Joseph Tatlow - Fifty Years of Railway Life in England, Scotland and Ireland

J >> Joseph Tatlow >> Fifty Years of Railway Life in England, Scotland and Ireland

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The Stockton and Darlington Railway is 54 miles long, and its authorised
capital was 102,000 pounds--a modest sum indeed, under 2,000 pounds per
mile, less than half the outlay for land alone of the North Midland line
and not one twenty-fifth of the average cost of British railways as they
stand to-day, which is some 57,000 pounds per mile. The railway owed its
origin to George Stephenson and to Edward Pease, the wealthy Quaker and
manufacturer of Darlington, both burly men, strong in mind as body. The
first rail was laid, with much ceremony, near the town of Stockton, on
the 23rd of May, 1822, amid great opposition culminating in acts of
personal violence, for the early railways, from interests that feared
their rivalry, and often from sheer blind ignorance itself, had bitter
antagonism to contend with.

The day brought an immense concourse of people to Darlington, all bent on
seeing the novel spectacle of a train of carriages and wagons filled with
passengers and goods, drawn along a _railway_ by a _steam_ engine. At
eight o'clock in the morning the train started with its load--22
vehicles--hauled by Stephenson's "Locomotion," driven by Stephenson
himself. "Such was its velocity that in some parts of the journey the
speed was frequently 12 miles an hour." The number of passengers reached
450, and the goods and merchandise amounted to 90 tons--a great
accomplishment, and George Stephenson and Edward Pease were proud men
that day.

Seven years from this present time will witness the _Centenary_ of the
railway system. How shall we celebrate _it_? Will railway proprietor,
railway director and railway manager on that occasion be animated with
the gladness, the pride and the hope that brightened the Jubilee Banquet?
Who can tell? The future of railways is all uncertain.

A word or two regarding the railway system of Scotland may not be
inappropriate.

Scotland has eight _working_ railway companies, England and Wales 104,
and Ireland 28. These include light railways, but are exclusive of all
railways, light or ordinary, that are worked not by themselves but by
other companies. Scotland has exhibited her usual good sense, her canny,
thrifty way, by keeping the number of _operating_ railway companies
within such moderate bounds. Ireland does not show so well, and England
relatively is almost as bad as Ireland, yet England might well have shown
the path of prudence to her poorer sister by greater adventure herself in
the sensible domain of railway amalgamation. Much undeserved censure has
been heaped upon the Irish lines; sins have been assumed from which they
are free, and their virtues have ever been ignored. John Bright once
said that "Railways have rendered more service and received less
gratitude than any institution in the land." This is certainly true of
Ireland, for nothing has ever conferred such benefit upon that country as
its railways, and nothing, except perhaps the Government, has received so
much abuse. On this I shall have more to say when I reach the period of
the Vice-Regal Commission on Irish Railways, appointed in 1906.

The average number of miles _operated_ per working railway company in
Scotland compared with England and Wales and Ireland, are:--

Scotland 477
England and Wales 156
Ireland 121

and the mileage, capital, revenue, expenditure, interest and dividends
for 1912, the latest year of which the figures, owing to the war, are
published by the Board of Trade, are as follows:--

Average rate
of interest
and dividend.
Per cent.
Miles. Capital. Revenue. Expenditure.
Pounds Pounds Pounds
England
and Wales 16,223 1,103,310,000 110,499,000 70,499,000 3-58
Scotland 3,815 186,304,000 13,508,000 7,882,000 3-07
Ireland 3,403 45,349,000 4,545,000 2,842,000 3-83

The General Manager of the Glasgow and South-Western Railway and his
office I have described, but I have not spoken, except in a general way,
of the other principal officers, with whom, as Mr. Wainwright's
assistant, I came into close and intimate relationship. They, alas! are
no more. I have outlived them all. Each has played his part, and made,
as we all must do, his exit from the stage of life.

