Memoirs of James Robert Hope-Scott Part 14

It would be a great pleasure to spend some time with you, and then I have ever had the extremest sympathy for Walter Scott, that it would delight me to see his place. When he was dying I was saying prayers (whatever they were worth) for him continually, thinking of Keble's words, 'Think on the minstrel as ye kneel.' (Dr. Newman to J. R. H. from Edgbaston, Birmingham, Oct. 29, '52.)

Not less interesting is a letter in which he recalls this visit, years after. Writing to Mr. Hope-Scott on Christmas Eve, 1857 [compare p. 131], Dr. Newman says:--

I am glad to call to mind and commemorate by a letter the pleasant days I pa.s.sed in the North this time five years. Five years has a melancholy sound to me now, for it is like a pa.s.sing-bell, knolling away time. I hope it is not wrong to say that the pa.s.sage of time is now sad to me as well as awful, because it brings before me how much I ought to have done, how much I have to do, and how little time I have to do it in.... I wonder whether Badeley is with you? What a strange thing life is! We see each other as through the peep-holes of a show. When had I last a peep at him or you?

At Abbotsford one blessing was still wanting to the completion of domestic happiness. It may be a.s.sumed that, after successes so brilliant, Mr. Hope could not but desire to found a family which should continue, in his own line, names so famous as those which he inherited and represented; but this was long withheld. His first child, a boy, was still-born (1848); the next, after an interval of four years (October 2, 1852, Feast of the Guardian Angels), was a daughter, Mary Monica (now the Hon. Mrs. Maxwell-Scott), named after a favourite saint of his; and several years more elapsed before the birth of another son. A pa.s.sage from one of Bishop Grant's letters to Mr. Hope will be read with interest at this point, both for the characteristic piety and for the intimacy of their friendship to which it witnesses:--

_The Right Rev. Dr. Grant, Bishop of Southwark, to J. R. Hope, Esq., Q.C._

Dec. 10, 1852.

My dear Mr. Hope,--... As you will have more opportunities at Abbotsford than you will perhaps find in London, it may be well to tell you that the Italian nurses begin almost before children know how to use their eyes, to make them notice prints or statues of our dear Mother and of the saints.

This helps their imagination, such as it is; and, after all, when we know how some babes notice their parents and nurses, there is every reason why we should accustom them to notice holy things. And, as they begin to talk, it is right to follow the rule which St. Augustine says his mother had, of constantly letting the sacred names drop, so that the great doctor says she completely destroyed his relish for all oratory from which those sweet names were absent.

May the blessings of Christmas fall abundantly on all at Abbotsford!

Yours very affectionately,

THOMAS GRANT.

Mr. Hope's domestic circle at this time included Mr. Lockhart, who, though not yet a very old man, was verging towards the close of a literary life of great toil. He was much with his son-in-law and daughter in Scotland and in London, and they sometimes stayed with him in Suss.e.x Place. At length he had his books taken down to Abbotsford, where they still are, in a room called the Lockhart Library. When absent, he wrote almost daily either to his daughter or to Mr. Hope; and the collection of his letters, still preserved, affords a most amusing record, sparkling with genial sarcasm, of whatever was going on around him in London society. There is endless talk and incident, floating in that society, which never finds its way into print, or not till after the lapse of many years; and such is precisely the material of this home correspondence of Mr. Lockhart's. It would be perhaps difficult to name letters with which they can be accurately cla.s.sed. I do not forget Horace Walpole, and Swift's 'Journal to Stella.' But Lockhart's wit was more playful and more natural. The great charm of his letters is, that he thought, so far, of nothing but simply to relate what was likely to amuse his daughter, whether the matter in itself was of the least consequence or not. Such, however, were not the only topics of which he had to tell. Mr. Lockhart, who, with his somewhat haughty self-possession, might have been described, as the late Lord Aberdeen was, by one who knew him well, as 'possessing a heart of fire in a form of ice,' had yet a deeply felt but secret sorrow, with which even his resolution could hardly cope. If I do not disguise that for years he had much to vex him in the wild ways of a son whom he yet never ceased to love, it is only because otherwise I could convey little idea of the unreserved manner in which that lofty spirit could turn for consolation, in letter after letter, to Mr.

