SIR ROBERT ANDERSON
Secret Service
Theologian
BIOGRAPHY
CHAPTER VII
HOME LIFE
Mercies new and never-failing
Brightly shine through all the past,
Watchful care and loving-kindness.
Always near from first to last,
Tender love, Divine protection,
Ever
with us day and night;
Blessings more than we can number
Strew the path
with golden light.
HESTER PERIAM HAWKINS.
O happy home where Thou
art not forgotten
When joy is overflowing, full and free
O happy home
where every wounded spirit
Is brought, Physician, Comforter, to Thee.
C. J. P. SPITTA; translated by S. L. FINDLATER.
WHEN our parents married in 1873 the first home was at 7
Kensington Gore, South Kensington, almost in the shadow of the Royal Albert
Hall. Four years later a move was made to 39 Linden Gardens on the north side
of Hyde Park, and there they lived until my fathers death forty years on.
The family consisted of four sons and one daughter, all destined to fare
forth in time from the home-land. My own arrival upon th scene was thus
announced to a relative in Ireland:
'My knowledge of infants less than a
month old is mostly derived from the description of the younger Dombey. And all
I can say is that young Anderson entered the world neither very red, very bald,
nor very ugly; but on the contrary with a most pleasing complexion, a fair head
of hair (fair in both senses) and a general appearance that has gone far to
reconcile me to my fate. Like Tom Stickers infant, he resembles his
father about the back of the neck ; he takes after his mother in respect of
whiskers."
In his old age,when my own younger daughter was born, he wrote
to his sister in Dublin: "I am sending the following notice to the-Morning
Post, "At Dunara, Helensburgh, on the 8th instant, to Sir Robert Anderson,
K.C,B., another grand-daughter. Both ..doing as well as could be expected.
Friends will please accept this intimation. No flowers by request." A
postscript added
"A. wont let me send the notice." - His parents with
his unmarried sisters lived for many years in Knapton House, Monkstown, about
six miles from Dublin.
During our childhood the summer holidays were
always spent with them, our father joining us for his leave. No slight
attraction was a three-acre garden wherein were all manner of fruits. From
Knapton shorter visits were paid to Glenburn, an old-world cottage at the foot
of the Dublin Mountains, belonging to our Uncle Sam (Sir Samuel Lee Anderson,
whose wife was a Barcroft of Newry, Co. Down). This provided many country
delights; and so did Howth House where our Uncle Walter Boyd (Justice of the
High Court of Justice in Ireland, later Sir Walter Boyd, Bart., P.C.) and his
family spent the summer months. There we never tired of grubbing in the harbour
in the intervals of bathing, fishing, sailing, or tramping over Howth Head
which looked down on the Bay of Dublin. (" My heart you're
troublin'.")
Until his retirement in 1900 my father's daily routine was
more or less as follows : after family prayers, away to the Home Office or
Scotland Yard; back again just in time for dinner; much of the evening given up
to the writing of his many books, except when official work had been brought
home or when he had preaching or other evening engagements. Naturally therefore
we did not see much of him, even when we were at home, apart from Sundays and
public holidays and during vacations. During the Scotland Yard period, however,
after the regular summer leave was over, he used to take a house somewhere on
the outskirts of London where we could all be together. As long as it was
within the far-flung boundaries of the Metropolitan Police area this was in
order, and he was able to join us on the tennis court in the evenings.
Occasionally at other times we had games of tennis with him at the National
Club, then situated on the Thames Embankment not far from "the Yard." For many
years he was on the Club committee, and in 1917 was elected an honorary
member.
His official position brought certain incidental advantages to us.
I remember watching the Lord Mayor's Show and other spectacles from the Home
Office windows in Whitehall; whilst in the C.I.D. days reserved seats for
cricket matches at Lord's or the Oval did not come amiss, nor did the
opportunity of following the Boat Race in the police launch.
