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.
The North British Railway has had a chequered career, has suffered great
changes of fortune, and to Mr. Walker, more than to any other, is due the
stability it now enjoys. On the occasion of his death, the directors
officially recorded that, "He served the company with such ability and
unselfish devotion as is rarely witnessed; became first secretary and
subsequently general manager, and it was during the tenure of these
offices that the remarkable development of the company's system was
mainly effected."
His capacity for work was astounding. He never seemed to tire or to know
what fatigue meant. Ordinary men are disposed to pleasure as well as to
work, to recreation and social intercourse as well as to business, but
this was not the case with Mr. Walker. It must be confessed that he was
somewhat exacting with his staff, but his own example was a stimulus to
exertion in others and he was well served. One who knew him well, and
for many years was closely associated with him in railway work, tells me
that his most striking characteristics were reticence, combativeness,
concentration and tenacity of purpose, and that his memory and mastery of
detail were remarkable. Deficient perhaps in sentiment, though in such
silent men deep wells of feeling often unsuspectedly exist, he was, by
those who served under him, always recognised as fair and just, and no
one had ever to complain of the slightest discourtesy at his hands. Like
Lord Byron, he was lame from birth, and while this may have affected his
character and pursuits, it never, I am told, in business, which indeed
was practically his sole occupation, impeded his activity. On the
failure of the City of Glasgow Bank, in 1878, which involved in ruin
numbers of people, he lost a considerable fortune. He was a large
shareholder of the bank, and the liability of the shareholders was
unlimited. He faced his loss with stoical fortitude, as I believe he
would have confronted any disaster that life could bring.
On a certain day Mr. Walker came to Glasgow by appointment to discuss
with Mr. Wainwright some outstanding matters which they had failed to
settle by correspondence. In the afternoon Mr. Wainwright had an
important meeting of his directors to attend. The business with Mr.
Walker was concluded in time, all but one subject, and Mr. Wainwright
asked Mr. Walker if he would let me go into this with him. Without the
least hesitation he consented; and he treated me as Mr. John Burns had
done, and discussed the matter with me as if I were on an equal footing.
This was the interview that strengthened and confirmed that self-reliance
which Mr. Burns had awakened, and which never afterwards forsook me.
Great is my debt to Scotland and to Scotchmen.
Amongst the most prominent railway men I have met were Sir Edward Watkin,
Chairman of the South-Eastern Railway, and the following general
managers:--Mr. Allport, Midland, the exalted railway monarch of my early
railway days; Mr. (afterwards Sir) Henry Oakley, Great Northern; Mr.
Grierson, Great Western; Mr. Underdown, Manchester, Sheffield and
Lincolnshire; and Mr. (afterwards Sir Myles) Fenton, South Eastern. Of
Sir Edward Watkin a good story was told. When he was general manager of
the Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire Railway (he was Mr. Watkin
then) many complaints had arisen from coal merchants on the line that
coal was being stolen from wagons in transit by engine drivers. Nothing
so disgraceful could possibly occur, always answered Mr. Watkin. Down
the line one day, with his officers at a country station, a driver was
seen in the very act of transferring from a coal wagon standing on an
outlying siding some good big lumps to his tender. This was pointed out
to Mr. Watkin, who only said--"The d---d fool, _in broad daylight_!" When
Mr. Allport learned that I came from Derby, and was the son of an old
Midland official, he treated me with marked kindness. Mr. Oakley came in
the year 1880 to Glasgow, where he sat for several days as arbitrator
between the Glasgow and South-Western and Caledonian Railway Companies,
on a matter concerning the management, working, and maintenance of
Kilmarnock Station, of which the companies were joint owners, and I
learned for the first time how an arbitration case should be conducted,
for Mr. Oakley was an expert at such work. This experience stood me in
good stead, when, not many years later, I was appointed arbitrator in a
railway dispute in the North of Ireland.
In the front rank of the railway service I do not remember many beaux.
General managers were men too busy to spend much time upon the study of
dress. But there were exceptions, as there are to every rule, and Sir
James Thompson, General Manager, and afterwards Chairman of the
Caledonian Railway, was a notable exception. Often, after attending
Clearing House meetings or Parliamentary Committees, have I met him in
Piccadilly, Bond Street, or the Burlington Arcade, faultlessly and
fashionably attired in the best taste, airing himself, admiring and
admired. We always stopped and talked; of the topics of the day, the
weather, what a pleasant place London was, how handsome the women, how
well dressed the men. At the Clearing House we usually sat next each
other. I liked him and I think he liked me. Do not think he was a beau
and nothing more. No, he was a hard-headed Scotchman, full of ability
and work, and as a railway manager stood at the top of the ladder. Next
to him Sir Frederick Harrison, General Manager of the London and North-
Western Railway, was, I think, the best dressed railway man. Both he and
Sir James were tall, handsome fellows, and I confess to having admired
them, perhaps as much for their good looks and their taste and style, as
for their intellectual qualities; and I have often thought that men in
high positions would not do amiss to pay some attention to old Polonius'
admonition to his son that, "the apparel oft proclaims the man."
In the friends I made I was fortunate too. They included two or three
budding lawyers, a young engineer, a banker, a doctor, two embryo hotel
managers, an auctioneer, and one or two journalists; and, as I have
mentioned before, my artist friend _Cynicus_. We were, most of us,
friends of each other, met often, and the variety of our pursuits gave
zest and interest to our intercourse. First amongst these friends ranked
G. G., one of the young lawyers, or _writers_, as they are called in
Scotland. He was my closest friend. We have not met for many years, but
the friendship remains unweakened; for there are things that Time the
destroyer is powerless to injure. Like myself, G. G. comes of the middle
class. His parents, like mine, were by no means affluent, but they were
Scotch and held education in veneration, and were ambitious, as Scottish
parents are, for their sons. They gave him a University education, and
afterwards apprenticed him to the law. He became, and is still, a
prosperous lawyer in Glasgow.
