CHAPTER XXI.. Ballinasloe Fair, Galway, and Sir George Findlay

BALLINASLOE FAIR, GALWAY, AND SIR GEORGE FINDLAY

A few days before the battle of Waterloo, during the journey to Brussels, partly by canal and partly by road, of Amelia and her party, Mrs. Major O'Dowd said to Jos Sedley: "Talk about kenal boats, my dear! Ye should see the kenal boats between Dublin and Ballinasloe. It's there the rapid travelling is; and the beautiful cattle." "The rapid travelling" was by what was called the fly boat, which was towed by three horses at a jog trot, and as to cattle, the good-humoured eccentric lady, who Thackeray tells us came from County Kildare, was thinking perhaps of the great Ballinasloe Fair where cattle and sheep assemble in greater numbers, I believe, than at any other live stock fair in the United Kingdom.

On the first Monday in October, 1891, to a special train of empty carriages run by the Midland from Dublin for the purposes of this fair, a vehicle, called the directors' saloon was attached, and in it the chairman of the company, most of the directors and the principal officers travelled to Ballinasloe, there to remain until the conclusion of the fair at the end of the week. It was my first introduction to Ballinasloe.

This saloon merits a word or two. It was built in the year 1844, was originally the property of William Dargan, the well-known contractor and the promoter of the Dublin Exhibition of 1853, whose statue adorns the grounds that front the Irish National Gallery. Dargan made the Midland railway from Athlone to Galway, completed the work before the specified contract time (in itself a matter worthy of note), and on its completion in 1851, presented this saloon carriage to the company, which also, I think, deserves to be recorded. Thus, in 1891, it was nearly 50 years' old and was handsome still. The panels were modelled on the old stage coach design, and a great bow window adorned each end. In the seventies and eighties it enjoyed the distinction of being the favourite carriage, on the Midland, of the Empress of Austria in her hunting days in Meath. This fine old carriage, now in its 75th year, does good work still. It has had a new under frame, its roof has been raised, and it looks good for another quarter of a century. Perhaps, granting an originally sound constitution, its longevity is largely due to the regular life it has led, never having been overworked, and having enjoyed many periods of rest.

Ballinasloe fair has two specially big days--Tuesday and Friday--the former devoted to the sale of sheep and the latter to cattle, though in fact its commerce in cattle, sheep, horses, pigs, calves, rams and goats, not to mention donkeys and mules, goes on more or less briskly throughout the whole week, Saturday being remnant day when jobbers pick up bargains. In 1891 the fair was not, and is not now, what it once was, which recalls the answer a witty editor of Punch once made to a friend. Said the said friend: "My dear fellow, Punch is not so good as it used to be." "No, it never was," came the quick rejoinder. But of Ballinasloe fair I cannot say it never was, for a hundred years ago, in Peggy O'Dowd's time, in the west of Ireland it was the great event of the year, not only for the sale of flocks and herds, but also for social gatherings, fun and frolic, so at least I am told by the oldest inhabitant. An older account still, says these fairs were a time for games and races, pleasure and amusement, and eating and feasting, whilst another record describes them as places "where there were food and precious raiment, downs and quilts, ale and flesh meat, chessmen and chess boards, horses and chariots, greyhounds, and playthings besides." It is curious that dancing is not mentioned, but dancing in the olden days in Ireland was not, I believe, much indulged in. Eighty years ago over 80,000 sheep entered the fair, and 20,000 cattle.

Arrived at Ballinasloe we established ourselves in quarters that were part of the original station premises. These consisted of a good sized dining-room, six bedrooms, and an office for the manager and his clerk. The walls and ceilings of the rooms were sheeted with pitch pine and varnished. They were very plainly furnished, the only thing in the way of decoration being a production in watercolour representing a fair green crowded with herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, and adorned with sundry pastoral and agricultural emblems, from the brush of my friend Cynicus. This I framed and hung in the dining-room. As it had columns for recording statistics of the fair for a period of years, it was instructive as well as ornamental. Three of the bedrooms were on the ground floor and were small apartments. The upstair rooms were much larger, were situated in the roof, and were lit by skylight windows which commanded a limited view of the firmament above but none whatever of the green earth below. These upper rooms were reached by an almost perpendicular staircase surmounted by a trap door, a mode of access convenient enough for the young and active, but not suitable for those of us who had passed their meridian. Two of these rooms were double-bedded and all three led into each other. In the innermost, Atock, our locomotive engineer, and I chummed together. He had slept there for many years, with two previous managers, and, in Robinson Crusoe fashion, had recorded the years by notches in a beam of the ceiling. The notches for him then counted twenty-three years, and number one he notched for me. Every morning an old jackdaw perched on a chimney outside our skylight, and entertained us with his chatter. Atock said the old bird had perched there during all his time; and as long as I visited Ballinasloe--a period of nearly twenty years, he regularly reappeared.

