FRESH AIR, BLUE RIBBONS, AND POSTMEN
A Day with the Postmaster-General—How he worked Reform—The
Parcel Post.
By his intense love of the open air Fawcett kept mind and body fresh,
and was eager and able to cope with his problems, and to welcome new
ones. The late Sir Robert Hunter said: ‘He frequently walked up and down
outside the post office in the middle of the day, while smoking his
cigarette, and on Saturdays he either walked, or rowed on the Thames
with an old friend or two. He rowed very badly, and caused much
discomfort to his companions by ‘catching crabs.’
‘I often used to accompany him, on long walks over Wimbledon Common, and
he liked walking on uneven ground as contrasted with smooth pavements. I
remember his saying one day how much better it was to get out into the
country than to follow the prevalent fashion of hanging about the clubs
on a Saturday, on the chance of picking up some piece of political
gossip, gossip mostly untrue and worthless.’ It is also told that when a
mutual friend mentioned to Fawcett that he was going to stay in the
country with the newly appointed solicitor: ‘Ah,’ said the blind man,
‘you are going down to ——: Hunter has a wonderful view there!’
Applications did not need to be influentially backed to receive his
interested attention. The request of a cottager to have his letters
brought to his own cottage instead of to the house of his employer would
be investigated by Fawcett as carefully as a request from a Minister of
State. Nothing was too much trouble for him. He received a petition from
the town of Guildford asking for an additional daily postal delivery. He
invited a small deputation from among the signers of the petition to
come to London and talk the matter over with him. Among those who formed
the deputation was a medical man who gave the following account of what
took place at the interview: ‘After Fawcett had welcomed us most kindly,
he had a little map of the town, which had been specially drawn up for
the occasion, distributed among us, and then himself gave us an address
on the work of the Guildford postmen. He described minutely the various
rounds of each of them, specifying the names of the streets passed
through, and the length of time occupied in traversing them. Summing up
these data, he proved that the additional delivery for which we asked
could only be provided at the cost of engaging an additional postman,
which the local finances would not justify. None of us had a word to say
against this demonstration, and I, for my part, quitted the General Post
Office filled with astonishment that a blind man should seem to know
more than I myself did about a town in which, as boy and man, I had been
going about all my life.’[2]
[Sidenote: What kind of a Donkey?]
A large factor in his success was that he always kept his sense of
humour to the fore. A friend remonstrated with the Postmaster-General
because the post was brought to him by a donkey. But his only answer was
a deeply interested inquiry, ‘What kind of a donkey is it, a lean
donkey, or a fat donkey?’
[Sidenote: Blue Ribbon.]
When complaint was made to the Postmaster-General that it was not
‘official’ for women working in the Post Office to wear the ‘blue
ribbon,’ Fawcett replied that by doing so they set a very good example,
and he had no fault to find with their office work. To a similar
complaint about a postman, he replied that they might wear all the
colours of the rainbow if it would keep them from drinking.
Though he did not take part in the various temperance campaigns of his
day, Fawcett believed very strongly in the evils of drink. His own
temperate existence, the fact that even in his college days he had never
drunk too much, put him in a strong position to talk to others about the
foolishness of drunkenness and the great loss of strength caused by an
indulgence in drink. He was much in earnest in trying to persuade men of
all classes to be temperate, and would unhesitatingly argue with
hard-drinking men against their unwise course.
[Sidenote: A day with the Postmaster-General.]
The following outline of his daily work is kindly given by Mr. Dryhurst,
who was his secretary at the time. The official pouches would be brought
to the House of Commons at six o’clock. These contained the ‘minutes,’
to use the official term, _i.e._ the proposals submitted for his
approval or instructions. His secretary would get up these papers and
afterwards read them to his chief. This had to be a thorough process,
for Fawcett, instead of passing them as a matter of form, was certain to
ask minute questions about them. He returned home from the House of
Commons any time from one to four A.M. After breakfast the following
morning, ‘the meat,’ as he called it, would be read to him out of the
morning news, and then important papers would be put before him to be
approved or initialled. If he felt he did not know enough to approve or
disapprove, he would ask to see So-and-so later at the post office. At
eleven-thirty to twelve, partly by cab and partly on foot, he would
reach the post office, and there spend the next three to four hours in
discussing with the officials the proposals they had put before him, or
new ones which were in contemplation.
Other important business during the parliamentary session would be the
preparation of answers to the questions to be asked in the House of
Commons in the afternoon. As soon as this work was done, he walked along
the Embankment from Blackfriars to the House of Commons.
It is interesting to set beside this more impressions of Sir Robert
Hunter, which he most kindly gave to the writer shortly before his
death. Sir Robert was appointed solicitor to the Post Office by Fawcett,
who was particularly glad to make the appointment, as Mr. Hunter, as he
was then, was an old friend. The two men had worked together in the
Commons Preservation Society, to which Sir Robert Hunter was the
indefatigable solicitor, and Fawcett had then become thoroughly familiar
with his great abilities.