Hope, or to his daughter, never failing to find all the comfort with which a wise head and a kind heart can reward a confidence so pathetic.

Mr. Hope's conduct, all through these trials, was indeed forbearing and generous to such a degree as would make it a great example to all who have to sustain crosses of that kind. But enough, perhaps, has been said on the subject. In 1848 a severe illness of his brother-in-law at Norwich afforded another of those occasions in which he displayed that zeal and helpfulness in ministering to the sick, of which there are so many instances in his life. Walter Lockhart Scott died at Versailles on January 10, 1853.

[Footnote: Walter Lockhart Scott and Charlotte (wife of Mr. Hope-Scott) were the last survivors of the children of Mr. Lockhart and Sophia, daughter of Sir Walter Scott. The eldest son, though very short-lived, is well remembered as 'Hugh Littlejohn,' to whom the _Tales of my Grandfather_ were dedicated.] Mr. Hope then a.s.sumed the name of Hope- Scott, by which I shall henceforth speak of him. It was on the occasion of her brother's death that Bishop Grant addressed the following beautiful letter to Mrs. Hope-Scott:--

_The Right Rev. Dr. Grant, Bishop of Southwark, to Mrs. Hope-Scott_.

January 20 [1853].

My dear Mrs. Hope,--Although there is no artistic merit in the enclosed, I hope you will allow me to send it on account of the meditation which it suggests, how our dear Lord had the thought of His sufferings present to His mind in early childhood--indeed, from the first moment of His earthly existence. This thought may help to strengthen us when we reflect that He has not given us the foretaste of our sorrow, but has allowed us to grow up without any antic.i.p.ation of distinct sorrow and suffering; and, for the first years, without any thought of their coming at all. When affliction comes at last in all its real bitterness, we can lighten it by uniting it to His sorrow, and by asking Him to remember His promise of making it easy to us.

I should not have troubled you so soon if it had not occurred to me that the days which follow the announcement of a cause of grief are often more trying than the commencement of them, and that during them the need of consolation may be more felt.

I do not know why I should intrude my poor sympathy upon you, but when we have shared in joy it seems ungrateful not to be willing to have a part in sadness, and therefore I hope you will excuse me....

Yours very respectfully,

THOMAS GRANT.

Mr. Lockhart never got over the death of his last-remaining son. His health began to fail; he went to Rome for change of climate; came back worse, and soon after went down to his half-brother's at Milton-Lockhart. Thither Mr.

and Mrs. Hope-Scott went to see him, and entreated him to come to Abbotsford. He at first decidedly refused, and his will was a strong one; but some time after, when the house was full of Catholic guests, he suddenly announced that he wished to go immediately to Abbotsford. He arrived there, hardly able to get out of his carriage, and it was at once perceived that he was a dying man. He desired to drive about and take leave of various places, displaying, however, a sort of stoical fort.i.tude, and never making a direct allusion to what was impending. To save him fatigue, it was important he should have his room near the library, but he shrank from accepting the dining-room (where Sir Walter Scott had died), and it required all Mr. Hope-Scott's peculiar tact and kindness to induce him to establish himself in the breakfast-room close by. There he remained until the end. Yet he would not suffer any one to nurse him, till, one night, he fell down on the floor, and, after that, offered no further opposition.

Father Lockhart, a distant cousin, was now telegraphed for, from whom, during Mr. Lockharts's stay in Rome, he had received much kind attention, for which he was always grateful. He did not object to his kinsman's presence, though a priest; and yielded also when asked to allow his daughter to say a few prayers by his bedside. Mr. Hope-Scott, in the meantime, was absent on business, but returned home one or two days before the end, which came suddenly. He and Mrs. Hope-Scott were quickly called in, and found Miss Lockhart (affectionately called in the family 'Cousin Kate') reading the prayers for the dying. Mr. Lockhart died on November 25, 1854, and was buried at Dryburgh Abbey, beside his father-in-law Sir Walter Scott. The insertion of these particulars, which are of personal interest to many of my readers, will perhaps be justified by their close a.s.sociation with the subject of this memoir.

