The Postman—His dress—The Post Office—Changes of site—Sir Robert
Vyner—Rates of postage and deliveries—Mail coaches—Places of
starting and routes—Number of houses in London—Description of
them—Their furniture.
ONE PARTICULAR feature of the Streets, was, and still is, one of our
most trusted servants, the POSTMAN. In those days he was a _somebody_,
who held personal relations with his clients. None of your rat-tats,
and “Look in the letter box”; he generally had something to collect,
for there were no postage stamps in those days, and that being the
fact, people very often left the postage to be collected at the other
end. The officials mounted a hat with a cockade, scarlet coat (the
Royal livery), blue breeches, and, of course, white stockings. They
used, as in my young days, to collect the letters, nay, in many country
districts they do it now.
[Illustration: A POSTMAN.]
The location of the Post Office has been changed many times. We are apt
to associate it with St. Martin’s-le-Grand, but it was not always so.
It was originally in Cloak Lane, near Dowgate, whence it was removed
to the Black Swan, in Bishopsgate Street; and, at the time of which we
write, it occupied the site of Sir Robert Vyner’s mansion, in Lombard
Street: that Sir Robert Vyner, who is historical, if only for his
treatment of his king, Charles II.—a story which is well told in No.
462 of the _Spectator_: “Sir Robert was a very loyal man, and, if you
will allow me the expression, very fond of his sovereign; out, what
with the joy he felt at heart for the honour done him by his prince,
and through the warmth he was in with the continual toasting healths
to the Royal Family, his lordship grew a little fond of His Majesty,
and entered into a familiarity not altogether so graceful in a public
place. The King understood very well how to extricate himself in
all kinds of difficulties, and, with a hint to the company to avoid
ceremony, stole off and made towards his coach, which stood ready for
him in Guildhall Yard. But the Mayor liked his company so well, and was
grown so intimate, that he pursued him hastily, and, catching him fast
by the hand, cried out with a vehement oath and accent, ‘Sir, you shall
stay and take t’other bottle.’ The airy monarch looked kindly at him
over his shoulder, and, with a smile, and graceful air, for I saw him
at the time, and do now, repeated this line of the old song:
‘_He that’s drunk is as great as a king_,’
and immediately returned back, and complied with his landlord.”
Then, as now, the Lombard Street Post Office was wasted. “It is
a national reproach when edifices of this kind, which, from our
great mercantile concerns, afford occasion for a display of public
architecture, and ornament to the Metropolis, are lost to those
purposes.” This was the comment of a contemporary, and the site of the
present Post Office in St. Martin’s-le-Grand was not fixed upon or,
rather, the first stone was not laid, till May, 1824. As now, the Post
Office was always changing its rules and rates—to meet emergencies
and keep abreast of the times—so that it would expand this notice to
too great a length, were I to chronicle all its changes. Perhaps a
short relation of its doings in 1804—which would be the mean of the
decade—will give as good an idea as any other.
“Houses, or boxes, for receiving letters before four o’clock, at
the West end of the town, and five o’clock in the City, are open in
every part of the Metropolis; after that hour bell-men collect the
letters during another hour, receiving a fee of _one penny_ for each
letter; but, at the General Post Office, in Lombard Street, letters
are received till seven o’clock; after that, till half an hour after
seven, a fee of _sixpence_ must be paid; and from half after seven till
a quarter before eight, the postage must be paid, as well as the fee
of _sixpence_. Persons, till lately, were, if well known, permitted to
have back any letter put in, if required; but, by an order of June,
1802, the masters of receiving houses are not allowed to return letters
on any pretence whatever.
“Letters from (? for) the East Indies must be delivered at the India
House, where a letter-box is provided for their reception.
“Those for the coast of Africa, or at single settlements in particular
parts of the world, may be sent either through the ship letter office,
or by the bags which await the sailing of ships, and which are kept at
the respective coffee houses near the Royal Exchange.”
We should consider these arrangements somewhat primitive; but then,
telegrams and frequent mails have spoilt us. The twopenny post was
mainly local, there being six deliveries and collections of letters in
town daily, and many country places had two deliveries and collections.
