Fifty Years of Railway Life in England, Scotland and Ireland Part 3

CHAPTER VII.

RAILWAY PROGRESS

Before entering upon any description of the new life that awaited me in Glasgow, I will briefly allude to the princ.i.p.al events connected with the Midland and with railways generally which took place during the first five years of my railway career.

Closely a.s.sociated with many of these events was Mr. James Allport, the Midland general manager, one of the foremost and ablest of the early railway pioneers, regarding whom it is fit and proper a few words should be said. Strangely enough I never saw him until nearly two years after I entered the Midland service, and this was on the occasion of a visit of the Prince and Princess of Wales to Derby. We clerks were allowed good positions on the station platform to witness the arrival of their Royal Highnesses by their special train from London. Mr. Allport accompanied them along the platform to the carriages outside the station. Probably the chairman and directors of the company were also present, but our eyes were not for them. Directors were to us junior clerks, remote personalities, mythical beings dwelling on Olympian heights.

[Sir James Allport: allport.jpg]

It was a great thing to see the future King and Queen of England, and our loyalty and enthusiasm knew no bounds. They were young and charming, and beloved by the people; but, hero worshipper as I was, our great general manager was to me even more than royalty. I little thought, as I looked on Mr. Allport then, that, twenty years later, I should appear before him to give evidence concerning Irish railways, when he was chairman of an important Royal Commission.

The great abilities which enable a man to win and hold such a position as his fired my fancy. I look at men and men's affairs with different eyes now; but Mr. Allport was a great personality, and youthful enthusiasm might well be excused for placing him on a high pedestal. He was tall and handsome, with well-shaped head, broad brow, large clear keen eyes, firm well-formed mouth, strong nose and chin, possessed of an abundant head of hair, not close cropped in the style of to-day, but full and wavy, and what one never sees now, a handsome natural curl along the centre of the head with a parting on each side. This suited him well, and added to his distinctive individuality. When I entered the Midland service he was fifty-six years of age and in the plenitude of his power, for those were days when the company was forcing its way north and south and widely extending its territory. He was the animating spirit of all the company's enterprises. No opposition, no difficulties ever daunted him. His nature was bold and fitted to command, and to him is due, in a large degree, the proud position the Midland holds to-day. It was not until late in life, 1884 I think, when he had reached the age of seventy- two, that his great qualities were accorded public recognition. He then received the honour of knighthood but had retired from active service and become a director of his company.

There was another personality that loomed large, in those years, on the Midland--Samuel Swarbrick, the accountant. His world was finance, and in it he was a master. So great was his skill that the Great Eastern Railway Company, which, financially, was in a parlous condition and their dividend _nil_, in 1866 took him from the Midland and made him their general manager, at, in those days, a princely salary. Their confidence was fully justified; his skill brought the company, if not to absolute prosperity, at least to a dividend-paying condition, and laid the foundation of the position that company now occupies.

His reputation as a man of figures stood as I have just said very high, but, whilst I was at Derby, and before he moved to the Great Eastern, he was prominent also as the happy possessor of the best coloured meerschaum pipes in the county, and this, in those days, was no small distinction.

But a man does not achieve greatness by his own unaided efforts. Others, his subordinates, help him to climb the ladder. It was so with Mr.

Swarbrick. There was a tall policeman in the service of the company, the possessor of a fine figure, and a splendid long sandy-coloured beard. His primary duty was to air himself at the front entrance of the station arrayed in a fine uniform and tall silk hat, and this duty he conscientiously performed. Secondarily, his occupation was to start the colouring of new meerschaums for Mr. Swarbrick. Non-meerschaum smokers may not know what a delicate task this is, but once well begun the rest is comparatively easy. The tall policeman was an artist at the work; but it nearly brought him to a tragic end, as I will relate.

Outside Derby station was a ticket platform at which all incoming trains stopped for the collection of tickets. This platform was on a bridge that crossed the river. One Sat.u.r.day night our fine policeman was airing himself on this platform, colouring a handsome new meerschaum for Mr.

Swarbrick. It was a windy night and a sudden gust blew his tall hat into the river, and after it unfortunately dropped the meerschaum. Hat and pipe both! Without a moment's hesitation in plunged the policeman to the rescue; but the river was deep and he an indifferent swimmer. The night was dark and he was not brought to land till life had nearly left him. He recovered, but lost his sight and became blind for the rest of his life.

Mr. Swarbrick provided for him, I believe, by setting him up in a small public house, where, I am told, despite his loss of sight, he ended his days not unhappily.

In 1867, compared with 1851, the Midland had made giant strides. It worked a thousand miles of railway against five hundred; its capital had doubled and reached thirty-two millions, about one-fourth of what it is to-day; its revenue had risen from about a million to over a million and a half; and the dividend was five and a half compared with two and five- eighths per cent.

