Speedy Delivery - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to the final Postal History Sunday of 2021.  If you celebrate some (or all) of the year-end holidays, I hope you are finding ways to truly appreciate and enjoy them.   If you prefer not to celebrate or if you find this time of year to be stressful, I hope you uncover ways to find balance.

But for this moment, it is Postal History Sunday time.  Push all the worries and stresses aside.  Let's put on the fluffy slippers, grab a beverage of our choice and, perhaps, learn something new!

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This week we're going to focus on the delivery of letters to their recipient.  At the present time, most of us take it for granted that our mail will be delivered to the mailbox at our residence.  Perhaps some few of us have a Post Office box where our mail is placed for us to pick it up.  Fewer of us may work for a place of business or organization that receives enough mail that someone goes to the local post office to deliver mail to be sent and pick up incoming mail.

Life in the mid 1800s was not entirely different, but home delivery was not a fact of life for many places in the world - including the United States, where delivery might cost an extra fee or may not be available at all.

Delivered to your door

During a time when delivery to the door of the intended destination was not a foregone conclusion, we can find evidence on many pieces of letter mail that give us clues that can tell us how the mail made its way to the recipient.

The most common source of evidence for determining the most likely delivery method can be found in the address panel - which is just a fancy way of saying "the area where the sender wrote the recipient's name and address."  This piece of letter mail was sent in July of 1863 from Davenport, Iowa to London, England.  The address panel reads:

    Richard Smith, Esq,  298 High Holborn, London, W.C. England G.B.

The inclusion of a full address, including a street number, on a letter during this period is an excellent indicator that it was intended to be delivered to that address.  It also helps to know that carrier services were provided in London at this time.  So, while we cannot PROVE that this was walked up to 298 High Holton and delivered, the evidence on the envelope and convention of the time at that place says it most likely was delivered by a mail carrier.

Sometimes, the address panel fails to provide us with an indication that it might have been delivered by a carrier.

Our second item is a folded business letter that is dated June 18, 1861, mailed from Brescia in Lombardy, Italy to Mantova, which was also in Lombardy - but Mantova was politically a part of Venetia at this moment in time.  So, the 20 centesimi stamp was not adequate to pay the entire postage, and an additional five soldi were required from the recipient.  The story is good enough that it is explained a bit further in a Postal History Sunday from August of this year.

This time around, we are actually more interested in the back of this folded letter because it tells us a bit about the delivery.

 There are two markings on the back. One is the Mantova, June 19 receiving mark.  The other reads "Distribuzione 1," which indicates that this went out with the first delivery of the mail for the day.  

Yes, you read that correctly.  Some cities provided multiple deliveries over the course of a day, and Mantova was among the Italian cities that often placed a backstamp on the letters to indicate which of those deliveries a letter was taken out on.

To drive that point home, here is the reverse of another folded business letter that was sent to Torino (Turin) in 1863.  The marking at the top right reads "4A Dist," which means it was sent out during the 4th distribution of the mail.  The oval marking at the bottom left with the number "56" indicated which carrier was responsible for the delivery.

Put in your post office box

During the 1860s, it was fairly common for letters to be delivered by a carrier in Europe, but less common in the United States.  This is not so hard to understand when you consider the fact that most cities and towns in Europe have been established far longer than most settlements in the United States.  For example, the letter below was a "local" letter sent from (and to) Waterloo, Iowa.

The white settlement in this area was originally known as Prairie Rapids Crossing, which was established in 1845.  Nearby were two Mesqwaki seasonal camps situated by the Cedar River.  Clearly, Waterloo was a very young settlement and it should not be a surprise that a carrier service had not been established for the town after only 20 or so years of occupation by people who put a high priority on US mail services.

As far as the Mesqwaki are concerned, 1845 is the point in time when they were "removed" from Iowa to Kansas.  So, if you were wondering how it was so easy for the white settlement of Waterloo to develop quickly without too much friction from those who already lived there - you have your answer.

This letter was likely mailed in 1866 or 1867 and qualified for a rate which is commonly referenced as a "drop letter."  After May 1, 1865, a special one-cent rate applied for letters that were dropped off at the post office and did not require any additional carriage by the postal service to another post office.  The addition qualification was that the post office in question could NOT have carrier delivery services.

In fact, the addressee for this letter apparently had a box in the post office - box 47.  And the sender of this letter was aware of it and included it on the address panel towards the bottom.  But, sometimes the box was not known by the person(s) sending a letter, but the clerk at the receiving post office knew about the box.

Shown above is an 1869 folded business letter sent from St Loubes, France to San Francisco, California.  There are two 40 centime stamps paying the proper rate for a letter weighing no more than 7.5 grams and "PD" in a box at the bottom confirms that the postage had been paid.

Apparently, there are many letters in collector's hands from this correspondence and they all have this number placed in pencil on the front.  Sometimes the pencil marking is pretty obtrusive - and sometimes it appears to have been erased (but evidence can still be seen of the number "1077").  Dick Winter reports in his book on Trans-Atlantic mail that this is likely a post office box number for the recipient [1].  I see no reason to contradict that conclusion and suspect Mr. Winter has seen far more items from this correspondence and others like it to San Francisco than I ever will.

