THE MAIL-COACH, 1803.
From the engraving after George Robertson.
The whole pitiful story is at bottom an indictment of the figurehead in public life; an exposure of the hoary custom of appointing political and ornamental heads to the overlordship of executive departments really ruled by permanent officials. My lords came and went as party fortunes willed. Palmer had officially no politics; all he desired was to perfect his already successful plan. Other Postmasters-General would have been content with their figureheadship, and have danced like any other Governmental puppets to the pulling of official strings; but Palmer’s overlords declined to do anything of the sort, and if they could not organise or originate, found it at least possible to meddle and veto.
Palmer, ready at most times to do anything—to travel many miles, to expend his highly nervous energies in any other way than by letter-writing, made this one irretrievable blunder of a generous-minded man. He was accustomed to unburden himself on paper to the friend who already owed everything to him—and who by natural consequence hated him for it—and by so doing was, as we perceive, in the end undone.
The Postmasters-General were the sole eventual gainers by Bonnor’s incredible perfidy, for that creature, by rare poetic justice, died at last in misery and want.
When at length they succeeded in obtaining another interview with Pitt and disclosed these letters, there was, of course, an end of Palmer’s official career. But it was sorely against his will that the Great Commoner left the Comptroller-General to his fate. He saw that a great deal of the animus shown against him by my lords was due to their sense of the enormity of a person of his rank withstanding not merely Postmasters-General, but Postmasters-General who were also peers of the realm. He saw, too, that a peer with the dignity of his caste offended can descend to more despicable depths to avenge himself than a mere untitled person would plumb. The pity is that even Pitt could not ignore letters written in confidence and treacherously disclosed.
But, although Palmer was left to the mercy of his enemies, who instantly dismissed him, he did not go without acknowledgment. His salary and commission had by now reached £3,000 a year, and this sum Pitt continued to him as a pension from 1792, the date of his dismissal.
Palmer was now fifty years of age, and in his prime. He naturally was not content with this settlement, and moved the whole influential world to aid him, petitioning the House of Commons, and at length securing a committee to investigate his case. Sheridan, moving the appointment of this body, urged Palmer’s claims with generous eloquence. He described how the reformer had formed the plan of a mail-coach service, and had introduced it to the notice of the Government, entering into an agreement to receive a percentage in the event of success, and not one shilling if it proved a failure. “None but an enthusiast,” he declared, “could have formed such a plan; none but an enthusiast could have carried it into execution; and I am confident that no man in this country or any other could have done it but that very individual, John Palmer.”
ONE OF THREE MAIL-COACH HALFPENNIES STRUCK AT BATH, 1797.