To be able once a year to entertain friends and customers of the company was one of the reasons, probably the main reason, why the directors passed the fair week at Ballinasloe. Their hospitality was not limited to invitations to dinner, for guests were welcomed, without special invitation, to breakfast and lunch and light refreshments during the day. It was an arrangement which gave pleasure to both hosts and guests, and was not without advantage to the company. A good dinner solves many a difficulty, whilst the post-prandial cigar and a glass of grog, like faith, removes mountains. One who, in the last century, became a great English statesman (Lord John Russell) when twenty years of age was in Spain. The Duc d'Infantado was President of the Spanish Ministry at the time. The Duke of Wellington was there too, and great banquets were being given. The Duc had more than once visited Lord John's home and enjoyed its hospitality, but he neglected to invite Lord John to any of his banquets; and this is the cutting comment which the youthful future statesman recorded in his diary: "The Infantado, notwithstanding the champagne and burgundy he got at Woburn, has not asked me. Shabby fellow! It is clear he is unfit for the government of a great kingdom."

In the creature comforts provided at Ballinasloe the working staff was not forgotten. Adjacent to the station was a large room in which meals were provided for the men, and another large room was furnished as a dormitory. Two long sleeping carriages had also been built for the accommodation of drivers, guards and firemen, which were used also for other fairs as well as that of Ballinasloe.

Ballinasloe was new to me, and I felt not a little anxious concerning the working of the fair traffic, which I knew was no child's play, and which I was told was often attended with serious delays. Early on Tuesday morning I was awakened, long before daylight, by the whistling of engines, the shunting of wagons and the shouting of men. My friend Atock and I rose early, went along to the loading banks where we found the work in full swing and one special train loaded with sheep ready to start. The entraining of sheep, not so difficult or so noisy a business as the loading of cattle, is attended with much less beating of the animals and with fewer curses; but there was noise enough, and I can, in fancy, hear it ringing in my ears now. Throughout the day I was besieged by grumbling and discontented customers: want of wagons, unfair distribution, favouritism, delays, were the burden of their complaints, and I had to admit that in the working of the Ballinasloe fair traffic all was not perfect. The rolling stock was insufficient; trains after a journey to Meath or Dublin with stock had to return to Ballinasloe to be loaded again, which was productive of much delay; and what added to the trouble was that everyone seemed to have a hand in the management of the business. It gave me much to think about. Before the next year's fair I had the whole arrangements well thrashed out, and when the eventful week arrived, placed the working of the traffic under the sole control of my principal outside men, with excellent results. In the course of a year or two the directors opened the purse strings and considerably increased the engine and wagon stock of the company which helped further, and by that time I had in charge an official, of whose energy and ability it is impossible to speak too highly, Thomas Elliott, then a promising young assistant, now the competent Traffic Manager of the railway. Under his management the work at Ballinasloe has for many years been conducted with clock-work regularity.

In 1891 there were 25,000 sheep at the fair, 10,000 cattle and 1,500 horses, and the company ran 43 special trains loaded with stock. The sheep fair is held in Garbally Park, on the estate of Lord Clancarty, and the counting of the sheep through a certain narrow gap, and the rapidity and accuracy with which it is done, is a sight to witness.

The hospitality part of the business was attended with the success it deserved, and helped to smooth the difficulties of the situation. I remember well our dinner on the Tuesday night. On the Monday we dined alone, directors and officers only, but on Tuesday the week's hospitality began. That night our table was graced with five or six guests, one being Robert Martin, of Ross, a famous wit and raconteur, and the author of Killaloe. It was a delightful party, for your Galway gentleman is a genial fellow, who likes a good dinner, and a good story which he tells to perfection. Sir Ralph never took the head of the table, liking best a less prominent seat; but his seat, wherever he chose to sit, always seemed to be to the central place. Never lacking natural dignity, he was not punctilious in mere matters of form. Secure in his authority, to its outward semblance he was rather indifferent. Another delightful guest was Sir George (then Mr.) Morris, brother of the late Lord Morris, the distinguished judge. Until a few months previously, Mr. Morris had been a director of the company, but had resigned upon his appointment to the position of Vice-President of the Irish Local Government Board. He, too, was a Galway man, big, handsome, with a fine flowing beard, a fund of humour, and the most genial disposition imaginable. His anecdotes were ever welcome, and the smallest incident, embellished by his wit and fancy, and told in his rich brogue, which he loved, were always sufficient to adorn a tale. He was rare company, and though, perhaps, he could not, like Swift, have written eloquently on a broomstick, he could always talk delightfully on any subject he chose.

