Right as the mail--Proprietors and contractors--Guards and
coachmen--A cold foot-bath--A lawyer nonsuited--Old Mac--The
Spectre squire--An unsolved mystery.
"Right as the mail," is an expression which even now conveys an
impression of perfection; and what indeed could have been more
thoroughly adapted to the work for which it was designed than the old
English mail? There was an air of solidity and importance about the
royal mail to which everything gave way. The origin of the term "Right
as the Mail," arose more from the fact that the guards (Government
servants) were supplied with chronometers which were compared daily at
the General Post Office, and consequently dictated the correct time to
all the clocks and watches down the road.
As some of my younger readers may not have seen a stage-coach, it may
be well to describe one. The weight was about one ton. It was painted
red, having a royal coat-of-arms on the panel of the door. It was
constructed to carry four inside and four out, having a bag or basket
for luggage, the roof being reserved for heavy mail-bags. A round seat
behind, covered with a skin, was for the guard, pockets for pistols
being placed on either side.
Contracts for horsing the mails did not often change hands, though
tenders were formally invited every year.
Nelson, Shearman, and Chaplin were amongst the largest contractors.
The latter had at one time one thousand seven hundred horses employed
in coaching. A story is told of him which proves that, whilst he was
a kind and considerate master, he always kept his weather eye open. He
used to dine with his coachmen once every year, when one of his toasts
was "Success to shouldering!"[10] adding: "But let me catch _you_ at
it!"
One great source of profit to a mail was the oil which was allowed by
the General Post Office. A mail was always expected to have its lamps
lighted after sunset, moonlight or not, consequently the amount of oil
"shouldered," or charged for, though not used, was considerable.
[Illustration: THE ROYAL MAIL.]
It was a beautiful sight to see the mails on the King's birthday
assembled at the General Post Office--the men all dressed in new
liveries, and in most cases with new harness; the horses decorated
with bouquets of flowers--making a promenade through the principal
streets in the west of London.
This parade did not in any way interfere with the regular work, and
nearly all the night mails assembled at the General Post Office at
eight o'clock to receive their bags. Some of the Western and Southern
mails were met by a mail-cart with their bags at their own booking
offices in the West-end. The fastest mail out of London was the
"Devonport," commonly called the "Quicksilver;" and who that ever saw
can forget it, with its four chestnuts, driven by Charles Ward, leaving
the White Horse Cellars at half-past eight!
How it rattled through Piccadilly! passing all the other mails, eight
in number, and arriving first at Hounslow, where they all changed
horses.
Ward drove on to Bagshot, returning with the up-mail about three A.M.;
sixty miles a-night, and this for seven years.
Another coachman, Bill Harbridge, to whom I have already referred in
these pages, drove the "Manchester" mail for two years out of London,
performing one hundred miles a-night; fifty miles down and fifty miles
up. I have his own authority for saying that he used to take as much
as fourteen pounds to sixteen pounds a-week in fees, the Manchester
merchants used to pay so well. The General Post Office also allowed
him two guineas a-week. He was another instance of the total want
of prudence, unfortunately so common to his class, and died in the
workhouse.
Although coachmen and guards, when coaching was in its zenith, were in
receipt of comfortable incomes, it is very rare that an instance is
found of their having provided for a rainy day, and still more rare
to find any instance of their having taken service in any railway
establishment.
Many of the coaches, when there was not too much opposition, would earn
from five pounds to six pounds a-mile per month. If corn and beans were
not unusually high, three pounds a mile was said to pay.
The profits of a coach were divided monthly, and all outgoings
disbursed--the mails having considerable advantage from their having
neither duty nor gates to pay. One of the largest sources of revenue
was derived from the booking of parcels, each article being charged
twopence. Articles of value were registered, and paid according to the
amount insured.
* * * * *
Some years ago I was driving a fast coach in the north of England, when
a singular surprise occurred to me.
It was sometimes the custom to give the mail teams a rest, by letting
them run over a longer stage, where they were not expected to go so
fast as the mail was timed. This change had been made, on the occasion
of which I write, from Barnby Moor.
