Swift's poetic jibe was aimed at the ever-friendless
literary critic; but there were many others who
shared in the polymorphic business of ‘giving
directions’ to the unwieldy town. Some very
literally so: the makers of the early directories
provided names, addresses, and occupations of
leading urban residents, plus staple information
about transport services, posts, banks and
miscellaneous local offices. Itemizing and
classifying a complex urbanity took a certain
confidence. ‘I have taken upon me the arduous Task
of compiling a Complete Guide, for
the easy finding out of every inhabitant of the
least Consequence…’, asserted Elizabeth Raffald,
publishing the Manchester Directory
in 1772, while confessing the difficulties of the
task. Not everyone may have been convinced by her
computation that the significant citizens numbered
only 1,500 men and women, in a growing conurbation
of over 30,000 residents. But that was not the
point. A directory offered immediacy rather than
complete accuracy or comprehension. Indeed, most
compilers were careful not to claim too much.
‘Errors and Deficien- cies must unavoidably appear
in every Work of this Kind, from the extreme
Difficulty of procuring Information in some Things,
and the fluctuating Variety of others’, as A
Directory of Sheffield explained firmly
in 1787. Many compilations made a caveat of this
sort, and indicated a willingness to accept
corrections and additions for future editions.