Then came J. B., a young lawyer too, who blossomed into the pleasant and
important position of Senior Deputy Town Clerk of the City of Glasgow.
He, too, had sprung from the great middle class. Well versed in
classical lore he was a delightful companion. He had travelled much and
benefited by his travels; was a sociable being, exceedingly good-natured,
and peered through spectacles as thick as pebbles, being very
short-sighted, and without his glasses would scarcely recognise you a
yard off. Yet he could see into the heart of things as well as most men,
for he was a shrewd Scotchman, and had a pawky humour. If he possessed a
fault it was a love for a game of cards. We played _nap_ in those days,
and when a game was on it was hard to get him to bed. He has gone over
to the majority now. His sudden death a year ago came as a great blow to
his family and a large circle of friends. Next to G. G., as intimate
friends, came H. H. and F. K. They were in the company's service though
not in the railway proper, but connected with the management of the hotel
department. Of foreign birth, sons of a nation with whom we are now,
alas! at war, they were youths of fine education, disposition and
refinement, and I became greatly attached to each. H. H. preceded and F.
K. followed me to Ireland, where he (F. K.) still resides, honoured and
respected, as he deserves to be. He and I, throughout the years, have
been and are the closest of friends. Once, not very long ago, in a grave
crisis of my life, when death seemed near, he stood by me with the
devotion of a brother. My auctioneer friend (G. F.) was, perhaps, the
most interesting man of our circle; certainly he possessed more humour
than the rest of us put together. Fond of literature, with a talent for
writing, he was a regular contributor to the Glasgow Punch, _The Bailie_.
But his greatest charms were, his dear innocence, his freshness of mind,
his simple inexpensive tastes, his enjoyment of life, and his infectious
laugh. In years he was our senior, but in worldly knowledge junior to us
all. He lives still and is, I believe, as jocund as ever. Another of
these Glasgow friends I must mention--a poet, and like Burns, a son of
the soil. His name was Alexander Anderson. When first I met him he was
in the railway service, a labourer on the permanent way, what is called a
surfaceman in Scotland, a platelayer in England and a milesman in
Ireland. Self taught, he became proficient in French, German and
Italian, and was able to enjoy in their own language the literature of
those countries. A Scottish nobleman, impressed by his wonderful
poetical talent, defrayed the expenses of a tour which he made in Italy
and an extended stay in Rome, to the enrichment of his mind and to his
great enjoyment. On his return to Scotland he published a book of poems.
In an introduction to this book the Revd. George Gilfillan wrote, "The
volume he now presents to the world is distinguished by great variety of
subject and modes of treatment. It has a number of sweet Scottish
verses, plaintive or pawky. It has some strains of a higher mood,
reminding us of Keats in their imagination. But the highest effort, if
not also the most decided success, is his series of sonnets, entitled,
'In Rome.' And certainly this is a remarkable series." A remarkable man
he was indeed; simple and earnest in manner, with a fine eye, a full dark
beard and sunburnt face. Tiring, however, of a labourer's life and of
the pick and shovel, he left the railway and became assistant librarian
of Edinburgh University, and three years afterwards Secretary to the
Philosophical Institution of Edinburgh. He afterwards became Chief
Librarian to the Edinburgh University. He died in the summer of 1909. He
stayed with me in Glasgow once for a week-end, and on the Sunday
afternoon we together visited a friend of his who lived near, a literary
man, who then was engaged in writing a series of lives of the Poets for
some publishing house. An interesting part of our conversation was about
Carlyle with whom this friend was intimate, had in fact just returned
from visiting him at Chelsea. He told us many interesting stories of the
sage. I remember one. He was staying with the Carlyles, when Mrs.
Carlyle was alive. One evening at tea, a copper kettle, with hot water,
stood on the hob. Mrs. Carlyle made a movement as if to rise, with her
eye directed to the kettle; the friend, divining her wish, rose and
handed her the kettle. She thanked him, and, with a pathetic and wistful
gaze at Carlyle, added, "Ay, Tam, ye never did the like o' that!"
My first trip abroad was in 1883, and my companion, G. G. We went to
Paris via Newhaven, Dieppe and Rouen, and at Rouen stayed a day and a
night, and spent about a fortnight in Paris. We were accompanied from
London by a friend I have not yet named, one who was well known in the
railway world, Tony Visinet, the British Engineering and Commercial Agent
of the Western Railway of France; a delightful companion always, full of
the charm and vivacity that belong to his country. He took us to see his
mother at Rouen, who lived in an old-fashioned house retired from the
road, in a pleasant court-yard; a charming old lady, with whom G. G. was
able to converse, but I was not. Tony Visinet's life was full of
movement and variety. He had lodgings in London, and a flat in Paris,
traversed the Channel continually, and I remember his proudly celebrating
his fifteen hundredth crossing.
From childhood I had longed to see something of the world, and this
excursion to Paris was the first gratification of that wish. Paris now
is as familiar to me almost as London, but then was strange and new.
Rouen and its cathedral we first saw by moonlight, a beautiful and
impressive sight, idealised to me by the thought that we were in sunny
France. Little I imagined then how much of the world in later years I
should see; but strong desires often accomplish their own fulfilment, and
so it came to pass.