This is just a reminder to us all that sometimes a person just needs to have enough experience and see enough examples to reach a reasonably well informed conclusion.  It's also a good reminder that we all owe a debt to others who share knowledge - making it possible for things like Postal History Sunday to happen!

Held at the Post Office

There was also the option of sending an item to a town or city post office for what was known as "General Delivery" in the United States.

Above is a letter from Brooklyn, New York to Puerto Rico in 1935.  There is ten cents in postage to pay the 10 cent air mail rate that was in effect at that time.  The initial address was to an individual who must have been arriving in Puerto Rico by ship - but there was a chance that the letter would arrive too late to catch Rosemary Rabus at that location.  So, a forwarding address was included on the envelope that suggested she would pick up her mail at the General Delivery window in the Juana Diaz post office.

Anyone could come to the post office to check if they had mail to be picked up via General Delivery, but there was always a danger that a person would not necessarily know to go there.  In this case, it seems that the sender and the recipient (likely related) were both aware of the plan.

The equivalent service in Europe during the 1860s would have been sending an item and marking it as "Poste Restante."   

The letter shown above was mailed from Canandaigua, New York to Paris, France in 1863.  The letter weighed more than a quarter ounce and no more than a half ounce, so it required 30 cents in postage to get to its destination.

If you look at the bottom of the address, we see the words "Poste Restante" which instructed the postmaster in Paris to hold on to the letter until Charles A Loomis came to pick up his mail.  However, it might seem odd because we actually see a street address on this letter too.  When we see "Rue du Dauphin 3" we might be tempted to conclude this was a carrier delivery in Paris (they certainly did have carrier delivery there at this time).

Section of 1863 Henriot pocket map

If you click on this portion of an 1863 Paris map, you will find that Rue du Dauphin is not very long and ends at the Seine River.

The question for us now is to decide what to believe.  The street address or the instructions for the letter to stay at the post office to be picked up.  The solution is most likely that the letter was left at the post office in response to the "Poste Restante" instructions.  However, Paris was (and is) so large that there was more than one post office that could have held the letter for the recipient.  The address gave the postal service an opportunity to determine which of these offices should take on the duty of holding the mail for the recipient to pick it up.

Delivered to a commercial agent

Another option that was used frequently by those who were traveling was to arrange to have mail sent to your financial or other business agent.  This entity would then provide the service of either holding your mail until you picked it up or forwarding your mail on to your next scheduled location on your itinerary.

Above is a letter sent from Boston, Massachusetts in 1862 to London, England.  If you read the address panel, the item was sent "Care Mess. Geo. Peabody & Co."  Once again, we have a letter that is part of a known correspondence, so we can see a pattern by looking at different examples to the same person.  Hudson liked to put dockets on his envelopes that showed when he received a letter and when he responded to that letter.  The rapidity of his responses tell us he either dropped by the offices of George Peabody & Co daily, or he had arranged for them to have someone bring the mail to him from those offices.  We'll likely never know for certain which it is - but that's ok.  A little mystery never hurt anyone.

The use of financial institutions that were providing travelers with monetary exchange and credit services as mail forwarding or holding service is not limited to the 1800s.  As we can see above, the American Express Company was in operation and forwarding the mail in 1911.

Delivered to a government agent

In some cases, a person could also send letters care of their country's consulate or delegation in the destination country.  The letter shown below is actually discussed in more detail in this June Postal History Sunday.  

The focus on this 1863 letter from New Brighton, Pennsylvania to Florence, Italy, is actually on the fancy marking that can be found on the back of the envelope.

Apparently, Isaac Eugene Craig could expect to pick up his mail in Florence by going to the US Consulate General.  At that time, as it is today, there were US Consulates in more than one Italian city.  Not every office struck incoming mail with something quite as fancy as this.  In fact, many added nothing additional to the envelope.  As the modern website for this US Consulate states, you can't expect all of the same services from one consulate to the next.

"Peace" by I.E. Craig circa 1878

Craig was a painter from the United States who was working in Florence, as evidenced by some of his paintings.  This biography places Craig in New Brighton in 1861 and suggests he was in Florence later in the 1860s.  It does not seem far fetched that he had personal connections with someone who remained behind in New Brighton when he took a trip to Florence in 1863.  As to why the US Consulate was the recipient of choice - we can only speculate.

And, if a person wanted to match up the oil painting by this artist with a piece of postal history, it seems you only needed $6900 to do it in 2010.   Um.  Ok.  I'll stick with the postal history, thank you!

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There you have it!  Another Postal History Sunday and perhaps a few things that you might have learned that are new to you.  Thank you once again for joining me and I hope you have a great remainder of your day and an excellent week to come.

[1] Winter, Dick, Understanding Trans-Atlantic Mail, Vol 1, American Philatelic Society, 2006.

