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Title: John Patrick, Third Marquess of Bute, K.T. (1847-1900), a Memoir
Author: Hunter Blair, David Oswald, 1853-1939
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "John Patrick, Third Marquess of Bute, K.T. (1847-1900), a Memoir" ***

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[Frontispiece: _John, third Marquess of Bute, with his Mother aet 9
from a picture at Mount Stuart_]








BT., O.S.B.






All rights reserved





Just twenty years have passed away since the death, at the age of
little more than fifty, of the subject of this memoir--a period of time
not indeed inconsiderable, yet not so long as to render unreasonable
the hope that others besides the members of his family (who have long
desired that there should be some printed record of his life), and the
sadly diminished numbers of his intimate friends, may be interested in
learning something of the personality and the career of a man who may
justly be regarded as one of the not least remarkable, if one of the
least known, figures of the closing years of the nineteenth century.

Disraeli, when he published fifty years ago his most popular romance,
thought fit to place on the title-page a motto from old Terence: "Nosse
omnia haec salus est adulescentulis."[1]  Was he really of opinion--it
is difficult to credit it--that the welfare of the youth of his
generation depended on their familiarising themselves with the wholly
imaginary life-story of "Lothair"? the romantic, sentimental, and
somewhat invertebrate youth who owed such {viii} fame as he achieved to
the fact that he was popularly supposed to be modelled on the young
Lord Bute--though never, in truth, did any hero of fiction bear less
resemblance to his fancied prototype.

The present biographer ventures to think that the motto of _Lothair_
might with greater propriety figure on the title-page of this volume.
For there is at least one feature in the life of John third Marquess of
Bute which teaches a salutary lesson and points an undoubted moral to a
pleasure-loving generation, such a lesson and moral as it would be vain
to look for in the puppet of Disraeli's Oriental fancy.  If there is
any characteristic which stands out in that life more saliently than
another, it is surely the strong and compelling sense of duty--a sense,
it is to be noticed, acquired rather than congenital, for Bute was by
nature and constitution, as an acute observer early remarked,[2]
inclined to indolence--which runs all through it like a silver thread.
Other traits, and marked ones, he no doubt possessed--among them a
penetrating sense of religion, a curious tenderness of heart, a
singular tenacity of purpose, and a deep veneration for all that is
good and beautiful in the natural and supernatural world; but these
were for the most part below the surface, though the pages of this
record are not without evidence of them all.  But in the whole external
conduct of his life it may be said that the desire of doing his duty
was paramount with him--his duty to God and to man; his duty, above
all, to the innumerable human beings {ix} whose happiness and welfare
his great position and manifold responsibilities rendered to some
extent dependent on him; and, finally, his duty in such public offices
as he was called on to fill, and from which his diffidence of character
and aversion from anything like personal display would have naturally
inclined him to shrink.  If the writer has succeeded in presenting in
these pages something of this aspect of the life and character of his
departed friend with anything like the vividness with which, at the end
of twenty years, they still remain impressed on his own memory, he will
be well content.

"The true life of a man," wrote John Henry Newman nearly sixty years
ago,[3] "is in his letters"; and no apology is needed for the inclusion
in this volume of some, at least, of the large number of Lord Bute's
letters which have been placed at the disposal of his biographer, and
for the use of which he takes this opportunity of thanking the several
owners.  Bute possessed in a high degree the essential qualities of a
good letter-writer--a remarkable command of language, the power of
clear and forcible expression, and (not least) a salutary sense of
humour; and his voluminous correspondence, especially in connection
with his literary work, was always and thoroughly characteristic of


The writer desires, in conclusion, to express his gratitude not only
for the loan of Lord Bute's letters, but for the kind help he has
received from many quarters in the elucidation (especially) of details
regarding his childhood and youth.  In this connection his thanks are
particularly due to the late Earl of Galloway and his sisters for their
interesting reminiscences of Bute's boyhood at Galloway House; and also
to the family of the late Mr. Charles Scott Murray for some particulars
of his life during the critical years of his early manhood.



[1] "It is for the profit of young men to have known all these things."
Terence, _Eunuchus_, v. 4, 18.

[2] Mgr. Capel.  _Post_, p. 75.  See also p. 111.

[3] "It has ever been a hobby of mine, though perhaps it is a truism,
not a hobby, that the true life of a man is in his letters....  Not
only for the interest of a biography, but for the arriving at the
insides of things, the publication of letters is the true method.
Biographers varnish, they conjecture feelings, they assign motives,
they interpret Lord Burleigh's nods; but contemporary letters are
facts." (_Newman to his sister, Mrs. John Mozley_, May 18, 1863.)



CHAPTER                                                          PAGE

    I. EARLY LIFE. (1847-1861) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .      1
   II. HARROW AND CHRIST CHURCH. (1862-1866) . . . . . . . . .     18
           OF AGE. (1867, 1868)  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .     39
           TO SCOTLAND. (1869-1871)  . . . . . . . . . . . . .     83
           MAJORCA. (1871-1874)  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    102
  VII. LITERARY WORK--THE _SCOTTISH REVIEW_. (1875-1886) . . .    117
 VIII. LITERARY WORK--_continued_. (1886, 1887)  . . . . . . .    137
           CARDIFF. (1888-1891)  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    156
          (1891-1894)  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    179
           OF ROTHESAY. (1894-1897)  . . . . . . . . . . . . .    198
           (1898-1900) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    215


    I. PRIZE POEM (HARROW SCHOOL)  . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    231
   II. HYMN ON ST. MAGNUS  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    236
  III. HYMN: "OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS" . . . . . . . . . . . . .    238
   IV. A PROVOST'S PRAYER  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    240
    V. RECOLLECTIONS.  BY SIR R. ROWAND ANDERSON . . . . . . .    241
   VI. OBITUARY.  BY F. W. H. MYERS  . . . . . . . . . . . . .    245
  VII. BIBLIOGRAPHY  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    247

       INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    249




_From a Painting by Mountstuart.  Photo by F. C. Inglis, Edinburgh._

                                                          FACING PAGE

THE MARQUESS OF BUTE, ÆT 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .     6
  _From a Pencil Drawing by Ross at Cardiff Castle.  This
  Drawing, executed for Lord Bute's great-grand-aunt (then
  aged 92), daughter of the third Earl, George III's Prime
  Minister, was left by her to her niece.  Lady Ann Damson,
  whose great-niece, Mrs. Clark of Tal-y-Garn, gave it in
  1906 to Augusta, wife of John, fourth Marquess of Bute._

THE MARQUESS OF BUTE, ÆT 17  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    28


CARDIFF CASTLE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    56

CASTELL COCH, GLAMORGAN  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   118

THE GREAT HALL, MOUNTSTUART  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   134
    _Photo by Sweet, Rothesay._

FALKLAND PALACE  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   152
    _Photo by Valentine, Dundee._


THE MARQUESS OF BUTE AS MAYOR OF CARDIFF . . . . . . . . . . .   176

    UNIVERSITY. (1892-1897)  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   202
    _Photo by Rodger, St. Andrews._

PLUSCARDEN PRIORY  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   216








John Patrick, third Marquess of Bute, Earl of Windsor, Mountjoy and
Dumfries, holder of nine other titles in the peerages of Great Britain
and of Scotland, and a baronet of Nova Scotia, was fifteenth in descent
from Robert II., King of Scotland, who, towards the end of the
fourteenth century, created his son John Stuart, or Steuart, hereditary
sheriff of the newly-erected county of Bute, Arran and Cumbrae, making
to him at the same time a grant of land in those islands.  His lineal
descendant, the sixth sheriff of Bute, who adhered faithfully to the
monarchy in the Civil Wars, and suffered considerably in the royal
cause, was created a baronet in 1627; and his grandson, a stalwart
opponent of the union of Scotland with England, was raised to the
peerage of Scotland as Earl of Bute, with several subsidiary titles, in
1702.  Lord Bute's grandson, the third earl, was the well-known Tory
minister and favourite of the young king, George III., and his
mother--a faithful servant of his sovereign, a man of culture and
refinement, admirable as husband, father, and friend, and withal, by
the irony of fate, unquestionably the most unpopular prime minister {2}
who ever held office in England.  His heir and successor made a great
match, marrying in 1766 the eldest daughter and co-heiress of the
second and last Viscount Windsor; and thirty years later he was created
Marquess of Bute, Earl of Windsor, and Viscount Mount joy.  Lord
Mountstuart, his heir, who predeceased his father, married Penelope,
only surviving child and heiress of the fifth Earl of Dumfries and
Stair; and the former of those titles devolved on his son, together
with valuable estates in Ayrshire.  The second marquess, who succeeded
to the family honours the year before Waterloo, when he was just of age
(he had already travelled extensively, and had paid a visit to Napoleon
at Elba), earned the reputation of being one of the most enlightened
and public-spirited noblemen of his generation.  During the thirty-four
years that he owned and controlled the vast family estates in Wales and
Scotland, he devoted his whole energies to their improvement, and to
promoting the welfare of his tenantry and dependents.  His practical
interest in agriculture was evinced by the fact that the arable land on
his Buteshire property was trebled during his tenure of it; and
foreseeing with remarkable prescience the great future in store for the
port and docks of Cardiff, he spared neither labour nor means in their
development.  He was Lord-Lieutenant both of Glamorgan and of Bute, and
discharged with tact and success the office of Lord High Commissioner
to the Church of Scotland in 1842, on the eve of the ecclesiastical
crisis which ended in the secession of more than 400 ministers of the
Establishment.  His political opinions were in the best sense liberal,
and he was a consistent advocate of Catholic Emancipation, even when
that {3} measure was opposed by the Duke of Wellington, whom he
generally supported.  A few hours before his death, which occurred at
Cardiff Castle with startling suddenness in March, 1848, he had
expressed the confident hope that his successor, if not he himself,
would live to see Cardiff rival Liverpool as a great commercial seaport.

