clear of the quay and other craft. We
then moved on, when the brute threw
himself about first up in the air then
down on his knees up again then for-
ward then back on his haunches: but
the two fore horses kept on, and their
traces, acting upon the barge, did not
give him time to lay down, and, after
two or three attempts to baffle us, he
rolled off the towing-path into the canal.
Here, after two or three plunges, and
immersed in water, the tackle holding
good, he regained his feet and the
towing-path at the same time; and the
other two horses keeping their places
and their pace, and the barge being in
motion, there was nothing left for him
but to keep quietly on, or put up with
another ducking. He chose the former,
walked up to his collar, and took his

VOL. II. 8



258 SINGULAR FEAT.

share of draught for about two miles,
without the least attempt at gibbing. We
then took him out and returned to the
" Roebuck." The coach arriving in about
half-an-hour, I put him in off-wheel and
drove him to Benson, a distance of twelve
miles, our first stage ; and no horse ever
went better or quieter.

The next day I drove him back, and the
report of this singular feat having spread
through the city, I had all the stable fra-
ternity in Oxford to greet my return, and
not believing such a thing possible, to
assure themselves of the identity of the
animal; for it appeared that he had been
tried by many of Mr. Costar's men, who
had all pronounced him incurable, and he
had been returned accordingly, as the
man from whom I bought him had told
me. I continued to drive him as long
as the coach lasted ; and it fell to my lot,
a year or two later, to renew my ac-



LORD MACAULAY. 259

quaintance with him in another team from
the same establishment.

It has often occurred to me, that the
spot where I tried the experiment of fire
is the site where those sturdy defenders
of the reformed religion, Ridley and Lati-
mer, suffered martyrdom ; a splendid
monument has since. been erected in honour
of those champions of our creed.

The late Lord Macaulay, in one of
his early essays written, I believe,
in his rooms at Trinity asserts the
claims of his Alma Mater to supremacy
over that of the sister University; and
states, as an argument for it, that
Cambridge had the honour of educating
the two Bishops and Oxford the ho-
nour of burning them. I am not a
member of either University, as these
pages can testify, nor can I decide the
question of controversial superiority; but
I have been a long time a member of

32



260 CAMBRIDGE.

a constituency very near the University,
in which Lord Macaulay was, a year or
two back, elected to the very highest
dignity in that enlightened and important
body.*

Now, that constituency possess the un-
enviable distinction of having had their
representatives twice unseated for bribery;
besides having had the honour to enter-
tain a commission, that in the fulfilment
of their office discovered, and made pub-
lic, unmistakable proofs of long-continued
gross and unlawful practices; an honour,
I believe, that a similar corporate body,
as nearly allied to the University of
Oxford, has never yet reached.

To proceed : If I were desired to point
out that part of my coaching career in
which I found most pleasure, or, in plain
terms, which road I liked best, I should
certainly select the Oxford, as surpassing

* High Steward of the Borough of Cambridge.



PICCADILLY. 261

all others for those qualities which ge-
nerally attract young men desirous of
becoming distinguished in their voca-
tion.

In the first place, the exit from the me-
tropolis is from the West, or most fash-
ionable end. The "White Horse Cellar,"
or the "Glo'ster Coffee House," in Pic-
cadilly, would be the point of assembly
of the elite of the amateurs, patrons,
friends, and acquaintances, of each well-
known practitioner who come to criticise
their style, examine their team, one by
one, survey the drag and then say a
word or two in praise of the whole
equipment or turn-out.

There was nothing of this sort at Shore-
ditch, or Mile End, at the " Elephant and
Castle," or the " Bricklayer's Arms." In its
place there was the gape of an indifferent
and ignorant multitude, or the slang of
the low and vulgar cad. The "Angel," or



262 OXFORD ROAD.

" Peacock," at Islington, came nearest to
the West-end rendezvous; but were at a
great distance, except in the number of
mails and other conveyances, that issue
from the North side of the great em-
porium.

Then, again, the road itself was much
frequented, not only by the equipages of
royalty, but displayed the constant traffic
of the nobility and gentry, in their ingress
and egress to and from the seat of Govern-
ment ; it was also the scene where those
amateurs and patrons, the members of the
B. D. C., exhibited their love for, and skill
in, the art of driving. The " Black Dog,"
at Bedfont, about fourteen miles off the
stones, was the house to which they
often resorted, the late Sir Henry Peyton
at their head, and where the author's
own kind friend and patron, the late
Henry Villebois, Esq., was generally pre-
sent to discuss the rules of the B. D. C.



