STAND! DELIVER!
The post carriage from the Stewponey was one the like of which
is never seen at the present day, although on the Continent, in
places, some venerable survivals linger on to excite our
astonishment and amusement.
It was a calash constructed to hold two persons only, with a
hood something like that of a hansom, and glazed in front. It was
perched on enormous wheels behind, those in front being
disproportionately small. The body of the vehicle was swung on
immense C springs. It was painted the colour of a marigold, the
back being black.
This carriage was far from being incommodious. Although there
was no third seat within, there was a bracket on which any such
article as a reticule could be placed, but only retained if tied
there. No box seat for a driver obstructed the view. Those within
commanded a prospect of the scenery, interrupted only by the
bobbing form of the post-boy. The powerful springs and the
massive construction of the vehicle were of necessity at a period
when the roads were unscientifically made and badly kept up.
Throughout the Middle Ages, and down to the beginning of the
present century, stones of all kinds and sizes, picked up
anywhere, off the fields, dug out of quarries, gathered from
water-courses, were thrown over the highways, and thrust into
ruts without an attempt being made to reduce their size. It is
now considered a primary law that a roadway should be convex in
structure, so that the water falling on it may run off at once
and be carried away at the water table. No such law was then
known. The traffic of horses in the middle wore away the centre, and the section of the road was concave, so that all the mud and water settled in the middle, and resolved the way into one great slough.
A journey over such roads was almost as bad as one along a
torrent-bed. It consisted in an alternation between bouncing over
boulders and dragging through mire. Nothing was more usual than
the fracture of a spring, or the embedding of the wheels in a
profound rut, from which the horses were powerless to lift the
carriage.
In the neighbourhood of Kinver, where sandstone prevails, and
the only alternative is conglomerate, there is no proper material
for "metalling" roads. Nor does the river Stour brawl down from
mountains, and roll hard pebbles along its bed.
Consequently, notwithstanding that the roads which met and
crossed at the Stewponey were of first importance, one being the
great artery of communication with Ireland, yet all were equally
bad.
When the ruts in the highway became dangerous, then carriages
and coaches were driven on the turf at the side, so long as that
held together; but when that had been resolved into a quagmire, then the welted roadway had again to be resorted to as preferable.
On our macadamised and steam-rolled roads we spin along as if
on ice. A hundred years ago travelling on the king's highway was
slow, laborious, and painful. A short journey sufficed to resolve
the lily-white human body into a purple and yellow mass of
bruises.
For the first half-mile, to keep up appearances, the post-boy
maintained a rapid pace by constant application of the whip, and
by much objurgation; but as soon as the Stewponey and Stourton
Castle were out of sight, he relaxed his energies, and the horses
perfectly understood that no more violent exercise was required
of them. Their master's carriage, its springs, its wheels, its
axle were to be considered, and they subsided into their normal
pace, one which a lusty man might have surpassed, by exerting
himself, in walking.
"The moon is rising," said Luke Francis. "See, our
honey-moon!"
If so—it presaged a cold and cheerless state.
Through the trees glimmered a sallow light. The sun was
setting, and setting in torn and tattered cloud, but it diffused
light sufficient to render the lesser orb wan and ghost-like. She
appeared as lifeless as the bride.
Opposite to the rising moon was the sinking sun, like Hercules
in his riven robe of Nessus, all shreds of blood and fire. His
face was like that of the bridegroom, flushed with triumph and
passion.
"I have been for five years seeking about to find a wife, and
unable to get one," said he. "Dost know the reason?"