Of all the
many processions one saw in London, Queen Victoria's funeral made the most
lasting impression on me. From the top of the Wellington Arch at Hyde Park
Corner, reserved for the police and their friends, giving a view of the whole
length of Constitution Hill down to the Palace, one watched the slow approach
of the great sombre cavalcade on that grey winter day. Behind the gun carriage
rode the first British king even our parents had ever seen. In his biography of
Edward VII, Sir Sidney Lee writes of Queen Victoria: "Her prolonged tenure of
Royal place and of such Royal power as the British constitution allowed her fed
the popular fancy that death would never claim her, and that her reign was
unending." In those days there was no telephone in our house; an old-fashioned
telegraph instrument spelled out messages from Scotland Yard on a dial, and
members of the Family became fairly proficient at reading them. To this day I
have a vivid recollection of taking the message on 22nd January 1901 which
began: "The Queen died . . ."; and of feeling that the stable world in which
one had grown up was no more.
A memory of a very different kind is of the
annual performances by the Metropolitan Police Minstrels in aid of the Police
Orphanage. To us youngsters they were amongst the highlights of the year; I
doubt whether any professional coons could have excelled them. We were keenly
interested in the individual artistes, as we were also in the constables who
were on duty day and night outside our home. A special favourite amongst the
Minstrels was named Stroud, many of whose quips passed into the family
vocabulary.
All his life my father was fond of exercise. He often walked
down to his office across Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park, then through St.
James's Park to Whitehall; about three miles with only a fraction of it in the
streets. He was proud of being a Londoner and of the amenities of the capital
in respect of its public parks. A favourite story was of an incident occurring
on one of these walks. "One morning on my way to Scotland Yard," he relates, "I
picked up a brooch. As it was a prominent object lying in the middle of the
path, I took for granted it had been dropped by one or other of two nurse-maids
walking ahead of me, the only human beings in sight. The trinket was an '0. U.
Duck' brooch, the vowels being intertwined in a cipher with a little gilt duck
underneath. The first of the girls told me at once she did not wear a brooch.
When I overtook the other and asked had she dropped one, she replied: 'I think
so, 'sir; what kind is it?' Had I produced it she would certainly have claimed
it; but with a stolid face and in a leaden tone I said, '0. U. Duck.' '0y, you
go along,' she exclaimed with a toss of her head, as she jerked herself away.
On arriving at my office I gave the brooch and the story to my Superintendent,
and within twenty minutes the trinket was in the Lost Property Department and
the story in every branch of the Commissioner's Office."
Rotten Row in
those days was a great meeting-place for society folk riding or walking. One of
my brothers and I were with my father when he met and introduced us to Lord
Rosebery, (5th Earl of Rosebery, Prime Minister 1894-5) who, I remember, spoke
of the insomnia which was such a trial to him. One of my father's books, by the
way, which would seem to have been sent somewhat apologetically brought this
characteristic note : "My dear Anderson, On the contrary, I shall read every
word, and thank you heartily for it. Yours sincerely, R."
My brother Edmund
says the mention of Rotten Row reminds him of a day when he was walking there
with my father, and the Duchess of Somerset (wife of the 15th Duke), passing on
horse-back close to the rails, greeted him and remarked that it was a fine day.
My father cordially agreed, but before she was out of ear-shot asked my brother
what she had said. He replied more or less sotto voce, but it was no good ;
"Speak up ; I can't hear." So the information had to be given to the world.
"Well," said my father, " I knew whatever she said would probably be true, so I
assented!" That they had thoughts in common about matters of deeper import than
the weather is shown by these words from her:
"Thank you very much for the
book The Honour of His Name. I like it much and the teaching it
contains. You are right; no words should fail to express the high tribute we
should prefer in hymns (or sermons) to the Divine Master.
"SUSAN
SOMERSET."
When my father was appointed to Scotland Yard a horse and police
groom were placed at his disposal, and he then usually rode to the office; his
diaries refer to those whom he met. Sir Edward Bradford (the Chief
Commissioner) was often his companion. Other names occurring now and again are
those of Colonel Adams, Frank Bevan, Lord Dynevor, Lord Eustace Cecil, George
and Edmund Hanbury, G. J. Shaw le Feuvre, Sir Joseph Pease, Abel Smith, Ernest
Tritton, Lord Spencer (Viceroy of Ireland 1869-74) (" Talked of LongJohn
O'Connor etc."), also John McNeill, the famous preacher and evangelist. One
entry is: "Rode with Miss P. with whom I had an earnest talk."