Author's Choice - Postal History Sunday

The farmer wanted to take a day off of Postal History Sunday and the farmer did NOT want to take a day off of Postal History Sunday.  He discussed this with himself and came up with a compromise.  There will be a PHS for today, but it will be a slightly easier post to write because it will be a traditional "count-down" blog post.  A little easier for me and hopefully fun for you as you compare/contrast your own feelings about particular Postal History Sunday writings.

For this year's count down, I thought I would share the top 10 blog posts from MY perspective.  The criteria is that these are the entries that I learned the most from, those I really enjoyed putting together, and/or posts that I feel are some of the best finished products from the whole batch.  This might actually be a bit tougher than it sounds, because I've got 50+ selections to choose from!  If I miss one of your favorites, feel fee to speak out.

And, to make this more of a challenge for you - I've included a question for each blog.  Can you answer it?  I have a suspicion I know where you could find the answers too! 

People's Choice.  Borderline Benefits

 Which well-known philosopher called Ferney, France, his home?

Here is the post that recorded the most visits on the GFF Postal History blog (this does not include traffic on the Genuinely Faux farm blog).  I feel like this might be one of the clearest and most direct teaching blogs I have on Postal History Sunday right now.  There are others with a similar goal, of course, but I like how this one presents itself.  The topic is a quick exploration of some of the special letter rates for border communities in Europe in the 1850s, 60s, and 70s.

11. Pirascafo sul Lago

If you saw a postmark that read "Verbano," what would it likely be referring to?

First things first - lists on my blogs go to eleven.  It's a thing with me - really.

This Postal History Sunday may have been one of those where I had to climb the biggest learning curve just to get something that was accurate AND interesting out in the world.  It makes the list because I think I did a pretty good job finding the information I needed and putting it all together.  And, on top of it all, you get to explore steamship travel on some of the deep lakes in the Alps between Italy and Switzerland.  

To make this one even better, it takes a lesson from the People's Choice blog and extends it to mail that traveled on these lakes.  Yes, that's a teaser.

10.  Poo d'Etat

The illustration on the envelope reads "Napoleon, Friedland, 1807" - what is it referring to?

How could this one NOT make the list?  A title like that?!?  

This one was extremely enjoyable for me to research and write.  The connection to farming is hard for me to resist, given my real life occupation as owner/operator of a small-scale, diversified farm (the Genuine Faux Farm, if you must know).  This is one of the joys of writing your own blog - you make the rules as to what makes it in and what doesn't.  Poo for the win!

9.  Too Late Again?

Why did Eric W Pierce choose the route via Panama?

There will be 24 cent US 1861 issue postal history in this blog.  That's all there is to it - because that's what I do.  But, I sure will do my best to make it entertaining for everyone!

Too Late Again? features one of my favorite items that lets us explore multiple story lines and leaves us wondering - why in the world did Eric W Pierce send this item on a steamboat when the overland mail would have been faster?  Why?

8.  Unforgotten

 

The colorful design touts the Lease-Lend Act - what did that act do?

If you prefer a bit more modern postal history, then this one is for you.  A letter to Geoffrey Charles French goes on a merry chase that travels the globe, only to be returned to the sender once it is determined French went down with his plane in 1944.

In some very real ways, this post had a "leg up" on the others because I actually tried my hand at writing this one up in a blog several years ago - before there was a Postal History Sunday.  What?!?  There was life before PHS?  Nope!  Not possible!

7.  Thurn & Taxis

 

Why did mail coaches in Germany carry a post horn?

For many of us who study postal history in the 1850s through 1870s, the German States can be a bit of a puzzle, especially if you do not speak or read Deutsch at all well.  This is one of those entries where I probably stood as much to gain by getting it all organized in my head as anyone else.  For the effort alone, it might come towards the top.  It's even better that I think it presents itself quite well.

So, if you want a blog sized look at how the Thurn and Taxis mails worked in the 1850s and 1860s, this is the one you might enjoy reading.... or maybe if you want to learn about post horns.

6.  Run Aground!

 Why are compass readings around Anticosti Island potentially unreliable?

The steamship carrying the featured cover ran aground on Anticosti Island in the St Lawrence Seaway making the journey this letter took to get to its destination that much more interesting.  You can learn a little bit about the Allan Line, compasses, and even how a couple who are stranded on an island can make due with flotsam from the various shipwrecks over time. 

5.  There and Back Again

 

 This letter crossed the St Georges Channel between which two ports?

At this point, it may seem that I favor the posts that feature a single postal history item, and this is another that falls into that category.  But, when the story is compelling, it is hard not to enjoy the process of uncovering it and sharing it with others.  This particular cover was sent to England, but it had to follow the recipient back home to the United States before it caught up with him.

For those who might care - this is one of my favorite postal history items - which is saying something.

4. For What Ails You

 

What do I mean if I say a postal artifact has a "mute cancel?"

I like this blog post because it felt so different from many of the other topics I was considering at that time.  It was fresh for me, so it probably felt fresh for those who read it.  On top of it all, I renewed my interest in postal history items after 1875 and the formation of the General Postal Union.  That's not a bad thing in and of itself.

If you would like a quick exploration into the mailing of packages in 1893/1894 and you think it might be fun to learn a bit about some of the medical industry at that time - here's a reading for you.

