BELFAST AND THE COUNTY DOWN--(continued)
During the first few years of my service on the County Down little
occurred to disturb the even tenor of my way. In a sense the duties of
my new position were simple. There were no such things as joint lines,
joint station working, running powers or joint committees, as in England
and Scotland, to distract attention or consume time which could more
usefully be devoted to the affairs of one's own railway. Gradually I
grew familiar with out-door matters, and duties that seemed strange at
first grew as easy as second nature. I learned a good deal about
signalling, became an adept in single line working, an expert in engine
running economies, and attained some success in the management of men.
One thing especially gave me pleasure--my monthly visit to the Managers'
Conference at the Irish Railway Clearing House in Dublin. There I met my
brother managers in the Irish railway world, and learned something of the
other lines. The leading men at the Conference were Ilbery, Great
Southern and Western; Cotton, Belfast and Northern Counties; Plews and
Shaw, Great Northern; Ward, Midland Great Western; and Skipworth, Manager
in Ireland of the London and North-Western. Of all the managers who
assembled there I was the youngest, and the greatest personality was
Edward John Cotton. By common consent, he had acted as Chairman of the
Conference from the year 1864. No one had ever dreamed of assuming the
position when he was present. This continued till 1890, when Tom
Robertson came on the scene. _He_ was all for change and innovation, and
managed to get the principle of formal election to the chairmanship
established. Many of us thought it was a pity to make the change in
Cotton's time, but Edward John seemed the least concerned of us all, for
nothing ever disturbed his good humour. Robertson was a veritable
Hotspur and upset for a time the serenity of our meetings. He was
overcharged with energy, and a bachelor.
It is my belief that had our genial Cotton chosen the stage for a
profession he would have found a place among the distinguished actors of
his time, if not in tragedy, certainly in comedy. His face, voice,
manner and style all proclaimed it. You had only to hear him read in
public, which he loved to do, see how natural his dramatic action was,
and feel the effect of a mere wave of his hand through his abundant hair,
to be convinced of this. In railway circles throughout England, Scotland
and Ireland he was widely known. He attended all railway conferences for
he loved movement and travel. Shrewd and well-informed, his knowledge
was acquired not from books or study but from close observation of
passing events and free and friendly intercourse with all whom he met.
His railway was very popular and he and it were held in high esteem.
Easily accessible to all, courteous and reasonable ever, he was in many
respects a model railway manager. His success lay not so much in the
work he performed himself as in obtaining the best results from those
around him, and the capacity to accomplish this is certainly one of the
most useful qualities a railway manager, or any man in a position of
authority, can possess. It is not too much to say that his staff loved
him; certainly they all admired him. He was the readiest man I ever met
to generously acknowledge the worth of those who served him, and whenever
possible he took occasion to do so in public.
[Edward John Cotton: cotton.jpg]
I have spoken previously of the _beaux_ I knew in the higher ranks of the
railway service but, strange to say, omitted to mention Edward John who,
in some respects outshone all others. His coat may not have been cut by
a west-end tailor, his hat may not have been a Lincoln Bennett, or his
necktie the latest production of Burlington Arcade, but who could wear a
tall white hat with a black band, with the least little rakish tilt, and
a light grey frock coat with a rose in the buttonhole, with such an air
and grace as he? He appreciated keenly all the good things that life can
give and loved his fellow men. _Pax vobiscum_, kind, warm-hearted Edward
John! You were an ornament to the railway world and always my friend.
It was Cotton and his Chairman, the Right Hon. John Young, who put in my
way my first arbitration case, to which I have in a previous chapter
alluded. This, as far as I remember, occurred in 1886. A dispute had
arisen between the Northern Counties Company and a small railway company
whose line they worked, concerning, I think, the payment for and use of
some sidings. I conducted the proceedings of course with the greatest of
care, attended, perhaps, with a little trepidation, summoned every
possible witness to appear before me, and visited in state the _locus_.
