"The absolute perfection of all the appointments, their strength, their brilliant cleanliness, their beautiful simplicity, but more than all the royal magnificence of the horses were, what might first have fixed the attention. On any night the spectacle was beautiful. But the night before us is a night of victory, and, behold, to the ordinary display what a heart-shaking addition! Horses, men, carriages, all are dressed in laurels and flowers, oak-leaves and ribbons. The guards as officially His Majesty's servants, and such coachmen as are within the privilege of the Post Office, wear the royal liveries of course, and on this evening exposed to view without upper coats. Such costume, and the laurels in their hats dilate their hearts by giving them a personal connection with the great news. One heart, one pride, one glory, connects every man by the transcendent bond of his national blood. The spectators, numerous beyond precedent, express their sympathy with these fervent feelings by continual hurrahs. Every moment are shouted aloud by the Post-Office servants and summoned to draw up the great ancestral names of cities known to history through a thousand years—Lincoln, Winchester, Portsmouth, Gloucester, Oxford, Bristol, Manchester, York, Newcastle, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Perth, Stirling, Aberdeen—expressing the grandeur of the Empire by the antiquity of its towns, and the grandeur of the mail establishment by the diffusive radiation of its separate missions. Every moment you hear the thunder of lids locked down upon the mail-bags. That sound to each individual mail is the signal for drawing off which is the finest part of the entire spectacle. Then come the horses into play. Horses! can these be horses that bound off with the action and gestures of leopards? What stir! what ferment! what a thundering of wheels! what a trampling of hoofs! what a sounding of trumpets! what farewell cheers! what peals of congratulation, connecting the name of the particular mail, 'Liverpool for ever,' with the name of the particular Victory, 'Salamanca for ever,' The consciousness that all night long, and all the next day, perhaps even longer, many of these mails like fire racing along a train of gunpowder, will be kindling at every instant new successions of burning joy, has an obscure effect of multiplying the victory itself"—Thomas de Quincey, The English Mail-Coach.
CHAPTER I.
THE ROYAL MAILS.
It is not within the scope of a book on coaching to go behind the time when mail bags were conveyed on wheels, and the coaches became public conveyances, carrying passengers as well as mail bags.
The first mail coach was put on the road between Bristol and London in the year 1784, and it is worthy of remark that it was originated by a man who had previously had no practical knowledge of either post office or road work. In this respect, curiously enough, the same remark applies to what became so very large a business in the Sister Isle, as to be quite a national institution. In the former case Mr. Palmer, to whose energy and perseverance the mail coach owed its existence, was by profession a theatrical manager, whilst the inaugurator of the Irish car business, which grew to such large dimensions as to employ more than a thousand horses, was a pedlar, neither of which businesses would appear to lead to horse and road work.
Bianconi's cars involuntary bring to my mind a recipe given me many years ago by one of his foremen for preventing crib-biting in horses. It would hardly pass muster with the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, but he declared it was always effective if applied in the first instance. It was to nip off a very small piece from the tip of the horse's tongue. I never tried it, but can quite understand why it was a cure, as horses almost invariably commence the vice by licking the manger, and this process rendered the tongue so tender as to put a summary end to this preliminary proceeding.
But this by the way. Before, however, carrying the history of the mails further, I am tempted to introduce the reader to an account of a highway robbery of mail bags, which occurred in Yorkshire in the year 1798, and which shows that the change in the way of conveying the mails was not commenced before it was wanted.
The following letter from the Post-office in York, gives a full and graphic account of the circumstance.
"Post-office, York,
February 22nd, 1798.
"Sir,—I am sorry to acquaint you that the post-boy coming from Selby to this city, was robbed of his mail, between six and seven o'clock this evening. About three miles this side Selby, he was accosted by a man on foot with a gun in his hand, who asked him if he was the post-boy, and at the same time seizing hold of the bridle. Without waiting for any answer, he told the boy he must immediately unstrap the mail and give it to him, pointing the muzzle of the gun at him whilst he did it. When he had given up the mail, the boy begged he would not hurt him, to which the man replied, 'He need not be afraid,' and at the same time pulled the bridle from the horse's head. The horse immediately galloped off with the boy who had never dismounted. He was a stout man dressed in a drab jacket and had the appearance of a heckler. The boy was too much frightened to make any other remark upon his person, and says he was totally unknown to him.
"The mail contained bags for Howden and London, Howden and York, and Selby and York. I have informed the surveyors of the robbery, and have forwarded handbills this night to be distributed in the country, and will take care to insert it in the first paper published here. Waiting your further instructions, I remain with respect, Sir,