A GRATUITOUS JAUNT--THE PORTUGUESE POSTILLION--MISCELLANEOUS SUMMONSES.
A young woman who was servant in a house in Harcourt Street in which two
students resided, had an altercation with one of them, which eventuated
in a summons and a cross-summons before me. It appeared that the young
man had imputed dishonesty to her, and she had been very indignant and
abusive towards her accuser. He called his fellow-student as a witness,
to prove that the girl threw a bottle at him, and that she freely used
the terms of swindler, blackguard, &c. The charge of dishonesty was
unfounded, and the encounter between the parties terminated without any
personal injury to either, but the damsel cross-examined the witness in
reference to a transaction, and elicited a mode of procuring a jaunt
across the city, which I hope that I shall not lessen the reader's
interest in my observations and reminiscences of the Dublin carmen by
briefly detailing. The woman acquired the knowledge of it by having
overheard a conversation between the young men.
They had been invited to an early evening party at Summer Hill. They
were not inclined to walk such a distance, and neither of them found it
convenient to pay for a vehicle. At last the one who subsequently
complained of being termed a swindler and blackguard said that he would
get a covered car without payment. Accordingly, having walked to the
nearest "hazard," he desired his comrade to get into a car, and also
seated himself, he then directed the driver to proceed "to Santry."
"Santry!" explained the astonished jarvey; "is it joking you are? D----l
an inch I'll go to Santry to-night. Get out of my car if you plaze, the
baste is tired, and I won't go." "My good fellow," was the answer, "I
shall not get out, and you may as well get on at once." "By gorra, if
you don't get out, I'll pull you out," said the carman. "If you lay a
finger on me," answered the occupant, "I will resist you as well as I
can, and I shall prosecute you for an assault." It was a bad business.
The carman changed his tactics. "Why, yer honor," he mildly urged, "it
is an unrasonable thing to ax a man to go to such a place even in the
day time, for there's nothin but murdher and robbery on that b----y
road, an' if I _do_ go, we'll be all kilt, and you'll be robbed into the
bargain; shure you haven't right sinse to think of such a jaunt." "My
friend," said the fare, "there may be something in what you say, but I
shall call at a house on Summer Hill and get firearms for myself and my
companion, and with two case of pistols I fear no robbers." The carman
grumbled, but he had a sturdy customer, so he mounted his seat and drove
on. When they came to Summer Hill he was desired to pull up, and the two
sparks alighted, assuring him that they would immediately procure the
arms and resume their journey. As soon as they were inside the
hall-door, the jarvey plied his whip, and rattled off as fast as he
could, congratulating himself that he had escaped a drive to Santry, and
leaving the two scamps to enjoy the joke of having got a gratuitous
jaunt from Harcourt Street to Summer Hill.
There was at the time of my appointment to the magistracy, a car
proprietor in Dublin, whose name was Bittner. His father had been a
sergeant in the King's German Legion, had been invalided, and died in
Dublin about the year 1810, leaving one son, who was then sixteen years
of age. He was tolerably educated, intelligent, cleanly, active, and
well-looking. A gentleman who was in delicate health, engaged the lad as
his personal attendant, and was soon after advised by his physicians to
betake himself to the south of Europe, in the hope of checking the
progress of pulmonary disease. Lisbon was the only available place to
the invalid, and he proceeded there, along with his youthful servant. He
lived in Portugal for nine or ten years, and was so well satisfied with
the care and attention of Bittner that he left him a legacy of £250. The
gentleman's body was directed by his will to be interred in Dublin,
whither it was conveyed by the faithful domestic. Bittner did not
squander his money, neither did he become inactive. He was fond of
horses, and of equestrian exercise, and engaged in the service of the
late Mr. Quin, of Bray; then the proprietor of an extensive hotel and
first-rate posting establishment. The romantic scenery of Wicklow was
then, as it must ever be, highly appreciated, and Quin's chaises
conveyed many visitors to the varied and numerous scenes of picturesque
beauty. On one occasion Bittner was directed to bring a chaise to the
door, to take two foreign gentlemen through the Glen of the Downs, and
on to Dunran. The travellers were quite unacquainted with the English
language, and in the hotel, had recourse to signs and self-attendance as
much as possible. They got into the chaise, having previously pointed
out on a map to Mr. Quin, the route they wished to take. On arriving at
the gate of Dunran, they made signs to stop the vehicle, and alighted.