3. Business, Madness, and Social Betterment

  Who is this person, and why do they have a statue?

One of the comments on this blog post is that it was more of a "social history" post than a postal history post.  Of course, they were correct.  But, what a social history post it was!  It just goes to show you that you can take a fairly common, if clean, cover and take it all sorts of places with the story lines encourages me to discover.  Alas for Mad Jacques and hurray for Amicie Lebaudy!

2.  Up, Up, and Away

  Balloons often carried pigeons out of Paris during the 1870-1 siege.  Why?

There have been times that I have been so pleased to actually acquire a certain item that it did not take me all that long to produce a Postal History Sunday featuring that item.  Sometimes, the rush to produce something and "do it justice" resulted in a good enough, but not superb, post.  But, with this one, I think I got the balance right.  I learned a host of new things, I provided some interesting information to those who were reading, AND I think it reads pretty well.  We'll take it! 

1.  The Price of Bread

 What percent of a common worker's income could they expect to spend on bread in 1788?

It all began with a single item that caught my imagination, and once I researched that, I had an idea of what to look for.  A couple of items later and we have a nice blog post for Postal History Sunday.  Once again, we have a connection to agriculture and food production, which is bound to get at least a little of my attention.  This one reaches number one because I learned many new things and came to understand several other things I had learned at some point earlier in my life.

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There you have it!  The farmer's picks for the top Postal History Sundays in 2021 up to this point.  Feel free to enjoy (or re-enjoy) none, some or all of these at your leisure.  They'll be here when you are ready for them.  And maybe... just maybe... you too, will learn something new.

Follow-up - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to this week's Postal History Sunday on the GFF Postal History blog or the Genuinely Faux farm blog.  Everyone is welcome here, whether you have years of study involving postal history or you are merely curious what it might be that gets a small-scale, diversified farm operator interested in old envelopes that have already served their primary purpose in life.  Let's send those troubles off on a merry chase somewhere, and hope they never return, while we explore something I enjoy.  And, if we are lucky, you will be entertained and we will all learn something new.

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Learning a truly new thing is actually very difficult, especially if you do not have a place in your personal experience to start from.  I recall exactly how frustrated I was when I first decided to try and learn things about letter mail during the 1860s.  I had very little idea as to where I should start.  I didn't know the terminology, I didn't know where to go to find people or books or other resources that could help me learn.  I didn't even know what questions to ask to even start with the topic.

I could have just stopped - and I was tempted to do so.  But, if I have learned anything about myself, I can be pretty stubborn about learning.

Each new thing learned gives you a stepping stool that lets you reach out to other, related things.  Sometimes, the stepping stools you select lead you one way and you end up missing something that becomes obvious when you look back.  Today's post is dedicated to things I have been able to reach because of an earlier studies or things that I missed while I was there.

If you wish to visit the related Postal History Sunday to each topic, you can take the link I have placed in the title of each section.

"For What Ails You"

Back in March of this year, Postal History Sunday featured stamps from the US Columbian issue of 1893.  The title was For What Ails You because the items featured were from packages that probably contained various pharmaceutical or medical supplies.  

Sadly, this particular envelope did not qualify to be included in that post, both because it didn't clearly fit the theme and because it wasn't in my collection at the time.  But, the fact that I had recently explored packages in this post led me to consider adding this item in the first place!

The postage on this larger envelope from August of 1893 includes eleven copies of the 4-cent denomination and six copies of the 3-cent stamp, giving us a total of 62 cents of postage paid.  The red label with the letter "R" in the center tells us this was sent as a registered item, which cost 8 cents (effective Jan 1, 1893 - Jun 30, 1898), leaving us with 54 cents in postage.  And, if you look towards the bottom, you will see the number "54" in pencil, which is a nice confirmation that a postal clerk came to a similar conclusion.

This large envelope was apparently mailed at the foreign letter rate from the US to Germany at a cost of 5 cents per half ounce, but the Universal Postal Union guidelines were based on one rate per 15 grams (Jul 1, 1875-Sep 30, 1907).  For the curious, 15 grams is a little more than a half ounce (.529 ounces).

If you are paying attention, you probably are now saying "Wait!  Fifty-four cents is NOT divisible by five!  What's going on here?"  And that's exactly what I said.  One clue just might be the pencil "11" at the bottom left.  The 11th rate step would be for a weight over 5 1/2 ounces and no more than 6 ounces in the US.  So, the amount due would have been 55 cents.

The 11th rate step in Germany would have been measured in grams - over 165 grams (5.8 oz) and no more than 180grams (6.35 oz).  Is it possible that this thing actually weighed more than 5.5 ounces and less than 5.8 ounces?  From the US perspective, an item that weight would require 11 postage rates, but the Germans would only see it as ten.

Either way, the US postal clerk should have noted it was one cent short UNLESS they were aware of the difference in weights and made a decision to send it as paid using the 15 gram increments as a guideline.  It is most likely that the single penny wasn't going to be worth the extra effort and it was ignored.