[Sidenote: 1847, Birth at Mountstuart]

Lord Bute was twice married--first to Lady Maria North, of the Guilford
family, by whom he had no issue; and secondly, three years before his
death, to Lady Sophia Hastings, second daughter of the first Marquess
of Hastings.  By this lady, who survived him eleven years, he had one
child, John Patrick, the subject of this memoir, who was born on
September 12, 1847, at Mountstuart House, the older mansion of that
name in the Isle of Bute, which was burnt down in 1877 and replaced by
the great Gothic pile designed by Sir Robert Rowand Anderson.  Old
Mountstuart was an unpretending eighteenth-century house, built by
James, second Earl of Bute (1690-1723), a few years before his early
death.  It was the favourite residence of his son the third earl,
George III.'s prime minister, who is commemorated by an obelisk in the
grounds not far from the house.  The wings at the two extremities
escaped the fire, and are incorporated in the modern mansion.

Here, then, on the fair green island which had been the home of his
race for nearly five centuries, opened the life of this child of many
hopes, who within a year was by a cruel stroke of fate to be deprived
of the guardianship and guidance of his amiable and excellent father.
The second marquess died, as has been said, deeply regretted, in the
spring following the birth of his heir; and the manifold {4} honours
and possessions of the family devolved upon a baby six months old.  Up
to his thirteenth year the fatherless boy was under the constant and
unremitting care of a devoted mother, whose memory he cherished with
veneration to the end of his life.  Sophia Lady Bute was a woman of
warm heart and deep personal piety, tinged, however, with an
uncompromising Protestantism commoner in that day than in ours.  One of
her fondest hopes or dreams was the conversion to her own faith of the
numerous Irish Catholics whom the development of the port of Cardiff,
and the rapid growth of the mining industry, had attracted to South
Wales; and the venerable Benedictine bishop who had at that time the
spiritual charge of the district, and for whom Lord Bute had a sincere
regard and respect, used to tell of the band of "colporteurs"
(peripatetic purveyors of bibles and polemical tracts) whom the
marchioness engaged to hawk their wares about the mining villages of

Lord Bute's upbringing as a child was, by the force of circumstances,
under entirely feminine influences and surroundings; and to this fact
was probably to some extent due the strain of shyness and sensitive
diffidence which were among his life-long characteristics.  He seems to
have been inclined sometimes to resent, even in his early boyhood, the
strictness of the surveillance under which he lived.  His mother once
took him from Dumfries House to call at Blairquhan Castle, driving
thither in a carriage and four, as her custom was.  While the ladies
were conversing in the drawing-room, a young married daughter of the
house took the little boy out to see the gardens, ending with a call at
the head gamekeeper's.  A day or two afterwards {5} the _châtelaine_ of
Blairquhan received a letter from Lady Bute, expressing her dismay,
indignation, and distress at learning that her precious boy had
actually been taken to the kennels, and exposed to the risk of contact
with half a dozen pointers and setters.  When reminded many years later
of this incident (which he had quite forgotten), Lord Bute said, in his
quiet way: "Yes, I was kept wrapped in cotton wool in those days, and I
did not always like it.  The dogs would not have hurt me, and I am sure
that I made friends with them."

[Sidenote: 1859, Death of Lady Bute]

Lady Bute died in 1859, leaving behind her, both in Scotland and in
Wales, the memory of many deeds of kindness and benevolence.  Her
husband had made no provision whatever in his will for the guardianship
of his only son, who had been constituted a ward in Chancery two months
after his father's death, his mother being nominated by the Lord
Chancellor his sole guardian.  Lady Bute's will recommended the
appointment as her son's guardian of Colonel (afterwards Major-General)
Charles Stuart, Sir Francis Hastings Gilbert, and Lady Elizabeth Moore,
who was distantly related to the Bute family through the Hastings', and
had been one of Lady Bute's dearest friends.  Sir Francis Gilbert being
at this time absent from England in the consular service, the Court of
Chancery appointed as guardians the two other persons named by Lady

It seems unnecessary to describe in detail the prolonged friction and
regrettable litigation which were the result of this dual guardianship
of the orphaned boy; yet they must be here referred to, for it is
beyond question that they were not only detrimental to his happiness
and welfare during his {6} early boyhood, but could not fail seriously
to affect the development of his character in later years.  The child
was deeply attached to Lady Elizabeth Moore, who had assumed the entire
charge of him after his mother's death; and his letters written at this
period give evidence not only of this attachment, but of his very
strong reluctance to leave her for the care of General Stuart, who
insisted that it was time that a boy of nearly thirteen should be
removed from the exclusively female custody in which he had been kept
from babyhood.  Lady Elizabeth, yielding partly to her own feelings,
and partly to the earnest and repeated solicitations of her young ward,
was ill-advised enough, instead of committing him as desired to the
care of her co-guardian, to carry him off surreptitiously to Scotland,
and to keep him concealed for some time in an obscure hotel in the
suburbs of Edinburgh.  Here is the boy's own account of the affair,
written from this hotel to a relation in India[1] (he was between
twelve and thirteen years of age):--

I prayed, I entreated, I agonised, I abused the general; I adjured her
not to give me up to him.  She was shaken but not convinced.  So we
went to Newcastle, to York, and to London, where I got a bad cold, my
two teeth were pulled, etc., etc.  We were delayed some time there, and
meanwhile my prayers and adjurations were trebled: Lady E. was
convinced, and promised not to let me go.  She got one of the
solicitors to the Bank of England in the City to write a letter to
Genl. S. for her, as civil as possible, but declining to give me up; to
which the general returned a furious answer, conveying his
determination to appeal to the Vice-Chancellor about {7} the matter.
After a month we became convinced that the Vice-Chancellor would decide
against us; and on the night of April 16th Lady E. left the hotel
secretly, and with her maid and me shot the moon to Edinburgh, where we
arrived at 7 next morning.[2]

[Illustration: _The Marquess of Bute æt 2_ from a drawing by R. T. Ross
at Cardiff Castle]

[Sidenote: 1859, Rival guardians]

For a boy of twelve this is a sufficiently remarkable letter; but an
even more precocious document is a draft letter dated a fortnight
before the flight to Edinburgh, and composed entirely by young Bute,
who recommended Lady Elizabeth to copy it and send it to her
co-guardian as from herself!


You will, I am afraid, be much surprised upon the reception of this
letter, but I trust that your love for Bute will make you accede to the
request which I am about to make.  B. has lately had much sorrow, and
he has formed an attachment to me only to have it broken by separation,
and in order to go among entire strangers to him--for in that light, I
am sorry to say, I must regard you and Mrs. Stuart.  With your consent,
then, dear Genl. Stuart, I shall be happy to keep him with me until he
is 14, when he will of course choose for himself.  We could live with
good Mr. Stacey very nicely at Dumfries House or Mountstuart, and I
could occasionally bring him to England--or indeed you could come to
see him at Mountstuart.  I trust, dear Gen. Stuart, you will be the
more inclined to accede to my request when I tell you that he has {8}
expressed to me the greatest reluctance at parting from me and going to
you--a repugnance which I can only regard as very natural, for I was
much grieved to see that you did not follow my advice in walking with
him and consulting him (and believe me without so doing you will never
gain his affections), while I have always done so, as was his poor
mother's invariable custom.[3]

It does not appear whether this letter, which is dated from 23 Dover
Street, and is entirely in the boy's own handwriting, exactly as given
above, was actually sent by Lady Elizabeth.  In any case General Stuart
was not the man to submit to the compulsory separation from his ward
which resulted from what the House of Lords afterwards characterised as
the "clandestine, furtive, and fraudulent action" of Lady Elizabeth
Moore.  He at once laid the case before the Court of Chancery, which
directed that the boy was to be immediately handed over to his care,
and sent without delay to an approved private school, and in due time
to Eton or Harrow, and then to one of the English universities.  Lady
Elizabeth absolutely refused to comply with the order of the Court, and
was consequently removed in July, 1860, from the office of guardian.
Meanwhile the case was complicated by the intervention of the Scottish
tutor-at-law, Colonel {9} James Crichton Stuart, who had been since the
death of Lord Bute's father manager and administrator of the family
estates in Scotland.  Colonel Stuart obtained from the Scottish Courts
an order that the boy should be sent to Loretto, a well-known school
near Edinburgh, and that the Earl of Galloway should be the "custodier"
of his person.  The Court of Chancery promptly issued an injunction
forbidding the tutor-at-law to interfere in any way with the boy's
education, whereupon both Colonel Stuart and the English guardian
appealed to the House of Lords.  That tribunal gave its judgment on May
17, 1861, censuring the Court of Session for its delay in dealing with
this important matter, confirming General Stuart as sole guardian, and
sanctioning his scheme for the boy's education.