The letters were distributed throughout the length and breadth of the
country by means of _Mail Coaches_, which carried passengers at an
average rate of sixpence per mile. This system was inaugurated, and
organized, at the latter end of the Eighteenth Century, by a Mr. John
Palmer, of Bath, who not only suggested the routes, but to prevent
robbery, which, previously, was rife, had every coach accompanied by a
well-armed _guard_, and these coaches accomplished their journeys at a
uniform rate, including stoppages, of eight miles an hour. They did not
start from the Post Office, but from various inns, and the following is
a list of the coaches, and places of starting:
Dover }
Portsmouth } Angel, St. Clements.
Bristol }
Bath }
Exeter }
Liverpool }
Manchester } Swan with Two Necks, Lad Lane.
Norwich }
Taunton }
Yarmouth }
Ipswich }
Poole Bell and Crown, Holborn.
Chester and Holyhead }
Worcester } Golden Cross, Charing Cross.
Gloucester { Golden Cross, Charing Cross; and the
{ Angel, St. Clements, Strand.
York and Edinburgh }
Glasgow } Bull and Mouth, Bull and Mouth Street
Shrewsbury }
Leeds }
Harwich Spread Eagle, Gracechurch Street.
Chichester }
Cambridge } Unknown.
Rye }
Brighton }
The letters were first of all sorted; then they were weighed, and their
proper amount of postage marked on them; they were counted, packed in
boxes for the different towns, and an account kept of their number;
they were then put in bags, which were sealed, and given in charge of
the mail guard. Postage was heavy in those days. Take the charges for
1810:
_d._
From any Post Office in England or Wales to any place not
exceeding 15 miles from such Office 4
For any distance above 15 miles, and not exceeding 30 miles 5
” 30 ” ” 50 ” 6
” 50 ” ” 80 ” 7
” 80 ” ” 120 ” 8
” 120 ” ” 170 ” 9
” 170 ” ” 230 ” 10
” 230 ” ” 300 ” 11
” 300 ” ” 400 ” 12
And so on in proportion, 1_d._ for every additional 100 miles.
London, at this time, was not beautiful. Apart from the public
buildings, its 160,000 houses (the number estimated in 1804) were not
lovely to look upon. Utilitarian they were, to a degree—long rows
of brick-built tenements, with oblong holes for windows. There was
no attempt at architecture: that had gone out with the first George;
and, during the first half of this century, domestic architecture in
this country was at its lowest possible ebb. Just fancy! in the first
decade, Baker Street was considered “perhaps the handsomest street in
London.” Can condemnation go further? All the houses were the same
pattern, varied only by the height of the rooms, and the number of
stories, which were mostly three, and very rarely exceeded four. There
was the front parlour, and the back parlour, a wretched narrow passage,
or hall, with a flight of stairs leading to the drawing-rooms. In the
basement were the kitchen and scullery.
[Illustration: TALES OF WONDER.]
The inside, even, was not redeemed by beautiful furniture. The rich,
of course, furnished sumptuously, after their lights—which, at that
time, represented anything of classical Greek, or Roman, shape—no
matter whether suitable to the purpose for which it was employed, or
not. Of course, as now, those lower in the social scale, aped, as far
as they could, the tastes of the upper classes; and, as they could not
afford the sumptuous gilding, and carving, of the rich, the ordinary
furniture of that time was heavy, dull, and dispiriting. Take, for
example, the accompanying picture, where, from the style of dress of
the ladies, we can but draw one inference—that they were in a good
social position. The furniture is dull, and heavy; stiff, high-backed
chairs; a table, which would now only be allowed in the nursery; but
one candle, and that with a cotton wick, needing snuffing! A tall,
narrow, and tasteless mantelpiece frames a poor, starved stove of
semi-circular shape, with flat front; the fire-irons stand against the
mantelpiece, and a bowed fender, of perforated sheet brass, enclosed
the hearth; a small hearth-rug with a fringe, and a bell cord with
a plain brass ring, complete the furniture of the room, as far as
Gillray depicted it. Not quite our idea of luxurious comfort, yet it
was comfort then; tastes were simpler, huge fortunes had not yet been
made in manufactures, railway contracting, speculations on the Stock
Exchange, or promoting companies—people were more localized (in fact,
they could not move), and the intercourse with abroad was very little;
and, if it had existed, the hatred of anything foreign, or, especially,
French, would have, at once, condemned any innovation.
[Illustration]