Whilst Sir Ralph remained chairman of the company, which he did until the year 1904, the directors annual stay at Ballinasloe and its attendant hospitality continued. He was not likely to give up a good old custom. But time inevitably brings changes; for some years now the old hospitality has ceased, the rooms at Ballinasloe are turned into house accommodation for one or two of the staff, and the great fair is worked with no more ado than a hundred other fairs on the line. Not many complaints are made now, for delays and disappointments are things of the past. Yet, I dare say there are some who, still attending the fair, look back with regret on the disappearance of the good old days.

Ballinasloe station is on the main line to Galway, 34 miles distant from the "City of the Tribes." Galway is the principal western terminus of the Midland railway. It was once a famous city, but its glory has gone. In 1831 its population was 33,000; to-day it is 13,000! Then, measured by inhabitants, it was the fifth town in Ireland; now it is the eighth. Then it had a large trade with Spain and France, and was a place of note for general trade and commerce; now its harbour is almost idle, and its warehouses and stores nearly empty. Many of its stately old houses have disappeared, and those that remain are mostly now tenements of the poor. Not so very long ago Galway had a trans-Atlantic steamship service, and when the railway was opened in 1851, there was opened also a fine hotel adjoining the station, which the company had built, chiefly for trans- Atlantic business, at a cost of 30,000 pounds. It may be that better times are in store. Some day great harbour works will adorn the bay of Galway, from which fine steamers, forming part of an Imperial route to our Dominions and beyond, shall sail, and shorten the Atlantic voyage. A tunnel too, uniting Great Britain and Ireland, may be made, which all will agree, is "a consummation devoutly to be wished."

Galway is the gateway to Connemara, and Connemara is one of the best places under the sun for a healthy and enjoyable holiday. To be sure the sun does not always shine when expected, but he is seen much oftener than is generally believed. Of course, it sometimes rains, but the rain never lasts long, for no place has such quick and surprising climatic changes as the west of Ireland or such enchanting atmospheric effects. I soon became enamoured of Connemara, and for several years, in whatever time I could call my own, explored its mountain roads and valleys, sometimes on horseback, sometimes afoot, and sometimes on bicycle or outside car. The construction of our "Balfour" extension line from Galway to Clifden, begun in 1891 and finished in 1895, often called me on business to the wilds it penetrated, and gladly I always answered the call. Sometimes on these excursions one had to rough it a little, for hotel accommodation was scarce and scanty in some of the districts, but in one's early forties such trifles scarcely count.

As soon as I took up office at Broadstone, Sir Ralph informed me I was to be chairman of the Midland Great Western Benefit Society, which was partly a sick fund, partly a pension fund and applied to all the wages staff. It was managed by a committee of twelve, half of whom were appointed by the directors and half by the employees. Gladly I undertook a post which would bring me into close touch with the men. I made a point of never, if I could help it, being absent from a committee meeting; nor, more particularly, from the annual general meeting of the society when I had to give an address. It was always to me a pleasure to meet the men, to learn their views, and to help them as far as I could. This they soon discovered, and I had the satisfaction of knowing that I was liked and trusted. Early in life I had learned to sympathise with the wants and wishes of others, and sympathy I found increased one's power of usefulness. By sympathy I do not mean agreeing always with the men and their views, and I never hesitated to strongly express to them my own convictions, and rarely it was that they ever in the least resented the plainest speaking. I believe if the responsible leaders of labour would follow a similar course, it would be better for themselves, for the men they lead, and for the world at large. The deputy-chairman of the society was Michael O'Neill, the audit accountant of the company, and if ever a plain-spoken man, blunt and direct of speech existed, it was he. Every word he spoke had the ring of honest sincerity. To the men he spoke more plainly even than I, and him they never resented. I think their trust in him exceeded their trust in me. True he was Irish and I was not, and then they had known him much longer than me; and so, small blame to them, said I. One good thing for the society I managed to do. I induced the directors to treble the company's annual contribution to its funds, a substantial benefit, of course, to the men. I remained chairman of the society, and Michael O'Neill its deputy chairman till 1912, when the National Insurance Act came into operation. Then, by a resolution of a majority of its members, it was wound up, to the regret, however, of many of them, who preferred their own old institution which they knew so well, and in the management of which they had a voice, to what some of them styled "a new-fangled thing."

