If you’re desperate to get in to see the prime minister, but he keeps pretending he’s not at home every time you knock on the door, what can you do? Well, you could try sticking a stamp on your bum and getting the postie to deliver you.
Actually – don’t try it now, because it’s illegal to post a human, but in the 1900s it was allowed. And not just by a loophole – it was explicitly legal. The Post Office Guide for January 1909 said: “Postmasters may arrange for the conduct of a person to an address by an Express Messenger.” (Why that was so, and why it isn’t any more, is a bit outside the scope of this newsletter, but would make an interesting enquiry for someone.)
Henry Asquith, leader of one of the Liberal Party’s many factions, was PM at the time, and a notorious opponent of women’s suffrage. Endless broken promises and cynical betrayals by the Liberals had led part of the votes-for-women movement (those who became known as suffragettes) to take a turn towards direct action and terrorism.
As Asquith’s refusal to honour election pledges on electoral reform increasingly clashed with the suffragette’s commitment to “Deeds not words,” the security services were fearful for the PM’s safety – so it’s perhaps not surprising that he repeatedly refused to receive a delegation from the Women’s Social and Political Union.
Thus, on this date, trade union activist Jessie Kenney (who had previously been arrested for physically attacking Asquith and his Home Secretary on a golf course) took two of her WPSU comrades, Daisy Solomon and Elspeth McClelland, to the East Strand post office in London. There she filled in a form requesting the Express Delivery of two persons to a Mr H. Asquith of 10 Downing Street, and paid the fee of threepence.
Post Office records show that, with impressive efficiency, the delivery was requested at 2.16pm and sent out at 2.17. The items for delivery – that is, Daisy and Elspeth – were accompanied, as per regs, by a uniformed GPO messenger boy, named as A.S. Palmer.
On arrival at Downing Street, the two suffragettes and their escort soon discovered (as they had presumably expected) that although the law allowed a person to be sent as a letter, no law said that the addressee had to accept delivery of same.
The police on duty outside Number Ten refused to accept the “human letters,” as they soon became known. The messenger, Palmer, was allowed inside to get a signature on his form. But, as he later reported on yet another form, the butler refused to sign for the letters since he had not received them – the letters being, of course, still standing outside on the pavement, unable to get past the police.
When the human letters protested that they had been paid for and so must be delivered, they were told that, as far as Downing Street was concerned, they were “dead letters” – in other words, post which is undeliverable and must therefore be returned to sender. And that’s exactly what happened to Daisy Solomon and Elspeth McClelland: the dutiful young lad, Palmer, delivered them to the head office of the Women’s Social and Political Union – accompanied every step of the way by press photographers and reporters. (I wonder if they got their threepence back?)
As a publicity stunt, the human letters operation was a great success. The Post Office immediately issued a circular instructing its staff not to accept such commissions in the future. The three women involved continued their long struggle for democracy. And Prime Minister Asquith continued to be one of the most notable gits ever to occupy 10 Downing Street, notwithstanding that address’s long and impressive record of gittery.
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Sources:
www.postalmuseum.org/blog/human-letters/
https://secretlibraryleeds.net/2019/09/13/the-1908-suffragette-riot/
https://archives.blog.parliament.uk/2018/02/23/deeds-not-words-women-and-activism-project/