CHANGE. 263

over a solid repast, and to award proof
of their approbation to some deserving
member of the profession. The distance,
too, fifty-eight miles, was sufficient to
render the ride a pleasure without being
a toil; the company were mostly of the
middle and upper classes, and the place
itself afforded ample, rational, and pleasing
amusement.

It was with considerable regret, then, to
me, as the autumn approached, I found
that a sort of compromise had taken place
between my employer and one of the
parties at Oxford the one I had so
great a dislike to ; and, to my great
annoyance, I was officially informed that
my heart-devouring friend was to work
the coach from Oxford to Henley, and
that, to confine my services to the London
proprietor, I should be required to drive
to Henley and back in the day. This
was a beneficial arrangement for me,



264 HEKLEY.

as I had two coaches a day, and but
one home, which would very much re-
duce my expenses ; but, at the same
time, I had no faith in the stability of
the concern, as I was well aware the new
partners had it in their power to com-
promise it at any time, and that I should
then be thrown overboard.

However, it went on for some little
time, and I had nothing whatever to
find fault with all through the autumn.
I had between three or four hours to
spend at Henley, which I managed to
get rid of without being infected with
idleness, or ennui, as it is usually termed.

A clergyman who had, from my youth
up, been the officiating minister at Ports-
mouth, had only lately been removed
to Henley.* I would, therefore, frequently
call, and have half an hour's chat with
him. I had had the temerity to publish

* The Rev. T. G. Bussell.



SERMON. 265

a sermon I penned on the death of
the old king, George III., which, without
permission, I had dedicated to this excel-
lent divine. It was at the instigation of
some friends at St. Albans 1 had written
it, because I happened to say the dis-
course I had heard at the Abbey church
did not come up to my idea of what a
sermon ought to be, on such a subject.
Here the obsequies of the deceased mo-
narch were celebrated ; and when the choir
of the old building was hung with black
and lit with torches, it presented a novel
and imposing scene. The printing this
production may have been an unpardon-
able act of vanity; the dedication was an
expression of heartfelt gratitude to one,
whose eloquent expositions of the Gospel,
and clear and imposing manner with which
he read our beautiful Liturgy, were in-
delibly impressed on my memory.

But the chief occurrence that marked



266 ECLIPSE.

my short sojourn at this pretty little
Market town, with its spacious street
its well-built houses their gardens and
meads, flanked by the beautiful river
from which it takes its name the lofty
hills on all sides, forming a splendid
amphitheatre was a total eclipse of the
sun. This was the only perfect eclipse that
has occurred in my memory : that of
1858 was annular, and the great lumi-
nary was never quite obscured, but ap-
peared in the form of a crescent, of a
greater or less magnitude, as our satellite
passed over its disc; therefore did it
disappoint the expectations of the cre-
dulous multitude, who looked for an ab-
sence of all light, birds going to roost,
and other symptoms of coming night.

The eclipse of 1820 was a far greater
obscuration, inasmuch as the planet Venus
was plainly to be seen with the naked
eye at noonday in mid-heaven a posi-



KNOWLEDGE. 267

tion in which she is never visible, not
even to the telescopic view of the as-
tronomer, and therefore the fact is scarcely
credible to the uninitiated in that most
sublime and interesting of all sciences.
In a letter written to a friend on the
day I have thus described it:

" The single star, too, twinkling so soon
after noon, and the awful gloom cast over
the atmosphere by so great an obscuration
of the source of light, produced a scene
so pleasingly singular, so rarely beautiful, so
divinely sublime, that the remembrance of
it, I trust, will never be erased from my
mind, or the impression it left removed
from my heart. And here I must regret
the want of that knowledge, which in my
youth I could so readily and would so
eagerly have pursued, and with proper care,
perhaps, have attained. I envied those
who, with more ample fortune, and with
abler friends, had had the means, the



268 NEWTON.

opportunity, and the inclination, to render
themselves familiar with art and science
their intelligence first scanning the track-
less desert then the wide expanse of
ocean and last the starry heavens ; thus
laying up for themselves i treasures upon
earth' that none but themselves can fully
enjoy ; for how little must be my know-
ledge of a subject like this, compared to
the information possessed by one who, one
hundred years ago, could compute the
time of this eclipse so exactly as to foretell
it to the very minute I mean Sir Isaac
Newton. But the time and the oppor-
tunity have gone, never to be recalled. I
have no alternative but to be content
with my own ignorance.

