Part 30

That country must be in a bad way where the heads of the several departments find it necessary to resort to the most infamous means of tracing out suspected traitors. Thus, in the postal department, every letter is subject to the system of espionage, and the innocent as well as the guilty alike suspected and their private correspondence betrayed. In time of rebellion, insurrection, or an attempt to assassinate a king or an emperor, there might be some excuse for the exercise of such precaution; but in the absence of such startling causes the system is both mean and cowardly. In France, at the present time (1865), private letters, newspapers, and pamphlets are subjected to the most anxious scrutiny. A large portion of every day is devoted to such examinations by a skilful and energetic body of men. Between the time when letters are received at the chief office from the district-offices and the time they are sent out again, two hours elapse. _During this period they are in the hands of the police._ The police have a list of certain addresses, and are furnished with examples of the handwriting of every one in whose correspondence the government is interested. With these and practised eyes the officials set to work, carrying all suspected letters into the Cabinet Noir, where they are read, copied, delayed, stopped at discretion; and the police are very discreet about seizing letters: it is done as seldom as possible. The system is so perfect, it works so well, that the only chance of evading it is to correspond under assumed names, changed with every letter; and this is actually done by people who are not more treasonable than the majority of Frenchmen, but who, being eminent and powerful, are condemned to the degradation of shifts like these, or every letter they write would be read by the police. Governments maintained thus are never safe in power.

_THE POST-OFFICE SOLVENT._

The following article we take from the “Philadelphia North American and United States Gazette” of the 13th July, 1865. The view the editor takes is simply, however, from a hastily-arranged statement made shortly after the appointment of Mr. Dennison as postmaster-general. We have our doubts about its accuracy, inasmuch as the short time for reductions of salary and other expenses would not lessen the debt against the postal department and yield a surplus of seven hundred thousand dollars. Well may the editor say, “_How long this is likely to continue we cannot say._”

“For the first time in many years the United States Post-Office Department has become a paying institution, the revenues of the last six months having yielded a surplus of more than seven hundred thousand dollars above the expenses, and the ensuing six months will tell still better. How long this is likely to continue we cannot say. During Mr. Blair’s administration of this department he reduced the expenditures to such an extent as to afford an astonishing contrast with the old Buchanan dynasty, when the annual deficit of the department was five millions of dollars. We thought Mr. Blair’s management unprecedently good; but still he could not bring the department to a paying standard, which his successor has now done very handsomely. Mr. Dennison has done this by means of a system of the most stringent and searching economy, reducing the force of employees everywhere, cutting down salaries and allowances, examining carefully into items of expenditure, the management and compensation of contractors, &c.

“In fact, Governor Dennison brought to the conduct of our postal affairs the excellent training he had received in the executive government of Ohio, like his predecessor in that office, Mr. Chase, and he has looked carefully into every thing under his charge with an eye to economy and efficiency, and the service, instead of suffering by this scrutiny, has been largely benefited. But with the renewal of our authority in the South comes back a region wherein before 1860 the postal service was always carried on at a heavy loss to the National Government. It hardly admits of a doubt that this deficit was owing solely to the running of great numbers of useless mails to gratify local influences. This was consequent upon the predominance of Southern politicians at Washington. Their demands for favors of this kind were incessant, and, as they were generally with the ruling element in Congress, they got whatever they asked for. It may be inferred that modesty was not one of their faults, and that they did not lose any thing for the want of asking.

“In places where a weekly mail would have answered, a daily, semi-weekly, or tri-weekly mail was run, and so where a place of somewhat more consequence needed a semi-weekly mail a daily mail would be run. Instead of making every post-office a paying one, by making it the depot for a sufficient population, swarms of unnecessary offices were created to gratify local politicians, the effect of which was that none were remunerative. We are sorry to say that this evil afflicts the service in many parts of the North, and that there is great need of discontinuing offices now in existence. Sometimes the ambition or the jealousy of villages led to this multiplication of useless offices, but generally it was caused by the Congressmen catering for their political supporters. Since the year 1860 the necessities of the government have compelled the department to reduce both the number of these offices and of the mails run. The deficiency always visible in the postal revenues at the South, aside from the causes we have referred to, arose also from the evil policy of the slaveholding oligarchy. Four millions of the Southern population were prohibited from a knowledge of reading and writing, and of course the post-office was not needed for them. The planter had no right to complain of being reduced to a weekly mail; for in a region of six square miles there might not be more than three families using the post-office, the rest being all slaves, or illiterate ‘poor white trash.’

