THE BRIGHTON ROAD.

"Far from the Western Cliff he cast his eye
O'er the wide ocean stretching to the sky:
In calm magnificence the sun declined,
And left a paradise of clouds behind:

Proud at his feet, with pomp of pearl and gold,
The billows in a sea of glory roll'd."

ROGERS'S FRAGMENTS ON COLUMBUS.

Norfolk Hotel, Brighton, Sept. 9th.

SUCH, in the various items of situation, scene, and season, was his position, who, lounging the twilight away, in the balcony of this most commendable caravanserai, gazing, in his idlesse, where the pebblepaven shore,

"Under the quick, faint kisses of the sea,
Trembled and sparkled as with ecstasy,"

first bethought him of soiling foolscap with these presents. "Post equitem sedet atra cura," wrote the ancient man, and echoeth the modern: it is to be feared that the same axiom, very differently rendered, will apply to him who rideth upon a rail behind a burning fiery furnace, and a cauldron roaring like lava-vomiting Etna. However, there still is balm in Gilead. "Four-in-hand from Piccadilly," is not yet a thing known but to song; "a cavalcade of coaches" still musters daily adjacent to the Elephant and Castle. At this latter spot it was that, soon after noon of the day indicated in the date prefixed to this article, I ascended the box of one of the five-hour Brighton drags; and, as close as a chronometer could shave it, was deposited, within that time, at the office in Castle Square. The two hours before dinner were pleasantly and profitably disposed of, by a stroll on the Chain Pier, and a tepid bath at Mahomed's. The event of the day was by no means a failure at the hands of the chef who does the gastronomics of the Norfolk as it became a man, I did justice to his culinary skill; and, for the summing up, let it be said, that

:

"Better wine ne'er washed down better fare."

An autumn evening may be worse passed than in crowning a fragrant Havannah with extract of the Mocha berry: and there are less pleasant ways of spending an autumn night, after a day of cheerful exercise, than between two layers of cool, sweet holland, where you can scarce bury your head among the down, ere you are as fast as Gibraltar. Believe this, reader mine, meo teste, or, being sceptical, try it, with appliances and means to boot" hereinbefore stated; and if it fail to satisfy your fastidiousness, there is nothing for it but a glass of hydrocianic: your case is hopeless on this side Styx.

the 66

The days of "The Road" are numbered: it needs no one to rise from the dead to assure us of that fact. What may, or may not be the consequences, I leave the political economist to speculate upon; my design being simply to offer a sketch of it, taken from a point of view combining a pleasant prospect with agreeable and appropriate accompaniments. It may be said that the road-work between London and Brighton is not a fair sample of the average stage-coach travelling which England could boast a few years since the palmiest era of the Road. I grant it, but not as an admission that it was in a condition of excellence on that line which it could not have attained on many others. That bane of progress, monopoly, was fast grasping all the great roads (which alone afforded fields for spirited speculators), when the age of railways dawned. With a very trifling exception, four individuals commanded the whole of the stage-coach business of the metropolis. Messrs. Chaplin, Horne, Shearman, and Nelson had nearly every avenue of approach and departure from London in their hands a few others held, here and there, one or two upon sufferance; but, virtually, the entire travelling by mail and stage coaches to every part of Great Britain was in possession of those four leviathan establishments. Occasionally, indeed, there would occur a schism in the quadruple alliance; a fierce opposition would arise among them, and the common weal seemed in a fair way to profit by it; but the feud was soon arranged; a compromise, in some way or other effected, and always so that "our public" went to the wall. Such, indeed, is the present state of things, in almost every instance, where the descent from the metropolis is still effected by the means of horseflesh and road coaches. Look, for example, at the Cambridge line what sort of a figure would a stranger cut who should venture to draw the lieges from town to the classic banks of the Cam? When, however, I speak thus of the monopoly exercised by "the great yards," I am far from desiring to convey that they have not frequently done the Road good service. To those who remember (and what dragsman does not?) the style in which Horne, Chaplin, and Nelson were wont to turn out their three unrivalled Birmingham day coaches, the "Independent," "Eclipse," and "Patent Tally-ho," any eulogy here would be superfluous. Perhaps, considered upon the strict principle of public conveyances, adapted for the carriage of heavy loads at a speed not exceeded, even now, in much shorter distances, three such "turns-out" never were seen at any one time on the same line of road in this country. For all the uses to which they were applied, I do not think the art of man could have added one item to their economies. To carry passengers and luggage a given distance in the shortest space, and with the greatest safety and convenience, was the object in which they originated, and they accomplished it in as great perfection as the means of locomotion, then available could, by any combination effect.