It was somewhere about this time that
the following incident occurred:

On taking the reins at Henley, and
looking round, I observed on the roof,
sitting on the near side, an elderly gentle-



INCIDENT. 269

man, with a youth of rather forbidding
appearance, apparently about twenty years
of age. I had long been accustomed to
speculate on the character of my com-
panions, and though I jumped to conclu-
sions that were not always borne out by
the results, still I was in the main not far
wrong.

I remember a porter I had on my last
drag, who, with no other information than
the brass plate on a passenger's portmanteau,
would address him in language that implied
a long, though respectful acquaintance with
the gentleman's family. After calling him
by name, he would say, " How's the good
lady, sir ? " Sometimes he would go so
far as to ask after them individually.
"How's Master John or Master George,"
chancing the individual having any such
ties, or indeed any ties at all; and if it
proved so, this civilest of porters was never
in any way abashed.



270 CIVILITY.

We had not ascended Henley Hill before
I discovered that the two gentlemen were
not on the best terms with each other the
one endeavoured to impart his feelings on
the beauty of the scenery, while pointing
out familiar objects of admiration; the
other would pout, and frown, and snub
sometimes looking on with a sulky and
insulting air, at others denounce in gross
language the kind and conciliatory man-
ner of his senior.

It did not take me long to discover
that they were Father and son, and with
some reason I surmised that the Father
was a clergyman, and had been to Ox-
ford to remove his hopeful, who had been
placed under the ban of the University.
All attempts on the part of the one
to divest or allure the thoughts of the
other from the loss of some fancied selfish
enjoyment, or the sense of deserved
degradation, were only met with angry



FATHER AND SON. 271

and evil looks, or downright abuse, till
at length the former was silent from de-
spair, perhaps from fear that his fellow-
passengers might take notice of his reiter-
ated insults ; and with a severe, though
softly spoken remonstrance, his eyes swim-
ming in tears, he closed a most painful
dialogue.

During the journey my heart alter-
nately rose in indignation at the perverse
conduct of the son, and sunk in the
deepest sympathy with the heart-broken
feelings of the Parent, expressed in his
sad and rueful countenance. Once or
twice, indeed, I felt disposed to inter-
fere, and to attempt to reason with the
young man upon his want of filial respect ;
still I thought, as it was no affair of mine,
I had no right to interfere so I held
my tongue.

Arrived at the end of our journey, the
old gentleman, in getting off the coach in



272 UNFILIAL CONDUCT.

the Inn yard, missed his hold and fell ;
he had not waited for the ladder, nor had
I dismounted. He lay by the side of
the fore-wheel, and calling his companion
by his Christian name, asked for help,
when the son, looking down, cried :

" You may lay there, you old and

be damned, before I'll help you." He
was immediately raised by the porter,
who had run to his assistance.

Standing on the foot-board, I could no
longer restrain myself; so, taking hold of
the fellow's arm, I asked him if he was
that gentleman's son. His answer, " What's
that to you ? " only further raised my
choler.

"It is much to me," I replied, " and to
everyone who has witnessed your unfeel-
ing conduct this day; you are a disgrace
to humanity, and though your offence is

not punishable by law, it deserves a d

good horse-whipping; and if you do not



ACCIDENT. 273

instantly get down and assist your father,
I will administer it myself." I made him
descend with me ; I then asked the gentle-
man if he were much hurt. He replied
in the negative, though he appeared to be
very much shaken. He expressed a wish
for a hackney coach, and, having attended
him into it, I directed my porter to get
on the box, and see that he was taken to
his proper destination.

As the Winter approached the loading
fell off, so much so on that road in par-
ticular, that the old Cheltenham coach was
discontinued, and the traffic left entirely
to us. Even then we loaded very in-
differently. Finding that what little we
did carry interfered with the " Ox-
ford Defiance," the pet drag of my
would-be cannibal friend, he persuaded
my London employer to drop it, which
he suddenly did a week or two after
Christmas, leaving me to ruminate on

YOL. II. T



274 AN ERROR.

the great error I had committed in
leaving a certainty for an uncertainty,
and to contemplate the little chance 1
had of future employment.