They then began to bewail to each other, their ignorance of English, and
their consequent inability to acquire information as to the scenery,
residences, and other particulars usually interesting to tourists. They
spoke Portuguese, and Bittner immediately accosted them in their own
language, told them that he would procure a person to mind his horses,
and that he would then take them up to the "View Rock," and conduct them
to each of the many places worthy of their observation. They expressed
the highest gratification, and availed themselves of his services. As
they proceeded, he told them that Mr. Quin's was the greatest and best
regulated establishment _in the world_. That there were postillions kept
there who had been procured from every European nation. The French
postillions had gone with a party of their countrymen to the "Seven
Churches," and two Germans and one Italian had left, early in the
morning, for the Vale of Ovoca. The Spaniard was gone to Luggelaw. "I,"
said he, "am the Portuguese postillion, I am delighted to have you, and
can take you to all the beautiful places in Wicklow, but I am afraid
that I shall soon have to leave this employment, for we hardly ever
have a Portuguese gentleman at the hotel, so my chances are very poor."
The travellers, driven by Bittner for about a-week, went to all the
delightful scenery of Wicklow, and when departing, gave him a couple of
sovereigns. In about three months after, Mr. Quin received a parcel in
which there were two nicely bound volumes, and a complimentary letter,
sent from Lisbon by Don Pedro Cabrito. With some difficulty he got the
letter translated, and also a couple of pages which had been turned down
to attract his attention. He was then made aware that the Portuguese
traveller accorded the highest praise to the comfort and elegance of his
establishment, and also to his anxiety to convenience his foreign
visitors, by keeping postillions, who, in the aggregate, were acquainted
with _all European languages_. The book also made honorable mention of
the "Portuguese postillion," Bittner. The latter, as I have already
stated, became a car proprietor. His vehicles were cleanly and neat, his
drivers well conducted, and a complaint against him was of very rare
occurrence. On one occasion, after I had heard an explanation from his
driver, he asked my leave to say "a word or two," to which I replied,
"With pleasure, Mr. Bittner, I shall hear you, provided you do not speak
Portuguese." "Oh! your worship," said he, "I see you know that story. I
suppose Mr. Quin told you." His supposition was correct.
A FEW HYPERBOLES.
One of the clerks in the police-court of Liverpool got leave of absence
in, as I best remember, 1845. He came to Dublin with some other young
Englishmen for a few days of recreation. Curiosity induced him to visit
our police-courts, where our clerks received him with fraternal
courtesy. He told Mr. Cox that he and three others took an outside car,
for a suburban drive. It happened to be on _Corpus Christi_ day, and
they were going along Rathmines road, just as the religious procession
incident to the festival was moving round the extensive court outside
of the Roman Catholic chapel there. They directed the driver to stop,
and then stood up on the seats to obtain a full view. Almost immediately
one of them exclaimed, "Well, that beats the devil!" The carman touched
his hat to the exclaimer and replied, "Yes, your honor, that's what it's
for." I have heard the late Judge Halliburton (Sam Slick the
clock-maker) say, that he asked a carman what was the reason for
building the Martello towers? and that the interrogated party told him,
"he supposed it was, like the round towers, _to puzzle posterity_."
The Spaniard, who described the rain as so heavy, that "it wetted him to
the marrow," was not so poetical or forcible in his hyperbole as some of
our jarveys have been. I recollect reading in a little work, published
many years ago, and entitled "Sketches of Ireland," that when a
gentleman complained of the choking dust of the Rock road, and declared
that he did not think it possible for a road to be so dusty, his driver
remarked, "It's thrue for yer honor! but this road bates all others for
dust, for, _by all accounts, there was dust on this road the day after
Noah's flood_." A lady who resided at Chapelizod was wont to give a
carman whom she frequently employed a glass of grog, along with his
fare, at the conclusion of each engagement. However, she became too
sparing of the spirits, or too generous of the water, but the grog
eventually became so weak, that its recipient criticised it, of course
with an oath, by asserting, that "if you threw half-a-pint of whisky
over Essex Bridge, you might take up as strong grog as that at the
Lighthouse."