But while all was "couleur de rose" for those who journeyed to Birmingham; while behind little Tom Boyce or big Bob Flack people were shot through Highgate Archway, and wafted over Finchley, a very different fate awaited but too many a wretch destined to find his way through less favoured districts. On several lines, as soon as the London team were taken off, you bade adieu to hope for the

remainder of your pilgrimage. I remember once (not fifty years ago) being asked, "if I would work?" on a crack Norwich drag. "Done," said I; and, as we stopped to take up a passenger, in Whitechapel, I took hold of them. "You are tidily horsed," was my observation, as we slapped through Bow, every nag running up to his bit as fair and free as an arrow. "I'll tell you how I'm horsed, sir," was the reply: "I'll bet you a crown you don't get my next team over their stage without four stoppages against your will, and the best you know." I made the wager, and lost it.

For the last score of years, or thereabouts, the London and Brighton road has been a sort of "no man's land" to the amateur and semi-professional dragsman. For at least that period, it has been the scene of a constant opposition and a steady emulation. Large sums have been lost upon it, and much very profitable business done. With the period when George IV. selected "Brighthelmstone" as a marine residence, its claim to the name of a road at all may be considered to have commenced. Then, and for many years afterwards, the journey, up or down, occupied two days; the first night being passed at Reigate or Cuckfield, according to the route which the stage travelled. Within the last forty years the first attempt to "run through" in a day was made. "Old Bradford," now, or very lately, living at Brighton, was the daring individual who was selected for the forlorn hope; and he used to relate that his kinsfolk and friends tried all their efforts to dissuade him from such a temptation of Providence. It was in 1823 that the Brighton road first assumed the character it has ever since supported that of the first in England for the combined elegance and excellence of its coaching. In that year Henry Stevenson made his début upon it, with "The Water Witch;" the first public conveyance in all respects resembling the private equipage of a man of fortune, and driven by a gentleman, that was ever seen, I believe, in this country. One in every way more suited to the somewhat eccentric scheme that he adopted, could not have been found. He was a first-rate artist on the box, and one of the most generally popular men that ever left the University of Cambridge. The speculation turned out well. Every Cantab that went the road made it a matter of course to patronize "Harry ;" and, in a short time, the "Water Witch" was daily freighted with the élite of those who constituted the customers of the Brighton coach-trade. After a good beginning with his first drag, Stevenson started "The Age," which, to the present hour, continues to be the "crack" of the road. It is no small praise to say, that it still preserves all the best features that distinguished its first appearance. Though an amateur, Stevenson understood all the economy of public coaching as well as the most practised of the professionals, and had steadiness and perseverance to turn his knowledge to account. He was ever to be found-a workman "factus ad unguem,"-directing the minutest details of the concern; the courteous demeanour of the gentleman mingling in pleasant harmony with the assumed character and condition of one born to the office. Poor Harry! many a merry day roll'd over our acquaintance: many a time have I chidden the too brief space, into which the five hours from the Elephant" to the "Square" were compressed!-and, methinks, I have scarce done thee justice, when I seem to insinuate that "The