275



CHAPTER VIII.

AN INTERREGNUM.

A Bad Prospect Sunday's Employment : its Conse-
quences Spring Gardens -The Great Chirurgeon
Irrelevant Conversation Convalescence A Flash Drags-
man Useless Application A Visit to the Infernal
Regions Lobster Salad Gratitude A Country Drive
Glance at Paradise Disappointment A Bold Stroke
for a Box.

IT being then the depth of Winter, when
travelling is at its lowest ebb, there was
no immediate prospect of any new start,
and to wait for a vacancy in the old
established coaches was similar to waiting
for dead men's shoes. Consequently, my
situation was far from enviable. Reflec-

T2



276 BAD PKOSPECT.

tions on the past, which I could not
scare from my mind, and a restless and
not very hopeful -temperament, although
it did not altogether deprive me of reason,
caused me to commit many unreasonable
acts.

I was prevented in the Spring seeking
an appointment by an accident that had
nearly put an end to my ever standing
in need of one.

My father's establishment in the City,
of which he still retained possession, be-
sides the long coaches, was a sort of
rendezvous for short stages that is,
coaches from places of ten or twenty miles
distant, that would come in in the morn-
ing, and return in the afternoon and
evening. Some dispute had taken place
between the Proprietors of the Kingston
and Hampton coaches, and an old gentle-
man living at Cobham, in Surrey, who
had been for a long time connected with



NEW DRAG. 277

the Portsmouth and Chichester coaches,
had taken up the quarrel, and was deter-
mined, as the phrase was, to run the other
off the road.

I had been out when, one evening, my
Father sent to my lodgings in St. Martin's
Lane, to ask me to go down to Cobham
with him on the Sunday morning. It
was Easter Sunday, the second anniver-
sary of the one that had already influ-
enced my fortunes. My Father drove me
down in his buggy. We dined with the
disputatious old gentleman, and partook
of some of his excellent port. The coach-
maker from Guildford had brought the
new drag, which, with the four horses
and harness, stood already at the "White
Lion," to which place we repaired after
dinner. After taking some more wine, the
horses, which had all been purchased in-
discriminately but the Friday preceding at
the repository in Barbican, were put to,



278 ESHEE.

when the owner, our host, said to me
" You take hold of them : you know
how to manage them, I know, and I'll
sit beside you."

As the horses were all strangers to me,
as well as to one another, I did not
vastly like the task. Being eighty-three
or eighty-four years old, this gentleman's
limbs were not so pliant as they had been.
However, he got up on the box, and we
started on the road to Kingston, his
nephew a man between thirty and forty
the coachmaker, and a third person,
occupying the roof, the intended drags-
man sitting behind, and my father fol-
lowing in his buggy.

At Esher we pulled up at the "Bear,"
and were greeted by pretty well the
whole household of Claremont, who must
needs join in the libations that were
poured forth to the success of the new
drag. This was repeated at the turn-



KINGSTON. 279

pike ; when the lessee, an old hand
hearing of the intended new start, from
which it was more than probable he
would be the only one to derive any
profit shut the gate, and planted a table,
loaded with wine and glasses, in the
centre of the road. There was no alter-
native ; and after doing due honour to his
generous spirit, we proceeded at a good
pace to the " King's Arms," at King-
ston, as this was to be the first and
principal house of call in the regular
way. My passengers all got down, while
I went a little farther to turn, which I
did in good style, and came back to the
door of the Inn. Here we stopped nearly
an hour, still imbibing. On remounting,
the coachmaker, an active, able young
man, said to the old gentleman

" I'U sit on the box now." He got
up, while the other took his place on
the roof a most providential change for



280 ACCIDENT.

him, as will presently be seen. We pro-
ceeded over Kingston Bridge, where I
had never been before.

" Turn to the left," said my friend
on the box.

