TRAVELLING IN IRELAND—BIANCONI'S CARS—JOURNEY FROM CORK TO DUBLIN IN A POST-CHAISE—IRISH WIT—A POOR-LAW COMMISSIONER—MR. PEABODY—SIR WALTER SCOTT AND A GENUINE PADDY—MR. CHARLES BIANCONI—IRISH CAR DRIVERS.

CHAPTER VII.

Travelling by road in Ireland was and is very different from what it was and is in England. The mail and stage-coaches, almost similar to the English ones, were well-horsed, and kept their time very regularly. Occasionally "a frolicsome baste," or "rale bit of blood who won the plate at the Curragh," would start off at a tremendous pace, upset the "drag," the driver assuring the passengers that they were the "quietest craythures in Ireland," adding, "I'll give it ye, ye bastes, ye venomous sarpints, when I get ye home."

The harness, too, was not a little the worse for wear, having so often been mended with string and rope that in descending a hill it would break into "smithereens," and now and then, when whisky was in the ascendant, the Jehu was so venturesome that in descending a hill he would come to grief.

After a time the public cars, introduced by M. Bianconi displaced the regular coaches. In form they resembled the common outside jaunting-car, but were calculated to hold from twelve to sixteen persons. They were admirably horsed, had steady drivers, the team generally consisting of three horses, which travelled at the rate of seven Irish miles an hour, equivalent to nine English miles, the fares averaging twopence a mile. They were open cars, but a huge leather apron afforded protection from showers of rain, which are so prevalent in the sister isle. Post-chaises, which are now nearly extinct, were awful conveyances.

I have a very lively impression of a journey from Cork to Dublin some fifty years ago in these vehicles; the one furnished by the proprietor of the Imperial Hotel, Cork (then, and I believe now, an excellent hÔtellerie), which took me the first stage, was clean and comfortable; not so those that followed. Springs they appeared to have none; or, if they had, they were so covered with rope that there was no elasticity left in them. They rattled worse than any fire-engine.

The roof was so dilapidated and the windows so broken that, except for the honour of the thing, you might as well have had no covering at all; the harness came to pieces whenever "Paddy" gave his horses a spurt, and the cattle were "divels to go." So disagreeable did I find the journey in a post-chaise that at Youghal I engaged a car, and prosecuted my journey to Dublin in cars.

Persons who have never travelled in Ireland in these conveyances can have a very inadequate idea of the ready wit of the drivers. It has been admirably well told by Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall, from whose work on the scenery and character of Ireland I quote the following:—

Some one told a story of a fellow who, on grumbling at the shilling gratuity at his journey's end, said, in a sly undertone,

"Faith, it's not putting me off ye'd be if ye knew but all."

The traveller's curiosity was excited.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, faix! that ud be telling." Another shilling was tendered.

"And now," asked the gentleman, "what do you mean by saying if ye knew but all?"

"That I driv yer honour the last three miles without a linchpin!"

"Will I pay the pike or drive at it, plase yer honour?" was the exclamation of a driver to his passenger as he suddenly drew up a few yards from the turnpike gate.

When an Assistant Poor-Law Commissioner first visited Cork, the coach by which he arrived set him down next door to the "Imperial Hotel," his place of destination. Not being aware of this fact, he ordered a car and gave his direction to the driver. The fellow conducted him round the town and through the various streets and lanes, and, after an hour's driving, placed him at the hotel entrance, demanding and receiving a sum of five shillings, which his victim considered a reasonable charge. A few minutes afterwards he discovered the trick that had been played upon him.

One of the richest characters of the class we encountered on the road from Ross to Wexford; he told us how he got his first situation. "The masther had two beautiful English horses, and he wanted a careful man to drive them; he was a mighty plisant gentleman, and loved a joke. Well, there was as many as fifteen after the place, and the first that wint up to him was examined as follows:—

"'Now, my man,' says he, 'tell me,' says he, 'how near the edge of a precipice would you undertake to drive my carriage?'

"So the boy considered, and he says, says he,

"'Within a foot, plaze your honour, and no harm.'

"'Very well,' says he, 'go down, I'll give ye yer answer, by-and-by.'

