Traditional Christmas images mask grim reality of coaching era

Even if the reality does not match the glamour and romance of the golden era of coaching which ended more than a century ago, we still associate those images with the present festive season.

The books of Charles Dickens are probably largely responsible for the continuing association of Christmas with the image of a coach and horses bringing cheer to a crowd of waiting people, but in fact this mode of travel was extremely uncomfortable and even dangerous.

In addition, it meant long hours of gruelling work and even cruelty for teams of horses due to the dreadful state of our roads at that time. Even some main roads were little more than unsurfaced tracks.

One of the main centres for coaching in this region was Northallerton because it was a convenient halting place on the route between north and south. Travellers could enjoy rest and refreshment and horses could be changed, those on the incoming journey being rested and fed until their next duty.

At the height of the coaching days Northallerton had four inns which catered for these travellers - the Black Bull, the King's Head, the Old Golden Lion and, the largest of all, the splendid and spacious Golden Lion, even then with its symbolic lion over the entrance porch.

The three smaller inns took little part in the coaching scene, with the Leeds and Shields Royal Mail coaches being supplied with fresh horses from the Old Golden Lion.

One of the most famous coaches on the roads, the Highflyer, changed its horses at the King's Head, while the Leeds and Newcastle Diligence stopped at the Black Bull, probably the oldest of Northallerton's coaching inns. The Leeds to Newcastle night coach, called The Hero, also stopped at the Black Bull.

By far the busiest and largest of Northallerton's coaching inns was the Golden Lion which, at its peak, was run by Frank Hirst, who could stable 30 horses on the premises.

He was both a coach proprietor and posting master whose business empire stretched from Thormanby to the south of Thirsk to Entercommon north of Northallerton. He supplied horses for most of the coaches which ran through Northallerton, even if they did not stop at the Golden Lion.

The Golden Lion also housed a large number of post boys, including the oldest on the road, Kit Elliott. These men were paid no wages, but received their board and lodgings free of charge and earned money from tips.

Hirst died in 1835 and left a huge fortune. It was around the time of his death that the coach operators throughout the country were having their toughest time. Not only was there fierce rivalry from other coach operators, known as The Opposition, they were also confronted with unforeseen competition from a new mode of travel.

Steam trains could now carry passengers, something started in this region in 1825 by the Stockton to Darlington railway. By 1829, steam trains were travelling at 30 miles per hour, far greater than the average eight miles per hour achieved by the finest of the coaches.

It was clear that the travelling public would make use of the faster and more comfortable railways rather than rely on horse-drawn coaches using rough roads, but the coaches did not give up easily.

Faster services and cheaper fares were adopted in the hope of attracting and keeping their customers, and the coaching firms resorted to tough action so they alone would carry the dwindling number of passengers.

A very bad example occurred between Northallerton and Great Smeaton. One of the finest drivers in this region was Ralph Soulsby, who drove the Wellington which ran between London and Newcastle. It changed horses at The Golden Lion in Northallerton.

There is one story of Soulsby trying to beat an Opposition coach on the run from Great Smeaton into Northallerton. Such was the ferocity of his driving that two horses dropped dead before reaching Northallerton and a third died near the parish church. He reached the Golden Lion with one weary horse.

The Wellington was the last coach to disappear from the roads. The end came when the Wellington left Newcastle empty. It arrived at Darlington empty and continued its journey south, being empty as it passed through Northallerton and Thirsk.

Its driver was a regular called Thomas Layfield and he drew up at each stage with a bowed head, knowing the end had come. He was a fine well-mannered man who had spent his life on the famous box seat, and it was said the Duke of Northumberland would have no other person drive him.

Layfield witnessed the end of the Wellington's heyday, sold his property and moved to Northumberland, where he bought land and kept horses. He died about 1881.

Perhaps the only way we can remember the more glamorous of those days is through our Christmas cards.

Continuing the coaching theme, it is interesting to speculate upon the accuracy of the scenes we enjoy on our Christmas cards.

Most are from the artists' imagination, doubtless reinforced with some detailed research, but some are clearly based on genuine locations with real scenes.

But here's a little challenge if you decide to look closely at a Christmas coaching scene. See if you can find a dalmatian in the picture.

This is a dog otherwise known as the spotted dog or plum pudding dog, but in coaching days they used to run beside stage coaches. I have an old coaching print which clearly shows a dalmatian galloping alongside a coach-and-four, even though the woman in the picture is nursing her spaniel.

So why did they do this? The answer is they were guard dogs. Dalmatians became very popular in America and Britain just after the Second World War, probably originating in Dalmatia, a region of Croatia. The breed was widely used as a gundog in the Balkans and Italy, but its capabilities as a guard dog were recognised by the French as early as the seventeenth century. Even then, its speciality was to run beside stage coaches to deter highwaymen.

Children now recognise the breed thanks to the popular film 101 Dalmatians. It appears to have been introduced to this country about the end of the eighteenth century especially to act as a guard dog for stage coaches.

Indeed, in some areas of England, the breed was generally known as the carriage dog or coach dog instead of the more formal dalmatian name, and I think, in some areas, it was also used as a pointer during shoots.

I'll be looking at my Christmas cards with extra interest this year.

Tuesday is the winter solstice, which marks the longest night and shortest day. Afterwards, our days will start to get longer and the nights shorter, if only very slowly, but it does mark the official start of winter.

On the North York Moors where I used to live there was a quaint custom on December 21, which is also the feast day of St Thomas. The practice was known as A-Thomassing. Children would tour the houses of the village to ask for St Thomas Day gifts, which were usually cakes or gingerbread with cheese.

So far as I know, there was no verse to chant or song to sing, so I am not sure how this custom originated. In parts of the West Riding, poor women would tour the mills on that day to beg portions of wheat, which was ground for them free of charge so they could make Christmas cakes. In return, they gave gifts of holly. It may be that A-Thomassing also owes it origins to a form of charity.

In some rural areas, candles were auctioned in preparation for winter, but the term 'candle auction' refers to a practice by some auctioneers to offer lots for sale as a candle burns away.

Another St Thomas Day custom in this region was to plant St Thomas' onions or shallots, and in some areas it was considered a good day for planting broad beans.

On the down side, it was often said that if a girl married on St Thomas' Day, she would quickly become a widow.

And finally. I spotted this small advertisement in a local newspaper. "2005 diaries in stock." That's a lot of diaries for a tiny shop!