[Sidenote: 1861, Lords' decision]

The House of Lords, in giving the decision which brought this long
litigation to a close, had raised no objection to the continued
residence of the young peer with the Earl of Galloway, an arrangement
which had already been approved by the Court of Chancery.  Bute had, in
fact, at the time the judgment was pronounced, been living for some
months with Lord and Lady Galloway at their beautiful place on the
Wigtownshire coast; and this was certainly, as it turned out, the most
favourable and beneficial solution of the difficult question of
providing a suitable and congenial home for one who, whilst the
possessor of three or four splendid seats in England and Scotland, had
yet, by a pathetic anomaly, never known what home life was since his
mother's death in 1859.  At Galloway House he found himself for the
first time the inmate of a large and cheerful family circle, including
several young people of about his own age.  "I {10} am comfortably
established here," he wrote to Lady Elizabeth Moore soon after his
arrival in December, 1860.  "This house is like Dumfries House, but
much prettier.  I have a charming room, not at all lonely.  Lord and
Lady G. are so kind to me, and the little girls treat me like a
brother."  "They are all very very kind to me," he wrote a week or two
later, adding in the same letter that he had on the previous day
attended two services in Lord Galloway's private chapel.  "It is very
plain," was the comment of the thirteen-year-old critic; "but the
chaplain's sermons were all about the saints and the Church.  Do you
know what he called the Communion? a 'commemorative sacrifice!'  In a
subsequent letter he says, "Mr. Wildman (the chaplain) says that Mary
should be called the 'Holy Mother of God.'"

[Sidenote: 1861, At Galloway House]

These new religious impressions, contrasting sharply as they must have
done with the narrow Evangelical teaching of his early days, are of
interest in connection with his first schoolmaster's report of him some
six months later, which will be mentioned in its proper place.  "He was
very fond," writes one of his former playfellows at Galloway House in
those far-off days, "of sketching with pen and pencil religious
processions and ceremonies, and his thoughts seemed to be constantly
turned on religion.  He liked having religious discussions with our
family chaplain, who was a clever and well-read man."  "Our dear father
and mother," writes another member of the same large family, "told us
that we must be very kind to him, as he had lost both his parents and
was almost alone in the world.  I remember seeing him in the library on
the night of his arrival--a tall, dark, good-looking boy, {11} looking
so shy and lonely, but with very nice manners."  "I recollect him,"
says the son of a neighbouring laird, who was about two years his
senior, and was often at Galloway House, "rather a pathetic figure
among the swarm of joyous young things there, distinct among them from
never seeming joyous himself."  This was doubtless the impression which
his extreme diffidence generally made on strangers; and it is the
pleasanter to read the further testimony of the playfellow already
quoted: "His shyness soon wore off when he got away from the elders to
play with us, and he entered with zest into all our amusements.  He was
intensely earnest about everything he took up, whether serious things
or games.  He was greatly attached to our brother Walter,[4] whose
bright, cheery nature appealed to him.  Walter was always full of fun
and spirits and mischief; and Bute was delighted at this, and soon
joined in it all.  I remember our old housekeeper, after some great
escapade, saying, "Yes, and the young marquis was as bad as any of
you!"  One of his hobbies was collecting from the seashore the skulls
and skeletons of rabbits, birds, etc.  I spent much time on the cliffs
and rocks looking for these things, of which we collected boxes full.
With his curious psychic turn of mind he liked to conduct some kind of
ceremonies over these remains after dark, inviting us children to take
part, sometimes dressed in white sheets.  He loved legends of all
kinds, and used often to tell them to us: I was very fond of hearing
him, he told them so well.  History, too, especially Scottish history,
{12} he liked very much.  He wrote a delightful little history of
Scotland for my youngest brother,[5] of whom he was very fond--a tiny
boy then.  It was all written in capital letters, with delightful and
clever pen-and-ink sketches, one on every page."

These recollections of happy home life in a Scottish country house,
nearly sixty years ago, call up a pretty picture of the orphan boy,
whose childhood had been so strangely lonely and isolated, contented
and at home in this charming family circle.  That he was truly so is
further testified by letters that passed about this time between him
and his tutor-at-law, Colonel Crichton Stuart.  In reply to a letter
from Colonel Stuart, expressing a desire to hear from Bute himself
whether he was comfortably settled at Galloway House, the boy wrote:
"In answer to your request, I write to confirm Mr. A.'s statement
regarding my happiness here.  Lord and Lady Galloway did indeed receive
me as a child of their own, which I felt deeply."

That these words were a sincere expression of the young writer's
sentiments there is no reason to doubt; but thoughtful and advanced as
he was in some ways for his years, he was too young to realise
then---possibly he did later on, though he very seldom spoke of his
boyhood's days--how much more he owed to the Galloway family than mere
kindness.  It seemed, indeed, a special providence which had brought
the orphaned marquis at this critical moment under influence so
salutary and so much needed as that of the admirable and excellent
family which had welcomed him to their beautiful home as one of
themselves.  The numerous letters {13} written by Bute at this period,
of which many have been preserved, are marked indeed by propriety of
expression and a command of language remarkable in a boy of his age;
but they also reveal very clearly a self-centred view of life even more
extraordinary in so young a boy, and due, it cannot be doubted, to the
singularity of his upbringing.  Surrounded from babyhood by a circle of
adoring females, in whose eyes the fatherless infant was the most
precious and priceless thing on earth, he had grown up to boyhood
penetrated, no doubt almost unconsciously, with an exaggerated and
overweening sense of his own importance in the scale of creation, to
which the wholesome influence of Galloway House provided the best
possible corrective.  Distinguished, high-principled, exemplary in
every relation of life, Lord and Lady Galloway held up to their
children, by precept and example, a constant ideal of duty,
unselfishness and simplicity of life; and the young stranger within
their gates was fortunate in being able to profit by that teaching.  If
his future life was to be marked by generous impulses and noble
ambitions--if one of his most notable characteristics was to be a
personal simplicity of taste and an utter antipathy to that ostentation
which is not always dissociated from high rank and almost unbounded
wealth--if he was to realise something of the supreme joy and
satisfaction of working for others rather than for oneself; for all
this he owed a debt of gratitude (can it be doubted?) to the kindly and
gracious influences which were brought to bear on his sensitive nature
during these years of his boyhood.  He was received at Galloway House
as a child of the family; and his companions spoke their minds to him
with fraternal freedom.  "You {14} will never find your level, Bute,"
the eldest son of the house (whom he greatly liked and respected) once
said to him, "until you get to a public school."  He did not resent the
remark, for his good sense told him that it was true.  Harrow was the
public school of the Galloway family; but it was not so much for that
reason that Harrow was chosen for him rather than Eton, as because his
wise and kind guardians believed, rightly or wrongly, that a boy in his
peculiar position would be less exposed to adulation and flattery at
the more democratic school on the Hill than at its great rival on

Meanwhile a preparatory school had to be selected; and the choice fell
on May Place, the well-known school conducted by Mr. Thomas Essex at
Malvern Wells, where one of Lord Galloway's sons was just finishing his
course.  It was locally known as the "House of Lords" from its
connection with the peerage; and the pupils included members of the
ducal houses of Sutherland, Argyll, Manchester, and Leinster, as well
as of many other well-known families.  One who well remembers the first
arrival at May Place of the young Scottish peer, then aged thirteen and
a half, has described him as a slight tall lad, reserved and gentle in
manner, and particularly courteous to every one.  The shyness and also
the reverence for sacred things which always distinguished him as a man
were equally noticeable in him as a boy; and it is remembered that when
he revisited the school three or four years later, during the Harrow
holidays, and was asked where he would like to drive to, he chose to go
and inspect an interesting old church in the neighbourhood.  A school
contemporary with whom he occasionally squabbled was William Sinclair,
the future Archdeacon of London; and there was {15} once nearly a
pitched battle between them, in consequence of some caricatures which
Sinclair drew, purporting to represent Bute's near relatives, but for
which he afterwards handsomely apologised.