“Yet these planters would make a vast deal of fuss about their mail facilities, and to satisfy them the National Government sustained an annual loss of millions of dollars. It was not only the prohibition of letters toward the slaves that caused the loss, for the poor whites labored under no such prohibition, and yet were as ignorant as the slaves; but it was the total absence of all provision for the education of the masses of the population throughout the South. The poor whites could not read newspapers if they received them; they could not write letters, nor could they read them. Moreover, the mail-matter was still further reduced by the refusal to allow anti-slavery newspapers to circulate at all in the South. A merchant could not receive the commercial papers of the North, because of their sentiments about slavery; a clergyman could not receive the religious papers of the North, for the same reason. If a man in any of the interior districts received frequent letters from the North, he would be sure to find them a matter of inquisitorial questioning, and would be obliged to give an idea of the nature of his correspondence.

“The question how the postal service can be rendered permanently remunerative at the South involves three distinct and very important considerations:—

“How can the ignorant masses of the Southern population be educated in a knowledge of reading, writing, and arithmetic, and insured hereafter the benefits of a well-established common free-school system for their children?

“How can we relieve the national mails of that infamous espionage which, down to the present time, has been rigidly enforced in every hole and corner of the South, sometimes by the post-office itself, but generally by outside parties, though always in the interest of the plantation aristocracy and their political agents and domination?

“How can we prevent the renewal of the old evil of supernumerary post-offices and superfluous mails all over the South, and so gauge the service that each office shall pay expenses and each mail be well filled with paying matter?

“These are the problems to be solved, and it behooves us all to reflect upon their exceeding difficulty when we complain that our postal department is not better managed. Although the franking system is bad enough in all conscience, it is not responsible for the bulk of the postal loss. From what we have said above, it must be plain that the despotic social system, established for the benefit of the plantation aristocracy, has been annually paid for largely out of our pockets. We have paid five millions of dollars annually as a premium upon Southern ignorance. We have helped the planter to keep his slaves and his poor white neighbors in ignorance and degradation, and, in order the better to enable him to enforce his cruel and abominable despotism, we have given him the surveillance of our mails, and allowed him to terrorize over them as he saw fit. Mr. Dennison, we can readily believe, is not the man to put up with this hereafter; but it requires vigilance to prevent it altogether, and the exercise of other powers than his to remedy the great evil,—Southern ignorance.”

_SALARIES OF POSTMASTERS._

Under the old postal arrangement, the salary of postmasters of the principal cities was limited to $2000. This compensation was derived from a commission out of their receipts, which could not exceed the amount named. This would appear at first as small pay for such an important position,—more particularly as under the administration of Postmaster Blair the salary was raised to $4000: yet there is not a postmaster but would willingly go back to the old system. Under the former provision of the postal law postmasters were allowed the amount arising from the rent of letter-boxes in their respective offices as a perquisite, and also certain other matters, which shrewd men knew well how to place under this head. During the existence of this system the desire for the office far exceeded that which was and is likely to be manifested under the latter, inasmuch as $4000 per annum and _no perquisites_ is scarcely a desirable position for an ambitious and popular politician. Many a business-man, outside of the political ring, would consider it quite sufficient, however: _business-men are not cormorants_. It is true, even under the old law, by an act passed March 3, 1847, the rent of boxes to be credited to the postmaster was limited, restricting the amount so received to $2000,—consequently limiting his salary to $4000: for all over and above that amount he had to account to the department. Under some administrations postmasters became rich, whether by husbanding their actual income or the perquisites are questions simply of conjecture.

_THE PENNY POST._

The first attempt to establish the penny post in the United States was in the years 1839-40. It was simply a speculation, and resulted at first in almost total failure, but revived again under more enterprising parties. Previous to this, however, contrary to the laws of Congress,—particularly the law of 1825, sect. 19, which enacts that no stage or other vehicle which regularly performs trips on a post-road or on a road parallel to it, and no packet, war, or other vessel which regularly plies on a water declared a post-road, shall convey letters,—certain persons, actually availing themselves of these modes of conveyance, _constituted_ themselves “private posts,” travelling as passengers, and carried packages containing valuable letters, documents, and other available matter: these were, of course, transported as baggage or freight. The conveyances used by these men passed regularly over post-roads, and thus they travelled in company with their powerful opponent, “the post-office department.” It was also well known to the department; but as they _were not special posts_, the law of 1825 did not reach them. Still their system was a secret one, and hard to be detected. The law, however, of 1827, sect. 3, enacts that no person other than the postmaster-general or his authorized agents shall set up any foot- or horse-posts for the conveyance of letters and packets upon any post-road which is or may be established as such by law.