One whom he
greatly enjoyed meeting in the Row, and with whom he had many a talk, was Lord
Wolseley (Viscount Wolseley, Commander-in-Chief of the Army in succession to
H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge, 1895-1900). A note from the latter refers to
them: "I have only just returned from a yachting cruise, but now hope to meet
you often on horse-back again during our rides in the Park." My father's
diaries often speak of their meeting; one entry is : "Lord W. hailed me to
announce the relief of Ladysmith last night." In this connection a note in the
1902 diary is of interest: "Had a noteworthy talk with Sir R. Harrison of
Fortificatiçns 1898-1903] about Lord W.'s work at the Department. Two
years ago, when panic seized War Office and Government, he alone kept his head.
We were very near a European war, and Lord W. would have taken the command at
Aldershot." Another diary entry is: "Lord W. gave me his Decline and Fall of
Napoleon." I believe this subject was often the topic of their talks. When
my father had sent Lord Wolseley a very different kind of book, the reply
was:
"My DEAR SIR ROBERT,-Thank you many times for your great kindness in
sending me a copy of your book Pseudo-Criticism. I hope to study it, and
I am sure to obtain from its pages- as I have so often done in conversation-
many most useful lessons. I hope you enjoy your retirement as much as I do.
"Always believe me to be,
"Yours most sincerely,
"WOLSELEY."
Sir
Robert had a quaint way of expressing himself which often intrigued the public.
During the Anglo-Boer war enteric fever was a serious menace, and it was stated
that the men could not be restrained from drinking any water they came across.
In a letter to a London paper he asserted that thirst was a matter of habit,
and that he himself had not been thirsty for a quarter of a century! Many
provincial journals quoted this as a curiosity. Incidentally, having campaigned
in Central Africa, I have more sympathy with the "Tommies."
He was a law
unto himself as regards clothes apart from uniform or evening dress. Until folk
like the Labour members introduced less formality, frock coats were de rigueur
at Royal Garden Parties. My father disliked the garment and I think never
possessed one; he did not in the least mind being the only man in the
assemblage without it. I remember, by the way, my mother's scornful account of
presumably distinguished guests at one of these functions stampeding for the
refreshment marquees the moment they were free to do so. An experience related
in a racy letter from Mrs. Sholto Douglas really must come in here. My father
had been her escort to a Royal Drawing Room, and she wrote afterwards
"I
shall be always grateful; it was a really kind action; and if you had any idea
how enthusiastically I love our Great Relation {H.M. Queen Victoria], and how I
longed to see her, you would be glad you had helped me to accomplish this. I
felt lone and lorn when your silver coat-tails had turned and left me behind."
She then describes the roomful of people with whom she found herself:
"Certainly they had never learnt 'Court behaviour,' for when the moment came
there was such a rush as I shall never forget. I was hustled and banged, and
for three terrible minutes I wished I had been a rough and that I had on no
finery that would spoil in a free fight, and no reputation to lose by '
unladylike behaviour.'
"However, having squeezed the two poor
long-suffering soldier-men flat as pulp against the doorways in our mad career,
we emerged on the other side panting but solemn, everybody having steadfastly
held her place against all comers, and we fell into decorous line. . . . I have
not gone through it all for many years, and my condition was lonely and
unsupported, but I fixed an eye on the one person in the world I most wanted to
see, and descended as near to her level as my stiff knee would allow. The whole
Row behaved with great kindness and friendliness, and the Duke of Connaught at
the end made so many remarks about Arthur {Her brother, Maj. Gen. A.H.Paget.
Their father was Gen. Lord Alfred Paget] that it is a wonder the next terrified
female coming on behind didn't tumble over my tail and cause a sensation."
My father often thoroughly enjoyed such "functions." His diary for 1908 has
this about a Garden Party at Windsor when my mother was with him: "We had a
delightful day. Met heaps of friends and acquaintances. Had a shake hands with
the Queen [Alexandra] and the Duke of Connaught." He did not find any
difficulty in passing from them to the deeper interests of his life and vice
versa; the diary for 9th July 1891 records: "Garden Party at Marlborough House
for the Queen [Victoria] and the German Emperor"; and the next day: "Dined at
Lord Kinnairds. Bible Reading at Miss Kinnairds; Titus iii. Bland,
Mahony etc. Back to K.s to dress, and then to State Ball." The variety of
his engagements is illustrated by these diary entries on a day in 1911 "3 p.m.