We'll likely never know, but it is fun to speculate.  And this gives me something to stand on that may lead me to explore this item more.  If I do, you may see it again in a Postal History Sunday!

"Hyper"

Here's a case where you wonder how things happen the way they do.  In the original blog post, I give a summary of how postage rates rapidly increased in Germany during the period of hyper-inflation in the early 1920s.  I don't typically go searching for this sort of item, but if I run across something and it looks interesting to me and it is very inexpensive, I might go ahead and add it.

Oh!  Ugh!  Why would I add THAT?!?  It looks pretty beat up and.. what's going on here, Rob?  Have you led us all astray?

Oooooh!  Ok.  The back of this cover has another 14 postage stamps at 5000 marks each for a total of 75,000 marks in postage.  I guess I was feeling like adding another piece of postal history that had a lot of stamps on it.  

This postage rate was for internal letters in Germany that weighed no more than 20 grams and this particular rate only lasted from September 1, 1923 until September 19 of the same year.  This letter is postmarked from Hanau on September 12.  So, I thought to myself, "Yay!  I got an example of a rate in 1923.  Those were usually effective for short periods of time!"

Then, I looked at what I had again (go visit the Hyper blog) and I found I actually had something for this particular date range.  In 1923 alone, there were seventeen DIFFERENT rates for domestic letters.  I pick up two - and they both fall in the same rate period.  What are the odds?

So, what did I learn here?  I guess I learned why some people have checklists or some such thing when they are looking at items they might want for their collection.  But... that's no fun!  And, this cost less than the drink you have in your hand... and I had fun researching it.

So, I win again!

"Cruising Along"

Just a couple of weeks ago, I wrote about some letters that traveled across the seas in the 1930s and one of the pieces of mail I featured traveled from the United States to Finland.

I did a cursory look at the addessee, Mr. J.G. Sihvola, but I did not find anything.  That's ok, the blog and the story for the cover still held up nicely.  However, I recently shared this cover with an online acquaintance who lives in Lahti and I immediately got confirmation that this correspondence is fairly well known by postal historians in Finland.  Score one for sharing what we enjoy!

Jorma Sihvola worked at the Finnish Legation in Washington, D.C. for over ten years, starting in the 1930s and remaining through World War II.  His correspondence to family in Lahti is colorful, suggesting the possibility that there was a collector or two in the family, and has been distributed to collectors of stamps and postal history over time.  

J.G. and Aino Sihvola (husband and wife) had a wool clothing factory in Lahti.  Their son, Jorma, had probably not been in the United States for terribly long when he sent this letter.

Just having a name to refine searches brought me to an old newspaper where the likely sender of this letter was featured as a guest for the Singer's Guild in Washington, D.C.  That's one way to add a little color to the story.

My thanks to Tapio Hakoniemi for pointing me to this article that  features numerous items from the Sihvola correspondence during World War II, including a 1944 letter that suggests Jorma Sihvola had been in the US for a little over ten years.  After reading that bit of research, I now have something else to keep an eye out for if I am so inclined.  

Another step and something new I can reach out for.

"To and Fro"

In June of this past year, I took a look at how mail traveled across the Atlantic between the US and two European entities, the United Kingdom and France.  I kept it simple there and looked at some of the most common examples of mail that was sent when there was a postal agreement between the United States and these two nations.

But, what was it like when there wasn't a postal agreement between the United States and France?

Here is a folded letter that was sent in December of 1855 from France to Boston, Massachusetts.  The postal convention was not going to be in effect for another year and a half, so there was no way to fully prepay mail to the US from France.  Instead, mail travel relied on the agreement France and the United Kingdom had to pay for all of the postal services UP TO the point the letter was placed in the hands of the US postal system.

Since the British Post Office also had an agreement with the United States, they were able to act as an intermediary between the two nations that did not have a working treaty for the mail.

The cost?  One franc and thirty centimes (130 centimes) covered both the French and British postal costs.  An additional 5 US cents were due from the recipient in Boston to pay for the US postage costs.  That explains the nice bold "5" marking on the cover.

Once France and the United States had a postal agreement, starting in April of 1857, the postage cost for this same piece of mail would have been 80 centimes (15 US cents) and it would have covered the whole trip!  This is a case where I stood on my knowledge of mail during the later postal treaty to help me explore backward into years prior to that agreement.

"Second Childhood"

In August of this past year, I wrote about some postal history that showed stamps from the National Parks issue from the 1930s.  These are stamps that drew my attention when I was a very young collector, so it makes some sense that I find myself attracted to them even now.  When we combine it with my interest for mail that travels from one country to another - we have a winner!

The initial post focused on letter mail that was classified as "surface letter mail."  In other words, these were items that used transportation methods that stayed on the Earth's surface (boat, train, carriage, etc).  But, air mail was beginning to make its presence known in the 1930s, so it shouldn't be surprising that I might show an example of that mode of conveyance here.

Here is a letter that actually used the air service in the United States, crossed the Atlantic on a steamship, and then used air mail in Europe to get to Athens, Greece in 1935.  The cover itself gives me a multiple confirmations that my reading of its travel is correct.  A blue label (Par Avion / By Air Mail) states that air mail is to be used.  Red and blue parallelograms around the edge also indicated to the post office that air services were desired.