After little more than a twelvemonth Mr. Hope-Scott had the sorrow to lose his mother. Lady Hope died rather suddenly on December 1, 1855, in consequence, it was thought, of injuries she had sustained from an accidental fall in the Crystal Palace a few days before. In writing to acquaint Mr. Gladstone with this sad event (December 4) [Footnote: Lady Frances Hope also died within a week after, on December 6, 1855.] Mr. Hope- Scott says:--

To you and Mrs. Gladstone, who knew her, I may confidently say that I believe a kinder, more generous and self-denying nature has seldom existed.

To us, her children, her life has been one of overflowing affection and care; but many, many besides her immediate relations have known her almost as a mother, and will feel the closing of her house as if they had lost a home.

The following letter, written from India on the same occasion, is in every way deeply interesting:--

_The Marquis of Dalhousie to G. W. Hope, Esq._

Gov't House: Feb. 6, 1856.

It was very kind of you, my dear George, to think of me, far away, when your heart must have been so sore. But, indeed, your kindness was not thrown away, or your considerate thoughtfulness misplaced.

Even Jim and yourself have not grieved with more heartfelt sorrow for that dear life that has been lost than I have in my banishment.

Thirty years have gone since your mother began to show to me the tenderness of an _own_ mother. I loved her dearly--she loved me, and loved what I loved. In the prospect of a return which has few charms for me the thought of finding Lady Hope good, kind, gracious, motherly, as she always was for me, was one of the few thoughts on which I dwelt, and to which I returned with real pleasure, and now it is all gone; and you would think it exaggerated if I said how deeply it depresses me to feel that it is so.

Give my love to Jim, and to your sister too. I see her boy goes to Madras.

I had hoped to see him here, if only for a week.

In three weeks I am deposed. I have no wish to see England; but nevertheless I am, dear George,

Yours most sincerely,

DALHOUSIE.

The winter which followed Mr. Lockhart's death at Abbotsford was a mournful one. Mrs. Hope-Scott had been deeply attached to her father. She had shared his griefs, as we have seen. Her earlier years had been somewhat lonely; her disposition, with all its reserve, was excessively sensitive and excitable, and a change of scene had doubtless begun to be felt necessary, when Mr. Hope-Scott bought a Highland estate, situated at Lochshiel, on the west coast of Inverness-shire, north of Loch Sunart, and nearly opposite Skye. The history of the purchase of this property, and of all that Mr.

Hope-Scott did for it as a Catholic proprietor, is very interesting and curious, but involves so much detail, that I reserve most of it for a future chapter. He built a residence there, Dorlin House, a ma.s.sive, comfortable mansion, practically of his own designing, abounding in long corridors, to enable the ladies and children to have exercise under shelter in the rainy Highland climate, and various little contrivances showing that few things were too minute for his attention. Here, as everywhere, he used a kindly and n.o.ble hospitality. Much of the charm of the place consisted in its remoteness and solitude, which caused just sufficient difficulty in obtaining supplies to afford matter of amus.e.m.e.nt. The post also came in and out only three times a week, and the nearest doctor was twelve miles off.

All this, however, is now considerably changed by the greater vicinity of railways. A few lines from a letter of Mr. Hope-Scott's to Dr. Newman, dated 'Lochshiel, Strontian, N.B., September 25, 1856,' will give a better notion of its surroundings than I can offer:--

We are here on the sea-sh.o.r.e, with wild rocks, lakes, and rivers near us, an aboriginal Catholic population, a priest in the house, and a chapel within 100 yards. We hope Badeley may turn up to-day, but are in doubt whether he will be as happy here as in Paper Buildings. The first necessaries of life sometimes threaten to fail us, and we have to lay in stores as if we were going on a sea voyage. At this moment we are in doubt about a cargo of flour from Glasgow, and our coal-ship has been long due.

