Sir Ralph was a man of striking appearance, tall and imposing in figure. His head was massive and fine. His full beard was snowy white, as white as his abundant hair which was of a beautifully soft silky texture, with a sheen like satin. His voice was low and at times not very distinct. This was disappointing as his conversation was always interesting, not only for its intrinsic value, but also by reason of his charmingly varied and copious vocabulary, and his perfectly balanced phrases. Naturally and without the least effort the aptest words sprang to his lips in perfect order and sequence. His letters, too, were always exceedingly well expressed. He wrote a neat, sloping, rather flowing and somewhat old-fashioned hand, which greatly resembled the writing of Beau Brummell, and, like the illustrious Beau’s, his numerals, which is rare nowadays, were very clearly and very beautifully formed. The Prince of Beaux was fastidious in his penmanship as in everything else. Sir Ralph’s half-yearly speeches to the shareholders, though delivered extempore, were models of perspicuity. He used the scantiest notes, mere headings of subjects, and a few scraps of paper containing figures which he usually remembered without their aid. Of his memory he was proud. One day, at a meeting of the Board, after recalling particulars of some old transaction which no one else could in the least recollect, he turned to me and said: “Well, Tatlow, you see I sometimes remember something.”
I rejoined: “Well, Sir Ralph, my only complaint is that you never forget anything.” The little compliment pleased him. Never in his whole life, he said, had he written out a speech, and hoped he never would, but he lived to do so once. As he advanced in years his voice grew weaker, and on the last occasion on which he presided at a meeting of shareholders, he wrote his speech, or partly wrote it and, at his request, I read it to the meeting. Reported verbatim his addresses read as though they had been composed and written with the utmost care, so precise and correct was the language and so consecutive the matter. Though few could hope to do so well as he, I have always thought that in addressing shareholders, railway chairmen might trust less to formally prepared speeches and more to their powers of extemporaneous exposition. Some chairmen do this I know, but others still read from manuscript. However able the matter, the reading, in my judgment, is much less effective than the spontaneous expression of the speaker. The atmosphere created by the meeting, often a valuable adjunct, cannot be taken advantage of when the speech is read, nor can the chance of improvising a telling point, of enforcing an argument, or of seizing a passing mood of the audience or some fleeting incident of the moment.
Sir Ralph was made a Director of the Midland Great Western Company in 1864, and a year later was elected chairman, a position he occupied for the long period of 39 years. In 1864 the railway was in a very bad condition, wretchedly run down, and woefully mismanaged. Indeed, according to an official report at the time, worse than mismanagement existed. It was stated: “There were grave charges of official corruption which necessitated the retirement of one of the leading officers from the company’s service.” This was very exceptional in railway history, for British and Irish railways possess a record that has rarely been sullied. In my long career I only remember two other instances—one, the famous Redpath fraud (a name not inappropriate for one whose destiny it was to tread a road that led to his ruin) on the Great Northern in 1856, which Sir Henry (then Mr.) Oakley greatly assisted in discovering, and which, I believe, led to his first substantial advancement; the other on the Belfast and Northern Counties in 1886. This was in Edward John Cotton’s time, but it would be superfluous to say that he was clear of blame for he was integrity itself. That the
occurrence could have happened during his management distressed him greatly I know.
When he was elected to the office of Chairman, Sir Ralph, it is said, accepted the position on the understanding that he should have autocratic power. In the task he undertook this was very likely desirable, and once acquired he was not the man to let such power slip from his grasp. His strong hands would firmly retain whatever they wished to hold.
In 1865 no less than 15 directors adorned the Midland Great Western Board, twice too many no doubt the chairman thought for a railway of 344 miles. In 1867 they were reduced to 8; in 1877 to 7; since when they have never numbered more. During the long period of Sir Ralph’s occupancy of the chair no deputy chairman existed. The chairman reigned alone. That he was an autocratic chairman, his brother directors, were they now living, would I am sure attest. But though a strong, it was a beneficent sway that he exercised. He could be hard at times, but his nature was essentially kind and generous and his friendships numerous and lasting. He prided himself on his knowledge of the railway staff, down to the humblest member. He had strong likes and dislikes, and those who came under his displeasure had sometimes cause to fear him; but they were amongst the few, and the many remember him with nothing but the kindest feelings. To me he was always a warm and sincere friend, and between us existed, without interruption, the greatest frankness and confidence.
How wonderfully adaptable a creature is man. I had not been a fortnight in my new position when I felt myself quite at home, as though Dublin and the West of Ireland had been my natural habitat. Belfast and the County Down receded into the past; and shall I confess it? much as I had liked the north, much as I admired the industry, manliness and energy of its people, much as I had enjoyed my life there, and highly as I esteemed the friends I had made, something I found in my new surroundings—easier manners, more of gaiety, and an admixture of pleasure with work—that added to life a charm I had hitherto missed, not only in the North of Ireland but in Glasgow and Derby as well.
The Secretary of the Midland Great Western Railway, George William Greene, and Martin Atock, the locomotive engineer, were good fellows, and
warm friends of each other. I became and remained the sincere friend of both until death took them hence. My principal assistant, called Assistant Manager, was John P. Hornsby, now in his 85th year and living in New Zealand. Robert Morrison, whom I stole for his good sense, manly worth, and excellent railway ability, from the Belfast and Northern Counties in October, 1891, succeeded Hornsby as my assistant. Afterwards he became goods manager at the time Thomas Elliot was appointed superintendent of the line, two appointments which relieved me of much detailed work.