[Sidenote: 1861, First school report]

Towards the end of Bute's first term at Malvern Wells, his master wrote
to Lord Galloway the following account of his young pupil.  The
concluding sentence is of curious interest in view of what the future
held in store.  It seems to show that the reaction in his mind--a mind
already thoughtful beyond his years--against the one-sided view of
religion and religious history which had been impressed upon him from
childhood had already begun.

May Place,
  Malvern Wells,
    July 14, 1861.

Lord Bute is going on more comfortably than I could have expected.  He
is on excellent terms with his schoolfellows; and though he prefers
"romps" to cricket or gymnastics, yet I am glad to see him making
himself happy with the others.  More manly tastes will, I think, come
in time.  His obedience and his desire to please are very pleasing;
while his strong religious principles and gentlemanly tone are
everything one could desire.  His opinions on things in general are
rather an inexplicable mixture.  I was not surprised to find in him an
admiration of the Covenanters and a hatred of Archbishop Sharpe; but I
was certainly startled to discover, on the other hand, a liking for the
Romish priesthood and ceremonial.  I shall, of course, do my best to
bring him to sounder views.

[Sidenote: 1861, At May Place]

We have no evidence as to what methods were employed, or what arguments
adduced, by the excellent preceptor in order to carry out the purpose
{16} indicated in the concluding lines of his letter.  Bute himself
never referred to the matter afterwards, but the result was in all
probability nugatory.  It is not within the recollection of the present
writer, who was an inmate of May Place a year or two later, that any
serious effort was ever made there to impress religious truths on the
minds of the pupils, or indeed to impart to them any definite religious
teaching at all.  The views and opinions of the young Scot, although
only in his fourteenth year, were probably already a great deal more
formed on these and kindred subjects than those of his worthy
schoolmaster.  In any case the time available for detaching his
sympathies from the "Romish" priesthood and ritual was short.  The boy
had come to school very poorly equipped in the matter of general
education, as the term was then understood.  In the correspondence
between his rival guardians, when he was just entering his 'teens,
allusion is made to the boy's "precocious intellect," also to the fact
that he knew little Latin, no Greek, and (what was considered worse)
hardly any French.  Mathematics he always cordially disliked; and it is
on record that all the counting he did in those early years was
invariably on his fingers.  His natural intelligence, however, and his
aptitude for study soon enabled him to make up for much that had been
lost owing to the haphazard and interrupted education of his childhood;
and it was not long before he was pronounced intellectually equal to
the not very exacting standard of the entrance examination at Harrow.
A final reminiscence of his connection with May Place may here be
recorded.  He revisited his old school not long after his momentous
change of creed; and being left alone awhile in {17} the study took up
a blank report that lay on the table, and filled it up as follows[6]:--


  LATIN CONSTRUING . . . . . .  Partially preserved.
  LATIN WRITING  . . . . . . .  Ditto.
  GREEK CONSTRUING . . . . . .  Getting very bad from disuse.
  GREEK WRITING  . . . . . . .  Ditto.
  ARITHMETIC . . . . . . . . .  Entirely abandoned.
  HISTORY  . . . . . . . . . .  So-so.
  GEOGRAPHY  . . . . . . . . .  Improved by foreign travel.
  DICTATION  . . . . . . . . .  Ditto by business letters.
  FRENCH . . . . . . . . . . .  Ditto by travelling.
  DRAWING  . . . . . . . . . .  Grown rather rusty.
  RELIGION . . . . . . . . . .  Unhappily not to the taste
                                  of the British public.
  CONDUCT  . . . . . . . . . .  Not so bad as it is painted.

[1] Charles MacLean, to whom he referred more than thirty years later,
in his Rectorial address at St. Andrews (p. 188).

[2] During Bute's travels with Lady Elizabeth Moore, in the course of
her efforts to retain the custody of her little ward, his most trusted
retainer was one Jack Wilson.  The pertinacity with which the child was
pursued, and the extent of Wilson's devotion, are attested by the known
fact that on one occasion he knocked a writ-server down the stairs of a
Rothesay hotel where Bute was staying with Lady Elizabeth.  Wilson was
accustomed always to sleep outside his young master's door.  He rose
later to be head-keeper at Mountstuart, and died there on May 23, 1912.

[3] It seems right to mention that Bute had another reason, apart from
his attachment to Lady Elizabeth Moore, for his apparently unreasonable
hostility to his other guardian.  One of his strongest feelings at this
time was his almost passionate devotion to the memory of his mother;
and he never forgot what he called General Stuart's "gross disrespect"
in not accompanying her remains from Edinburgh, where she died, to
Bute, where she was buried.  "He left her body," wrote Bute to an
intimate friend from Christ Church, Oxford, "to be attended on that
long and troublesome journey, in the depth of winter, only by women,
servants, and myself, a child of twelve."

[4] Hon. Walter Stewart, afterwards colonel commanding 12th Lancers
(died 1908).  He was about eighteen months younger than Bute.

[5] Hon. Fitzroy Stewart (died 1914).  He was at this time just five
years old.

[6] This anecdote was communicated to a weekly journal (_M.A.P._) soon
after Lord Bute's death, by the son of the master of his old school.





In September, 1861, Lord Bute completed his fourteenth year, attaining
the age of "minority" (as it is called in Scots law), which put him in
possession of certain important rights as regarded his property in the
northern kingdom.  The young peer had from his childhood, as is shown
by his early correspondence with Lady Elizabeth Moore, been aware that
he would be entitled at the age of fourteen to exercise certain powers
of nomination in respect to the management of his Scottish estates.
Most of the members of the Lords' tribunal which had adjudicated on his
position in May, 1861, had evinced a curious ignorance of the nature,
if not of the very existence, of these prospective rights, and even
when informed of them had been inclined to question the expediency of
their being acted upon.  Bute himself, however, was not only perfectly
aware of these rights, but resolved to exercise them; and we
accordingly find him, a few weeks after his fourteenth birthday,
writing as follows, from his private school, to his guardian, General

May Place,
  _November_ 25, 1861.


I wish the necessary steps to be taken in the Court of Session for the
appointment of Curators {19} of my property in Scotland.  The Curators
whom I wish to appoint are Sir James Fergusson, Sir Hastings Gilbert,
Lt.-Col. William Stuart, Mr. David Mure, Mr. Archibald Boyle, and

I wish the Solicitor-General of Scotland to be employed as my legal
adviser in this buisness (_sic_).

I remain,
  Your affectionate cousin,

Bute was now entitled to choose from the number of these curators any
one to whose personal guardianship he was willing to be entrusted
during the seven years of his minority.  His choice fell on Sir James
Fergusson of Kilkerran, M.P. for Ayrshire, who had recently married the
daughter of Lord Dalhousie, Governor-General of India; but he did not
immediately take up his residence with Sir James, as it was thought
best that he should continue, at any rate during the earlier part of
his public school life, to spend his holidays at Galloway House, where
he had become thoroughly at home.  Lord Galloway's younger son Walter
was destined for Harrow School; and thither Bute preceded him after
spending two terms at May Place.

[Sidenote: 1862, Entrance at Harrow]

It was in the first term of 1862 that Bute entered the school at
Harrow, then under the headmastership of Montagu Butler.  His position
was at first that of a "home boarder," and he was under the charge of
one of the masters, Mr. John Smith, known to and beloved by several
generations of Harrovians.

There was a rather well-known and self-important Mr. Winkley, quite a
figure among Harrow tradesmen (writes a school contemporary of Bute's,
son of a famous Harrow master, and himself afterwards {20} headmaster
of Charterhouse), a mutton-chop-whiskered individual who collected
rates, acted as estate agent, published (I think) the Bill Book, sold
books to the School, &c.  He occupied the house beyond Westcott's, on
the same side of High Street, between Westcott's and the Park.  There
John Smith resided with the Marquess of Bute.

Mr. Smith, whose mother lived at Pinner, used to visit her there every
Saturday, and to take over with him on these occasions one or two of
his pupils, who enjoyed what was then a pretty rural walk of three
miles, as well as the quaint racy talk of their master, and the
excellent tea provided by his kind old mother.