What Badeley will say to oat-cakes and turf fires remains to be seen.

On Christmas Eve of the following year (1857) Dr. Newman writes to Mr.

Hope-Scott, in a letter I have already quoted from (p. 143):--

I was rejoiced to hear so good an account of your health, and of all your party. I suppose you are full of plans about your new property and your old. Your sister tells me you have got into your new wing at Abbotsford. As for the faraway region of which I have not yet learned the name, I suppose you are building there either a fortress against evil times, or a new town and port for happy times. Have you yet found gold on your estate? for that seems the fashion.

Mr. Hope-Scott did not indeed find gold at Dorlin, but he spent a great deal over it, which he was sometimes tempted to regret; but, on the whole, thought that the outlay had been devoted to legitimate objects, and that, as an experiment, it had succeeded. He built two chapels on this property, at Mingarry (Our Lady of the Angels) and at Glenuig (St. Agnes); and his letters are full of unconscious proof how the interests of Catholicity were always in his mind. A long wished-for event had lately thrown a bright gleam of sunshine over the house. On June 2, 1857, Mrs. Hope-Scott gave birth to a son and heir, Walter Michael, which was cause of rejoicing, not only to the whole Scottish nation, but wherever the English language is spoken, as promise of the continuance of the name and the line of Scotland's greatest literary glory. And, to complete the circle of happiness, on September 17 of the following year, 1858, was born also a daughter, Margaret Anne. Three months after this had scarcely pa.s.sed, when the mother and both her infants were no more.

Mrs. Hope-Scott had never really recovered from her first confinement. In the spring of 1858 she had had a severe attack of influenza, and consumptive symptoms, though not called by that name, came on. Towards the end of October arrangements had been made to take her to the Isle of Wight for the winter, but she never got further on her journey than Edinburgh.

When she called, a day or two after her arrival there, on the Bishop, Dr.

Gillis, he said to himself, 'Ah! _you_ have been travelling by express train!' Very soon after this, bronchitis set in, and rapidly became acute, and the case was p.r.o.nounced hopeless. To herself, indeed, it was perhaps more or less sudden, though she had virtually made a retreat of preparation during the preceding six months, and left everything in the most perfect order at Abbotsford. She had said to 'Cousin Kate' (Miss Lockhart) that G.o.d had been very merciful to her in sending her a lingering illness; yet, on the last night, was heard to say,' Hard to part--Jim--Mamo [Footnote: Mamo: an affectionate abbreviation for Mary Monica.]--G.o.d's will be done.' She accepted her death as G.o.d's will. On being told of its approach, and after receiving the last sacraments, she said, 'I have no fear now.' Bishop Gillis gave her the last absolution, Fr. n.o.ble, one of the Oblate Fathers from Galashiels, a.s.sisting. Her husband's disposition never allowed him to believe in misfortune till it had really come, and, almost up to the last hour, he had failed to see what was plain to all other eyes; the parting, therefore, with him and with her little daughter Mamo (who could scarcely be torn from her) was sad beyond expression. The end came rapidly. She died on Tuesday, October 26, and on December 3 her baby daughter, Margaret Anne; and on December 11 the little boy, whose birth had caused such gladness.

All three were buried in the vault of St. Margaret's Convent, Edinburgh; the mother on November 2 (All Souls' Day), her two children on December 10 and 17, 1858. Bishop Gillis spoke on November 2 and December 10, but his addresses were unwritten; Dr. Grant, Bishop of Southwark, on December 17.

His address, and a beautiful one indeed it is, has fortunately been preserved.

Of three short letters, in which Mr. Hope-Scott had told Dr. Newman of each sorrow as it came, I transcribe the last:--

_J. R. Hope-Scott, Esq., Q.G. to the Very Rev. Dr. Newman._

14 Curzon St, London, W.:

Dec. 11, 1858.

Dear Father Newman,--My intention, for which you so kindly said ma.s.s, has been fulfilled, for it was, as well as I could form it, that G.o.d should deal with my child as would be most for His honour and its happiness, and this afternoon He has answered my prayer by calling little Walter to Himself.