[Sidenote: How he worked.]
Speaking of the blind Postmaster-General, Sir Robert said that he gave
the Post Office an enormous lift; he tried to make it an important
social instrument for the amelioration of the State. His personality was
most inspiriting. He would come to the post office on Monday morning
with a crumpled little piece of paper, which he would hand to any one
standing near to read to him. It contained perhaps half a dozen words;
for example: ‘Foreign delivery, parcels, stamp, alterations.’ This
slight help to his memory was sufficient to remind him perhaps of all
the day’s work, including investigations and even what he was prepared
to say before the House of Commons in the afternoon. He took great pains
with his answers for question time, discussing, writing, and re-writing
them. But once they were settled and read over to him in their final
form, they were delivered by him in the House verbatim without any
effort. If some proposal came before him in the guise of a file of
papers, he always endeavoured to ascertain what official had given most
consideration to the question, and he then discussed the matter with him
personally. This was an innovation. The discussion would suggest ideas
which would often lead to improvements in the administration. His
enthusiasm made every one feel the need of working harder and doing
better than under a less inspiring leader. He gained the affection of
all by his astonishing consideration, and by not giving unnecessary
trouble.’
Though now a mature and distinguished man, he had not changed from his
buoyant earlier self, and with each return to Cambridge took up his
lectures and his social life with a new glow and fresh zeal. He
appreciated more than ever, if possible, the value of work and fun in
life, and in return, for his industry and gaiety, life yielded him full
measure of joy and contentment.
[Sidenote: Interested Cows.]
A Trinity Hall contemporary tells of going to stay with a friend in the
country, and on his arrival finding no one at home; but being told by
the butler that Mr. Fawcett had arrived and was fishing in the
neighbourhood, the new guest went in search. After a short walk in the
meadows he was surprised to see in the neighbourhood of a brook a large
group of cows standing in contemplation about some central object which
he could not make out. A nearer view revealed Fawcett seated in the
charmed circle, the cynosure of all the bovine eyes! In his hand he held
a fishing-rod, the line being firmly caught above his head to the branch
of a tree. The anxious and puzzled observer asked what was the matter,
to which Fawcett answered unconcernedly: ‘Oh, I’m all right, thanks; I’m
very glad to see you!’ On further inquiry about his hypnotised audience
of cows, he explained, ‘Oh, it was the boy’s lunch-time, so I sent him
off to get it. My fish-hook got caught in the tree and these cows just
happened to come round.’ As always, he was having an idyllic time, and
was amused by his friend’s perplexity.
[Sidenote: A Faithful Plaster.]
Mr. Dryhurst tells of Fawcett in a different predicament, the centre of
a very different circle at Cambridge. Like most healthy men, he took his
trifling ailments most seriously, and was much worried by any unusual
symptoms. One day, having a fearful pain in his chest, he went to a
chemist in Cambridge. The chemist properly made inquiry as to a possible
cause for the trouble. Had there been perhaps some reckless indulgence?
some forbidden fruit or similar dissipation? Fawcett could find,
however, no possible explanation for his illness, though he
parenthetically remarked that he had eaten forty walnuts. The chemist
finally prescribed for this mysterious illness a tar adhesive plaster
and applied a large one to Fawcett’s chest. The same evening the invalid
went to a dinner-party. The weather was close, the room badly
ventilated. A slight but rapidly increasing odour of tar was noticed by
one or two of the guests. Fawcett blandly remarked that they were
repairing the streets of Cambridge, which might perhaps account for the
odour, and thus diverted any awkward investigation.
[Sidenote: A German Visitor.]
On his return to London, Fawcett was asked by the head of the German
Post Office to allow him to send an official to study certain points of
administration. Fawcett gladly gave the required leave, and on reaching
the office one morning was informed that the German official had arrived
and was already at work in one of the departments. ‘Tell him,’ said
Fawcett, ‘that I should be glad to speak to him in my room.’ As a
considerable time elapsed without his putting in an appearance, Fawcett
asked the reason for the delay, and received the following answer:
‘Directly we told the German gentleman that you wished to speak to him,
he put on his coat and hat and left the office, and we saw him drive off
in a hansom cab.’ This seemed a very odd way of behaving, but the matter
was satisfactorily cleared up before long by the return of the German
visitor in full official costume and with all his orders on. Fawcett,
concealing his amusement, expressed his regret that so much trouble
should have been thrown away on a blind man who could not perceive the
results. The German visitor explained that in no case could he have
presented himself before a Minister of a foreign power in ordinary
attire. To have done so would have rendered him liable to most serious
censure from his own official superiors.
[Sidenote: New Ideas.]