Another of his schoolfellows, Sir Henry Bellingham, writes:

I remember first meeting Bute on one of these little excursions.  Mr.
Smith had told me that the tall, shy, quiet boy (he was a year younger
than me, but much bigger) had neither father, mother, brother nor
sister, and was therefore much to be pitied.  I wondered why he did not
come more forward, and said so little either to Smith himself or to
Mrs. Smith; for Smith was a man who had great capabilities for drawing
people out, and was a general favourite with every one.  The impression
I had of Bute during all our time at Harrow was always the same--that
of his very shy and quiet manner.

[Sidenote: 1862, A real palm branch]

Undemonstrative as he was by nature, Bute never forgot those who had
shown him any kindness, and he always preserved a grateful affection
for John Smith, who accompanied him more than once during the summer
holidays to Glentrool, Lord Galloway's lodge among the Wigtownshire
hills, and enjoyed some capital fishing there.  Bute wrote to him in
{21} later years from time to time, and during the sadly clouded
closing period of the old man's life, when he was an inmate of St.
Luke's Hospital, he gave him much pleasure by sending him annually a
palm branch which had been blessed in his private chapel.  More than
twenty years after Bute's Harrow days, he received this appreciative
letter from his former master:

St. Luke's Hospital,
  Old Street, E.C.,
    _Easter Tuesday_, 1887.


I must try and write a few lines, asking you to pardon all defects.

The real Palm Branch was most welcome, with its special blessing: it is
behind me as I write, and many happy thoughts and messages does it
bring.  God bless you for your most kind thought.  I intend to forward
it in due time to Gerald Rendall (late head of Harrow, then Fellow of
Trin. Coll., Cambridge, now Principal of University College,
Liverpool), as my share in furnishing his new home: he was married this
vacation.  The students, male and female, will be glad to see what a
real Palm Branch is like.  Your gift of last year is now in the valued
keeping of Mrs. Edward Bradby, whose husband was a master of Harrow in
your day, and, after fifteen years of hard and successful work at
Haileybury, has taken up his abode at St. Katherine's Dock House, Tower
Hill, with wife and children, to live among the poor and brighten their
dull existence with music and pictures and dancing; besides inviting
them, in times of real necessity, to dine with himself and his wife, in
batches of eight and ten.

I look forward to the _Review_[1] with great interest.  {22} I show it
to the Medical Gentlemen here, read what I can, and then forward it to
my sister at Harrow for friends there.

I try to realise the old chapel on the beach, in which the branches
were consecrated,[2] but fail utterly to do so.  _Whereabouts is it_?
I suppose you have a chapel in the house also, for invalids, &c., in
bad weather.

God bless you all: Lady Bute and the children, especially the maiden
who is working at Greek.[3]

Ever your grateful
  J. S.

From John Smith's _quasi_-parental care, Bute passed in due time into
the house of Mr. Westcott (afterwards Bishop of Durham), who occupied
"Moretons," on the top of West Hill (now in the possession of Mr. M. C.
Kemp).  The future bishop, with all his attainments, had not the
reputation of a very successful teacher in class, nor of a good
disciplinarian; but as a house-master he had many admirable qualities,
and was greatly beloved by his pupils.  For him also Bute preserved a
warm and lifelong sentiment of regard and gratitude; and to him, as to
John Smith, he was accustomed to send every Easter a blessed palm from
his private chapel, which Dr. Westcott preserved carefully in his own
chapel at Auckland Castle.  "See that the Bishop of Durham gets his
palm," were Lord Bute's whispered words as he was lying stricken by his
last illness in the Holy Week of 1900.  The tribute of affectionate
{23} remembrance had been an annual one for more than thirty years.

[Sidenote: 1863, School friendships]

Of all Bute's contemporaries at the great school, there were perhaps
only two with whom he struck up a real and close friendship.  One was
Adam Hay Gordon of Avochie (a cadet of the Tweeddale family), who was
with him afterwards at Christ Church, and was one of his few intimate
associates there.  The intimacy was not continued into later years, but
the memory of it remained.  "I heard with sorrow," Bute recorded in his
diary on July 12, 1894, "of the death of one of my dearest friends,
Addle Hay Gordon.  Though at Harrow together, and very intimate at
college, we had not met for many years.  In my Oxford days I several
times stayed in Edinburgh with him and his parents, in Rutland Square.
We were as brothers."[4]

An even more intimate, and more lasting, friendship was that with
George E. Sneyd, who was at Westcott's house with Bute, and who
afterwards became his private secretary, married his cousin, Miss
Elizabeth Stuart (granddaughter of Admiral Lord George Stuart) in 1880,
and died in the same year as Adam Hay Gordon.  "It is difficult to
say," wrote Bute in January, 1894, "what this loss is to me.  He had
been an intimate friend ever since we were at Westcott's big house at
Harrow--one of my few at all, the most intimate (unless Addle Hay
Gordon) and the most trusted I ever had.  He had a very important place
in my will.  For these two I had prayed by name regularly at every Mass
I have heard for many, many years."


A school contemporary, who records Bute's close friendship with George
Sneyd, mentions (as do others) his fancy for keeping Ligurian bees in
his tiny study-bedroom.  "My only recollection of his room at Harrow,
where I once visited him," writes Sir Herbert Maxwell, "is of an
arrangement whereby bees entered from without into a hive within the
room, where their proceedings could be watched."  A brother of Sir
Redvers Buller, who boarded in the adjoining house, has recorded that
"Bute's bees" were a perfect nuisance to him, as they had a way of
flying in at his window instead of their own, and disturbing him at his
studies or other employments.

[Sidenote: 1863, Harrow school prizes]

"At Harrow," said one of Bute's obituary notices, "the young Scottish
peer was as poetical as Byron."  This rather absurd remark is perhaps
to some extent justified by one episode in Bute's school career.  "I
have a general recollection of him," writes a correspondent already
quoted, "as a very amiable, though reserved, boy, not given to games,
who astonished us all by securing the English Prize Poem.  He won this
distinction (the assigned subject was 'Edward the Black Prince') in the
summer of 1863, when only fifteen years of age."  "His winning this
prize in 1863, when quite young," writes the Archbishop of Canterbury,
who was in the same form as Bute at Harrow and knew him well, "was his
most notable exploit.  There is a special passage about ocean waves and
their 'decuman,' which has often been quoted as a remarkable effort on
the part of a young boy.[5] {25} He was very quiet and unassuming in
all his ways."

A further honour gained by Bute in the same year (1863) was one of the
headmaster's Fifth Form prizes for Latin Verse; but the text of this
composition (it was a translation from English verse) has not been
preserved.  The fact of his winning these two important prizes is a
sufficient proof that, if not "as poetical as Byron," he had a distinct
feeling for poetry, and that generally his industry and ability had
enabled him to make up much, if not all, of the leeway caused by the
imperfect and desultory character of his early education.  In other
words he passed through his school course with credit and even
distinction; and that he preserved a kindly memory of his Harrow days
is sufficiently shown by the fact that he took the unusual
step--unusual, that is, in the case of the head of a great Roman
Catholic family--of sending all his three sons to be educated at the
famous school on the Hill.

Bute's career at Harrow, like his private school course, was an
unusually short one, extending over only three years.  He left the
school in the first term of 1865, presenting to the Vaughan Library at
his departure a small collection of books, which it may be of some
interest to enumerate.  They were Pierotti's _Jerusalem Explained_, 2
vols. folio; {26} Digby's _Broadstone of Honour_, 3 vols.; Victor
Hugo's _Les Miserables_, 3 vols.; Miss Proctor's _Legends and Lyrics_;
Gil Blas, 2 vols. (illustrated); _Don Quixote_; Napier's _Memoirs of
Montrose_, 3 vols.; and _Memoirs of Dundee_, 2 vols.

He further evinced his interest in his old school by presenting to it,
five years after leaving, a portrait of John first Marquess of Bute
(then Lord Mountstuart), wearing the dress of the school Archery Corps
of that day (1759).  This portrait (which is a copy of a well-known
painting by Allan Ramsay) now hangs in the Vaughan Library.