Lady Jane Taylors meeting re Socialist Sunday Schools. The Duchess of
Somerset in the Chair. I was the first speaker. . . . 6 p.m. Dined at
Whitefriars Club, Andertons Hotel. Anthony Hope Hawkins was Prior.
Irving, the actor, the guest; he spoke, then Sir Henry Matthews, then
me! " The diaries have occasional references to interesting things he
heard. In January 1903 I find this: "Dined with Adams. General Moncrieff of
Scots Guards told me how he was ordered with 180 men to Osborne in 1869 to
protect the Queen because of a letter warning of a plot to kidnap her!"
My
recollections of the great Moody and Sankey evangelistic campaigns are not very
clear. I remember being at one of their crowded meetings when Mr. Sankeys
singing made a greater impression on me than the address. My people were
specially attracted by the preaching of the Rev. George F. Pentecost, who with
Mr. George C. Stebbins as his singing half-section formed another team, as one
would say to-day. Dr. Pentecost was a great Bible student, and his Gospel
addresses were full of doctrinal teaching. This appealed to my people as much
as his remarkable personality, and both evangelists became great friends of
ours. Mr. Stebbins, who was the composer of many popular hymn tunes, wrote one
for my fathers Safe in Jehovahs Keeping. Dr. Pentecost
afterwards occupied the pulpit of Marylebone Presbyterian Church for some time,
and we often went to hear him; although he usually preached for an hour I never
found it too long. I remember one occasion when, speaking on the words "Being
rooted and grounded in love," he paused and, looking down on some of the worthy
elders of the kirk sitting near the pulpit, remarked:
"Some of you are
rooted and grounded in Presbyterianism."
We youngsters were interested in
all the varied guests visiting our home. In addition to ordinary relations and
friends some came for the sake of a talk on Biblical themes. One of these, the
Rev. J. J. B. Coles, a retired clergyman, would drop in unexpectedly to any
meal. Once when this happened to be breakfast he was so absorbed in his talk
that he was quite oblivious of the need for getting on to the days work.
Turning to my father he asked if he had been thinking lately about the Vision
of the Vials in the Book of Revelation (or some such topic). Like a flash my
father replied: "Ill tell you if you eat your fish" ; and this brought
him down to earth with a bump. Mr. Coles never failed to be interesting and
original. Answering a letter from him on some question of interpretation my
father wrote: "Id rather have your heresies than the orthodoxies of most
men; for even when you are really heretical you suggest thought, and that I
always value!"
Another frequent caller was Professor Hechler, who had been
chaplain to the British Embassy in Vienna, and had there come into contact with
the Emperors of Austria and Germany and other potentates and diplomats. I
clearly recollect his telling us how he had met Theodor Hertzl in the early
days of the Zionist movement, and had asked him whether he was seeking to
fulfil the Old Testament prophecies of the restoration of Israel to Palestine.
Having pointed out that it was useless for anyone to try to fulfil prophecy,
Dr. Hechier was amazed to learn that Hertzl was not in the least interested in
the prophecies, nor indeed in the spiritual and religious aspect of Judaism. I
learned later that this was confirmed by Rabbi J. L. Landau, of the United
Hebrew Congregations in Johannesburg, who told also that Hertzl at that time
did not believe in the possibility of Hebrew becoming again a living language,
but that his attitude changed in many respects afterwards.
One of the most
popular visitors at all times was our family physician, Dr. A. R. Hamilton
Bland. When we were kids he always made time for fun with us, so that being ill
was no misfortune. Mr. Earle Bland, his brother, used to play the same role
during the holidays in Ireland to our great content. Another doctor who paid
non-professional visits at unorthodox hours was Dr. T. Gilbart-Smith; a
familiar sound at the locked and bolted hall door about midnight would announce
his arrival with the latest yarns and jokes. My fathers own sense of
humour, by the way, sometimes surprised those who imagined him always serious
and sedate. His friend Mr. Fegan said that he had a delight truly Irish in
dropping a bombshell in any gathering, and the more staid the company the more
he enjoyed startling them. An occasional diary entry gives an amusing flash.