We rattled along over the eight miles of ground allotted to the mail
stage, and here was their natural stop. No remark had been made to
me either by the coachman or by the proprietor (who happened to be
upon the coach), and who then cautioned me that the horses would want
to run up to the place where the mail pulled up to change. I took
precautionary measures accordingly, in order to get them by it. I had
succeeded (as I thought) admirably, and, having passed the place, was
looking round rather with a view of inviting a compliment from the
professional coachman who was sitting behind me, when, all at once, as
if shot out of a gun, the whole team bolted out of the road, and we
found ourselves in the middle of a deep horsepond.
This team was accustomed, when taken out of the mail, to be ridden at
once into the pond to be washed. They had run cheerfully past their
stable, but the temptation of the horsepond was irresistible, so in
they went.
There were two elderly ladies inside the coach, who screamed out loudly
for help and a lifeboat.
It was one of those deep roadside ponds, with a white rail round it;
plenty of room to get in, but very little room to get out. Here we
were planted, water up to the axles, inside full, and the team, in the
greatest confusion; although each horse looked satisfied that he had
done the right thing, and was in no particular hurry to get out.
After much splashing and pawing we got the leaders off, and, by
backing her on the lock, I got the coach safely ashore; not, however,
before the old ladies had got a thorough ducking.
I superintended personally the administration of two glasses of hot
brandy-and-water to each of the ladies who had been involuntarily
subjected to a cold foot-bath.
* * * * *
There was so much opposition, in the days of which I am writing--forty
years ago--that coach proprietors were only too anxious to make
reparation in the most liberal manner for any little inconvenience
to which passengers might be accidentally exposed. In this case the
proprietor was present, and would readily have complied with any
reasonable wish expressed by the passengers.
Modesty almost forbids me to mention here that, when the coach was
ready to start, I was requested by the proprietor to continue to
drive; which, to an amateur, and a young amateur, was no small
compliment--evidently showing that our immersion in the horsepond had
not been caused by any want of skill or experience on my part.
* * * * *
When opposition was at its height in England, every device was resorted
to in order to render one coach more popular than another. Advertising
was carried to a very great extent, and squibs were unreservedly
circulated in order to lower the prestige of the contending parties.
As, for instance, notice was given that a certain coach had reduced
its rate for carrying pigs and poultry; no charge would be made for
children under twelve, provided they sat upon the knees of their
parents, or those of some other passenger; great care was taken that
"hospital linen" should be stowed _inside_.
Although opposition between the coaches was carried to great extremes,
it never got to quite so high a pitch as amongst the postmasters,
amongst whom within the last fifty years the emulation was so rife upon
the North Road that the horses of a private carriage would be forcibly
taken off and a fresh pair attached at the Red Lion at Barnet, and
the next stage to St. Albans (nine miles) performed without charge,
in order to prevent the "turn" from going to the White Hart, where
the traveller might have partaken of a sandwich and a glass of sherry
gratis.
This state of things could not last long, especially as in its next
phase it entailed the hiring of a staff of fighting-men to secure the
employment of the Red Lion horses.
Matters having arrived at such a pitch as to cause a free fight in the
highroad whenever a posting job hove in sight, the local authorities
were obliged to interfere, and Messrs. Newman and Bryant, the landlords
of the two hotels, were bound over to keep the peace and abide by the
regular tariff of one shilling and threepence a mile, and threepence
the postboy.
* * * * *
The guard of the mail, apart from his being a certificated newsmonger,
was held in great respect by the idlers who collected to see the
mail change in every town or village through which he passed. What
he said was absolute, there was no time for argument, and the few
words which he addressed to the customary group afforded matter
for the smoking-room for a whole evening. Many trifling incidents
and occurrences, by the time they had passed through a jury of
gin-and-water and churchwardens, were distorted into the most terrible
and tragic facts.
Every road has its legend, and guards of the coaches make stock-in-trade
of the ghosts and supernatural appearances as it suits their
opportunity. A tale may be so often repeated that, however sceptical
the narrator is at first, he becomes quite ready to vouch for the
whole truth of it on more intimate acquaintance.
Some ghosts are more profitable than others, their feats and
appearances being varied in character.