"So the next came up, and said he'd be bound to carry 'em within half a foot; and the next said five inches; and another—a dandified chap intirely—was so mighty nice that he would drive it within 'three inches and a half, he'd go bail.'

"Well, at last my turn came, and when his honour axed me how nigh I would drive his carriage to a precipice, I said, says I,

"'Plaze, yer honour, I'd keep as far off it as I could.' "'Very well, Misther Byrne,' says he, 'you're my coachman,' says he.

"Och! the roar there was in the kitchen whin I wint down and tould the joke!"

I heard a good story of the philanthropic Peabody, who, though princely in his liberality, did not like to be imposed upon. Upon one occasion he resisted an exorbitant demand, and only gave the car-driver his proper fare!

"Bedad!" said the man; "they may call you Mr. Paybody, but I call you Mr. Paynobody."

Another instance will suffice. As Sir Walter Scott was riding with a friend in the neighbourhood of Abbotsford, he came to a field-gate, which an Irish beggar, who happened to be near, hastened to open for him. Sir Walter was desirous of rewarding this civility by the present of sixpence, but found that he had not so small a coin in his purse.

"Here, my good fellow," said the Baronet, "here is a shilling for you, but mind you owe me sixpence."

"God bless your honour," exclaimed Pat, "may your honour live till I pay you."

The Irish car is so peculiar and characteristic an institution that a brief sketch of the author of the system may not be here out of place. Mr. Charles Bianconi, a native of Milan, came over to Ireland in the year 1800, and set up at Clonmel as a picture-dealer. Struck with the want of accommodation that existed between the various towns of the district, an idea entered his head of remedying the deficiency by introducing a new conveyance. He had heard that Derrick, in 1760, had been compelled to set out on horseback on a journey from Cork to Killarney, there being no public carriage to be had in the city of Cork.

Between that period and 1800 no great improvement had taken place; so the enterprising Italian, who had saved some money, started a car between Clonmel and Cahir. After struggling for some time against all the difficulties that ever attend a new scheme, after inciting the people to abandon their indifference, to conquer their prejudices, he so far succeeded as to enable him to run others to Limerick and Thurles.

The public, hitherto apathetic, were roused into action; the new scheme met with universal patronage; soon Bianconi's name was uppermost in everyone's thoughts; the double cars increased to nearly fifty in number, travelling daily over nearly four thousand miles. These vehicles were so constructed as to carry numerous passengers and a large amount of luggage; they were all built at the inventor's factory at Clonmel; they travelled at the rate of six to nine statute miles an hour, and were admirably well adapted for all who journeyed for business or pleasure. For tourists they were invaluable, as from the cars extensive views of the country might be seen; moreover, the driver was always so full of genuine fun that he enlivened the whole journey with his quaint Milesian sayings.

Generally, too, he was well acquainted with the locality, and would tell amusing anecdotes of the occupiers of the stately mansions in the neighbourhood, and of their humbler neighbours. The rail has in a great measure driven cars off the road, but they are still to be had at all the principal towns and at almost every village in Ireland.

The wit of the drivers is not at all deteriorated, and the cattle they drive are first-rate. Upon a recent occasion I engaged a car at Inistioge, in the county of Kilkenny, from one Mr. Cassin, to take me to New Ross; the distance is nearly ten English miles, and the driver, who had an eye for the picturesque, insisted upon taking me one way and bringing me back another; and from the time I left until my return I was kept in a fit of laughter.

Upon dismissing "Paddy" I asked him what I had to pay.

"Five shillings, yer honour, for the car, and whatever you plaze for the driver."

"But if I plaze to give you nothing?"

"Well, then, yer honour, I'll be perfectly satisfied, as you are quite a credit to the car."

A good story is told of a car-driver who was conveying a tourist through a most picturesque part of Ireland, when all of a sudden the "baste" began to kick, and showed evident symptoms of going faster down a hill than the unfortunate occupier of the car approved of.

"Don't whip him, driver, or you'll make him run away."

"Bedad, yer honour, ye needn't be afeard of that. He's a raal sodjer, and 'ud sooner die than run away."

I must now take leave of Ireland and return to England.