I did so, and had not gone 100 yards,
when some men at a public-house (where
the coach, unknown to me, was to stop)
put up their hands, and the leaders flew
under the gateway. The coachmaker in-
stantly jumped off, or he must have been
killed. I, with much presence of mind,
pulled the wheel-horses against the gate-
post, at the same moment threw myself
forward, and received a crushing blow in
my shoulders and back, thereby saving
my head, which otherwise must have been
literally smashed; as it was, I was dread-
fully injured, to all appearance irrecover-
ably so. The old gentleman escaped un-
hurt, though beside himself with fright.
He was soon assisted down, and then I



INJURY. 281

was lifted off, carried into a room, and
laid on my back on the floor, where my
father for some time stood weeping over
me.

The doctor was sent for, and was quickly
in attendance. He pronounced it a very
serious case, though he hoped it would
not be a fatal one. He bled me freely
from the arm, and ordered me to be
put to bed, as it would be impossible to
remove me under a month.

In this state did I lay for three days;
the doctor in regular attendance. He had
by bleeding and potions prevented fever ;
and the pain from the blow having in a
great measure subsided, though I still felt
very sore, as well as weak, I was deter-
mined to leave the place for my Father's
house in London; and learn, from the
highest source, the amount of injury my
frame had sustained.

My friend, the coachmaker, whose



282 SIR ASTLEY COOPER.

family I had long known, sat up with
me the first night, and did not depart
till one of my sisters arrived from London
the following morning, and remained.

On the Thursday morning, with her
help I managed to dress myself; and it
being a fine day, went out and sat under
an apple-tree in the garden, where the
doctor, to his great surprise, about eleven
o'clock discovered me reading; he seemed
glad to find me so much better, but
thought I was running a great risk in
leaving my room so soon. In the after-
noon my Father came down, and* all
things being settled, I and my sister
returned with him to town.

In the morning I went to Spring
Gardens, and knocked at the door of
the great surgeon and anatomist. The
door was opened by a servant out of
livery, and after a little time I was
introduced and ushered into his presence.



LORD COMBERMERE. 283

He was sitting at his escritoir at the
window, with his back towards me, ap-
parently engaged in literary composition.
His man-servant walked up to him, gave
him a note, and instantly retired. With-
out casting a glance at me, or asking any
question, he handed me the note, not
even turning his head, and said

"Have the goodness to open that, sir,
will you ? "

Strange as I thought such a request,
I complied, and of course made myself
acquainted with the contents. After some
few minutes, still remaining in the same
attitude, he said

"Have you read it, sir?"

" I have."

"Who is it from?"

"Lord Combermere, Sir Astley."

"Do you know him?" he said.

"I have seen him when he was Sir
Stapleton Cotton,"



284 A SMILE.

" Indeed ! What did you know of
him ? "

" I only know that he commanded the
cavalry in the Peninsula, and was always
considered the best-dressed man in the
army."

Upon this he put down his pen, turned
towards me, and smiled. I perfectly re-
member that smile, and it may appear
simple in me to record so simple an
occurrence; but Sir Astley's was no com-
mon smile. It was not that of conde-
scensionit was not that of a courtier ;
neither was it one of withering contempt,
or of specious, designing villany ; but it
was one that lit up his fine and manly
features with goodfellowship and benevo-
lence. I fancied, too, there was a mark
of silent recognition in it when he
said

" And pray, what brings you here this
morning ? "



REMEDIES. 285

I then related to him, as plainly and
briefly as I could, the nature of the
accident, and explained to him my symp-
toms and feelings.

" Let me assist you off with your
coat," said he, observing I could not
raise my right arm. "Now your waist-
coat." Then, inserting his hand under
my linen, he passed his fingers down my
spine. Without farther consideration, he
then said, " Every ligament of your back-
bone is ruptured. Have you a wife ? "

"No," I replied, "unfortunately I am
a widower."

"Well, you must procure thirty yards
of calico, and get some female to wind it
round your body as she would swathe an
infant, and do not remove it for at least six
months. Remember also to keep in a re-
cumbent posture as much as possible."

I described to him the height of the
gateway that it would only admit the



286 VENISON.

coach without any one being on it. He
assured me that it was a miracle I had
escaped as I had done, and that it would
take a considerable time before !rny lungs
would heal and I should entirely lose the
pain and soreness complained of, as the
whole cavity of my chest was bruised.
Finally he told me I had better go in the
country and keep quiet for a while. I
thanked him for his advice, deposited the
usual fee, and was about to depart

"What's the price of venison now do
you know ? " he asked.

I answered in some surprise, "No, I do
not."

"What! have you not had a buck from