The opening of the Midland route to Saint Pancras; the projection of the Settle and Carlisle line; the introduction of Pullman cars, parlour saloons, sleeping and dining cars; the adoption of gas and electricity for the lighting of carriages; the running of third-cla.s.s carriages by all trains; the abolition of second-cla.s.s and reduction of first-cla.s.s fares; and the establishment of superannuation funds were amongst the most striking events in the railway world during this period.

On the first day of October, 1868, the first pa.s.senger train ran into Saint Pancras station, and the Midland compet.i.tion for London traffic now began in earnest, and from that time onward helped to develop those magnificent rival pa.s.senger train services between the Metropolis and England's busy centres and between England and Scotland and Ireland, which, for luxury, speed and comfort, stand pre-eminent. Prior to this, the Midland access to London had been by the exercise of running powers over the Great Northern Railway from Hitchin to King's Cross. The Great Northern, reluctant to lose the Midland, and fearing their rivalry, had, a few years previously, offered them running powers in perpetuity. "No,"

said Mr. Allport, "it is impossible that you can reconcile the interests of these two great companies on the same railway; we are always only _second-best_." Second-best certainly never suited the ambitious policy of the Midland, and so the offer was rejected, and their line to London made. It was at that time thought that the Midland headquarters would be removed from Derby to London, and I remember how excited the clerical staff and their wives and sweethearts were at the prospect. The idea was seriously considered but, for various reasons, abandoned.

The Settle and Carlisle line, perhaps the greatest achievement of the Midland, was not completed until sometime after I left their service. It was opened in the year 1875. In 1866 they obtained the Act for its construction. For some years their eyes had been as eagerly turned towards Scotland as the eyes of Scotchmen had ever been towards England, and for the same reason--the hope of gain. The Midland had hitherto been excluded from any proper share of the Scotch traffic, but now having secured the right to extend their system to Carlisle, they hoped to join forces with their allies, the Glasgow and South-Western, and secure a fair share of it. But "there's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip,"

and in 1869 in a fit of timidity--a weakness most unusual with them--they nearly lost this valuable right. The year 1867 was a time of great financial anxiety; the Midland was weighted with heavy expenditure on their London extension, the necessity for further capital became clamant, the shareholders were seized with alarm, and a shareholders' consultative committee was appointed, with the result that, in 1869, the company, badgered and worried beyond endurance, actually applied to Parliament for power to abandon the Settle and Carlisle line, and for authority to enter into an agreement with the London and North-Western for access over that company's railway to Carlisle. That power and authority, however, Parliament, _in its wisdom_, refused to give.

The financial clouds, as all clouds do, after a time dispersed; the outlook grew brighter, the Midland made the line, and it was opened, as I have said, throughout to Carlisle in 1875.

In the autumn of 1872 Mr. Allport visited the United States and was greatly impressed with the Pullman cars. On his return he introduced them on the Midland, both the parlour car and the sleeper. About the same time the London and North-Western also commenced the running of sleeping cars to Scotland and to Holyhead. To which company belongs the credit of being first in the field with this most desirable additional accommodation for the comfort of pa.s.sengers I am not prepared to say; perhaps honors were easy.

But the greatest innovation of the time were the running by the Midland of third-cla.s.s carriages by all trains; and the abolition of second-cla.s.s carriages and fares, accompanied by a reduction of the first-cla.s.s fares.

The first event took place in 1872, but the latter not till 1875. The first was a democratic step indeed, and aroused great excitement.

Williams, in his book _The Midland Railway_, wrote, "On the last day of March, 1872, we remarked to a friend: 'To-morrow morning the Midland will be the most popular railway in England.' Nor did we incur much risk by our prediction. For on that day the Board had decided that on and after the first of April, they would run third-cla.s.s carriages by all trains; the wires had flashed the tidings to the newspapers, the bills were in the hands of the printers, and on the following morning the Directors woke to find themselves famous." At a later period, Mr. Allport said, if there was one part of his public life on which he looked back with more satisfaction than another it was the time when this boon was conferred on third-cla.s.s pa.s.sengers.

When we contemplate present conditions of third-cla.s.s travel it is hard to realise what they were before this change took place; slow speed, delays and discomfort; bare boards; hard seats; shunting of third-cla.s.s trains into sidings and waiting there for other trains, sometimes even goods trains, to pa.s.s. Mr. Allport might well be proud of the part he played.

Another matter which concerned, not so much the public as the welfare of the clerical staff of the railways, was the establishment of Superannuation Funds; yet the public was interested too, for the interests of the railway service and the general community are closely interwoven. Up till now station masters and clerks had struggled on without prospect of any provision for their old age. Their pay was barely sufficient to enable them to maintain a respectable position in life and afforded no margin for providing for the future.

