“At the same time,” continued the lecturer, “bye-posts were set a-going to connect the main line with large towns, such as Hull, Lincoln, Chester, etcetera. These bye-posts were farmed out to private individuals, and the rates fixed at 2 pence a single letter to any place under 80 miles; 4 pence up to 140 miles; 6 pence to any more distant place in England; and 8 pence to Scotland.
“From that date forward the infant began to grow—sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, now and then by spurts—just like other infants, and a horribly spoiled and mismanaged baby it was at first. Those who see it now,—in the prime of its manhood, wielding its giant strength with such ease, accomplishing all but miraculous work with so great speed, regularity, and certainty, and with so little fuss,—can hardly believe what a cross-grained little stupid thing it was in those early days, or what tremendous difficulties it had to contend with.
“In the first place, the roads in the land were few, and most of them inconceivably bad, besides which they were infested by highwaymen, who often took a fancy to rummage the mail-bags and scatter their contents. The post in those days was slow, but not sure. Then it experienced some trouble from other infants, of the same family, who claimed a right to share its privileges. Among these was a Post-Office established by the Common Council of London in direct rivalry to the Parliamentary child. This resulted in a great deal of squabbling and pamphleteering, also in many valuable improvements—for it is well known that opposition is the life of trade. The Council of State, however, came to the conclusion that, in an affair so thoroughly national, the office of Postmaster and the management of the Post-Office ought to rest in the sole power and disposal of Parliament; the City posts were peremptorily suppressed; opposition babies were quietly—no doubt righteously—murdered; and from that date the carrying of letters has remained the exclusive privilege of the Crown. But considerable and violent opposition was made to this monopoly. This is a world of opposition, my young friends”—the lecturer was pathetic here—“and I have no doubt whatever that it was meant to be a world of opposition”—the lecturer was energetic here, and drew an emphatic “Hear, hear,” from the Scotch members. “Why, it is only by opposition that questions are ventilated and truth is established!
“No doubt every member of this ancient and literary Society is well acquainted with the name of Hill—(great cheering)—Sir Rowland Hill, who in the year 1840 succeeded in getting introduced to the nation one of the greatest boons with which it has been blessed—namely, the Penny Post.” (Renewed cheering.) “Well, it is a curious and interesting fact that in the middle of the seventeenth century—more than two hundred years ago—a namesake of Sir Rowland (whether an ancestor or not I cannot tell), a Mr John Hill, wrote a pamphlet in which monopoly was condemned and a penny post suggested. The title of the pamphlet was ‘John Hill’s Penny Post; or, A Vindication of every Englishman in carrying Merchants’ or any other Men’s Letters against any restraints of Farmers of such Employment.’ So, you see, in regard to the Penny Post, the coming event cast its shadow about two hundred years in advance.
“The Creeping Era may be the title assigned to this period of Post-Office history. Little was expected of the Post-Office, and not much was done. Nevertheless, considering the difficulties in its way, our infant progressed wonderfully. Its revenue in 1649 was 5000 pounds. Gradually it got upon its legs. Then it monopolised post-horses and began to run. Waxing bolder, it also monopolised packet-boats and went to sea. Like all bold and energetic children, it had numerous falls, and experienced many troubles in its progress. Nevertheless its heart was kept up by the steady increase of its revenue, which amounted to 76,000 pounds in 1687. During the following seventy-eight years the increase was twofold, and during the next ninety years (to 1854) it was tenfold.
“It was hard times with the Post-Office officials about the beginning of last century.
“During what we may call the Post-boy Era, the officials were maltreated by robbers on shore and by privateers (next thing to pirates) at sea. In fact they were compelled to become men of war. And the troubles and anxieties of the Postmaster-Generals were proportionately great. The latter had to fit out the mail-packets as ships of war, build new ships, and sell old ones, provide stores and ammunition for the same, engage captains and crews, and attend to their disputes, mutinies, and shortcomings. They had also to correspond with the deputy-postmasters all over the country about all sorts of matters—chiefly their arrears and carelessness or neglect of duty—besides foreign correspondence. What the latter involved may be partly gathered from lists of the articles sent by post at that time. Among other things, we find reference to ‘fifteen couple of hounds going to the King of the Romans with a free pass.’ A certain ‘Dr Crichton, carrying with him a cow and divers other necessaries,’ is mentioned as having been posted! also ‘two servant-maids going as laundresses to my Lord Ambassador Methuen,’ and ‘a deal case with four flitches of bacon for Mr Pennington of Rotterdam.’ The captains of the mail-packets ought to have worn coats of mail, for they had orders to run while they could, to fight when they could not run, and to throw the mails overboard when fighting failed!
“Of course, it is to be hoped, this rule was not strictly enforced when doctors and females formed part of the mails.
“In one case a certain James Vickers, captain of the mail-packet ‘Grace Dogger,’ lay in Dublin Bay waiting till the tide should enable him to get over the bar. A French privateer chanced to be on the look-out in these waters, and pounced upon James Vickers, who was either unable or unwilling to fight. The French captain stripped the ‘Grace Dogger’—as the chronicler writes—‘of rigging, sails, spars, yards, and all furniture wherewith she had been provided for due accommodation of passengers, leaving not so much as a spoone, or a naile, or a hooke to hang anything on.’ Having thus made a clean sweep of her valuables, and having no use for the hull, the Frenchman ransomed the ‘Grace Dogger’ to poor J.V. for fifty guineas, which the Post-Office had to pay!
“But our mail-packets were not always thus easily or summarily mastered. Sometimes they fought and conquered, but, whatever happened, the result was invariably productive of expense, because wounded men had to be cared for and cured or pensioned. Thus one Edward James had a donation of 5 pounds, because ‘a musket shot had grazed the tibia of his left leg.’ What the tibia may be, my young friends, is best known to the doctors—I have not taken the trouble to inquire!” (Hear, hear, and applause.) “Then another got 12 pounds ‘because a shot had divided his frontal muscles and fractured his skull;’ while a third received a yearly pension of 6 pounds, 13 shillings, 4 pence ‘on account of a shot in the hinder part of the head, whereby a large division of scalp was made.’ Observe what significance there is in that fourpence! Don’t it speak eloquently of the strict justice of the Post-Office authorities of those days? Don’t it tell of tender solicitude on their part thus to gauge the value of gunshot wounds? Might it not be said that the men were carefully rated when wounded? One Postmaster-General writes to an agent at Falmouth in regard to rates: ‘Each arm or leg amputated above the elbow or knee is 8 pounds per annum; below the knee, 20 nobles. Loss of sight of one eye, 4 pounds; of pupil of the eye, 5 pounds; of sight of both eyes, 12 pounds; of pupils of both eyes, 14 pounds.’ Our well-known exactitude began to crop up, you see, even in those days.