The occasions on which I have met, for the first time, men eminent in the railway world, and for whom I have had great admiration, have always left upon me very clear impressions, and this was particularly so in the case of Sir George Findlay, the General Manager of the London and North-Western Railway. He was not, however, Sir George when I met him first, but plain Mr. Findlay. It was in the year 1891, the occasion being one of the periodical visits to Ireland of the London and North- Western chairman, directors, and principal officers. They gave a dinner at their hotel in Dublin to which, with other Irish railway representatives, I was invited. My seat at dinner was next to Mr. Findlay, and I had much conversation with him. Then in his sixty-third year, he was, perhaps, interested in a young Englishman, 21 years his junior, who had not long begun his career as a railway manager, and who showed some eagerness in, and, perhaps, a little knowledge of, railway affairs.

I remember well the impression he made upon me. I felt I was in the presence of a strong, natural man, gifted with great discernment and ability but full also of human kindness. His face was one which expressed that goodness which the consciousness of power imparts to strong natures. He was a notable as well as what is called "a self-made" man, a fact of which he never boasted but I think was a little proud. He commenced work at the early age of fourteen as a mason--a boy help he could only have been--and continued a mason for several years. He was employed in the building of the new Houses of Parliament and much of the stone work and delicate tracery of the great window at the east end of Westminster Hall is the work of his hands. In his twenty-third year he became manager of the Shrewsbury and Ludlow Railway--probably the youngest railway manager recorded. Ten years later the Shrewsbury railway was acquired by the London and North-Western company, and Findlay, to use his own words, "was taken over with the rest of the rolling stock." This was how his London and North-Western railway career began. He was a tall, portly man of fine presence, distinguished by a large measure of strong, plain, homely commonsense, an absence of prejudice, a great calmness of judgment, and a fearless frankness of speech. His sense of honour was very high, and he impressed upon the service of which he was the executive head that the word of the London and North-Western Railway must always be its bond. "Be slow to promise and quick to perform," was his guiding precept. A born organiser and administrator, he knew how to select his men. Before Parliamentary Committees he was the best of witnesses, always cool and resourceful, with great command of temper, full of knowledge, and blest with a ready wit. His services as witness and expert adviser were in great request by railway companies. At the long Board of Trade Inquiry in connection with the Railway and Canal Traffic Act and Railway Rates and Charges, in 1889, he was the principal railway witness and was under examination and cross-examination for eight consecutive days. He had a real love for Ireland, was partly Irish himself, his father being Scotch and his mother Irish--a fine blend. Fishing was his chief recreation and this often brought him to the lakes and rivers of Ireland. He asked, was I the son of William Tatlow of the Midland Railway, whom he had met a good many years before on some coal rates question? On my saying, Yes, he was pleased to know that I belonged to a railway family; and said what a fine service the great railway service was, how absorbing the work and what scope it afforded for ambition and ability. He asked about my railway experience, was amused at my reason for leaving Derby and the Midland, and interested at hearing of my work with Mr. Wainwright, whom he had known and esteemed. He was sure I had learned nothing but good from him. I was able, and very glad, of course, to tell Mr. Findlay with what interest Bailey and I had listened for several days to his evidence at Westminster Hall at the Railway Rates Inquiry, and how much we had profited by it. This led to some talk on the great rates question, of which he was a master. I felt he was just a bit surprised to find that I was rather well informed upon it, which made me not a little proud. Altogether it was a memorable night, and left me with a feeling of elation such as I had experienced in the meetings I had in Glasgow some years before with Mr. John Burns and Mr. John Walker. How little I thought then, that in less than two years I should follow Mr. Findlay's remains to the grave.

Between the London and North-Western and the Midland Great-Western much good feeling existed. They were natural allies, both greatly interested in the trade and prosperity of Ireland, and of the port of Dublin in particular. As time went on many matters of mutual interest brought me into close relation with the North-Western general manager and other prominent officers of the company.