Edward John was, I think, a little amused. Much older than I he had long
since passed through these youthful phases. I issued my award, with the
usual result that while each party was fairly well pleased neither was
altogether satisfied. I was proud of my _debut_ as an arbitrator,
especially as it was rewarded by, what seemed to me then, a very handsome
fee.
In January, 1886, an incident that is worth narrating occurred. In my
office a new junior clerk was required. An advertisement in the
newspapers produced a large number of applications, and about a dozen of
the applicants were selected to be seen, one after the other, by Pinion
and myself. Before lunch one day we interviewed half a dozen or so.
Returning together from lunching in the city, as we neared the station,
Pinion drew my attention to a youth who was evidently making for the
railway premises. Said I to Pinion: "If that youth is one of the
candidates, I'll be surprised if he's not the boy for us." It was only a
back view we had of him, but he held himself so well, walked so briskly,
looked so neat, smart, and businesslike that he arrested attention. That
boy, Charles A. Moore, then fresh from school and just fifteen, is now
general manager of the railway!
It was in 1886, too, that I first met Walter Bailey, between whom and
myself a friendship sprung up which grew in depth and sincerity as time
went on, lasted for thirty years, and was only terminated by his lamented
death in January, 1917. The friendship thus formed yielded much pleasure
and happiness to me and, I think I may safely say, also to my departed
friend. Bailey, who was about my own age, came to Ireland from the South-
Eastern Railway, soon after my settlement in Belfast, to fill the
position of Accountant to the Belfast and Northern Counties Railway. Two
young Englishmen, landed in Ireland, engaged in the same sort of
business, in the same city, would naturally gravitate towards each other
but, more than this, what made us such intimate friends were, tastes in
common, similarity of views, especially concerning railway affairs, a
mutual liking for literary matters, and--well, other less definable
things that form the foundation of all true friendships. Throughout our
long intimacy we often took counsel together on subjects of mutual
interest, but it was I who sought his advice and help much oftener than
he sought mine, for he was cleverer than I. Indeed in the whole railway
world I never met an intellect so quick, or so clear and luminous as his.
Bailey was the most unselfish man I ever knew; the readiest to help
others. His pen, his remarkable stores of knowledge, and his spare time
too, were always at the service, not only of his friends, but often of
those who were scarcely more than mere acquaintances. The amount of work
which he cheerfully imposed upon himself in this way was astounding and
never was it done grudgingly or half-heartedly, but always promptly and
generously. It afforded him a pleasure that only one endowed as he could
feel. This part of him was often the subject of talk with those of us
who knew him well. But what charmed _me_ most, more even than his
brilliant mental gifts, were the sweetness of his disposition and his
quaintly quizzical and happy humour. Ambition was not strong in him, was
in fact all but absent, and he often rallied me on mine. He never in all
his life asked for any improvement in salary or position; but, in spite
of his inveterate modesty, rose high, became Chief Accountant of the
Midland Railway of England and, I should say, the leading railway
accountant in the United Kingdom. On railway matters he was a writer of
great skill, and all he wrote was enlivened with the happiest humour. To
the _Railway News_ he was a valued contributor, and in railway polemics a
master.
[Walter Bailey: bailey.jpg]
The Director on the County Down with whom I became most intimate was the
Right Honourable (then Mr.) Thomas Andrews. He was brother to Judge
Andrews; brother-in-law of Lord Pirrie; became Chairman of the Company;
was made a Privy Councillor; a Deputy Lieutenant of Down; High Sheriff of
that County and President of this and that, for he was a man of ability
and character, but simple in mind and manners as the best men mostly are.
Eloquent in speech, warm-hearted and impulsive, he found it difficult to
resist a joke, even at the expense of his friend. In April, 1890, he
wrote me: "I hope you were not at all annoyed at my pleasantries to Mr.
