The Royal Mail Coaches
Being a short history of their mail and passenger
service, embellished with interesting accounts and handsome prints.
Part 3
Going Postal.
Travelling on a mail-coach always meant a night journey, but passengers found comfort with the presence of an armed guard and coachman who each carried a blunderbuss and a brace of pistols. This, plus reliable service and dependable timekeeping, made the mail-coach a solid favorite for those who could afford it. To give an example of passenger fares, a seat on the Royal Mail from London to Bristol cost £2.50s inside and £1 outside--about 1 pence more per mile than a regular stage.
American traveller Joshua White writes in 1810: “The hours of departure are fixed, and passengers must be punctual to secure their seats; and this is absolutely necessary where a choice is wanted, for no one is entitled to this from his name being first or second on the way-bill. The seat may be also secured by a servant, or a cloak, great coat, or cane; any of which will be considered as the representative of the passenger himself.”
The extra cost of riding the Royal Mail also carried the benefits of somewhat cleaner coaches and a slightly better class of people than those riding normal stages or wagons. Mail-coach passengers were virtually guaranteed not to experience the many vulgarities of stage-coaches, which often carried up to 15 or more passengers inside and out and had the unpleasant habit of tipping over --often with fatal consequences. One coachman on the Manchester stage stopped at an inn to let two inside passengers out, and as he was remounting his box, the horses set off at full gallop, causing the coach to overturn -- injuring most of the passengers. Upon investigation, it was found that the coach was carrying 23 passengers instead of the already overburdening 18 (plus luggage) listed on the way-bill. Mathematical error was no defense, and the coachman was dismissed.
Was
that the coachman; or, did some nasty
piece of baggage just fall off the
roof?
Drunken coachmen were another hazard which could be more easily avoided by booking a seat on the Royal Mail--although there was no guarantee. The mail-coach also smelled better. Its passengers were more likely to be spared the obnoxious scents of pungent urine and vomit, soiled brats, stale and musty carpeting; plus assorted vermin hitching a ride with the “great unwashed”of the stage-coach set. This gets my vote.
Luggage could be a burdensome problem on regular coaches, but this difficulty was avoided by strict Royal Mail regulations. Instructions to Guards spelled out the limits of luggage for each passenger:
"No more than 3 articles, Portmanteau, or Carpet Bags, are on any pretense to be allowed, whether they be large or small. Portmanteau is not to exceed 2 feet 4 inches in length, and 1 foot 6 inches in height. By Portmanteau is meant any articles made of or covered in Leather or Hair, and Boxes of other Materials, Bundles, Baskets etc. are to be rejected. No luggage to be allowed on the roof until the front boot is full, and only then if the space is not required for additional mail bags."
We sincerely wish our customers would “P- Off!”
Even though mail-coach passengers beginning their journeys in London could assemble at a number of various coaching establishments, they would have to proceed to Lombard Street, where the Post-Office headquarters was located until 1829, when it then moved to St. Martins le Grand. At first, all the mail-coaches travelling from London left from the Post-Office at 8 o’clock in the evening, but later, in order to ease congestion, the six Western mail-coaches departed from the Gloucester Coffee House in Piccadilly at 8:30 p.m.
Honor and prestige were attached to the Royal Mail, and a certain amount of spectacle accompanied its setting-off as onlookers cheered. The coachmen rose to their seats with dignity, adjusted their clothes and equipment, then ordered the ostlers to remove the horse clothes. Each coachman would then look back at the guard, who then consulted his timepiece, and when the appointed time approached, the guard would call out, “All ready inside and out”. Then, exactly on time, the coachmen cracked their whips and the mail run began with chains rattling, hooves clip-clopping rhythmically, and wheels rumbling noisily over the cobblestones. Every night this pageantry preceded the dispersal of documents, letters, and bank draughts by mail to every point on the Royal compass.
Some nights things really got out of hand; especially for one country postmaster who had the habit of rising from bed as the mail-coach appproached. Being overly tired one evening, he started from his sleep upon hearing the post horn, opened the window, and threw out what he thought was the mail bag. The guard caught the bag and deposited it in the mail-coach boot. At the next stage stop, the guard discovered that the postmaster had thrown down his breeches instead of the mail bag. Meanwhile, the postmaster had realized his mistake, grabbed the real mail bag, and set out on horseback--post-haste--to deliver the Royal Mail and reclaim his breeches. Fortunately it was still dark, because they were his only pair.
Inn-sanity!
Specific inns were scheduled horse changing stops for the Royal Mail and pit-stops for passengers, who could stretch their legs for a few minutes, exercise their bowels and, perhaps, get a quick meal of dubious, yet multi-textured nature. In his Letters from England, published in 1807, Robert Southey gives a wonderful description of the hustle and bustle at a coaching inn:
Robert
Southey
"The perpetual stir and bustle of this inn is as surprising as it is wearisome. Doors opening and shutting, bells ringing, voices calling to the waiter from every quarter, while he cries 'coming,' to one room, and hurries away to another. Everybody is in a hurry here; either they are going off in packets, and are hastening their preparations to embark; or they have just arrived, and are impatient to be on the road homeward. Every now-and-then a carriage rattles up to the door with a rapidity which makes the very house shake. The man who cleans the boots is running in one direction, the barber with his powder-bag in another; here goes the barber’s boy with his hot water and razors; there comes the clean linen from the washer-woman; and the hall is full of porters and sailors bringing in luggage, or bearing it away; now you hear a horn blow because the post is coming in, and in the middle of the night you are awakened by another because it is going out. Nothing is done in England without noise, and yet noise is the only thing they forget in the bill!"
The accommodations were nothing that Trust Forte House or Relais & Chateaux would choose to brag about; but they were, nevertheless, welcome after long hours on the road in close company with some people you might otherwise cross the street to avoid.
In our next installment: Stand and Deliver!