This of a meeting for men at which he was the speaker: "A girl with a
music-hall shake and scream sang a solo." And this about a lecture at
Newcastle:
"A middle-aged and aggressive spinster was enthusiastic; had
heard Gladstone, Bright, etc., but never such an address as mine!" Mr.
Fegans own sense of humour may be judged from this incident mentioned in
the Quarterly Record of his Homes. On his way back from a football match once
he called for his mother, who had been at a prayer meeting. An old gentleman
opening the door to young Fegan, who was wearing a button-hole, said kindly:
"I always think when I see a young man with a flower in his buttonhole
that he has not done with the earthhe is earthy." Fegan thought for a
moment and replied, "Well, sir, I always think the same when I see an old man
eating a potato!"
My father was always fond of children and enjoyed playing
with them. But, especially as he grew older and his deafness increased, he
found the school-boy type rather beyond his range. In our Cambridge days my
brothers Alan and Edmund and I were actively associated with boys camps,
whilst Graham was doctor in a Training Ship, and always got on well with boys
in the navy. My father remarked once that he failed to understand how we could
be his sons, because to him the boy was the natural enemy!
In connection
with these camps - run by varsity men for public-school boys in the
holidays - we had occasional "squashes" for boys living within reach of our
home; these were in the nature of reunions for those who had been at the camps.
To make room for a hundred or more in our drawing-room the furniture had to be
shifted and cane seats brought in. For this and other preparations all
available hands were needed, a scratch meal being fitted in somehow. My father
would retire gracefully to his study, where he would have his dinner in peace
before settling down to the evenings work. His diary for 1908 has a note
of one of these occasions : " Over 100 came, a crowded room-full. The
Chaplain-General [Taylor Smith] bossed the show. He came at 6 and dined with me
at 7. He gave a very earnest and solemn address at the meeting after supper."
The gatherings followed the camp routine; a sing-song followed by supper (in
lieu of cocoa and biscuits), and then evening prayers. Amongst other speakers
were Admiral Sir James Startin, A.M., and Mr. Arthur Mercer. Sometimes my
father would only put in an appearance at the close of the evening, telling the
boys that if they had enjoyed themselves he hoped they would show it in the
usual manner - by coming again. A very interesting account of the Universities
Camps for Public Schools, known to-day as the Varsities and Public
Schools Camps, was written by Tom Inskip, of Kings College, Cambridge,
now Viscount Caldecote. For some years the late Robert Medill acted as
Brigade-Adjutant (i.e. organiser), the Brigade-Commandant being Colonel Charles
Russell.
Amongst the recollections of still earlier days some of the
happiest are associated with Sunday afternoon childrens services. We were
fortunate in having as leaders of these at different times three men who made a
great appeal on the human side quite apart from their spiritual power. The
first was the Rev. W. R. Mowil, curate of All Souls Church, Langham Place, and
later Vicar of Brixton. I can see him now demonstrating the breast stroke after
the meeting, his massive frame poised precariously on a drawing-room piano
stool. Another was Dr. A. T. Schofield, one of the most interesting
personalities and speakers imaginable. Both were special friends of our family,
as was Mr. A. C. P. Coote, afterwards Sir Algernon Coote, Bart., H.M.L., of
Ballyfin, Ireland, who greatly influenced us at the all-important teen
age.
"Religion" was never a thing apart in our home nor a solemn matter to
be reserved for Sundays and special occasions. It was "all of a piece" with the
rest of life and seemed entirely natural. The element of compulsion was
altogether absent, even on Sundays, when it was never a case of "Must we go?"
but rather of "May we not go?" (to church or meeting). And it was a real
pleasure to accompany my father when he was preaching or speaking. We were, by
the way, definitely not unthinking hero-worshippers; if heredity counts for
anything we could hardly help being critical. But it was impossible not to be
impressed by the way in which he seemed able to deal with almost every problem
brought to him, every question on which light was sought. His friend Colonel
Richard Adams said of him afterwards : "I knew your father for more than thirty
years; and I can say that he was one of the ablest men I ever knew. In any case
where the facts were all before him he seemed almost intuitively to arrive at a
correct conclusion." One of my unfading memories is of his reverence for the
Scriptures. A visible token of this was dislike of seeing anything, even a
hymn-book, placed on top of a Bible. He was intensely reserved and did not
easily show his deepest feelings. One therefore specially values words like
these from Lady Kinnaird (Alma Kinnaird, née Agnew), who wrote to my
mother on hearing of his death: "His anxiety was always for you these past
months, and his last letter to me in Scotland a few weeks ago ends with,
If our Lord were on earth I would cross to its farthest bounds to ask Him
to heal my Agnes."