Pinion. I am not exactly one of those men who would rather lose a friend
than a joke, but I find it hard to resist a joke when a good opportunity
presents itself. I am bound to say that I would be sorry to annoy you,
by a jest or in any other way." His temper was lively but though quickly
roused soon subsided, and he never harboured resentment. At the
conclusion of the very first Board meeting I attended as general manager
at the County Down, he followed me into my room, complimented me on the
way I had discussed the business of the day, and added: "I'm sure you'll
be successful in Ireland for you have the _suaviter in modo_ combined
with the _fortiter in re_." It was a pretty compliment, and sincere I
knew, for no one could meet him without recognising his frank outspoken
nature. On the threshold of my new work such encouragement greatly
cheered me and increased my determination to do my best. Until his
death, not long ago, we often corresponded on railway and other matters,
and he was always my staunch friend. He had a taste, too, for poetry
which we sometimes discussed. The _Thomas Andrews_, who went down with
the _Titanic_ in the North Atlantic, on the 14th April, 1912, was his
son, the story of whose short but strenuous life, and its tragic end, is
told in a little book written by Shan F. Bullock. Sir Horace Plunkett
wrote an introduction to it, in which he says: "He was one of the noblest
Irishmen Ulster has produced in modern times, to whom came the supreme
test in circumstances demanding almost superhuman fortitude and
self-control. There was not the wild excitement of battle to sustain
him; death had to be faced calmly in order that others--to whom he must
not even bid farewell--might live." A few minutes before the end, so it
is recorded, on the boat deck of the _Titanic_, the grandest sight of him
was seen, as he stood with wonderful calm, throwing overboard deck chairs
to those who were struggling in the water below. He had no thought of
himself, but only of duty and of others. Then came the end: the
_Titanic_, with a low long slanting dive went down and with her Thomas
Andrews. He was only 39, but had attained the high position of a
Managing Director of the great firm of Harland and Wolff. I knew him as
a boy, manly, handsome, high-spirited, clever--"the father of the man."
That this terrible tragedy shortened the life of _his_ father is certain.
In 1887, and again in 1888, Bailey and I took our holidays together,
visiting Normandy, Paris, Belgium, Holland and the Rhine, doing a great
deal of walking, which he liked as much as I. He was the prince of
travelling companions, always gay and sprightly, and spoke French with
great fluency. His happy disposition, unfailing good humour, and keen
enjoyment of everything, even of the occasional discomforts that arose,
as in travelling discomforts will arise, especially when funds are not
too plentiful, made every hour of our holiday enjoyable. He had the
happy gift of seeing always the humorous and the best side of things. He
acted as paymaster on our tours and presented with great regularity
records of our joint expenditure with the neatness and accuracy of the
perfect accountant. Never a pipe smoker, he had no special interest in
pipes, but to me the happiness of our first holiday was increased by the
colouring of a new meerschaum. In this delightful art I was a disciple
of Samuel Swarbrick, though I needed not, as he did, the services of
another in the early stages of the colouring process. Whoever has been
the votary of a meerschaum will understand the pride with which I
frequently displayed my pipe and its deepening colour to Bailey, often to
his great amusement I must admit. In a hotel in the city of Antwerp,
where we stayed for several days, we occupied adjoining bedrooms having a
communicating door. One night, towards early morn, but before daylight
had dawned, I was suddenly awakened out of a sound sleep, and to my
astonishment saw Bailey with lighted candle standing by my bedside, with
a serious look on his face. "Great Scott! what's the matter?" I
exclaimed. "_My dear boy, I can't sleep; do let me see your pipe_," he
answered. With such like pleasantries he beguiled the happy times we
spent together.
In these years I had another pleasure: I learned to ride, taking lessons
in horsemanship at a riding school in Belfast. I soon acquired a firm
seat, and my good friend H. H. (who was a practised horseman, and then
lived in Belfast too) and I had many delightful rides in the beautiful
country around the city. For many years, so far as opportunity and means
allowed, I indulged myself in this best of all exercises.