An old mail guard, who had served the Government in that capacity for
forty years, and who was in receipt of a pension of eighty pounds per
annum, was in the habit of coming to London during the summer season
and taking service on one of the "Revival" coaches; he rode behind me
for three seasons to Rochester, and two to Brighton, and behind Chandos
Pole, upon that road, for many more. His anecdotes were inexhaustible;
he recounted the most incredible catalogue of accidents, attacks,
delays, impediments to the mails he had been on, in all of which he
had played the hero's part. His quixotic triumphs over every sort of
difficulty were most amusing, and not without result, as I know, on
one occasion, he declined a Saturday journey behind me to Brighton. He
had one ghost only upon this road, whose appearances, however, were
so innocent and evident that he was obliged to draw largely upon his
imagination, and borrow matter from other goblins, in order to make
him sufficiently sensational. I give the naked tale, and leave the
garnishing of "Old Mac" to the imagination of my readers.
* * * * *
Upon the side of the highroad to Brighton, not a hundred miles from
Handcross, there stands, in its own ornamental grounds, one of those
very picturesque residences which is neither a villa nor a mansion,
though it combined the modesty of the one with the importance of the
other. The house was sufficiently retired from the road to admit of a
spacious lawn studded with ornamental trees of considerable size, which
gave the whole thing a park-like appearance, and, standing as it did
upon an eminence, presented a generally picturesque appearance.
The owner of this property was a gentleman of independent means, and of
rather eccentric habits. He resided all the year round at ----, never
went into society, and never entertained friends at home.
Many years were passed in the quiet routine of everyday life; nothing
remarkable occurred except that the owner was absent daily for several
hours, and could not be induced to give any explanation of whither he
went, or otherwise account for his absence. When closely questioned by
his wife, he used to evade the subject, and implore her not to press
her inquiry upon him, as, if he were to disclose the secret, he might
never be allowed to return.
* * * * *
Time went on, and the anxiety (to say nothing of the curiosity) of the
wife to solve this mysterious absence and the secrecy it involved,
induced her to communicate with a private inquiry office to solve it.
This step was no sooner taken than an end was put to all local
evidence, by the sudden disappearance of the gentleman, without leaving
the slightest clue to his whereabouts. Coverts were searched, ponds
dragged, rewards offered, all in vain. No word was ever heard from that
day to this of the missing gentleman. The wife continued to live at
---- until her death, which occurred several years after the mysterious
disappearance of her husband. And, during these years, the room which
had been occupied by the gentleman, upon the ground-floor (window
opening upon the lawn) was still visited on occasions by an apparition,
who frequently changed his hat and gloves, leaving old ones behind, and
taking those which were always neatly brushed and laid out for his use.
There is a broad quick-set hedge, cut square upon the top, separating
the premises from the highroad, and, walking upon this hedge, may be
seen on almost any night the "Spectre Squire."
The apparition of the squire was not seen only by a few of the
neighbours, but sceptics came from long distances, and returned
satisfied that they had seen (and some that they had conversed with)
the phantom.
An old man who kept a turnpike-gate, not a quarter of a mile from the
haunted residence, assured me that he had seen him, night after night,
and described it as follows:
"I'd a-come in, and was sitting in the porch doorway, about _leben_
o'clock, as fur as I remember. My old 'oman she kep' 'ollering out
to me: 'Why don't you ope' the gate; there's a funeral a-coming?' I
thought she was mazed. 'There's nobody there,' says I. Well, whilst I
was there I could see nothing, but the gate took and swung open of
itself, and come back on the bolt, and this it did four or five times!
I took and I got up and put the chain on the gate and locked it. Oh
dear, oh dear! Down he come, and he was that angry! He walked backwards
and forwards through the gate, right through the middle--that never
stopped him a minute!
"Since that I've a-seed him scores of times doing the same thing, and
he takes no notice of me, only scowling-like.
"I chain and lock the gate o' nights, but I always find it open in the
morning; and I can't tell how."
This was one of the best-conducted ghosts I have come across; as, apart
from scaring the villagers by his midnight rambles, he bore the best of
characters in the neighbourhood.
This house and premises to this day share the fate of others which
have fallen into the hands of unexplained tenants, and are subject to
visits from supernatural agents.
Strange noises are heard; windows, which were barred and fastened
overnight, are found open in the morning. Servants will not remain in
the situation, and do not like to explain the cause of their wishing to
leave. The turnpike-house is pulled down, as no one could be found to
inhabit it.
[Illustration: AN AUSTRIAN DRAG.]