Possibly the same idea is to be found in the framing of a Parliamentary Bill of 1601 “to restrain the excessive use of coaches,” which, however, was thrown out. So again in 1623, the delightful though sadly biased water-poet, John Taylor, is lamenting the decadence of England, due, according to him, to the growing custom of driving in coaches.
“For whereas,” he says, “within our memories, our Nobility and Gentry would ride well mounted (and sometimes walke on foote) gallantly attended with three or four, score brave fellowes in blue coates, which was a glory to our Nation; and gave more content to the beholders, then [_sic_] forty of your Leather tumbrels: Then men preserv’d their bodies strong and able by walking, riding, and other manly exercises: Then saddlers was a good Trade, and the name of a Coach was Heathen Greek. Who ever saw (but upon extraordinary occasions),” he goes on to ask, “Sir _Philip Sidney_, Sir _Francis Drake_, Sir _John Norris_, Sir _William Winter_, Sir _Roger Williams_, or (whom I should have nam’d first) the famous Lord _Gray_ and _Willoughby_, when the renowned _George_ Earle of _Cumberland_, or _Robert_ Earle of _Essex_? These sonnes of _Mars_, who in their time were the glorious Brooches of our Nation, and admirable terrour to our Enemies: these, I say, did make small use of Coaches, and there were two mayne reasons for it, the one was, that there were but few Coaches in most of their times: and the second is, they were deadly foes to all sloth and effeminacy.”
To Taylor, indeed, and probably to every one of his fellow-watermen, a coach was always a “hell-cart” designed on purpose to put an end to his own most worthy calling. But less biased poets than outspoken Taylor gave tongue to an opposition which continued for nearly two centuries. Gay, for instance, looked on the vastly improved vehicle of his day as no more than an excuse for extravagant display:—
“O happy streets, to rumbling wheels unknown, No carts, no coaches shake the floating town! Thus was of old _Britannia’s_ city bless’d, Ere pride and luxury her sons profess’d.”
“Now gaudy pride corrupts the lavish age, And the streets flame with glaring equipage; The tricking gamester insolently rides, With _Loves_ and _Graces_ on his chariot’s sides; In saucy state the griping broker sits, And laughs at honesty, and trudging wits.”