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.