Fawcett always lent a ready ear to all suggestions for widening the
work. Friends told him of the reply postcard and of the indicators used
abroad to show when the last collection had been made at the pillar
boxes. Gleefully, like a boy with a new toy, he seized these, to him,
new ideas, and made them part of the little details of his great
machine. He loved to watch the effect of any new improvement, and was
interested in hearing of the greater convenience and consequently
greater correspondence due to the erection of a pillar box in Salisbury
near his old home. He multiplied pillar boxes in railway stations, and
had letter boxes fixed to the travelling post offices in trains, and
greatly accelerated the collection and delivery of letters. He arranged
for the issue of postal orders on board ship, and earned the gratitude
of pensioners by arranging to have their money sent by post, thus saving
them a journey. The official reports testify to his love of the minutiæ
of his task.
[Sidenote: Five things to be done.]
He was as genuinely absorbed in it as if the administration of the Post
Office had been the desire of his lifetime. In a letter to his father on
7th April 1883, he names briefly his chief ambitions for the extension
of his work. He writes: ‘Before I had been a fortnight at the Post
Office I felt that there were five things to be done: (1) The parcel
post; (2) the issue of postal orders; (3) the receipt of small savings
in stamps and the allowing of small sums to be invested in the funds;
(4) increasing the facilities for life insurance and annuities; (5)
reducing the price of telegrams. The first four I have succeeded in
getting done, and now the fifth is to be accomplished.’
[Sidenote: Parcel Post.]
It is only last year (1913) that the United States Post Office, after
many struggles, has at last followed the example of the Mother Country
in introducing the parcel post. At this time it may be of especial
interest to take a short survey of the history of this great agent for
helpfulness and of the splendid part which Fawcett played in promoting
it. As early as 1698 Docwra originated the penny post for London. It
dispensed impartially ‘bank boxes, tradesmen’s parcels, and
apothecaries’ mixtures.’ Patients complained wisely or unwisely (for it
seems that there has always been a faction in favour of mind cure) that
they did not get their physic in time. But the high rate of postage put
an end to this. Though a parcel post was advocated by Sir Rowland Hill,
the Society of Arts, the Royal Commission on Railways, and though Lord
John Manners had opened up negotiations with the various interests
involved, no working agreement had been arrived at. When Fawcett took
office he became keenly interested and persisted resolutely till the
many difficulties were overcome. It required tireless patience, tact,
and diplomacy, both with the Treasury department, which had to provide
funds to meet the first outlay, and with the railway companies.
Fawcett’s part in the work of establishing this new system was
interrupted by illness, but, nevertheless, the new order was in full
swing in August 1883.
[Sidenote: The new red Vans.]
He took a keen delight in this fresh work, of which he felt that the
public should have the benefit, even if the Government made little
profit. On the evening when the parcel post was started, Fawcett, with
his wife and daughter, went to the ‘circulation office.’ He writes
afterwards on the same night to his parents, describing the scene, the
extraordinary variety of objects posted, and the ’smartly painted red
vans.’ He begs them to come and have a look at it. Three days later he
reports that things are working smoothly, and speaks warmly of the zeal
of all concerned, from the head officials down to the humblest
letter-carrier. He says that he shall soon issue a general notice of
thanks to the persons co-operating in the result. The only difficulty
was the public inexperience in the art of packing.
In his report Fawcett writes: ‘The new post had been introduced without
the least interference with the older services. The number of parcels
conveyed had increased and was now at the rate of from twenty-one to
twenty-two millions a year. Simplifications, and consequent economies
had been introduced, and further improvements were under consideration.’
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.——APRIL 15, 1882.
THE MAN FOR THE POST.
_With special permission from the Proprietors of “Punch”_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Though not at first a financial success, the parcel post became a great
national asset, and later also a generous contributor to the national
exchequer; and though Fawcett’s death came too soon, probably, for him
to realise the quick improvement, his innovations and model methods made
the English Post Office an all-important study for other countries.
[Sidenote: The Heart of the Post Office.]
Men, not things, interested Fawcett, as they do most born leaders. He
knew that if he could energise the minds and bodies of the men and women
of the peaceful army he commanded, and fill them with zeal for their
job, the work of England’s Post Office would go of itself. The machinery
would fly, and each department fill its mission with miraculous new
life. Telegrams, letters, and parcels would dart and fly with fresh
quickness to their destinations, and the revenue from his latest
ventures would return, like a carrier pigeon, to his fostering hand.
Fawcett’s magnetism and good nature, combined with his driving energy,
and his love for the work and the workers, brought about the
transformation of the Post Office from a partially efficient machine to
a highly sensitive, highly organised, democratic department, highly
efficient for the good of his country and its dependencies. His
irrepressible enthusiasm for service infected his force from the lowest
to the highest, brought out the best in them, and knit them together by
this bond of interest and brotherhood. He instilled in them the fervour
for conquest of the nobler kind that inspires patriots, soldiers, or
explorers. Thus he gave wings, interest, even poetry to the stamping of
letters and collecting of mail.
Footnote 2:
This account was given in approximately the above words by the late
Mr. Henry Taylor of Guildford to his cousin, Mr. Sedley Taylor of
Cambridge.