CHAPTER XXI.
BALLINASLOE FAIR, GALWAY, AND SIR GEORGE FINDLAY
A few days before the battle of Waterloo, during the journey to Brussels, partly by canal and partly by road, of Amelia and her party, Mrs. Major O’Dowd said to Jos Sedley: “Talk about kenal boats, my dear! Ye should see the kenal boats between Dublin and Ballinasloe. It’s there the rapid travelling is; and the beautiful cattle.” “The rapid travelling” was by what was called the fly boat, which was towed by three horses at a jog trot, and as to cattle, the good-humoured eccentric lady, who Thackeray tells us came from County Kildare, was thinking perhaps of the great Ballinasloe Fair where cattle and sheep assemble in greater numbers, I believe, than at any other live stock fair in the United Kingdom.
On the first Monday in October, 1891, to a special train of empty carriages run by the Midland from Dublin for the purposes of this fair, a vehicle, called the directors’ saloon was attached, and in it the chairman of the company, most of the directors and the principal officers travelled to Ballinasloe, there to remain until the conclusion of the fair at the end of the week. It was my first introduction to Ballinasloe.
This saloon merits a word or two. It was built in the year 1844, was originally the property of William Dargan, the well-known contractor and the promoter of the Dublin Exhibition of 1853, whose statue adorns the grounds that front the Irish National Gallery. Dargan made the Midland railway from Athlone to Galway, completed the work before the specified
contract time (in itself a matter worthy of note), and on its completion in 1851, presented this saloon carriage to the company, which also, I think, deserves to be recorded. Thus, in 1891, it was nearly 50 years’ old and was handsome still. The panels were modelled on the old stage coach design, and a great bow window adorned each end. In the seventies and eighties it enjoyed the distinction of being the favourite carriage, on the Midland, of the Empress of Austria in her hunting days in Meath. This fine old carriage, now in its 75th year, does good work still. It has had a new under frame, its roof has been raised, and it looks good for another quarter of a century. Perhaps, granting an originally sound constitution, its longevity is largely due to the regular life it has led, never having been overworked, and having enjoyed many periods of rest.
Ballinasloe fair has two specially big days—Tuesday and Friday—the former devoted to the sale of sheep and the latter to cattle, though in fact its commerce in cattle, sheep, horses, pigs, calves, rams and goats, not to mention donkeys and mules, goes on more or less briskly throughout the whole week, Saturday being remnant day when jobbers pick up bargains. In 1891 the fair was not, and is not now, what it once was, which recalls the answer a witty editor of Punch once made to a friend. Said the said friend: “My dear fellow, Punch is not so good as it used to be.” “No, it never was,” came the quick rejoinder. But of Ballinasloe fair I cannot say it never was, for a hundred years ago, in Peggy O’Dowd’s time, in the west of Ireland it was the great event of the year, not only for the sale of flocks and herds, but also for social gatherings, fun and frolic, so at least I am told by the oldest inhabitant. An older account still, says these fairs were a time for games and races, pleasure and amusement, and eating and feasting, whilst another record describes them as places “where there were food and precious raiment, downs and quilts, ale and flesh meat, chessmen and chess boards, horses and chariots, greyhounds, and playthings besides.” It is curious that dancing is not mentioned, but dancing in the olden days in Ireland was not, I believe, much indulged in. Eighty years ago over 80,000 sheep entered the fair, and 20,000 cattle.
Arrived at Ballinasloe we established ourselves in quarters that were part of the original station premises. These consisted of a good sized dining-room,
six bedrooms, and an office for the manager and his clerk. The walls and ceilings of the rooms were sheeted with pitch pine and varnished. They were very plainly furnished, the only thing in the way of decoration being a production in watercolour representing a fair green crowded with herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, and adorned with sundry pastoral and agricultural emblems, from the brush of my friend Cynicus. This I framed and hung in the dining-room. As it had columns for recording statistics of the fair for a period of years, it was instructive as well as ornamental. Three of the bedrooms were on the ground floor and were small apartments. The upstair rooms were much larger, were situated in the roof, and were lit by skylight windows which commanded a limited view of the firmament above but none whatever of the green earth below. These upper rooms were reached by an almost perpendicular staircase surmounted by a trap door, a mode of access convenient enough for the young and active, but not suitable for those of us who had passed their meridian. Two of these rooms were double-bedded and all three led into each other. In the innermost, Atock, our locomotive engineer, and I chummed together. He had slept there for many years, with two previous managers, and, in Robinson Crusoe fashion, had recorded the years by notches in a beam of the ceiling. The notches for him then counted twenty-three years, and number one he notched for me. Every morning an old jackdaw perched on a chimney outside our skylight, and entertained us with his chatter. Atock said the old bird had perched there during all his time; and as long as I visited Ballinasloe—a period of nearly twenty years, he regularly reappeared.
To be able once a year to entertain friends and customers of the company was one of the reasons, probably the main reason, why the directors passed the fair week at Ballinasloe. Their hospitality was not limited to invitations to dinner, for guests were welcomed, without special invitation, to breakfast and lunch and light refreshments during the day. It was an arrangement which gave pleasure to both hosts and guests, and was not without advantage to the company. A good dinner solves many a difficulty, whilst the post-prandial cigar and a glass of grog, like faith, removes mountains. One who, in the last century, became a great English statesman (Lord John Russell) when twenty years of age was in Spain. The Duc