Charles Dickens – English Carriages and their Changes

Princess (Soon to be Queen) Victoria in Her Pony Phaeton Carriage in About 1835
from Modern Carriages by Sir Walter Gilbey, 1905

[original text from The New York coach-maker’s magazine Vol 8 1866-67, images from Modern carriages by Sir Walter Gilbey, 1905, The world on wheels by Ezra M. Stratton , 1878 or as other noted]

“The disappearance of pigtails and leather breeches from the House of Commons, the rise and fall of the Stanhope gig and cabriolet, the decline of chariots, the extinction of the vis-a-vis, and the introduction of the Brougham.” This was the answer of a desperate civil-service candidate to the question,”What were the most remarkable social changes which followed the Reform Bill?” According to the tradition of the Foreign Office clerks, the freshness and truth of the reply saved the modern Phaeton from the fatal “plow.”

There can be no doubt that amongst the many remarkable social changes within the recollection of our middle- aged men, none has been more decisive than that in the character of our pleasure carriages. Macadam was the first great revolutionist in Long-acre. He made it possible to dispense with the before inevitable four horses on country roads; and by the smooth easy surface, with which he replaced the jolting pavement, and the miles of mud, which, a hundred years ago, buried Arthur Young’s gig on a highway up to its axles, struck a fatal blow at the state coach with six horses, and its guard of active running footmen. The railroad followed, nipped the stagecoach just as it reached perfection, destroyed the professors of four-in-hand, and finally reduced to the value of old wood and iron those luxurious posting-chariots, without which, before the days of the iron-horse, no country gentleman’s coach-house was complete.

Although still quite a young man, as compared with premiers and lord chancellors, my earliest recollections — as an unbreeched boy, whose greatest joy was to sit on a horse in the stall, while a groom, the nurse’s sweetheart, hissed through his work — go back to the palmy days of posting, and sailing-packets between Dover and Calais. It was in those days of keen observation, of rapid eye-and-ear education, that I accompanied my parents on a journey by post, which extended from the extreme north of England to the south of France. Posting was in those days the indispensable mode of conveyance for a sick man, who could by any sacrifice afford the exorbitant cost. Some scenes of this long journey are as indelibly impressed on my memory as my first pantomime. The formidable state with which we were received at the inns where we stopped for the night, by the landlord, the landlady, and their attendant suite — the fierce battles next morning on the question whether or not the road required a pair of leaders — battles in which my father, a country parson traveling on a legacy which included his first and last carriage, was invariably defeated — the sensation of awe and admiration which filled my infant mind, when, on a high road near a great race-course, our humble chariot and pair was drawn off the pavement into the mud, while there passed along the lord-lieutenant in uniform, in his state coach drawn by six horses, and preceded by outriders, who, as well as the postilion, bore each on his left arm a badge magnificently embroidered, as big as a dinner-plate, while as for the coachman and his wig, his degenerate representative may still be seen at Lord Mayor’s shows. These effects were not exceeded by the procession of Bluebeard or the feats of Harlequin. Not less acute is my remembrance of the disgust with which, a clean little boy, I was compelled to sit next the ragged dirty driver of the hack cabriolet in Paris. Paris of oil lamps, and gutters in mid-street, reeking with filth and crowded with foot passengers, whom our grimy driver seemed to chase with wild cries.

It was on this journey that, near an English manufacturing town, we called with a letter of introduction on one of the new great men of the place, at his stucco-painted mock-Italian villa, staring at the highway. Our host, a little man in satin knee-breeches, with a white powdered head, ruddy cheeks, and amazing black eye- brows, received us with boisterous hospitality, as the bearers of a letter from his friend Dick Somebody. After a profuse mid-day meal, in which he did more than justice to the wine which his invalid guest declined, he proceeded to show the glories of his establishment. A fish-pond alive with gold and silver fish, the first I had ever seen; painted wooden temples dedicated to divers divinities; fountains which spouted from leaden statues on turning a tap; and other cheap classical arrangements in favor at that pre-architectural period; finally we were conducted to the stables and coach-house, where six horses and two carriages were not the least part of the state of the fortunate owner. Then nothing less would serve the excited little man than that the servants should put on their liveries, harness four of the horses to a bright-yellow chariot, resplendent with silver, and parade the whole equipage before us. Even this was not enough; an equally brilliant curricle was produced, and, taking the reins, he drove bare-headed round the grounds. I do not now remember what impression this performance produced on my parents, but to my childish eyes it was as magnificent as anything I had heard of in fairy tales. It may be presumed that there are at this day persons as anxious to display their newly -acquired wealth as the little man just described; but fashion has so changed, that no one unqualified for Bedlam would think of maintaining a reputation on a chariot and four horses. It would rather be in plate, a picture-gallery, a cellar of choice wine, wonderful pleasant covers, or some lavish gift to a literary institution or church.

Curricle Proper Carriage from The world on wheels by Ezra M. Stratton 1878

Vis-a-Vis Carriage from The world on wheels by Ezra M. Stratton 1878