By Mary Kyne
Bianconi Cars – Galway – Oughterard –
Clifden 1837- 1895
In the picture the mail car stands
ready to leave from the Imperial Hotel, Galway bound for Oughterard/ Clifden.
This is one of the famous Bianconi
cars named after Carlo Bianconi, an Italian vendor of cheap prints in the
streets of Dublin, who founded and developed a most efficient road transport
system covering over 3,000 miles of road daily. He operated all over Ireland,
carrying everybody and everything thing. Despite their discomfort Bianconi’s
Royal Mail Day Coaches were the only mode of transport in Ireland before the
railway
Bianconi arrives in Ireland
Bianconi still in his teens arrived
in Ireland in 1802. He was Carlo (Charles) Bianconi an exceptionally talented
entrepreneur. He noticed immediately that unlike most countries in Europe,
Ireland had no integrated transport system. If you wanted to travel from Galway
to Dublin, you either went on foot, rode or: if you could afford it, go by
personal carriage. The final part of your journey, which took about three days,
was probably by barge. Bianconi set up a national horse drawn carriage service,
with a workable timetable, offering connections from various termini, which,
relative to the times, offered travelers some confidence that they’d arrive at
their destination at a given time. He called his enterprise: Bianconi’s Royal
Mail Day Cars. The roads
were bad, the coaches were open to the elements, but it was a highly successful
transport system.
Galway – Clifden Service
His Galway – Clifden service began in
1837, one car each way, everyday, and ran until the railway opened in 1895 –
long after Bianconi himself had sold out and died. When this photograph was
taken in the 1880’s, the fare for the fortynine miles was 7/6d plus “whip” money
to the driver. It started from Galway at 9am and reached Clifden at 7pm. In
weather, such as we have been having recently, it can hardly have been the most
comfortable journey.
Foreign Travellers’ Views of
Bianconi’s Travel System
On Tuesday August 18th 1835,
Friedrich von Raumer, a young Prussian historian, “ mounted the upper deck of
an open Bainconi coach, and we get some idea what travel in pre Famine times
were like. Raumer had come to Ireland to see for himself how conditions were
for the people. Although a Protestant he was critical of England’s tardiness in
granting Catholic Emancipation, a hot topic at the time, which had been
skillfully championed by the great Daniel O Connell whom Raumer admired.
Sitting on his right was an old
woman, opposite her two granddaughters, and beside these a second woman and her
son. On his left an elderly man climbed up and sat beside him. The poor man
appeared as if ‘he had dropped from the gallows.’ Clearly his clothes were in
such a sad state that Raumer feared the man was ‘an expert in insects.’ He
moved closer to the grandmother and off they went.
Wet Conditions
Raumer wrote, “The sky became
overcast. It began to rain more and more heavily. Raumer had the only umbrella
among his fellow travelers, which he raised. The two young girls crouched down
at our feet, and the other four moved their faces so close to the shaft of the
umbrella that their noses were almost touching. The old woman rested her head
on my right shoulder while the gentleman rested his on my left shoulder.
Through this ordeal by water we had, within a very short time, become friends
and acquaintances, and I reaped much praise for my considerateness and
humanity…”
Julius Rodenberg Travels West
In 1858 Julius Rodenberg, a German
Jewish poet and author, mounted one of these ‘royal’ coaches in Galway. Wrapped
in a large tartan cloak, he was heading for Oughterard/Clifden. It was a cold,
wet autumn day, and the kind of day ‘which one would have preferred to spend
cosily in the quiet of one’s house by the fire.’
The coach was full. Between the
heaped up luggage sat a man on a trunk in a long coat. Another man,’a
scoundrel’, sat opposite him on a travel bag. Three men sat beside Rodenberg:
“one old and two young, all horse traders on their way to the horse fair. On
another bench a further five people sat, wrapped in oilcloth and overcoats. Yet
another man, equally wrapped against the weather, joined them along the way.
All Wrapped up against the Elements
As they set off the horse traders
immediately befriended Julius, who was feeling miserable and sad. They took
pity on him and did their best to make him comfortable, giving most of a
leather blanket cover to him. They were evidently quite used to the rain, which
‘since leaving Galway had not ceased. ‘Passengers in front ate food and threw
leftovers and apple skins into the air to fall on the passengers behind.
“At every hill we reached – and there
are enough of them in the west of Ireland – a part of the company had to
dismount to make the carriage lighter.”
Julius questioned why they were
called ‘royal’ coaches, as they compared to nothing like the comfort of
travelling in Europe. ‘It is a sad trick of fate that the royalty of Ireland
had long been buried, its nobility now stands begging on the roadside, and
these miserable hostelries and carriages are the last thing that can be called
‘royal’.
Poor Julius was not a happy camper.
Hermann von Puckler-Muskau
He traveled on the ‘Royal Mail’ from
Tuam to Galway still looking for a wealthy wife. Puckler was not dressed
sufficiently against the cold. He offered the driver a tip if he could borrow
his coat. ‘At a closer look, however, this appeared so dreadfully dirty and
nauseous that I hesitated to make use of it. A young traveling companion
immediately removed his ‘splendid, wide traveling cloak and almost forced me to
put it on, while assuring me with great eagerness that he never caught cold,
and could sleep through the night in water if need be, and that in any case he
had only put on his cloak because he did not know where to leave it.”
Laughter and Starvation
Our driver blew his horn, as in
Germany a signal from the mail-coach to get out of its way. However, the sound
was so distorted and pathetic that everyone burst into laughter. A pretty 12
year old lad, who looked like joy personified, though almost naked, let out a
mischievous cheer, and called after the driver in his impotent rage: “ Hey you!
Your trumpet must have a dose of the sniffles, it’s as hoarse as me auld
grandmother. Give it a drop of the craythur or it’ll die of consumption before
ye reach Galway!’
A crowd of men were working on the
road. They had heard the feeble sound from the horn, and all laughed and
cheered as the coach went by. ‘There you are, that’s our people for you,’ said
my companion.” Starvation and laughter – that is their lot. Do you suppose that
even with the amount of workers and the lack of jobs that any of these earn
enough to eat his fill? And yet each of them will put aside something to give
to his priest, and when anyone enters his cabin, he will share his last potato
with them and crack a joke besides.”
Bianconi’s Inns
Roe’s was also the agent for steam
ship tickets to America. The two storey house just over the bridge at
Oughterard on the Clifden Road had stables at the rear of the house where fresh
horses were changed along the Oughterard/Clifden route.
Bianconi became immensely wealthy and
was twice elected Mayor of Clonmel, Co Tipperary.
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