Prominent amongst these officers was John Mathieson, Superintendent of
the Line, who was only twenty-nine when appointed to that responsible
post. We became good friends. He began work at the early age of
thirteen, had grown up on the railway and at nineteen was a station
master. He was skilful in out-door railway work, and an adept in
managing trains and traffic. Ambitious and a bit touchy regarding his
office, all was not always peace between his and other departments,
particularly the goods manager's. The goods manager was not aggressive,
and it was sometimes thought that Mathieson inclined to encroach upon his
territory. Often angry correspondence and sometimes angry discussion
ensued. Yet, take him for all in all, John Mathieson was a fine man with
nothing small in his composition. Soon his ambition was gratified. In
1889 he was appointed Chief Commissioner of the Railways of Queensland;
and after a few years occupation of that post was invited by the
Victorian Government to the same position in connection with the railways
of that important State. In 1900 he left Australia and became General
Manager of the Midland Railway; but his health unfortunately soon failed,
and at the comparatively early age of sixty he died at Derby in the year
1906. In his early days, on the Glasgow and South-Western, Mathieson was
a hard fighter. Those were the days when between the Scottish railway
companies the keenest rivalry and the bitterest competition existed. The
Clearing House in London, where the railway representatives met
periodically to discuss and arrange rates and fares and matters relating
to traffic generally, was the scene of many a battle. Men like James
MacLaren of the North British, Tom Robertson of the Highland, Irvine
Kempt of the Caledonian, and A. G. Reid of the Great North of Scotland
were worthy of Mathieson's steel. Usually Mathieson held his own. Irvine
Kempt I cannot imagine was as keen a fighter as the rest, for he was
rather a dignified gentleman with fine manners. To gain a few tons of
fish from a rival route, by superior service, keen canvassing, or by
other less legitimate means, was a source of fierce joy to these ardent
spirits. The disputes were sometimes concerned with through traffic
between England and Scotland, and then the English railway
representatives took part, but not with the keenness and intensity of
their northern brethren, for the Saxon blood has not the fiery quality of
the crimson stream that courses through the veins of the Celt. Now all
is changed. Combination has succeeded to competition, alliances and
agreements are the tranquil order of the day, and the Clearing House has
become a Temple of Peace.

Between David Dickie, Goods Manager, and John Mathieson, Passenger
Superintendent, as I have said, many differences arose. I sometimes
thought that Mathieson might well have shown more consideration to one so
much his senior in years as Dickie was. Poor Dickie! Before I left
Scotland he met a tragic death. He was a kind-hearted man, a canny Scot,
and died rich.

James Stirling was the Locomotive Superintendent. He and Mathieson did
not always agree, and the clash of arms frequently raged between them.
Mr. Wainwright's suavity often, and not infrequently his authority, were
required to adjust these domestic broils, but as all deferred to him
willingly, the storms that arose were usually short lived.

In 1878 Mathieson and I took a short holiday together and crossed to
Ireland. It was our first visit to that unquiet but delightful country,
in which, little as I thought then, I was destined a few years later to
make my home.

It was in January, 1879, that the headquarters of the company were
removed from the old and narrow Bridge Street Station to the new palatial
St. Enoch, and there a splendid set of offices was provided. This was
another advantage much to my taste. St. Enoch was and is certainly a
most handsome and commodious terminus. Originally it had one great roof
of a single span, second only to that of St. Pancras Station. Other
spans, not so great, have since been added, for the business of St. Enoch
rapidly grew, and enlarged accommodation soon became necessary. In 1879
it had six long and spacious platforms, now it has twelve; then the
number of trains in and out was 43 daily, now it has reached 286; then
the mileage of the railway was 319, now it is 466; then the employees of
the company numbered 4,010 and now they are over 10,000. These figures
exemplify the material growth of industrial Scotland in the forty years
that have passed. St. Enoch Station was not disfigured by trade
advertisements, and it is with great satisfaction I learn that the same
good taste has prevailed to this day. Not long after it was opened a
great grocery and provision firm, the knightly head of which is still a
well-known name, offered to the company a large annual sum for the use of
the space under the platform clock, which could be seen from all parts of
the station, which the directors, on the representation of their general
manager, declined; and I am proud to remember that my own views on the
subject, pretty forcibly expressed, when my chief discussed the subject
with me, strengthened his convictions and helped to carry the day in the
board room. The indiscriminate and inartistic way in which throughout
the land advertisements of all sorts crowd our station walls and
platforms is an outrage on good taste. If advertisements must appear
there, some hand and eye endowed with the rudiments of art ought to
control them. In no country in the world does the same ugly display mar
the appearance of railway stations; and considering what myriad eyes
daily rest on station premises it is well worth while on aesthetic
grounds to make their appearance as pleasant and as little vulgar as
possible. The question of revenue to the companies need not be ignored
for proper and efficient control would produce order, moderation,
neatness, artistic effect--and profit.