All

Age" is still the same that it was in the days of its youth, when nurtured and embellished by thy ceaseless care and unrivalled taste. praise to those who now present it to us in the sober excellence of its maturity; who still produce it perfect in all the necessaries, and profuse in all the essential elegancies suited to its purpose. But, nevertheless, it may be permitted me to offer a sigh to the manes of those glories that whilom drew, from Brunswick Terrace to Kemp Town, every man with a spirit above that of a tailor's goose, to the mid-day gala in Castle Square. Who that witnessed it needs that his memory be refreshed? Who that ever saw that fancy team-the skew-bald, dun, roan, and chestnut, each ready to leap through his collar, while Harry, with a look that proclaimed the master of the art, adjusted his reins, and, as the last stroke of twelve tolled from the Pavilion clock, gave the word, "let 'em go," can forget it? Four such cattle, so appointed, harnessed to such a drag, and with such an artist to handle them, as constituted the set-out of "The Age," from Brighton, in the year of its establishment (1827), never before or since was or has been seen in this or any other country. But I dwell on the scent: it is a pet reminiscence with me, and I must be pardoned for thus resting on a green spot of "lang syne."

Within the last forty years, as I have already observed, the first essay was made to perform the journey from the metropolis to Brighton in one day. The feat was accomplished in thirteen hours; the coach starting at seven in the morning, and arriving at its destination at eight in the evening. It was not till twenty years after that any one thought of working a coach up and down the same day. About 1820 this was done by Whitchurch, who deserves honourable mention here. He thus took the lead, and kept it till 1823, when, as we have seen, Mr. Stevenson appeared, like a meteor, and "Witch'd the world with noble coachmanship." With him commenced the taste which led to the box, upon this most aristocratic road, the following list of noble and gentle coachmen :—

The Marquis of Worcester, on The Evening's Amusement.

Lord Harborough, on The Monarch.

Sir St. Vincent Cotton, Bart., on The Age.

The Hon. Francis Stafford Jerningham, now on The Day Mail.

Robert Brackenbury, Esq., now on The Age.

Sackville Gwynne, Esq., now on The Beaufort.

Drummond Baring, Esq., now on ditto.
Charles Jones, Esq., now on the opposition Age.
Captain Davis, formerly on the opposition Age.
John Willan, Esq., now on The (early) Times.
Musgrave, Esq., on The Monarch.

The subjoined catalogue contains the names, time, and hours of starting of the coaches which are now daily running up and down between London and Brighton:

The following are considered as summer coaches only:

The Prince, at half-past nine in the morning.

The Coronet, at half-past ten ditto.

The Star, at twelve noon.

This makes a total of twenty-one double coaches, that is, of fortytwo coaches and four mails, traversing this road daily and nightly, besides six vans for the conveyance of luggage. The average number of horses employed to work the five-hour coaches, is forty-six, and the six-hour coaches, thirty-eight; which will give us, in round numbers, at least eleven hundred horses, now required upon this line of road. The five-hour drags have eight teams each between the two ends; and the quarter cloths, that keep the sea air off the coursers of the Age, while waiting at the office door at Brighton, cost within one shilling and ninepence of twenty pounds. Now, if that be slow, I should like to know at what sort of pace they go who are accounted fast.

Thus much for matter of fact; from which we will pass to the style and spirit displayed on the most distinguished items of the list, and to a consideration of the present condition of the art of coaching on the Brighton road. The two leaders are the Age and the Beaufort -the Philip and the Alexander of these modern Olympics. Of the former, I have already spoken, in terms which, to the best of my judgment, did justice to its merits. Were I asked to point out the best stage coach, in the old meaning of the word, now running out of London, I should without hesitation name the Bedford Times. I am aware that even that concern is not wholly dependent upon casual road traffic, neither supported exclusively by professional proprietors: still, in all its appointments and economy, it strictly comes within the class of stage coach; and of that class it is, in my opinion, first and first. But it has no pretension to the aristocratic character of the Brighton Age, which (contrary to all precedent), to be seen to the best advantage, must be viewed on its lower ground. That moiety of its journey over which it is driven by my friend Robert Brackenbury, certainly, is done in a fashion without any parallel in road-travelling by a public conveyance.

On Saturday, the 12th ult., a new coach, called "The Earl of Chesterfield," commenced running as partner to Alexander's opposition Age, which now runs three days a week. "The Earl of Chesterfield" runs on the alternate days.