[Sidenote: 1865, Pilgrimage to Palestine]

It was characteristic of the young Harrovian that, his school-days
over, he took the very first opportunity to turn his steps towards the
East, in which from his earliest boyhood he had always been curiously
interested.  It was not the first occasion of his leaving England, for
he had visited Brussels and other cities several times with his mother
during his childhood, and used in later years to note in his diary the
half-forgotten recollections of places which he had seen in those early
and happy days.  But his visit to Palestine in the spring of 1865--the
first of many journeys to the Holy Land--was an entirely new
experience; and to this youth of seventeen, thoughtful and
religious-minded beyond his years, it was no mere pleasure trip, but a
veritable pilgrimage.  "I am sending you a copy," he wrote to a friend
at Oxford in the autumn of this year, "of a document which I value more
than anything I have ever received in my life: the certificate of my
visit to the Holy Places of Jerusalem given to me by the Father
Guardian of the Franciscan convent on Mount Sion.  Here it is:


[Illustration: Emblem]

In Dei Nomine.  Amen.  Omnibus et singulis praesentes literas
inspecturis, lecturis, vel legi audituris, fidem notumque facimus Nos
Terrae Sanctæ Custos, devotum Peregrinum Illustrissimum Dominum Dominum
Joannem, Marchionem de Bute in Scotia, Jerusalem feliciter pervenisse
die 10 Mensis Maii anni 1865; inde subsequentibus diebus præcipua
Sanctuaria in quibus Mundi Salvator dilectum populum Suum, immo et
totius generis humani perditam congeriem ab inferi servitute
misericorditer liberavit, utpote Calvarium ... SS. Sepulchrum ... ac
tandem ea omnia sacra Palestinæ loca gressibus Domini ac Beatissimæ
ejus Matris Mariæ consecrata, à Religiosis nostris et Peregrinis
visitari solita, visitasse.

In quorum fidem has scripturas Officii Nostri sigillo munitas per
Secretarium expediri mandavimus.

Datis apud S. Civitatem Jerusalem, ex venerabili Nostro Conventu SS.
Salvatoris, die 29 Maii, 1865.

L.S. De mandato Reverendiss. in Christo Patris


+ Sigillum Guardiani Montis Sion.

(There is an image of the Descent of the H. Spirit, and of the

"It touched and interested me extremely," Bute said many years later,
"to find myself described in this document as 'devotus Peregrinus,' and
this for more than one reason.  The phrase, in the first place, seemed
to link me, a mere schoolboy, with the myriads of devout and holy men,
saints and warriors, who had made the pilgrimage before me.  'Illuc
enim ascenderunt tribus, tribus Domini.'  And then I remembered that I
descended lineally through my mother's family, the Hastings', from a
very famous pilgrim, the 'Pilgrim of Treves,' the Hebrew who went to
Rome during the great Papal Schism, sat himself down on one of the
Seven Hills, and dubbed himself Pope.  When Martin V. (Colonna) was
recognised as lawful Pope, {28} my ancestor returned to Rome and, I
believe, reverted to the Judaism from which he had temporarily lapsed.
But this celebrated journey earned him the title, _par excellence_, of
the Pilgrim of Treves; and the name of Peregrine has been borne since,
all through the centuries, by many of his descendants, of whom I am
one."  All this is so curiously characteristic of Lord Bute's half
serious, half whimsical (and always original) manner of regarding
out-of-the-way corners of history and genealogy, that it seems worth
reproducing in this place.

[Illustration: THE MARQUESS OF BUTE, ÆT. 17.]

[Sidenote: 1866, Steeplechasing at Oxford]

Soon after his return from his Palestine journey, Bute was duly
matriculated at Christ Church, Oxford, and he went into residence in
the October term.  He was one of the last batch of peers who entered
the university on the technical footing of "noblemen," with the
privilege of wearing a distinctive dress, sitting at a special table in
hall, and paying double for everything.  Among his contemporaries at
the House were the Duke of Hamilton, Lord Rosebery, the seventh Duke of
Northumberland, and Lords Cawdor, Doune, and Willoughby de Broke.  His
cousin, the fourth and last Marquess of Hastings, who was five years
his senior, had not long before gone down from the university, had been
married for a year, and was at the height of the meteoric career which
came to a premature and inglorious end just when Bute attained his
majority.  The latter had that strong sense of family attachment which
is so marked a characteristic of Scotsmen; and _noblesse oblige_ was a
maxim which for him had a very real and serious meaning.  It is certain
that the contemplation of his cousin's wasted life not only distressed
him deeply, but tended to confirm in him an almost exaggerated {29}
antipathy to the extravagant craze for racing, gambling and betting,
which was the form of "sport" most prevalent among the young men of
family and fashion who were his contemporaries at Oxford.  Bute's
entire want of sympathy with such pursuits and such ideals thus
inevitably cut him off from anything like intimate intercourse with the
predominant members of the undergraduate society of his college.  He
would not be persuaded to frequent their clubs or share in their
amusements, which to him would have been no amusements at all; although
he was elected a member of "Loders," to which the noblemen and
gentlemen-commoners of the House as a matter of course belonged.  He
was, however, induced, on the representations of one of his friends
(probably Hay Gordon) to own and nominate a horse in the university
steeplechases (or "grinds," as they were called).  "Some one, I do not
know who," writes one of his contemporaries, "had informed him that I
was the proper person to ride his horse.  When I interviewed him on the
subject (which I did with some trepidation, as he was exceedingly shy
and stiff with strangers), he evinced not the slightest interest either
in his horse or the contest in which it was to take part.  The animal
came in only third, but Bute showed neither disappointment nor pleasure
in anything it did or failed to do either on this or on subsequent
occasions."  Another anecdote in connection with this episode of
"Bute's steeplechaser" is related by one of his fellow-undergraduates,
who was charged, or had charged himself, with the duty of informing the
owner of this unprofitable horse (for which, by the way, he had paid a
good round sum) that it was among the "Also Rans" in the Christ Church
{30} grinds.  "Ah! indeed?" was his only comment; "but now I want to
know," he continued eagerly, "if you can help me to solve a much more
important question.  What real claim had the [Greek: kremastoí kêpoi]
(the hanging gardens) of Semiramis at Babylon, to be classified, as
they were in ancient times, among the Seven Wonders of the World?"

Whilst on the subject of Bute's diversions at Christ Church (though
steeplechasing, even vicariously, can hardly be said to have been one
of them), reference may appropriately be made to a rather remarkable
entertainment which he gave by way of repaying the hospitalities
extended to him by his companions, including some of his former
school-fellows at Harrow.  It took the form of a fancy-dress ball,
which came off in the fine suite of rooms which he occupied in the
north-west corner of Tom Quad (since subdivided).  Here is the
invitation card, surmounted with the emblazoned arms of the House,
which was sent out:

            MARQUESS OF BUTE
                AT HOME

  La Morgue               Bal Masqué
    IV. I. Tom.            R.S.V.P.

"La Morgue" was the room, adjacent to his own, which was, as a matter
of fact, used as a mortuary when any death occurred within the college.
The young host received his guests at the entrance to this apartment in
the character of his Satanic Majesty, attired in a close-fitting
garment of scarlet and black, with wings, horn, and tail; and most of
the guests figured as dons, eminent churchmen, and other well-known
personages in the university, the stately dean being, of course,
represented, as well as {31} Mrs. Liddell, who afterwards expressed
regret that she had not been present in person.  A fracas in the
refreshment room resulted in a jockey (the Hon. H. Needham) being
arrested by a policeman, who conducted him to the police-office before
the culprit discovered that the supposed constable was one of his
fellow-revellers.  The affair was altogether so successful that Bute
designed to repeat it a year later; but the authorities of the House,
who had given no permission for the original entertainment,
peremptorily forbade its repetition.[6]

[Sidenote: 1865, Oxford friends]

Bute had come into residence at Oxford a few weeks after his eighteenth
birthday; and the above reminiscences show that with all his
serious-mindedness he possessed, as indeed might have been expected,
something also, at that period, of what Disraeli called "the
irresponsible frivolity of immature manhood."  His amiability of
character and remarkable personal courtesy prevented him from being in
any degree unpopular; but his intimate friends at Oxford were
undoubtedly very few; and it is curious that the most intimate of them
all was not an undergraduate, or an Oxford man at all, but a lady much
his senior, Miss Felicia Skene, daughter of a well-known man of letters
and friend of Walter Scott, long resident in Oxford.  Miss Skene was
herself a person of remarkable attainments and qualities, one of them
being a rare gift of sympathy, which seems to have won the heart of the
solitary young Scotsman from the first {32} day of their acquaintance.
Bute corresponded with her constantly and regularly, not only during
his undergraduate days, but for many years subsequently; and his
letters show to how large a degree he gave her his confidence in
matters of the most intimate interest to himself.  One of the earliest
of these is dated from Dumfries House, Ayrshire, in the Christmas
vacation following his first term at Oxford.

Dumfries House,
    _Christmas Day_ [1865].


A happy Xmas to you.  Mine is comfortable, if not merry nor ideal.  Let
me say in black and white that I mean to pay for the meat and wine
ordered by the doctor for the poor woman you mention....  Money I
cannot send.  I have little more than £100 to spend myself.  My
allowance is £2000, and I have overdrawn £1630, with a draft for £1000
coming due.  I am trying to raise the wind here: it seems absurd that I
should be "hard up," but it is a long story.  I am only sorry that the
offerings I should make at this time to the "Little Child of Bethlehem"
are not procurable.

