A Hundred Years by Post: A Jubilee Retrospect

by James Wilson Hyde

The deadly winter seizes; shuts up sense;

And o'er his inmost vitals creeping cold

Lays him along the snows, a stiffened corse,

Stretched out, and bleaching in the northern blast."

We have little conception of the labour that had to be expended, during periods of snow, in the endeavour to keep the roads open. In places the snow would be found lying thirty or forty feet deep, and the road trustees were obliged to spend large sums of money in clearing it away. Hundreds of the military were called out in certain places to assist, and snow-ploughs were set to work in order to force a passage.

The inconvenience to the country caused by such interruptions is well described in the Annual Register of the 15th February 1795: "My letter of two days ago is still here; for, though I have made an effort twice, I have been obliged to return, not having reached half the first stage. Two mails are due from London, three from Glasgow, and four from Edinburgh. Neither the last guard that went hence for Glasgow on Thursday, nor he that went on Wednesday, have since been heard of; this country was never so completely blocked up in the memory of the oldest person, or that they ever heard of. I understand the road is ten feet deep with snow from this to Hamilton. I have had it cut through once, but this third fall makes an attempt impossible. Heaven only knows when the road will be open, nothing but a thaw can do it—it is now an intense frost."

But the guards and coachmen were put upon their mettle on other occasions than when snow made further progress impossible.

The following incident, showing the courage and devotion to duty of a mail guard and coachman, is related by Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, Bart., in his account of the floods which devastated the province of Moray in August 1829. Referring to the state of things in the town of Banff, Sir Thomas proceeds: "The mail-coach had found it impracticable to proceed south in the morning by its usual route, and had gone round by the Bridge of Alva. It was therefore supposed that the mail for Inverness, which reaches Banff in the afternoon, would take the same road. But what was the astonishment of the assembled population when the coach appeared, within a few minutes of the usual time, at the further end of the Bridge of Banff. The people who were standing there urged both the guard and coachman not to attempt to pass where their danger was so certain. On hearing this the passengers left the coach; but the guard and coachman, scouting the idea of danger in the very streets of Banff, disregarded the advice they received, and drove straight along the bridge. As they turned the corner of the butcher-market, signals were made, and loud cries were uttered from the nearest houses to warn them of the danger of advancing; yet still they kept urging the horses onwards. But no sooner had they reached the place where the wall had burst, than coach and horses were at once borne away together by the raging current, and the vehicle was dashed violently against the corner of Gillan's Inn. The whole four horses immediately disappeared, but rose and plunged again, and dashed and struggled hard for their lives. Loud were the shrieks of those who witnessed this spectacle. A boat came almost instantaneously to the spot, but as the rowers pushed up to try to disengage the horses, the poor animals, as they alternately reached the surface, made desperate exertions to get into the boat, so that extreme caution was necessary in approaching them. They did succeed in liberating one of them, which immediately swam along the streets, amidst the cheering of the population; but the other three sank to rise no more. By this time the coach, with the coachman and guard, had been thrown on the pavement, where the depth of water was less; and there the guard was seen clinging to the top, and the coachman hanging by his hands to a lamp-post, with his toes occasionally touching the box. In this perilous state they remained till another boat came and relieved them, when the guard and the mails were landed in safety. Great indignation was displayed against the obstinacy which had produced this accident. But much is to be said in defence of the servants of the Royal Mail, who are expected to persevere in their endeavours to forward the public post in defiance of risk, though in this case their zeal was unfortunately proved to have been mistaken."[3]

Although, as already stated, robberies were frequent from the mail-coaches, and the guard carried formidable weapons of defence, it does not appear that the coaches were often openly attacked. At any rate there do not seem to be many records of such incidents referring to the later days of the mail-coach service.

An old guard, now retired, but still or quite recently living in Carlisle, relates that only on one occasion did he require to draw his arms for actual defence. This happened at a hamlet called Chance Inn, in the county of Forfar, where the coach had stopped as usual. Both the inside and outside places were occupied by passengers, and no additional travellers could be taken. A number of sailors, however, who were proceeding to join their ship at a seaport, wished to get upon the coach; and though they were told that they could not travel by this means, they plainly showed by their looks and demeanour that they were determined to do so. One of them was overheard to say that, when the proper moment arrived, they would make short work of the guard, who, as it happened, was a youngish man. The passengers too were alarmed at the appearances, and appealed to the guard to keep a sharp eye upon the sailors. Under these conditions the guard directed the coachman, the moment the word was given, to put the horses to a gallop, so as to leave the seamen behind and avoid attack. The start was signalled as arranged, the guard sprang into his place and faced round to the sailors, one of whom was now in the act of preparing to throw a huge stone at his head with both hands. Instantly the guard drew one of his pistols and covered the ringleader, who thereupon dropped on his knees imploring pardon, while his companions, previously so aggressive, scampered off in all directions like a set of scared rabbits.