MISCELLANEOUS SUMMONSES.
According to my recollections of the summons cases of a police-court,
apart from carriage complaints, I feel justified in remarking on the
mild and forgiving tendencies of the men, and the vindictive rancour of
the women of Dublin. From recent conversations with police
functionaries, I am disposed to believe that the present time differs
in no material respect from the past. The man claims the protection of
the law; "he has no desire to injure the parties he complains of, but he
wants them bound to the peace, just to keep them quiet." The woman wants
"the coorse of the law, and to have her adversary chastised and kept
from killing the whole world, like a murdhering vagabone as she is; it's
no use in talkin', but the street will never be quiet until she gets
_some little confinement_ just to _larn_ her manners." Summonses for
abusive language, or as the fair complainants term it, "street scandal,"
are, perhaps, the most numerous cases as a class; and on the hearing of
them, there is frequently elicited an amount of vituperation beyond
anything that Billingsgate could attempt to supply. In almost every case
a total absence of chastity is imputed as a matter of course; and if a
foreigner would only believe both sides of a police summons-book, he
would be forced to the conclusion that chastity was a virtue rarely
found amongst the lower order of Dublin females. Yet the very contrary
is the fact: furious in their resentments, uncontrollable in their
invectives, and inveterately addicted to assassination of character,
they are, in general, extremely chaste; and attest the value they attach
to female virtue by invariably imputing its absence to their opponents.
Sometimes, indeed, a novel term of reproach arouses volcanic fury, and
an eruption of indignation is excited by the most extraordinary and
unmeaning epithet. I cannot forget a fish-vendor from Patrick Street
vociferating to me, that if her enemy was not sent off to Grangegorman
_at wanst_, her life and her child's life (for she was _enceinte_) would
be lost. "But what did she say?" was my query. "What did she say! yer
worship, what did she say! Why she came down _forenenst the whole world
at the corner of Plunket Street_, and called me 'a b----y ould
excommunicated gasometer.'" I may mention that as female invective
generally ascribed inconsistency to its opponent, so the male
scolds--happily not very numerous--had their favorite term of reproach;
and when they wished to destroy a man's reputation, they designated
him--a thief?--no; a robber?--no; a murderer?--no; they satiated all
their malignity in calling him "an informer."
Disputes between manufacturers and their artisans or workmen were very
rarely the subject of magisterial investigation. There was, however, one
case disposed of by me in which a comparison was instituted of a most
extraordinary nature. A journeyman summoned an employer for abruptly
dismissing him, without giving him, according to the usage of the trade,
"a week's notice or a week's wages." I shall not mention the name,
residence, or trade of the defendant: but I must say that his
countenance exhibited the greatest obliquity of vision that I ever
observed in a human face. All the trite phrases commonly applied to
squints would fail adequately to describe the tendency of his eyes to
avoid seeing the same object at the same time. He admitted having
summarily discharged the workman, and alleged that the complainant had
totally spoiled an article which he had been directed to make in a
hexagon form, and conformable to a pattern supplied, and had produced a
piece of work in which shape and proportion had been totally
disregarded. The complainant insisted that the work had been properly
done, and in complete conformity with the model, and he asked why it was
not produced, so that I might judge, by viewing it, whether it deserved
to be condemned as crooked and shapeless. I suggested a postponement of
the case, and the production of the condemned article. The defendant,
who was rather excited, replied, "Your worship, I was so vexed when it
was brought in, that I threw it out of the window of the finishing room
into the yard, and it was smashed to pieces, but I am ready to swear, in
this or any other court, that _it was as crooked as the two eyes in my
head_." The laugh in which I indulged, at hearing this comparison, was
lost in the risibility of all present. I suggested that the parties
might come to an understanding, and that the complainant might be
afforded another opportunity of making an article perfectly conformable
to the pattern, and without any resemblance _to anything else_. This was
agreed to, and they departed reconciled.