This law paved the way for the establishing penny posts by individuals in cities and even in rural districts. At first they were called expresses, but soon they assumed a more postal shape. The postmaster-general’s annual report of December 2, 1843, stated that “numerous private posts, under the name of expresses, had sprung within a few years into existence, extending themselves over the mail-routes between the cities and towns, and transporting letters and other mailable matter for pay to a great extent.” Suits were commenced against parties residing in New York, Massachusetts, and Maryland. It appears from the postmaster-general’s report of November 25, 1844, that the government had been unable to suppress the private expresses, which were still continued “upon the leading post-routes.” In this and in the former annual report he recommended legislation by Congress for their suppression. There is yet no law of Congress to suppress these expresses. Governments, more particularly that of ours, cannot enact laws that will interfere with the commercial interests of the people. It may facilitate every movement by such laws as are legitimate; but taking out of the hands of individuals their _legitimate_ business, connected with no department of the government, becomes at once not only a monopoly, but assumes the complexion of tyranny. The decision of the judges in the cases referred to settled the question, until compromise stepped in and the government came down to the “penny system,” and thus satisfied the public.

In 1860 Mr. Holt, the postmaster-general, by virtue of the act of March 3, 1851, by a formal order declared all the streets, lanes, avenues, &c. within the corporate limits of the cities of Boston, New York, and Philadelphia, to be post-roads, and notified all engaged in the transportation and delivery of letters for compensation in said cities, that they would expose themselves to the penalties imposed by the third section of the act of March, 1827. The private expresses in the cities named acquiesced in the legality of the step, with the exception of one in Philadelphia long and familiarly known as “Blood’s Express,” and subsequently, “Despatch.” In despite of the act of 1851, or the penalty imposed under that of 1827, Blood’s Express continued its regular delivery of letters in defiance of the department. A bill in equity was filed with a view of restraining the company from this habitual and persistent violation of the postal laws; but, upon full argument and consideration had on the questions involved, the injunction was denied.

The mere existence of a postal department of the government is not an establishment of monopoly. No government has ever organized a system of posts without securing to itself a monopoly of the carriage of letters and mailable matter; but this was never intended to control individual enterprise in the express line. Judge Grier, who indorses the decision of this case, says,[58] “The business of private carriers of letters and mailable packets, even on principal mail-routes, is lawful unless legislatively prohibited. A private monopoly, secured by prohibitory legislation, cannot require the suppression of a rival business of competitors who do not infringe the prohibition, merely because the continuance of their business would lessen or destroy the profits of his monopoly. A like rule applies in determining the effect of a government’s legislative prohibitions to secure its own postal monopoly. The monopoly cannot be extended beyond the legislative prohibitions, merely because the continuance of a specific business which has not been prohibited would reduce the postal earnings of the government, or even frustrate the purposes of its exclusive policy.” Streets, lanes, alleys, and avenues were not, in the opinion of the judge, “post-routes.” Public streets intersecting a municipal town are as highways distinguishable specifically from the general public highways of a State beyond the town limits. The streets are, indeed, as thoroughfares, general public highways of the State; but, independently of this character of thoroughfares, the streets are specially _local highways_ of the town. Internal affairs of municipal towns affecting their local interests alone are always regulated more or less by their local governments. So far as these streets over which the mail may be carried are entitled to be termed “post-roads for the passage of the mail,” there is no question; but whether Congress has the right to declare the streets of a city post-roads for any purpose is questionable.

When Blood’s Express was first established, its main object was to accommodate merchants, mechanics, and professional men generally, by furnishing a medium of communication with their customers, clients, &c., which would anticipate the slow movements of the old postal mode of delivery. If this continued to be its legitimate object, it is very probable the commercial community would have taken a much greater interest in it than they did; but, unfortunately for this new postal system, it assumed the character of a “Parisian Bureau,” for the reception and delivery of small documents, wherein “love, courtship, and marriage” were all treated with an eye to _excitement_ rather than as a virtuous incentive to their study and moral consequences. Young and inexperienced girls were gradually led into (initial) correspondence with “fast young men;” foolish widows and old maids to advertise for husbands, and equally silly, weak-minded elderly gentlemen to imitate their example. Added to this, many made this penny system the medium to originate practical jokes, and thus the “express” became a sort of Pandora’s (_postal_) box for “all sorts of people” to try experiments with fickle fortune, either by marriage or swindling. Both in some instances succeeded.

The same was attempted when the government took charge of the “express;” but the department soon put a stop to this nonsensical practice by ignoring as legitimate matter every thing of an _initial_ character. Young girls, foolish widows, old maids, and weak-minded men, who could without much publicity send and receive communications through “Blood’s Express,” found a post-office somewhat too dignified an institution for their _childish_ intellects.