We also have this docket at the bottom of the envelope that may have been a directive to simply confirm what the postage was for.  It is also possible this text was added AFTER the letter had gone through the postal services by a collector.  I have no sure way of telling, but air mail was new enough that some direction in the form of a docket might have been useful.

The postage costs for air mail went through a number of changes in the early years and some of the calculations could get a bit complex.  Happily, this one is not so difficult.  We can start with the fifteen cent fee for a registered letter.  That leaves us with 11 cents for the letter mail postage.

The US required 8 cents in postage for each ounce in weight (Nov 23, 1934 - Jun 20, 1938), which included postage for the air carriage to the Atlantic port city as well as the Atlantic crossing on a steamship to England.  An additional 3 cents was added for each half ounce for air carriage in Europe (Jul 1, 1932 - Apr 27, 1939).

Well, I sure am glad that one added up properly (15 + 8 +3 = 26 cents)!  After the big Columbian envelope, I was beginning to wonder.

"In the News"

About a year ago, I featured items that were newspapers and other printed matter items that qualified for a cheaper postage rate.  While I am still in the process of researching this one, I felt like this might be a good follow up to show us all another way that we might NOT want to be "In the News."

What you see here is a good, old-fashioned "wanted" notice, which could have been posted publicly.  Wanted posters weren't just a "Wild West" thing and Theobald Pouth had better have been covering his tracks because the authorities in Amsterdam were looking for him on November 16, 1836!

A rough translation of some of what you see here follows:

Description of Theobald Pouth

Birth and last residence Trier (probably Trier near Luxembourg)

Profession: Tobacco fabricator (makes cigars, cigarettes, etc)

34 years old, 5 foot nine inches, black eyes, brown hair, heavy eyebrows and a sunken chin.  Full face and a black beard. An oval forehead

Special characteristics - muscular

Crime: Fraudulent Bankruptcy

The notice was sent from the prosecutor for the North Holland provinces to public prosecutors and offices of the police in the area.

Unfortunately, this item has lost some of the text at the bottom right.  When you combine that with the fact that I do not know Dutch well enough to fill in missing words with good guesses, we just have to go with what we have.

The outside of the document shows evidence of travel in the postal services from Amsterdam to the mayor (Burgemeester) of Limmen, which is northwest of Amsterdam.  The red postmark probably reads "Beverwijk," which was a larger town south of Limmen.  

There is a "10" by the red town marking that likely indicated the postage paid in Dutch cents.  At present, I do not know the postal rates for this area in 1836.  So, I do not know if this was a printed matter rate or a letter rate. That just shows you that I continue to seek out and learn new things.  Maybe once I learn more this one will make a return to Postal History Sunday?

Put It Out There and People Will Help

The danger of putting things out for anyone to read is the fact that people who know more than I do about something will roll their eyes at my feeble attempt at figuring it out.  The benefit is that many of these people take the time to help me to learn something new (or unlearn something that's wrong).

For example, Sören Andersson was very kind to point out an error in my analysis of the fourth item in Sneaky Clues.  The registration fee for incoming mail from the Netherlands WAS 10 cents, which makes the whole thing far easier to understand and, sadly, a little less interesting - in my opinion.  But, it is always better to make it right!  So, I'll be fixing that blog post at some point in the future!  He also advanced the idea that the "8" on the last cover could have been a room number in the hotel.  We'll still never know, but it is another option!

John Barwis pointed out that I left the passengers on Newfoundland in Run Aground!  Passengers took the St George (a steamship) and got to Glasgow about the same time as the mail (July 11).  That helps close this story a bit better.

In the post titled Business, Madness and Social Betterment, I included a small section about the rapid collection of mail by mail trains.  Rick Kunz mentioned a short documentary from 1936 titled Night Mail.  For those who might enjoy learning more about efficient ways to put mailbags on and off trains, here you go!

And then, Winston Williams has also been kind enough to provide useful thoughts and information.  In There and Back Again, he points out that a big reason for the US Notes marking is that the agreement with the British did stipulate that compensation be done using specie (essentially precious metal) which had a different value than paper money.  And, in Poo d'Etat, he pointed me to a resource and a rate for an item I did not successfully dig out for myself.

Thank you to everyone who provides me with corrections and additional information!  I may have missed a few of you here, but it has all been appreciated.

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There you are, another Postal History Sunday has been released "into the wild" to find audiences wherever it will!  I hope you enjoyed today's mishmash of items and that you were entertained and, perhaps, learned something new.

And, a quick reminder that I do accept constructive feedback, including corrections, additional information, and pointers for resources.  There will certainly be times when I will omit information on purpose for the sake of readability or due to time restrictions on my part.  But, that doesn't mean you can't point omissions out!  You honor me with your responses and care in providing them.

Have a wonderful remainder of your day and a productive week to come.

