Among the clauses of this and other Acts it is especially forbidden to waggoners to sit in, or drive from, their waggons. They must either walk or ride beside them. They had, indeed, generally done so, as the portrait of old Hobson, on horseback, shows us, or the pictures and narratives of old road life by contemporary artists and writers sufficiently prove; but as the Acts especially decree that waggoners were not to ride on the waggons, the reason being that from such a position they could not maintain sufficient control over their horses, some of them must have done so, and perhaps have fallen asleep and so caused accidents, just as the slumbering carters and waggoners on their way to and from Covent Garden Market do now.
It now became the turn of the coaches to attract the attention of legislators. They obtained this doubtful favour because it had just occurred to the Revenue officials that, owing to the increased number of coaches running, and the larger number of persons resorting to them, the duty on post-horses had not grown at its accustomed rate. The remedy ready to hand was a Stamp Office duty on stage-coaches, which was accordingly introduced in 1776, and four-wheeled coaches paid £5 per annum. The Revenue “vampires,” as the coach-proprietors called them, turned again to this new source of income, and in 1783 levied a duty of a halfpenny a mile run by every stage-coach. Further measures were introduced two years later, when the duties were revised, and four-wheeled and two-wheeled coaches alike paid a five-shilling annual license, and a duty of a penny a mile. From this express inclusion of two-wheeled coaches, it would seem that some vehicles of that nature had been introduced to evade the previous duty; but coaching history is silent on the subject. The duty of a penny a mile was to be paid monthly, and seven days’ notice to be given of any coach being discontinued.
So far the legislature had only taken notice of coaches when new sources of revenue were being sought; but an eye was already upon their doings, an eye that had noted the increasing accidents, due to overloading, reckless driving, and a variety of other causes. It was not an official eye that thus ranged over the roads of the kingdom and marked the broken limbs and contusions of the lieges, acquired by falling from the roofs of coaches, by collisions and upsets: it was the stern gaze, indeed, of one Richard Gamon, a private member of Parliament, who in 1788, in the face of much opposition and ridicule, brought in a Bill to regulate stage-coaches. It is sad to think that even those who travelled largely by coach, whom Mr. Gamon desired to protect, made fun of his efforts, and, when his Bill at first failed to pass, rejoiced as greatly in the prospect of a continued free trade in broken necks and legs as ever the coach-proprietors themselves could have done. Some of this wit was very cheap stuff indeed. It largely consisted of torturing Mr. Gamon’s name into “Gammon,” and that done, the rest was easy. A morning newspaper found it possible to write thus:--