was, as we have said, the main business of his life. His leisure was as the business of others. And while he was fortunate in the length of years allotted to him, he was still more fortunate because in the sad sense he never grew old. He preached incessantly the gospel of work, which he rightly welcomed as the true preserver of youth. "Frivolous pursuits," said he, on his ninetieth birthday, "base passions unsubdued, narrow selfishness, vacuity of mind, life with sordid aims or no aims at all—these are the things that bring age upon the soul. Healthful tastes, an open eye for what is beautiful and good in nature and in man, a happy remembrance of youthful pleasures, a mind never without some active interest or pursuit these are the things that carry on the feelings of youth into old age." There is the secret of his long and active life, a secret which few are permitted to discover. How well he discovered it all will acknowledge who remember the energy of his mind and body, his alert interest in men and things, the keen edge of his criticism, the clearness of his political and literary vision. He grew He endured one misfortune, inseparable from age. into a world which was not the world of his youth, and with which he was not in sympathy. He witnessed the victory of speed and noise with something like dismay. The motor-omnibuses which destroyed the quietude and amenity of his house in London were for him a source of constant distress, a symbol of growing vulgarity. How should one who remembered the old stage-coach take pleasure in the raucous manner of modern traffic? He fought the ogres in the newspapers and by the processes of law, and he fought in vain. It is idle to oppose the onset of Juggernaut's car, and idle people will still proclaim by horn and rattle that they are leaving a place they have no desire to leave for another which they have no need to visit. In still worse distress Sir Theodore watched the encroachment of the people. He saw politics degenerate into the basest kind of flattery, and it is not strange that he who had seen the more gracious method of other days should deplore the interested recklessness of our spendthrift Government. But he never despaired of the State; he believed devoutly in the reaction which will surely come; and he died as he lived, satisfied with the past, happy in the present, and of good hope for the future. Printed by William Blackwood and Sons. BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. No. MCXXVIII. OCTOBER 1909. VOL. CLXXXVI. THE LIGHTER SIDE OF MY OFFICIAL LIFE. EARLY DAYS AT THE IRISH BAR AND THE HOME OFFICE. BY SIR ROBERT ANDERSON, K.C.B. EVEN in the case of people of distinction an autobiography is too often a blunder. In the case of commonplace folk it is generally an impertinence. And I am not so foolish as to suppose that the public would care to know anything about me save in relation to matters of public interest. Here, however, I am in a difficulty. Having regard to the position I held for so long at Whitehall, and in more recent times at Scotland Yard, I cannot even now write about the Secret Service, or police work in London, save with much reserve and under definite restraints. But it is constantly urged upon me that even the lighter side of official life in these spheres has a fascination for many people, and that I might say not a little which VOL. CLXXXVI.—NO, MCXXVIII. would interest and amuse the public; and it is with this modest aim therefore that, postponing graver "reminiscences" to a future date, I now take up my pen. By way of introduction I may describe myself as an Anglicanised Irishman of Scotch extraction. My "forebears were among the Scotch colonists who made Ulster what it is. My only further reference to family history will be to mention that an ancestor of my mother, and an ancestor of my wife's mother, won fame in the siege of Derry-Colonel Gardner in command of royal troops, and Samuel Lee as leader of the "Prentice Boys," the freemen of Derry, to whom the sustained defence of the maiden city was chiefly due. Born and bred in Dublin, my 2 H home life in Ireland was interrupted only by two years spent in France-one year in Boulogne and one in Paris. In view of recent events in France, certain reminiscences of my school days in Boulogne are not without interest. It was then the habit of the children of the lower orders to insult the priests, a practice which indicated the sort of influence that prevailed in their homes. And we English boys fared still worse at their hands. Corbeau was the usual epithet shouted after a priest as he passed along the street; Sale Anglais, Vaterloo, was the signal for many a scrimmage in which we had to stand on our defence, or not infrequently, I must confess, to bolt. Of my life in Paris I will not speak, though if I were somebody else about whom I might speak in the third person I should be tempted to tell something of what a schoolboy saw and heard in the French capital in the early days of the Second Empire. And not a little of the chatter of my French playmates might possibly be worth repeating—as, ex. gr., the versions they gave me of some of our English nursery rhymes. Never since have I heard them, nor have I ever seen them in print. Here is a specimen "Petit bo-bouton A perdu ses moutons, Et ne sait pas qui les a pris. Et chacun son queue après lui." And our old friend Humpty Dumpty is better still But I am forgetting the selfdenying ordinance paraded on my opening page. When I left school, a rich and sonless friend of my father, the owner of one of the famous Dublin breweries, brought me into his business with the generous intention of making my fortune. And I may mention with pardonable pride that within a year I was promoted to be cashier in this great commercial house. But the love of money does not become a passion in the schoolboy stage of life; and after eighteen months of office I became increasingly conscious of my deficiencies in "book-learned skill," to borrow Goldsmith's phrase. A Dublin University degree might be obtained without residence, by passing the prescribed examinations, and I appealed