Another Merry Chase - Postal History Sunday

Welcome to Postal History Sunday, a weekly writing that is published on the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog for all who might be interested. For those who might be new - or if you've missed this sort of introduction before - Postal History Sunday started as a "pandemic project" where I, Rob Faux, a vegetable/poultry farmer and postal history collector, decided to share this hobby I enjoy with anyone who might want to read about it.  This will be the 68th "official" entry in the series.

Everyone is welcome and I try to write so that persons with no personal history experience can still appreciate what I am sharing.  At the same time, I do my best to provide some "meaty details" that other postal historians might appreciate.  It is my hope that everyone who reads these posts will find something to enjoy and, perhaps, learn something new.

Now, put on the fuzzy slippers and get a favorite beverage - keeping it away from the keyboard and the old paper items.  Pack up those troubles and worries.  We don't need them right now.  And let's see where we can go with a new "merry chase."  The first entry to feature a merry chase was published in September and received positive feedback - I guess I'll just have to do my best to live up to it.

Cutting to the Chase

Today's merry chase features this envelope that was mailed from Philippeville, Algeria to Lyon, France on December 7, 1858.  Already we can see that this letter must have been forwarded at least once because the address "Rue de Castries, Lyon, Rhone, France" has been crossed out.

A new address has been placed at the top which reads "a nice poste restante." It seems likely that Madame Brachet had gone to an area that is now known as the French Riviera or the Côte d’Azur.  In the 1850s, it was already well known as a health resort, especially by the British elite.  So, apparently, we have a person who likely had money, or was connected to someone who could host them.

But, what does "a nice poste restante" mean, exactly?

The first part is probably not so hard for a person who knows something of southeastern France.  Nice is one of the larger settlements on the Mediterranean Coast, so the first part means "in Nice."  But, no address is given for Madame Brachet.  Instead, the words "poste restante" tell the postal services in Nice to hold the letter at the post office for the recipient to pick up the letter.

And, since the postage had only been provided to mail the letter from Philippeville to Lyon, she would have to pay additional postage, which was indicated by the black squiggle in the middle of the envelope (we'll get to that later!).

And, here is the back of this small envelope.  Once again, we see "a nice poste restante," but written in pencil and there are a few postal markings here.  So, let's run down what the postal markings say (at least the ones I can read).

1. Philippeville, Algerie Dec 7, 1858
2. Marseille A Lyon Dec 12
3. Lyon Dec 13
4. Lyon A Marseille
5. Nizza Arrivo Dec 15
6. IO in a circle
   

The travels of this letter can be seen below.  Remember, you can click on an image to see a larger version.

This piece of mail traveled by steamship from Philippeville to Marseille and them by train form Marseille to Lyon.  The train trip is confirmed by the Marseille A Lyon marking, which would have been applied in the mail car on the northbound train.

There are two Lyon markings on the back and I can only read the date on one of them.  One was likely applied when the letter was received and delivery was attempted.  The "IO" was probably applied in Lyon for the carrier route or distribution, but I have not confirmed that as a certain fact.  It was determined then that Madame Brachet was away and instruction with a new address led to the letter being forwarded without postage.

Back on the train (Lyon A Marseille), the letter would return to Marseille.  I am taking a guess that it may have left Marseille on the 14th to take the train to Toulon - which was as far as the train went at the time.  It would have to be carried by coach the rest of the way to Nice.

And there it sat - at the Nice post office - waiting for Madame Brachet. 

So, who was Madame Brachet?

Unfortunately, the contents of the letter are no longer with the envelope, so we don't have much more to go on other than to search to see if we can find family in the Lyon area during this period in time.  Since we are fairly certain that this is a person with connections, we can make some additional educated guesses.  It turns out that our addressee may well have been related (a newly widowed spouse?) to Jean-Louis Brachet (1789 - Apr 10, 1858) who is profiled in a book edited by Stephen Ashwal (photo from that book). [1]

Jean-Louis applied to Hôtel Dieu, which had served as the main hospital facility in the Lyon area for centuries, to study medicine at the age of 17.  He became a surgeon intern after seven years and adjunct surgeon after only five more.  He was appointed as Napoleon's personal surgeon during the latter's exile in Elba until Brachet contracted typhus and returned home.

He was a prolific author of medical materials on a wide range of topics.  His first paper was published in 1813, but he is best known today for Traite de l' Hysterie (Traits of Hysteria, 1847) and his work regarding convulsive disorders in children.  

This is certainly an interesting diversion, but how certain can we be that the recipient of this letter was, indeed, related to Jean-Louis Brachet?  The answer is, we cannot.  But, we have clues that could, if I wanted to pursue it further, help to prove or disprove the theory.  For now, we'll just leave it as an interesting, and plausible, side story that Brachet's widow was able to go to Nice and get her mind off of the recent loss of her husband.

What qualifies as a Merry Chase?

"Merry chase" is an "official" Postal History Sunday term.  And, as such, I can define it any way I want to.  I suppose I could just say it is any piece of postal history that makes Rob say, "what a merry chase," but that would probably be viewed as an unsatisfactory definition by everyone except me.

One way an item qualifies is if it was forwarded to a new destination two or more times.  For example, something like the letter below would work.