With the principal clerks of the office staff my relations were very
pleasant. The consideration with which I was treated by my chief, and
the footing upon which I stood with him, gave me a certain influence
which otherwise I should not have possessed. Till then there had been
absent from the company's staff any gathering together for purposes of
common interest or mutual enjoyment. The _Railway Benevolent
Institution_ provided a rallying point. I had been appointed its
representative on the Glasgow and South-Western Railway and we held
meetings and arranged concerts in its aid. Then, after a time, we
established for the principal clerks and goods agents and certain grades
of station masters, an annual day excursion into the country, with a
dinner and songs and speeches. "Tatlow is good at the speak," said
publicly one of my colleagues, in his broad Scotch way, and so far as it
was true this I daresay helped me. I was made permanent president of
these excursions and feasts, and often had to "hold forth," which I must
confess I rather enjoyed. We christened ourselves _The Railway
Ramblers_. The fact that I became the Scotch correspondent of the
_Railway Official Gazette_, a regular contributor to the _Railway News_,
and had access to the columns of several newspapers, enabled reports of
our doings to appear in print, and diffused some pleasure and pride
throughout the service. Also I became a weekly contributor of _Scotch
Notes_ to the _Montreal Herald_. In the _Railway Official Gazette_ was a
column devoted to short reviews of new books which were sent to the
editor. For a time, from some reason or other, I undertook this
reviewing. Possession of the books was the only recompense, though for
all other work payment in money was made. It was a daring thing on my
part and I am sure many a reader of the paper must have smiled at my
criticisms. I forget why I soon gave up the duty; probably from
incompetence, for I am sure I was not at all qualified for such a task;
but what will the audacity of youth not attempt? This journalistic work
occupied much of my spare time, but it supplemented my income, a
consideration of no little importance, for in October, 1876, I had
entered the married state. My wife came from the Midlands of England. My
friends became her friends, and other friends we made. Children soon
appeared on the scene; my bachelor days were over.

Societies amongst the staff of a railway company, whether for the purpose
of physical recreation, for mutual improvement or for social enjoyment
are to be much commended. The assembling together of employees of
various ages, filling various positions, from the several departments,
from different districts, freed from business, and mixing on equal terms
for common objects, promotes good feeling and good fellowship, provides
pleasant memories for after life, gives a zest to work, and adds to the
efficiency of the service.

Amongst all my fellow clerks I remember one only who resembled as a
borrower some of my quondam associates at Derby. But this was in
Scotland where more provident ways prevailed. He was a married man,
about 30 years of age, with a salary of 100 pounds a year. By no means
what one would call a nice fellow, he had nothing of the _bonhomie_ or
light-hearted good nature that distinguished my Derby friends. He
possessed a good figure, wore fierce moustaches, and affected a military
air. One suit of well-made, well-cut clothes by some means or other he
managed to keep in a state of freshness and smoothness nothing short of
marvellous. Borrowing was his besetting sin, and he was always head over
ears in debt. Duns pursued him to the office and he sometimes hid from
them in a huge safe which the office contained. It was a wretched life,
but he brazened it out with wonderful effrontery, and, outwardly, seemed
happy enough. From all who would lend he borrowed, and rarely I believe
repaid. Once I was his victim, but only once. I lent him 3 pounds, and,
strange to say, he returned it. Of course he approached me again, but I
had read and digested the _master's_ wisdom and determined to "neither a
borrower nor a lender be."

Prominent amongst the principal clerks was David Cooper. When I left
Glasgow he succeeded me as assistant to the general manager. Now he is
general manager of the company himself. Recently he celebrated his 50th
year of railway service. Like me, he entered railway life in 1867; but,
unlike me, has not been a rolling stone. One company only he has served
and served it well, and for nearly a quarter of a century has filled the
highest office it has to bestow. He and I have been more fortunate than
many of our old-time colleagues. In the list of officers of the Glasgow
and South-Western to-day I see the names of two only, besides David
Cooper, who were principal clerks in those days--F. H. Gillies, now
secretary of the company, and George Russell, Telegraph Superintendent.