Ever yours most truly,

[Sidenote: 1865, At Dumfries House]

Bute had now finally left Galloway House, which had been his holiday
residence during his Harrow days; and his home when not at Oxford was
at Dumfries House, his Ayrshire seat, then in the occupation of Sir
James and Lady Edith Fergusson.  "I saw a good deal of him when he was
living at Dumfries House under the tutelage of Sir James Fergusson,"
writes one who had known him from {33} childhood.  "He used to come
down to the smoking-room at night arrayed in a gorgeous garment of pale
blue and gold: I think he said he had had it made on the pattern of a
saintly bishop's vestment in a stained glass window of the Harrow
Chapel.  Sir James was anxious to make a sportsman of Bute, and bought
a hunter or two for him.  I remember his coming out one day with Lord
Eglinton's hounds, but I never saw him take the field again."  The
tyro, as a matter of fact, got a toss in essaying to jump a hedge; and
so mortified was he by this public discomfiture that he not only never
again appeared in the hunting-field, but he never quite forgave Sir
James for being the indirect cause of the misadventure.

Miss Skene not only acted to some extent as Bute's almoner during his
Oxford days (it is fair to say that the "hard-up" condition alluded to
in the above letter was due at least as much to his lavish almsgiving
as to any personal extravagance), but was his adviser in regard to
other matters.  "Mrs. Leighton [wife of the Warden of All Souls] has
invited me," runs one of his notes, "to come and meet a Scottish bishop
(St. Andrews) at dinner, and asks me in the same letter to give 'out of
my abundance' a cheque to enlarge the Penitentiary chapel.  Now I
dislike Scots Episcopalian bishops (not individually but officially),
their genesis having been unblushingly Erastian, and their present
status in Scotland being schismatic and dissenting; and my 'abundance'
at present consists of a heavy overdraft at the bank.  Read and forward
the enclosed reply, unless you think the lady will take offence, which
can hardly be."

He often copied for his friend extracts which {34} struck him from
books he was reading.  "I have transcribed for you," he wrote a few
weeks after his nineteenth birthday, "the account of the death of
Krishna from the Vishnu Purána.  A hunter by accident shot him in the
foot with an arrow.  When he saw what he had done he prostrated himself
and implored pardon.  Krishna granted it and translated him at once to
heaven.  'Then the illustrious Krishna, having united himself with his
own pure, spiritual, inexhaustible, inconceivable, unborn, undecaying,
imperishable and universal spirit, which is one with Vásundera,
abandoned his mortal body and the condition of the threefold
qualities.'  To my mind this description of the great Saviour becoming
one with universal spirit approaches the sublime."

At the end of his first summer term (June, 1866) Bute made his second
tour in the East--a more extended one this time, visiting not only
Constantinople and Palestine, but Kurdistan and Armenia.  His tutor,
the Rev. S. Williams, accompanied him, as well as one or two friends,
including Harman Grisewood, one of his associates at the House, and one
of the few with whom he maintained an intimacy after their Oxford days.
A diary kept by Bute of the first portion of this tour has been
preserved: it describes his doings with great minuteness, and is a
remarkable record for a youth of eighteen to have written.  In Paris
nothing seems to have much interested him except the churches, and long
antiquarian conversations with the Vicomte de Vogüé and others.  "I
again visited the Comte de V.,"[7] {35} runs one entry.  "We got into
the Cities of Bashan, and stayed there three or four hours."  Many
pages are devoted to a detailed description of Avignon, and later of
St. John's Church at Malta, of Syracuse, Catania, and Messina.  At
Malta he visited the tomb of his grandfather (the first Marquess of
Hastings, who died when governor of Malta in 1826), and "was much
pleased with it."  Describing the high mass in the Benedictine Church
at Catania, he says, "At the end, during the Gospel of St. John, the
organist (the organ is one of the finest in the world) played a
military march so well that I, at least, could hardly be persuaded that
the loud clear clash, the roll of the drums, the ring of the triangle,
and the roar of the brass instruments were false.  It seemed to me that
this passage, which was admirably executed, harmonised wonderfully well
with the awful words of the part of the Mass which it accompanied."

[Sidenote: 1866, Ascent of Mount Etna]

The young diarist's vivid descriptive powers are well shown in his
narrative of the ascent of Etna, and the impression it made on him:

We dined [at Nicolosi] on omelet, bread, and figs, and the nastiest
wine, and at about 7 p.m. started on mules.  These beasts had saddles
more uncomfortable than words can describe.  Their pace was about 2-½
miles per hour, which it was too easy to reduce, but quite impossible
to accelerate.  Mine had for bridle a cord three feet long, tied to one
of several large rings on one side of its head.  The journey lasted
till 1.30 a.m. or later....  About {36} 1 in the morning, Mr. W. and
one guide having long dropped far behind, where their shrieks and yells
(now growing hoarse from despair) could be faintly heard in the
darkness far down the mountain, we emerged upon the summit between the
peaks; and at the same time the full moon, silver, intense, rose from
behind the lower summit, and shed a flood of light over the tremendous
scene of desolation.  As far as the eye could reach, there was nothing
visible but cinders and sky.  At every step we sank eighteen inches
into the black dust as we stumbled on in single file in perfect
silence.  A couple of miles ahead rose the great crater peak, with
patches of snow at its foot and the eternal white cloud emanating and
writhing from the summit.  After an hour's rest at the Casa Inglese, a
miserable hovel at the foot of the Cone, we started, wrapped in plaids,
the cold being intense.  Mr. W. had now rejoined us.  The Cone is a
hill about the size of Arthur's Seat, covered with rolling friable
cinders, from which rise clouds of white sulphureous dust.  The ascent
took rather more than an hour.  Mr. W. gave out half-way up, declaring
he should faint.  The pungent sulphur-smoke came sweeping down the
hill-side, choking and blinding one.  Eyes were smarting, lungs loaded,
throat burnt, mouth dry and nostrils choked.  On we struggled till the
very ground gave forth curling clouds of smoke from every cranny.  A
few more steps and we were on the summit, at the very edge of the
crater, which yawned into perdition within a few inches of one's foot.
It is an immense glen, surrounded by a chain of heights, with
tremendously precipitous sides, bright yellow in the depths, whence
rises continually the cloud of smoke.  The whole scene is exactly like
Doré's illustrations of the Inferno....  The sun rose over Italy as we
sat with our heads wrapped up and handkerchiefs in our mouths; but
there was no view at all, the height is too stupendous.  The {37}
horror of the whole place cannot be depicted.  We were delighted to get
back to the Casa Inglese, where we remounted our mules and crept away.

[Sidenote: 1866, Impressions of Eastern travel]

From Sicily the travellers visited Smyrna and Chios on their way to
Constantinople.  Pages of the diary are taken up with descriptions of
churches, and functions attended in them, and it is of interest to note
that, profoundly interested as Bute was in the Greek churches and the
Greek liturgy, his religious sympathies were entirely with the Latin
communion.  The "spiritual deadness," as he calls it, of the schismatic
churches of the East, repelled and dismayed him.  "It strikes me as
essentially dreadful," he writes of a visit to the Church of the
Transfiguration at Syra, "that the Photian Tabernacle everywhere
enshrines a deserted Saviour.  The daily sacrifice is not offered; the
churches are closed and cold, save for a few hours on Sunday and
festivals; visits to the B. Sacrament are unknown.  Pictures are
exposed to receive an exaggerated homage, unknown and undreamt of in
the West.  But it is absolutely true to say that the Perpetual Presence
(to which no reverence at all is offered, by genuflection or otherwise)
receives less respect than one ordinarily pays to any place of worship
whatever, even a meeting-house or synagogue."  Later, recording a visit
to the Greek cathedral at Pera, he describes the service there as "the
most disagreeable function I ever attended: the church crammed with
people in a state of restlessness and irreverence characteristic of
Photian schismatics; and the whole service as much spoiled as slurring,
drawling, utter irreverence, bad music, and bad taste could spoil it.
After breakfast I {38} attended the High Mass at the Church of the
Franciscans--a different thing indeed from the Photian Cathedral; and I
went back there in the afternoon for Vespers and Benediction."

It has been sometimes said that Bute, during the period immediately
preceding his reception into the Catholic Church, was even more drawn
towards the "Orthodox" form of belief than he was to the prevailing
religion of Western Christendom.  The above extracts show that the very
reverse was the case.  Genuine and earnest worship stirred and
impressed him everywhere: thus he writes, after witnessing an elaborate
ceremonial (including the dance of the dervishes) in a mosque at
Constantinople: "I left the mosque very much wrought up and excited.
There are those who are not impressed by this.  There are those also
who laugh at a service in a language they do not know: there are those
who see nothing august or awful even in the Holy Mass."  Slovenliness,
irreverence, tepidity in religion were what pained and repelled him;
and finding those characteristics everywhere in the liturgical services
of those whom he called the Photians, he was so far from being
attracted towards any idea of joining their communion, that he returned
to England, and to Oxford, after this Eastern journey, with the whole
bent of his religious aspirations set more and more in the direction of
the Catholic and Roman Church.  His conversion was, in fact,
accomplished before the end of this year, although circumstances, as
will be seen, compelled the postponement for a considerable time of the
public and formal profession of his faith.