Miss S Louise Jewell was clearly traveling Europe in 1914 and this letter chased her around Europe and clearly did not catch up until she returned to college in Claremont, California.  Letters to persons traveling abroad often provide us with excellent opportunities for a merry chase.

The second characteristic that gets me to qualify something as a merry chase is if an item was forwarded to a new destination once, but the travels provide me with enough interest that I happily dive into the details.  That is what today's featured item provides.

One-third of the French Riviera wasn't

In today's world, Nice is a city in France and the French Riviera reaches all the way to Menton, at the border with Italy. However, in 1858, Nice was on the border of France and the Italian state of Sardinia.  In fact, Nice was on the Sardinian side of the border!  Madame Brachet had actually left the country.

It would not be long before this region would be ceded to France by Sardinia in exchange for France's help during the Italian War of Independence in 1859.  This area was actually the eastern portion of the County of Nice.  The western section of the county had already been annexed by France in 1792.

After the regional referendum that confirmed the cession of territory to France, many disappointed Italians relocated themselves in protest to the Italian settlements to the East.  This is referred to as the Niçard exodus.

Shown above is an 1847 folded letter that was mailed from Nice (Nizza) when it was within Sardinian borders and well before it was given over to France.  This business letter was sent to another Sardinian city, Genoa (Genes).  The smaller markings at the top right read 7'1, which indicated that the weight of the item was 7.1 grams.  This was too much for a single weight letter at that time, so it was rated as a double rate letter.

The other, larger scrawl is a "12," which would be consistent with two times the 6 soldi rate.

And here is another folded letter (1864) that was sent from Genova (Genoa) in the newly unified Kingdom of Italy.  This item was sent to Nice (Nizza Marittima), but it required foreign postage because this was now a foreign letter (40 centesimi per 10 grams : Jan 1, 1861 - Jul 31, 1869). 

This brings us back to our featured, merry chase, cover!

The large, dark "squiggle" at center right on this envelope is a "5," which would have been the proper rate for a foreign letter received in Sardinia from a French origin.  Five decimes (or 50 centesimi) were due at the post office when it was picked up there.  

The rate between France and Sardinia was based on weight and distance in 1858.  The 50 ctm per 7.5 grams was applied to letters that did not qualify for the border rate.  Since Nice was much more than 30 km away from Nice using straight-line distance, it required the full foreign mail rate (Jul 1, 1851 - Dec 31, 1860).

And, Algeria was French

For the purposes of a postal historian, Algeria was simply a part of France in 1858.  Beginning January 1, 1849, Algeria used the same postage stamps as France and they qualified for France's internal mailing rates.  For example, if someone in the United States mailed a letter to Algeria in 1863, it would have cost the same as a letter mailed to Paris.  For the purposes of our letter, that meant a location in Algeria could mail something to a location in France for the same cost as any internal letter anywhere in the France proper. 

Above is an 1854 folded letter from Bône (now known as Annaba) to Toulon, France.  Toulon is located between Marseille and Nice.  The internal letter rate for France was 20 centimes for the first 7.5 grams of letter weight.  So, even though this letter AND our merry chase letter had to cross the Mediterranean Sea, it still only cost 20 centimes for the first 7.5 grams in letter weight. 

The French conquest of Algeria began in 1830, and for those interested in a visual timeline, you can click on the map above (from wikimedia commons) to get some idea of the progression.  The wiki page for French Algeria feels like it is a summary of Ben Kiernan's work, which I will cite at the end of this blog. [2]

A single incident involving merchants who would not pay a bill, a French consul who was probably intent on siding with them, and ... a fly whisk... is cited as the cause of the war that followed.  I think we can be certain the motivations were likely more complex than that.  By the time we reach the year 1875, an estimated 825,000 indigenous Algerians had been killed in the war.

Knowing some of the history of French Algeria actually helps us to understand why a letter might be mailed from Philippeville (now known as Skikda) to Lyon in the first place.  Beginning in 1848, France administered Algeria as if it was simply another département - a rough equivalent to a state or perhaps county in the US.  People had been emigrating to Algeria from France and taking advantage of land confiscated by the French government from the native peoples there.  By the time we get to 1858, and the mailing of our merry chase letter, the majority of people residing in the coastal cities of Algeria were actually Europeans who had emigrated there.

That seems to be as good as any reason that a person who lives in France might receive mail from someone in Algeria.

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Thank you for joining me for what started as a fairly simple Postal History Sunday and turned our to be quite the merry chase.  I hope you found something to enjoy and that you learned something new in the process.  Have a great remainder of your day and an excellent week to come!

[1] Kellaway, Peter and Mizrahi, Eli, Bio of Jean-Louis Brachet in chapter 2 titled The Beginnings of Pediatric Neurology: the Early 19th Century, Child Neurology: It's Origins, Founders, Growth and Evolution, 2nd edition, Ashwal, Steven, ed., Academic Press, 2021, p 25

[2] Kiernan, Ben, Blood and Soil: A World History of Genocide and Extermination from Sparta to Darfur, Yale University Press, 2007.