In railways, as in other departments of life, ability and industry
usually have their reward; but alone they do not always command success.
Other factors there are in the equation of life and not least luck and
opportunity. In those distant days, in the pride of youth, I was too apt
to think that they who succeeded owed their success to themselves alone;
but the years have taught me that this is not always so, and I have
learned to sympathise more and more with those to whom opportunity has
never held out her hand and upon whom good luck has never smiled.

CHAPTER XII.
TOM

In the last few chapters I have made but little mention of Tom. The time
was drawing nearer when I was to lose him for ever. Until early in 1876
we lived together in the closest intimacy. We pooled our resources, and
when either ran short of money, which often happened, the common purse,
if it were not empty, was always available. Similar in height and in
figure, our clothes, except our hats, boots and gloves, in each of which
I took a larger size than he, were, when occasion required,
interchangeable. We standardised our wardrobe as far as we could. We
rose together, ate together, retired together, and, except during
business hours, were rarely apart. I being, he considered, the more
prudent in money matters, kept our lodging accounts and paid the bills.
He being more musical, and a greater lover of the drama than I, arranged
our visits to the theatres and concert halls. I was the practical, he
the aesthetical controller of our joint menage. Once I remember--this
occurred before we left Derby--we both fancied ourselves in love with the
same dear enchantress, a certain dark-eyed brunette. Each punctually
paid his court, as opportunity offered, and each, when he could, most
obligingly furthered the suit of the other; and this went on till the
time arrived for Tom's departure to Glasgow, when I was left in
possession of the field. Then I discovered, to my surprise, that I was
not so deeply enamoured as I had imagined; and, curiously enough, Tom on
his part had no sooner settled in Scotland than he made a similar
discovery.

The climate of Glasgow never suited Tom's health and in 1876, on the
advice of his doctors, he decided to return to England. For a time he
seemed to regain his health, but only for a time. Soon he relapsed, and
before another year dawned it became evident, if not to himself, to his
friends, that his years on earth were numbered. With what grief I heard
the news, which came to me from his parents, I need not say. Bravely for
a while he struggled with work, but all in vain; he had to give in, and
return to his parents' home in Lincolnshire. That home he never again
left, except once, in the summer of 1877, to visit my wife and me, when
he stayed with us for several weeks. Though greatly reduced and very
thin, and capable only of short walks he was otherwise unchanged; the
lively fancy, the bright humor and the sparkling wit, which made him so
delightful a companion, were scarcely diminished. He himself was
hopeful; talked of recovery, planned excursions which he and I should
take together when his health returned; but his greatest pleasure was in
recalling our Derby days, our _Maypole_ visits, our country rambles, our
occasional dances and flirtations, and our auld acquaintances generally.

Tom was remarkable for the quickness of his observation, for keen
penetration of character, and for happy humorous description of
particular traits in those he met. He possessed, too, a wonderfully
retentive memory. It is largely due to his lively descriptions of our
interesting fellow clerks at Derby that I have been able, after the lapse
of half a century, to sketch them with the fidelity I have. His humorous
accounts of their peculiarities often enlivened the hours we spent
together, and impressed their personalities more forcibly on my mind than
they otherwise would have been.

When his visit came to an end, and he returned to his home, I too
indulged in the hope that he might regain some measure of health, for he
seemed much improved. But it was a temporary improvement only, due in
part, perhaps, to change in environment, and in part to the exhilaration
arising from our reunion, heart and mind for a time dominating the body
and stimulating it to an activity which produced this fair but deceptive
semblance of health. His letters to me breathed the spirit of hope till
almost the last. We never met again. The intention I had cherished of
going to see him was never fulfilled. The illness of my wife and the
death of one of our children, and other unfortunate causes, prevented it;
and in little more than a year and a half from our farewell grasp of the
hand at the railway station in Glasgow my dear and beloved friend
breathed his last. Often and often since I have heard again the music of
his voice, have seen his face smiling upon me, and have felt

"_His being working in mine own_,
_The footsteps of his life in mine_."

CHAPTER XIII.
MEN I MET AND FRIENDS I MADE

Ten years I served the Glasgow and South-Western Railway Company as chief
clerk, or as Mr. Wainwright euphemistically called it, _assistant_ to the
general manager. In that position I met from time to time, not only many
prominent railway men, but also other men of mark.