At last, the princ.i.p.al railway companies, with the consent of their shareholders, and with Parliamentary sanction, established Superannuation Funds, which ever since have brought comfort and security to their officers and clerical staff, and have proved of benefit to the companies themselves. A pension encourages earlier retirement from work, quickens promotion, and vitalises the whole service. On nearly all railways retirement is optional at sixty and compulsory at sixty-five.

The London and North-Western was the first company to adopt the system of superannuation, the London and South-Western second, the Great Western came third, the Midland fourth, and other companies followed in their wake.

In 1873 the Railway Clearing House obtained Parliamentary power to form a fund for its staff, with permission to railway companies not large enough to successfully run funds of their own, and also to the Irish Railway Clearing House, to become partners in this fund. The Irish Clearing House took advantage of this, as also have many railway companies, and practically the whole of the clerical service throughout the United Kingdom can to-day look forward to the benefits of superannuation.

CHAPTER VIII.

SCOTLAND, GLASGOW LIFE, AND THE CALEDONIAN LINE.

On the last day of December, in the year 1872, between seven and eight o'clock in the evening, I arrived at Glasgow by the Caledonian train from Carlisle, and was met at Buchanan Street Station by my good friend Tom.

After supper we repaired to the streets to see the crowds that congregate on _Hogmanhay_, to make acquaintance with the mysteries of "first-footin'," and to join in ushering in the "guid new year." It was a stirring time, for Scotchmen encounter their _Hogmanhay_ with ardent _spirits_. They are as keen in their pleasures as in their work. Compare for instance their country dances with ours. As Keats, in his letters from Scotland says, "it is about the same as leisurely stirring a cup o'

tea and beating up a batter pudding." The public houses and bars were driving a lively trade, but "Forbes Mackenzie" was in force, and come eleven o'clock, though it were a hundred _Hogmanhays_, they all had to close. We met some new-made friends of Tom's and joined in their conviviality. I was the dark complexioned man of the party, and as a "first-footer" in great request. We did not go home till morning, and reached there a little hilarious ourselves, but it was our first _Hogmanhay_ and may be forgiven.

Dear reader, did you ever lie in a _concealed bed_? It is a Scottish device cunningly contrived to murder sleep. At least so Tom and I found it. It was my fate to sleep, to lie I should say, in one for several weeks. Its purpose is to economise s.p.a.ce, and like Goldsmith's chest of drawers, it is "contrived a double debt to pay," a sleeping room by night, a sitting room by day.

Whilst Glasgow is a city of _flats_ its people are resourceful and energetic. Keen and canny, they drive a close bargain but, scrupulous and conscientious, fulfil it faithfully. Proud of their city and its progress, its industries and manufactures, its civic importance, they are a little disdainful perhaps, perhaps a little jealous, of their beautiful elder sister, Edinburgh. Glasgow is the Belfast of Scotland!

Self-contained houses are the exception and are limited to the well-to- do. The flat, in most cases, means a restricted number of apartments, insufficient bedroom accommodation, and the _concealed bed_ is Glasgow's way of solving the difficulty.

Tom and I did not take kindly to our hole in the wall, and soon found other lodgings where s.p.a.ce was not so circ.u.mscribed, and where we could sleep in an open bed in an open room.

Our new quarters were a great success; a ground-floor flat with a fine front door; a large well-furnished sitting room with two windows looking out on to the street, and an equally large double-bedded room at the back of the sitting room. Our landlady, a kind, motherly, canny Scotchwoman, looked after us well and favoured us with many a bit of good advice: "You must be guid laddies, and tak care o' the bawbees; you maun na eat butchers' meat twice the week; tak plenty o' parritch and dinna be extravagant." Economy with the good old soul was a cardinal virtue, waste a deadly sin. I fear she was often shocked at our easy Saxon ways, though Tom and I thought ourselves models of thrift.

Once, it was on a Sunday, Tom and I, with a party of friends, had had a very long walk, a regular pedestrian excursion, thirty miles, there or thereabouts, to use a Scotticism, and poor Tom was quite knocked up and confined to bed for several days. Our good old landlady was greatly shocked; a strict Sabbatarian, she knew it was a punishment for "breakin'

the Sabbath; why had na ye gane to the kirk like guid laddies?" We modestly reminded her that we always did go, excepting of course on this particular Sunday. "Then whit business had ye to stay awa on ony Sabbath?" We had nothing to say in answer to this. The dear old creature was really shocked at our backsliding; but she nursed Tom very tenderly all the same.

When the sultry heat of summer came we found Glasgow very trying, and though sorry to leave our good landlady, moved into the country, to Cambuslang, a village some four miles from the city, which was then becoming a favourite residential resort.