to my would-be benefactor to consent to my absenting myself from the office on all examination days. But this he refused, and his refusal led to my abandoning “busi ness." And four years later I was called to the Irish Bar. I cherish pleasant memories of those years. Religion and politics are the bane of Ireland. But the politicians and the priests had not yet poisoned the life of the country; and in Trinity College Orangemen and Romanists, "ferocious Radicals" and high Tories, mixed together and discussed their differences with the courtesy and kindliness of Irish gentlemen. We learned to give and take, and to respect one another's opinions. This element has always been characteristic of Trinity College, and it is precisely the element which evokes the implacable hostility of Maynooth. There may perhaps be two sides to the Home Rule controversy; and it is possible that if Home Rule had been granted half a century ago it might have proved a success. But there are no two sides to this University question. And the men who are responsible for setting up a University designed to keep Irishmen apart, and to teach them to distrust or despise those who differ from them in religion, will deserve to be pilloried for all time. No greater evil could be inflicted on that unfortunate country. Among "the benefits of a University education" one of the chiefest is precisely the element which a sectarian University is intended to eliminate. But cui bono? At a certain stage of life people are apt to become slovenly-minded. They "don't want to be bothered." And this is the attitude which England seems now to adopt toward Irish questions. In the scramble for office a philosopher is appointed to govern Ireland. He is followed by a Chief Secretary who belongs (shall I say?) to a different category. In due course the country is naturally reduced to a condition of utter lawlessness and demoralisation. And what is to be done? The row in the nursery is intolerable: the children are quarrelling and screaming because they cannot get this or that. "Well, let them have whatever they want. We can't have this disgraceful noise." In this parable lies "the Irish question." Lord Morris's witty definition of it applies with special aptness to-day. was," he said, "the attempt of an honest, stupid people to govern a quick-witted, dishonest people." And this mot applies not only to the two nations but to the men who respectively represent them on the front bench and below the gangway of the House of Commons. "It While all my memories of Trinity College are pleasant, the pleasantest are those which relate to the Clubs and Societies. And first and chiefest to the famous "College Historical "sister society to the Unions of Oxford and Cambridge. The most distinguished members of the Society were my seniors,1 but as my brother was their contemporary I was admitted to the circle of their friendship. In the Historical Society it was that I acquired any capacity I possess for public speaking. If, instead of being an utter sceptic, I were credulous enough to accept the biological I may 1 Not a few of them have since made their mark in the world. mention among others Lecky (the historian), Gibson (now Lord Ashbourne), Plunket (now Lord Rathmore), Wilson (now Rt. Hon. Sir Arthur Wilson, K.C.I.E.), &c. theories of Spencer and Huxley, I should conclude that the particular "germ" from which my stock was evolved must have wriggled into life at a very late stage of evolutionary processes. For with us the gift of speech is as yet but imperfectly developed. From my father I inherited a natural inaptitude for speaking in public. Well do I remember my first attempt at the "Historical." We met in the great dining-hall of the College. The debate was an important one: the attendance of both members and the public was unusually large, and some of our best speakers had preceded me. I was half sick with nervousness when I rose, and before I was many minutes on my legs the big gasolier and the distinguished Don who occupied the chair both began to gyrate round me. My knees began to give way and my head to spin. I could no longer see my notes, and I was on the point of collapsing on the floor, when as an expiring effort I emitted one of my elaborately prepared "impromptus.' It evoked a laugh and a cheer. The effect was magical. In an instant the chairman and the gasolier got back into position; my eyes followed suit, my legs stiffened, and when I sat down I was heartily congratulated on my "maiden speech." soon became one of the regular speakers at the weekly debates, and in due course I was elected Auditor (or President) of the Society. The moral of which is that a man can do what he makes up his mind to do. In the morning paper that lies I before me as I write, I see a notice of a police charge against a dumb man for using bad language. It reminds me of an answer I once heard my brother give when asked whether he could play the violin: "I don't know," said he; "I never tried"! A My reminiscences of College days are all the happier because they are free from any element to which one need look back with distress or regret. And yet we did some wild things. One such may be worth telling. In those days "Chief Baron Nicholson's mock court in the "Cider Cellars " was one of the stock amusements of London. I forget who it was that suggested the scheme of getting up an entertainment of the kind; but it caught on, and was carried through with great success. Manor Courts were then in existence. Manor Court had a civil jurisdiction akin to that of the County Courts when first established. And the judge was nominated by the Lord of the Manor. My father was at this time "Seneschal of the Manor of Mary's Abbey," an appointment which he owed to the friendship of Lady Harriet Cowper, the Earl of Blessington's daughter, who when a school - girl had been married to Count d'Orsay by her stepmother, the notorious Countess, and who was then the wife of Mr Spencer Cowper, from whom the King's Sandringham estate was afterwards purchased. We decided to make use of my father's court-house for our scheme. Accordingly my |