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The Royal Oak Hotel

Posting Houses and Stage Coaches Take me here now

Image courtesy of Paul Smith
Image courtesy of Paul Smith
The Royal Oak Hotel, Garstang. Marks on the cornerstone where the old coach wheels caught the stonework.
The Royal Oak Hotel, Garstang. Marks on the cornerstone where the old coach wheels caught the stonework.
A stage coach at the Dolphin Inn by Thomas Rowlandson (1757-1827)
A stage coach at the Dolphin Inn by Thomas Rowlandson (1757-1827)
Stage coach setting off from a country inn by William Hogarth (1697-1764)
Stage coach setting off from a country inn by William Hogarth (1697-1764)
Stage coach arriving at post inn by Thomas Rowlandson (1757-1827)
Stage coach arriving at post inn by Thomas Rowlandson (1757-1827)
Departure of a post chaise possibly by Samuel Howitt (1756–1822)
Departure of a post chaise possibly by Samuel Howitt (1756–1822)
A post chaise on the road by Thomas Rowlandson (1757-1827)
A post chaise on the road by Thomas Rowlandson (1757-1827)

Posting Houses

Garstang was an important location for Britain's road transport network, as it provided fresh horses, fodder, beds, and provisions for coaches passing through.

The Royal Oak Hotel was Garstang’s principal Posting House on the London to Edinburgh route. Weary travellers could put their horses in the stables and get a bed for the night. 

Sir Walter Scott (famous 19th century Scottish author, poet, and historian) and Celia Fiennes (17th century travel writer who toured England on horseback - very unusal for a woman at the time!) are amongst some of the famous people that have stayed there. The block of buildings on the west side was used by Cromwell’s troops during the siege of Greenhalgh Castle.

The Royal Oak owned much land stretching to beyond St. Thomas’ Church and right down to the river. It was used for many community gatherings.

At the right hand corner of the Royal Oak Hotel note the marks on the cornerstone where the old coach wheels caught the stonework!

Stage Coaches - Life in the fast lane (at 12 mph)!

There were stageposts or posting houses all along the main travel routes, usually about ten to fifteen miles apart, where the stage coaches stopped to change horses and passengers could stretch their legs and perhaps get some refreshment. When night fell, normal stage coaches stopped, but were away at first light the next day.  "Express" coaches travelled through the night.

By the 1750s better roads and coach design had cut the travel time from Manchester to London substantially:

"However incredible it may appear, this coach will actually (barring accidents) arrive in London in four days and a half after leaving Manchester"  (Advertisement for the Manchester 'Flying Coach")

The stage coaches ran on set routes at set times, and were quite expensive, but also provided a way to send packages to relatives. The coaching companies allowed the coachman to accept and deliver items along the route, as long as it didn't interfere with the journey or take up too much space in the 'basket' used to store passenger luggage.

If you were wealthy, or needed to deliver something in a great hurry (such as news of national importance) you could hire a 'post chaise' which was a smaller and lighter private vehicle with room for only two passengers, and instead of a coachman had a postillion riding one of the horses. In 1805, the news of the Battle of Trafalgar was taken by "posting" from Falmouth to London in just 37 hours. 

Travelling by stagecoach was uncomfortable, especially if you were doing it on the cheap as an "outside" passenger travelling on the roof. However, the extensive network of roads, inns and changing posts was much admired by visitors from other countries, and continued until replaced by the faster and more comfortable railway network. 

Make sure your volume is on: "Taking a stage coach in 1782 (extract from 'Travels in England in 1782' by C. P. Moritz)"

Show transcript

I went up a long street before I got to the house from which the post-coaches set out, and which is also an inn. I here learnt that the stage was to set out that evening for London, but that the inside was already full; some places were, however, still left on the outside.


But this ride from Leicester to Northampton I shall remember as long as I live.

The coach drove from the yard through a part of the house. The inside passengers got in in the yard, but we on the outside were obliged to clamber up in the public street, because we should have had no room for our heads to pass under the gateway.

My companions on the top of the coach were a farmer, a young man very decently dressed, and a blackamoor.

The getting up alone was at the risk of one’s life, and when I was up I was obliged to sit just at the corner of the coach, with nothing to hold by but a sort of little handle fastened on the side. I sat nearest the wheel, and the moment that we set off I fancied that I saw certain death await me. All I could do was to take still safer hold of the handle, and to be more and more careful to preserve my balance.

The machine now rolled along with prodigious rapidity, over the stones through the town, and every moment we seemed to fly into the air, so that it was almost a miracle that we still stuck to the coach and did not fall. We seemed to be thus on the wing, and to fly, as often as we passed through a village, or went down a hill.

At last the being continually in fear of my life became insupportable, and as we were going up a hill, and consequently proceeding rather slower than usual, I crept from the top of the coach and got snug into the basket.

“O, sir, sir, you will be shaken to death!” said the black, but I flattered myself he exaggerated the unpleasantness of my post.

As long as we went up hill it was easy and pleasant. And, having had little or no sleep the night before, I was almost asleep among the trunks and the packages; but how was the case altered when we came to go down hill! then all the trunks and parcels began, as it were, to dance around me, and everything in the basket seemed to be alive, and I every moment received from them such violent blows that I thought my last hour was come. I now found that what the black had told me was no exaggeration, but all my complaints were useless. I was obliged to suffer this torture nearly an hour, till we came to another hill again, when quite shaken to pieces and sadly bruised, I again crept to the top of the coach, and took possession of my former seat. “Ah, did not I tell you that you would be shaken to death?” said the black, as I was getting up, but I made him no reply. Indeed, I was ashamed; and I now write this as a warning to all strangers to stage-coaches who may happen to take it into their heads, without being used to it, to take a place on the outside of an English post-coach, and still more, a place in the basket.
Extract from "Travels in England in 1782" by C.P. Moritz

This page is part of Garstang Heritage Trail