In later years, as indicated in the closing
chapter of this book, he was often depressed by a sense of loneliness and by
his deafness. Probably those who have no experience of this affliction and the
accompanying head-noises have little conception of what sufferers have to bear,
and how much they need.sustaining grace. A letter quoted in Chapter VI from the
Archbishop of Sydney gives a hint of this. Recalling memories of Dover, Dr.
Mowll says : "I remember as I walked with him once down to the sea-front after
a meeting his shouting to me, But for the grace of God I would not be fit
for a bear to live with !
His diaries at one stage frequently refer to
disturbed nights, with attacks of "blue devils," when he even had to go
downstairs and read. He may have been suffering in this way when he wrote to
his friend Duncan Davidson:
"Mv DEAR D.D., Your words of cheer about my
effort are encouraging. I cherish no thought of evil toward you in regard to my
visit to Inchmarlo, but only thoughts of gratitude for kindness that made a
duty visit to Aberdeen a very enjoyable outing. But I have not forgiven myself
for my outbursts. I was jumpy all that week through being over-wrought." After
a spell of bad nights in 1908 there is this note : "I had an epoch-making
experience in prayer and got very near to God. He heard me. I have asked that
the years that remain to me may be bright with His blessing. The cloud passed
off, and I had freedom from the depression. . . . Had the best night yet."
"Goodness and Mercy." These words recur again and again in the diaries
throughout his life. on 1st January 1904 there is this entry: "Arthur in Cape
Town, Alan in Amoy, Graham at Haslar, Edmund in Birmingham, Agneta here. All
well. Goodness and Mercy." Another diary note in 1895 reveals some
of his thoughts about us: "I spoke [at Talbot Tabernacle] on Hebrews xi. 15,
They might have had opportunity to have returned, i.e. turned back;
specially thinking of my own boys." With never-failing remembrance, right on to
the close of his earthly life, the absent members were mentioned individually
at family prayers. And the petitions came straight from the heart. In a letter
to my mother after his death, Mr. Duncan Davidson said:
"I was privileged
by his speaking to me of his tender feelings and love to you and his family. He
had a rarely tender heart. I always felt I could come to him for instruction
and strength and close fellowship, and I thank God for him."
He was indeed,
as is often the case with outwardly reserved folk, very dependent on sympathy
and responsive to it. In his younger days there existed between his brother
Samuel and himself a rare friendship. For many years scarcely a day passed
without their exchanging letters between London and Dublin. After my
uncles death in 1886 right on to his own passing more than thirty years
later he felt the loss of that companionship and fellowship.
My father
seems hardly ever to have destroyed a letter; and after his death, when a
five-storey house was being exchanged for a moderate-sized flat, the family
were confronted with a problem indeed. I got back to London from South Africa
early in 1919 to find the available members wrestling with it; the quotations
given in this memoir are taken from only a few of the letters which were
preserved. They may be sufficient to support the opinion expressed in early
years by Mrs. Piazzi Smith, wife of the astronomer with whom he came into touch
officially in Edinburgh.
Writing about his book The Gospel and its
Ministry, Mrs. Smith said: "From our first acquaintance with you we felt
there was something in you different from the ordinary run of men."
(From Chapter Eight)
MARRIAGE -
in 1873
FROM the age of thirty-two until his death at seventy-seven my
father had the inestimable blessing of the companionship and selfless devotion
of the one whose memory is very precious to many besides her own kith and
kin.
Agnes Alexandrina Moore was the elder daughter of Ponsonby Arthur
Moore, whose father, a clergyman of the Church of Ireland, was a grandson of
the fifth Earl of Drogheda. On the death of his cousin, the third and last
Marquess, the earldom passed to my mothers only brother, Ponsonby William
Moore. She was then raised to the rank of an earls daughter as if her
father had succeeded to the title.
(It has not been thought necessary to
reproduce here all the details in the biography of Sir Robert's wife's family.
So a chapter has been omitted. Webmaster)
Chapter
Nine
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