportunity to rescue Belinda and her mother from the overturned coach, then turning to do the same with the rest of the motley crew. At that point he suggests that someone go on ahead to The King’s Arms at Bagshot to get help.

“The only answer to this appeal comes from the guard, who raises his blunderbuss gravely, and mistaking a too curious shepherd who approaches from behind a bush for a footpad, shoots him…”

The injured shepherd is given a bottle of brandy, and Mirabel, realizing he cannot be in two places at one time, confers the safety of the ladies to the lawyer, and takes off on one of the horses to get help. In under an hour, the rescuers approach, only to be shot at by the guard, who is drunk with power at having just shot the shepherd.

All’s Well That Ends Well

All the way to the King’s Arms he [the guard] babbles of the hundred pounds due him for ridding the heath of a footpad; the shepherd consults the lawyer meanwhile as to damages and as to how an action would lie…Mirabel gently presses Belinda’s hand and the pressure is ever so faintly returned…and the party arrive finally at The King’s Arms, Bagshot where a wonderful display of good cheer oppresses a groaning table—“Iris-tinted rounds of beef, marble-veined ribs, gelatinous veal pies, colossal hams, gallons of old ale, bins full of old port and burgundy.”

And here, in the midst of an old English plenty, my travellers are snowed up for nearly a week. And Mirabel proposes to Belinda, and is accepted; and the man of law drinks a congratulatory bottle of port with the fortunate wooer; and proposes himself to the widow next day, and is refused; and Mirabel drinks a bottle of port with him—a consolatory one this time; and the guard is forgiven by the shepherd; and the captain is rude to Betty the chambermaid, and gets his face slapped for his pains in a long oak corridor; and so in the old coaching days, when Exter was five days’ journey from London, and ladies wore hoops and farthingales, and gentlemen bag wigs and three-cornered hats, the old coaching world went round.

I love a happy ending. Don’t you?

BTW, today you could travel from Brentford to Bagshot in 36 minutes. But perhaps not in snowstorm.

Susana’s August Giveaway*

Susana brought back some lovely treasures from her trip to England, and she’d like to share them with you. This month she’s giving away a lovely mug (purchased at Chatsworth) illustrated with a famous painting of the Duchess of Devonshire.

Click on the image of the mug in the right column to enter the Rafflecopter. A runner-up will win “The Regency: Love’s Golden Age” mug. Enter every day if you wish! Good luck!

*International winners will receive the equivalent in gift cards.