THE POST OFFICE. HALLS OF THE LEGISLATIVE BODIES.
COURTS OF JUSTICE. THE JUDGMENT OF SOLOMON REVIVED
Any person who has paid a visit to our General Post Office in Lombard
Street, and is acquainted with the extraordinary bustle united to
the utmost precision visible there, would think, should he happen to
alight on a sudden in the Rue Coqueron without knowing in what part of
the world he was, that the Post Office therein was that of some small
trading town, instead of the capital of the _greatest_ nation on
earth.
Should he judge of the population by the revenue of each place, he
would conclude Great Britain contained some 100,000,000 souls and
France not above 3,000,000.
It does not require much skill in political economy to discover the
causes of this disparity.
Commercial nations have a greater number of artificial wants and a most
extensive circle of correspondents. To them the expense of postage is
no burthen, it is a source of profit. A merchant therefore exults in
the number of his letters. Hence the duties of postage are never paid
with reluctance. You would never see in the General Post Office of such
countries, piles of returned letters sufficient to supply a bonfire.
Amsterdam, at the period of its commercial prosperity, received more
letters in one day than the citizens of Paris in a week. I will now
compare the London and Paris Post Offices, and this comparison is
really an entertaining one.
I wrote to the Mayor of Chatillon in La Vendée an important letter,
requiring a reply. Consequently I was obliged to go frequently to the
General Post Office in order to make inquiries for it.
[Sidenote: IRREGULAR POSTAL SYSTEM]
Upon the first time I presented myself at the office, I inquired
whether the post had arrived? “No.” “When do you expect it?” “To-day.”
“But you desired me to be here at one o’clock.” “Eh, monsieur! one
cannot be _so_ precise.” “When shall I call again?” “To-morrow.”
On the next day I returned. “Now, what say you?” “The post is not
arrived.” “When will it come?” “To-night or perhaps to-morrow.” “How do
you account for this irregularity?” “Who knows? the courier may have
broken his neck, one cannot be particular.” “But the post from England
is regular enough!” “C’est une autre affaire, les routes de Calais à
Paris sont superbes.”
The next evening the post did arrive. I asked the reason for delay, and
was coolly replied: “there was none.”
If I had been a merchant what fatal consequences might have ensued from
this delay had I been under the necessity of making a considerable
payment!
I will relate another circumstance, sufficiently ludicrous, though a
general and useful deduction may be drawn from it. My valet de chambre,
who fortunately for me cannot read, brought me one afternoon a letter
which, after a hundred apologies for the liberty he was taking, he
begged _I_ would read to him. It came from his father, who is a
well-to-do farmer near Besançon. The style of the letter was good, but
the writing difficult to decypher. After the usual expressions between
a parent and a son, he proceeded in the letter to ask four distinct
questions, every one of which required an explicit answer. One of them,
upon which he laid the greatest stress, was to inform him by its reply
whether his daughter had been safely delivered. The letter, however,
had a postscript: “Au Nom de Dieu ne réponds pas à cette lettre, le
prix des facteurs est trop cher!”
Now without any invidious allusion to Ireland I may be permitted to
observe that no so-called Irish bull was ever so simple as this remark.
No English labourer whose daughter was in a similar condition would
have grudged a few sous upon such occasion, and the expense of internal
postage in France is cheaper than with us.
Disinclination to correspond extends to men in better circumstances.
Amidst the most sumptuous festivities and the Oriental style of living
peculiar to the Consular Satrap, there is throughout the mass of
the Parisians a chilling penury that would excite compassion, if we
could forget that they had been the voluntary authors of their own
wretchedness.
The extensive operations carried on, the numerous armies maintained on
the Continent by the Republic, have rendered it extremely difficult for
persons to know the destination and circumstances of their relatives.
Hence a new species of egoism has been introduced into society. The
social claim is dissolved and every one lives on conjecture or only for
himself. The charms and joys of friendship cannot exist in such a state.
It must be observed that trade is at a standstill; not on account
of want of opportunities but for want of _means_. Property has
not yet made its appearance from out the holes where the spirits
of fraud, rapine and fear have deposited it. Concealment of spoil
is the universal adage; for with all the fulsome panegyrics on the
Central Government, which originate with its subaltern agents, and are
despatched by the Prefects of the Departments, doubt and anxiety are
pictured on every countenance, except the military and the immediate
counsellors of the consulate authority. If a merchant be disposed to
make a venture, the next moment his fears deter him. He hesitates to
trust, and least of all is he inclined to trust his Government. Under
such circumstances it is little wonder the General Post Office does so
little business.
I have stood for hours in the courtyard in order to see the arrivals of
the different couriers.
[Sidenote: POSTAL TRANSIT]
Nothing can be more ridiculous than the contrast between the English
and French mail coaches. The French post waggons are huge unwieldy
machines, drawn by cart horses, harnessed with ropes and moving at a
slow pace, their arrival is nevertheless always announced by tremendous
cracks of whips.
When this is compared with the smart dress and cheerful horns of our
coachmen and guards, the elegant neatness and convenience of our mail
coaches, the beauty of our horses, and the expedition with which they
are received and despatched to pursue their different routes almost to
a minute, it is impossible not to feel a proud opinion of the “little
nation of shopkeepers” as the _Master of the Earth_ is pleased to
call the inhabitants of our islands. I shall conclude this account of
the Post Office with observing first, from official documents on my
table, that I could sail with a light wind to Jamaica before a letter
in France would arrive at some of the cross posts in the Interior.
For instance, between Bourges and Sancerre, in the Department of
Cher, there is at present no communication. Between Orleans and
Montargis, in the Department du Loiret, there is no established mode of
correspondence. But the Prefect hopes later to accomplish the matter by
putting a tax on all the inhabitants.
There is no communication between Langagne and Genvielhac, in the
Department of Lozère; none between Roquefort and Bordeaux, in the Lower
Pyrenees, although the merchants of Pau have proved it would be a
shorter route than through Toulouse.
In the Eastern Pyrenees the correspondence of the Department with that
of the Department of Aude takes up five days; it should be done in one.
The most egregious villainies having been perpetrated in the Department
of the _Haut Rhin_, it has been thought _wise, prudent, and
politic to suspend the postal arrangements there altogether_.
Unless letters addressed to Ministers and officers of the Government
are _prepaid_, they will never reach their destination. The
Ministers make an annual charge of postage, and cabbage the difference.
At first sight this perquisite may seem trivial for the fingers of an
officer of State. But these officers are Ministers who have their
fortunes to make.
Hence every little helps.
It should seem that circumstances, times, places, persons, things are
of more importance in France than elsewhere. This was a common mania
under the old Government, but _it_ had the great resources of
commerce, arts, and the wants of a great number of rich proprietors,
who, unhappily, have now, with arts and commerce, been destroyed.
Nevertheless, the opinion still prevails that the Government can
command the harvest, and compel persons to sell and buy.
The business, however, of the Government is to correct itself by
experience, to secure itself against the mistakes and bad measures of
commercial administration. For no private industry, no knowledge of
commercial affairs, can secure individuals against the folly of a bad
Minister, or the pernicious effects of his administrative regulations.
This reasoning has no influence in France; Government is required
to invent, to build, to manufacture--in short, to do everything but
consume; and yet this latter is the precise article in which the
present Government excels and takes the greatest delight.
The perquisites of postage must be immense, as whenever despatch is
required, a solicitation, to be successful, must be accompanied by a
very considerable pecuniary compliment. Therefore, the Minister who
holds the portfolio of the Postes amasses a considerable sum during his
Ministry.