Amongst these, two stand out with great distinction because of the effect
they had upon me at a memorable interview I had with each. I never
forgot those interviews, and nothing that ever occurred in my life tended
to strengthen in me the quality of self-reliance so much as they did.
Their effect was sudden, inspiring and lasting. These well-remembered
men were Mr. John Burns (afterwards the first Lord Inverclyde), head of
the shipping firm of G. and J. Burns, and chairman of the Cunard Line,
and Mr. John Walker, General Manager of the North British Railway. The
interviews occurred, as nearly as I recollect, during the second or third
year of my Glasgow and South-Western life, and took place within a few
weeks of each other.

John Burns was one of the largest shareholders in the Glasgow and South-
Western Railway, his steamers plied between Greenock and Belfast, and his
relations with the company were intimate and friendly. At the time I
speak of some important negotiations were proceeding between him and Mr.
Wainwright concerning the company and his firm, and whilst they were at
their height Mr. Wainwright was unexpectedly summoned to London and
detained there. Now Mr. Burns was a man who greatly disliked delay, and
I was told to see him and, if he wished, discuss the business with him,
and, if possible, further its progress. It was the way in which Mr.
Burns received me, young and inexperienced as I was, the manner in which
he discussed the subject and encouraged me, and the respect with which he
listened to my arguments, that surprised and delighted me. I left him,
feeling an elation of spirit, a glow of pride, a confidence in myself, as
new as it was unexpected. It is a fine trait in Scotchmen that, deeply
respecting themselves, they respect others. Difference of class or
position does not count much with them in comparison with merit or
sterling worth--

"_The rank is but the guinea's stamp_,
_The man's the gowd for a' that_."

Mr. Burns was a striking personality; strong and vigorous, mentally and
physically. He had a good voice, and was clear, decided and emphatic in
speech. He was a doughty champion of the Glasgow and South-Western
Company, with which at this time, affairs, like the course of true love,
did not run smooth. The dividend was down and discontented shareholders
were up in arms. Bitter attacks were made on the directors and the
management. Not that anything was really wrong, for the business of the
line was skilfully and honestly conducted, but the times were bad, and
"empty stalls make biting steeds." The very same shareholders who, when
returns are satisfactory, are as gentle as cooing doves, should revenue
and expenditure alter their relations to the detriment of dividend,
become critical, carping and impossible to please, though the directors
and management may be as innocent as themselves, and as powerless to stem
the tide of adversity. At shareholders' meetings Mr. Burns was splendid.
He rose after the critics had expended their force, or if the storm grew
too violent, intervened at its height, and with facts and figures and
sound argument always succeeded in restoring order and serenity. An
excellent story of him appeared about this time in _Good Words_. He,
Anthony Trollope and Norman Macleod were once at a little inn in the
Highlands. After supper, stories were told and the laughter, which was
loud and long, lasted far into the night. In the morning an old
gentleman, who slept in a room above them, complained to the landlord of
the uproar which had broken his night's rest, and expressed his
astonishment that such men should have taken more than was good for them.
"Well," replied the landlord, "I am bound to confess there was much loud
talk and laughter, but they had nothing stronger than tea and fresh
herrings." "Bless me," rejoined the old gentleman, "if that is so, what
would they be after dinner!"

In the entrance hall of the North British Railway Company's Waverley
station at Edinburgh stands the statue, in bronze, of Mr. John Walker. As
far as I know this is, the whole world over, the only instance in which
the memory of a railway general manager has been so honoured. It is of
heroic size and eloquently attests his worth. He was born in Fifeshire
in 1832, and died with startling suddenness from an apoplectic seizure,
at the age of fifty-nine, at Waterloo station in London. When he left
school he was apprenticed to the law, but at the age of nineteen entered
the service of the Edinburgh, Perth and Dundee Railway. This railway was
in 1862 amalgamated with the original North British, which was first
authorised in 1844, and extended from Edinburgh to Berwick. His
exceptional ability was soon recognised and his promotion was rapid. He
became treasurer of the amalgamated company, and in 1866 was appointed
its secretary. In this office he rendered great service at a trying time
in the company's affairs, and in 1874 was rewarded with the position of
general manager.

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