Still, this class of people,—and it takes all kinds to make up a world,—added to another class who make of crime a pastime and licentiousness a pleasure, adopted other modes of carrying on their “vocation,” which we here allude to under the head of “Indecent postal matter.”

XV.

Tales of the Post-Office.

_THE VICTIM OF LOVE._

“Oh, grief beyond all other griefs, when fate First leaves the young heart lone and desolate In the wide world, without that only tie For which it loved to live or feared to die!”

I was seated at my desk; the index-box was filled with letters,—the great Southern mail having just arrived.

“Are there any letters for me, sir,—Henry Middleton?”

I glanced my eyes at the applicant: there was something in his voice, look, and manner which for a moment riveted my attention. He appeared by no means annoyed at my scrutiny of his person, no doubt ascribing it to the nature of our situation. He was apparently about twenty-three years of age; eyes dark and penetrating; a shade of melancholy passed over his countenance and withered the sunshine of hope; a mouth of the most marked character conveyed to the observer a knowledge of his; the lower lip firmly compressed, and the curl of the upper denoted strong and agitated feeling, and an irritable temperament. Having gathered this much from Henry Middleton’s personal appearance, I took out from the box M a handful of letters. One was addressed to him: the handwriting was evidently that of a female. He seized it with a nervous grasp, a momentary gleam of hope lighted up his shadowy countenance, and he rushed out of the office. For the first time in my life I felt a degree of curiosity to know the contents of another’s letter: it was a strange and to me a new feeling. In vain I battled with the demon which seemed rising within me; in vain I turned over letter after letter to withdraw my mind from this dangerous focus of thought: it was utterly useless. That night I dreamed of being condemned for breaking open letters intrusted to my charge.

Towards evening on the day following, to my extreme joy Henry Middleton stood at the window.

“I wish to pay the postage of this letter, sir.”

Twenty-five cents I informed him was the charge. The letter was in my hand: Middleton had departed. The address, Miss Amelia Templeton,—a small seal with the impression M upon it,—was the padlock to my curiosity. My brain grew giddy with the intensity of desire. I held the epistle up to the light,—the paper was coarse and thick. I peeped into the folds: ah! what is that?—part of a sentence visible:—

“Love, Amelia, acknowledges no tie but that of its own creation.”

What a sentence! In vain I tried to follow it up; not a word beyond this could I make out. Here I was left in the dark: then my imagination completed a volume of surmises. He, Middleton, was endeavoring to persuade Amelia to elope with him, or rather to follow him here, and the above line constituted a portion of the argument used by him to effect this object.

Such were my conjectures relating to the affair, derived from such evidence as the reader is now acquainted with.

A month passed over, and my note-book contained several incidents of an interesting nature; but the lovers, as I concluded them to be, occupied so much of my thoughts that I could pay but very little attention to the rest. I awaited impatiently the return of the mail which should bring the answer from Amelia. At length it came. To Henry Middleton. I instinctively caught it up. I felt as if I were an interested person, and had a right to see—that is, without breaking the seal—as much of the letter as I could; but Amelia had folded it so carefully that it defied all attempts to gather any connected sentence. Gracious heavens! what do I see? By turning up a portion of the inner fold with the blade of my knife, I read,—

Yours, affectionately, AMELIA SINCLAIR.

It was now certain that Amelia was lost to Henry. She had proved faithless by marrying another. How would he bear up against the thunderbolt aimed direct at his heart? I again endeavored to penetrate further into this letter: another fold was carefully raised; the words, “a parent’s curse,” “cruel necessity,” “your absence,” “forced into marriage,” burst upon my sight. I had actually worked myself into a fever, and had partly determined to keep the letter from Middleton, feeling assured that its contents would prove a death-blow to his hopes. While debating the subject with myself, he appeared at the window. I held the letter in my hand. A tremor of almost conscious guilt passed over me, and, if he had watched my countenance, he could not have failed to detect something indicative of my crime. I handed him the letter: he gazed upon the well-known hand, a smile of joy irradiated his visage; he tore it open, hastily devouring its contents; a sudden and awful change came over his face; the exclamation of “oh, God!” escaped him: he raised his right arm, pressing the distended fingers against his forehead, and fell upon the floor in horrid convulsions!

* * * * *

He lay upon the bed of death,—his eyes partly closed, and his hands clasped together in convulsive agony. I stood beside him, awaiting the result of the paroxysm. In a few moments he regained consciousness: he gazed languidly around the room, exclaiming, “Where am I? Who did this?”