At Cambuslang I made the acquaintance and became the friend of _Cynicus_, the humorous artist whose satirical sketches have, for many years, been well-known and well sold in England, in Scotland and in Ireland too. He was then a youth of about twenty. Longing to see the world and without the necessary means, he emulated Goldsmith, made a prolonged tour in France and Italy supporting himself not by his flute nor by disputations, but by his brush and palette. For a few weeks at a time he worked in towns or cities, sold what he painted, and then, with purse replenished, wandered on. He and I were living "doon the watter," at Dunoon, on the Clyde, one summer month. A Fancy Dress Bazaar was on at the time. The first evening we went to it, and he, un.o.bserved, made furtive sketches of the most prominent people and the prettiest girls. We both sat up all that night, he working at and finishing the sketches. Next morning by the first boat and first train, we took them to Glasgow, had six hundred lithographic copies struck off; back post-haste to Dunoon; in the evening to the Bazaar, and sold the copies at threepence each. It was an immense success; we could have disposed of twice the number; every pretty girl's admirer wanted a copy of her picture, and the portraits of the presiding "meenister" and of the good-looking unmarried curate were eagerly purchased by fond mammas and adoring daughters. We had our fun, and cleared besides a profit of nearly four pounds sterling. This financial _coup_ would not have come off so well but for the warm-hearted co-operation of our railway printers, McCorquodale and Coy. They, good people, entered into our exploit with a will, did their part well, and made little if any profit, generously leaving that to _Cynicus_ and myself.

To his mother, like many another clever son, _Cynicus_ owed his talent.

She was a woman of great intellectual endowment, with highly cultivated literary tastes. Her memory was remarkable and her conversational powers very great. She read much and thought deeply. In a modest way her parlour, which attracted many young people of literary and artistic leanings, recalled the _Salons_ of France of a century ago. She entertained charmingly with tea and cakes and delightful talk. Of strong, firm, decided character, she might, perhaps, have been thought a little deficient in womanly gentleness had not genuine kindness of heart, motherly feeling, and a happy humour lent a softness to her features and imparted to them a particular charm. She exercised an authority over her household which inspired respect and contrasted strikingly with the easy- going parental ways of to-day. There were other sons and there were daughters also, all more or less gifted, but _Cynicus_ was the genius of the family--its bright particular star.

The various lodgings of my bachelor days was never quite of the conventional sort. The Cambuslang quarters certainly were not. The house was large and old-fashioned. Originally it had been two smallish houses: the two front doors still remained side by side, but only one was used. The rooms on the ground floor were small, the original building composed of one storey only, but another had been added of quite s.p.a.cious dimensions. We had two excellent, large well-furnished rooms upstairs.

The landlady was an interesting character and so was her husband. She was Irish, he Scotch; she about seventy years of age, he under fifty; she ruddy, healthy, hearty, good-looking; he, pale, nervous, shy, retiring.

But on the last Thursday of each month he was quite another man. On that day he went to Glasgow to collect the rents of some small houses he owned; and generally came home rather "fou" and hilarious, when the old lady would take him in hand, and put him to bed.

They had an only child, a son, a grown up man, an uncouth ill-looking ungainly fellow, who did no work, smoked and loafed about, but was the idol of his mother. He resembled neither parent in the least, and, except that such vagaries of nature are not unknown, it might have been supposed that some cuckoo had visited the parental nest.

A gaunt, hard-featured domestic completed this interesting family, and she was uncommon too. By no means young, what Balzac calls "a woman of canonical age," she resembled Pere Grandet's tall Nanon. Like Nanon, she had been the devoted servant of the family for nearly a quarter of a century, and like her, had no interest outside that of her master and mistress. She was always working, rarely went out, spoke little, but ministered to the wants of Tom and myself, and waited on us with unremitting attention.

Despite all drawbacks, however, they were fine lodgings. The old lady was a wonderful cook and had all the liberality of her race.

New Year's Day, the great Scotch holiday, Tom and I spent in Edinburgh, and returned much impressed with its stately beauty.

The next morning I entered upon my work at St. Rollox, where the stores department of the Caledonian Railway is situated. The head of the department was styled Stores Superintendent. I thought him the most impressive looking man I had ever seen. He overpowered me; in his presence I never felt at ease. He was a big man, and looked bigger than he was; good-looking too; ruddy, portly, well-dressed and formal. An embodiment of commercial energy and dignity. In his face gravity, keenness, and good health were blended. Soon after I joined his staff he left the Caledonian to become General Manager of Young's Paraffin Oil Company, and subsequently its Managing Director. Success, I believe, always attended him. No position could lose any of its importance in his hands. When he left St. Rollox a great blank was felt; he filled so large a s.p.a.ce. He has lately gone to his rest full of years and honors.

I fear he never liked me, nor had any great opinion of my abilities. This was not to be wondered at, for I am sure I did not display any excessive zeal for the work on which I was then employed, and which I found monotonous and uninteresting.