[1] The _Scottish Review_, which Lord Bute controlled at this time, and
to which he contributed many articles.

[2] This was the chapel on the edge of the sea, among the Mountstuart
woods, which had been built for the convenience of the people living
and working near the house.  Lord Bute used it as a domestic chapel
until the new chapel at Mountstuart was opened.  He was buried there in

[3] Lord Bute's only daughter, Lady Margaret Crichton-Stuart, then in
her twelfth year, and under the tutelage of a Greek governess.

[4] Adam Hay Gordon married in 1873 the beautiful granddaughter of Sir
Robert Dalrymple Horn Elphinstone, and died without issue, as above
recorded, in July, 1894.

[5] "'Tis said that when upon a rocky shore
    The salt sea billows break with muffled roar,
    And, launched in mad career, the thundering wave
    Leaps booming through the weedy ocean cave;
    Each tenth is grander than the nine before.
    And breaks with tenfold thunder on the shore.
    Alas! it is so on the sounding sea;
    But so, O England, it is not with thee!
    Thy decuman is broken on the shore:
    A peer to him shall lave thee never more!"

The text of the whole poem is given in Appendix I.

[6] The particulars of this whimsical incident in Bute's university
career have been kindly furnished by Mr. Algernon Turnor, C.B., who was
his contemporary at Christ Church.  It was he who rode--though not to
victory--the steeplechaser mentioned in the text.  Mr. Turner married
in 1880 Lady Henrietta Stewart, one of Bute's early playmates and
companions at Galloway House.

[7] Eugene Vicomte de Vogüé, whom Bute wrongly styles "Comte" in his
diary, was a few months his junior.  One of the most brilliant and
charming men of his generation, he was in turn soldier, diplomatist,
politician, and _littérateur_.  He became a member of the Academy in
1888 and died in 1910.  He published books and articles on a great
variety of subjects, all marked with the profoundly religious feeling
which characterised him.




1867, 1868

A well-meaning person thought well to compile and publish, some years
ago, a volume in which a few distinguished Roman Catholics, and a great
number of mediocrities, were invited to describe the process and
motives which led them "to abandon" (as some cynic once expressed it)
"the errors of the Church of England for those of the Church of Rome."
Lord Bute, who was among the many more or less eminent people who
received and declined invitations to contribute to this symposium, was
certainly the last man likely to consent to recount his own religious
experiences for the benefit of a curious public.  It is, therefore, all
the more interesting that in a copy of the book above referred to,
belonging to one of his most intimate friends,[1] was preserved a
memorandum in Bute's writing, which throws an interesting light on
some, at least, of the causes which were contributory to his own
submission to the Roman Church.

I came to see very clearly indeed that the Reformation was in England
and Scotland--I had not studied it elsewhere--the work neither of God
nor of the people, its real authors being, in the former country, {40}
a lustful and tyrannical King, and in the latter a pack of greedy,
time-serving and unpatriotic nobles.  (Almost the only real patriots in
Scotland at that period were bishops like Elphinstone, Reid, and

I also convinced myself (1) that while the disorders rampant in the
Church during the sixteenth century clamoured loudly for reform, they
in no way justified apostacy and schism; and (2) that were I personally
to continue, under that or any other pretext, to remain outside the
Catholic and Roman Church, I should be making myself an accomplice
after the fact in a great national crime and the most indefensible act
in history.  And I refused to accept any such responsibility.

[Sidenote: 1860, Attraction to Roman Church]

The late Jesuit historian, Father Joseph Stevenson, who spent a great
number of years in laborious study (for his work in the Record Office)
of the original documents and papers of the Reformation period, frankly
avowed that it was what he learned in these researches, and no other
considerations whatever, which convinced him--an elderly Anglican
clergyman of the old school--that the Catholic Church was the Church of
God, and the so-called Reformation the work of His enemies.  It was one
of his colleagues in the Society of Jesus[2] who quoted this to Lord
Bute, and his emphatic comment was, "That is a point of view which I
thoroughly appreciate."  As to Bute himself, there were undoubtedly
many sides of his character to which the appeal of the ancient Church
would be strong and insistent.  Her august and venerable ritual, the
ordered splendour of her ceremonial, the deep significance of her
liturgy and worship, {41} could not fail to attract one who had learned
to see in them far more than the mere outward pomp and beauty which are
but symbols of their inward meaning.  The love and tenderness and
compassion with which she is ever ready to minister to the least of her
children would touch the heart of one who beneath a somewhat cold
exterior had himself a very tender feeling for the stricken and the
sorrowful.  The marvellous roll of her saints, the story of their
lives, the record of their miracles, would stir the imagination and
kindle the enthusiasm of one who loved to remember, as we have seen,
that the blood of pilgrims flowed in his veins, and found one of his
greatest joys in visiting the shrines, following in the footsteps,
venerating the remains, and verifying the acts of the saints of God in
many lands, even in the remotest corners of Christendom.  His mind and
heart and soul found satisfaction in all these things; but most of all
it was the historic sense which he possessed in so peculiar a degree,
the craving for an exact and accurate presentment of the facts of
history, which was one of his most marked characteristics--it was these
which, during his many hours of painful and laborious searching into
the records of the past, were the most direct and immediate factors in
convincing his intellect, as his heart was already convinced, that the
Catholic and Roman Church, and no other, was the Church founded by
Christ on earth, and that to remain outside it was, for him, to incur
the danger of spiritual shipwreck.

Dr. Liddon, who was at this time a Senior Student of Christ Church, and
resident in the college (he became Ireland Professor of Exegesis four
years later, and a Canon of St. Paul's in the same year), {42} was wont
to say that Bute was far too busy, during his undergraduate career, in
"reconsidering and reconstructing his religious position," to give more
than a secondary place to his regular academic studies.  His reading,
which, undistracted by any of the ordinary dissipations of university
life, he pursued with unflagging ardour, sitting at his books often far
into the night, ranged over the whole field of comparative religion.
Every form of ancient faith, Judaism, Buddhism, Islamism, the beliefs
of old Egypt, Greece and Rome, as well as the creeds and worship of
Eastern and Western Christendom, were the subject of his studies and
his thoughts; and the more he read and pondered, the more clear became
his conviction that in the Roman Church alone could his mind, his
heart, and his imagination find rest and satisfaction.  No external
influence of any kind helped to bring him to that conclusion.  In the
conduct of his studies and the arrangement of his reading he freely
sought and obtained the advice and assistance of tutors and professors,
both belonging to the House and outside it.  But from no Roman Catholic
source did he ask or receive counsel or direction at this time; and he
once said that during the first year of his Oxford course he was not
even aware of the existence of a Roman Catholic church in the
university city.  Two or three Catholic undergraduates were in
residence at Christ Church in his time, but he was not intimate with
any of them.  He was fond of taking long walks, then, as always, almost
the only form of bodily exercise he favoured, though he was a good
swimmer and fencer; and it was in company with his most intimate
friend, Adam Hay Gordon, that he once, after a visit to Wantage (the
associations {43} of which with King Alfred greatly interested him),
penetrated to the ancient Catholic chapel of East Hendred, not far
distant.  He was greatly moved at learning that this venerable
sanctuary was one of the very few in England in which, it was said, the
lamp before the tabernacle had never been extinguished, and Mass had
been celebrated all through the darkest days of penal times; and he
knelt so long in prayer before the altar that he had twice to be
reminded by his companion of the long walk home they had in prospect.
This pilgrimage--Bute always considered it as such, and spoke of it
with emotion long years afterwards--took place in the autumn of 1866;
and before he left Oxford for the Christmas vacation of that year he
had made up his mind to seek admission without delay into the Catholic
fold, and (as he hoped) to make his first communion as a Catholic
before the Easter festival of the following year.

[Sidenote: 1866, Decision taken]

Absorbed in his studies, and cheered and encouraged by the dawn of
religious certainty, and his growing confidence in the sureness of the
ground on which his feet were placed, Bute had, it is probable,
reckoned little, if at all, on the storm of opposition, protest, and
resentment which was bound to break out the moment his proposed change
of religion became known.  Lady Edith Fergusson, his guardian's wife,
for whom he had a sincere affection, first learned his intention from
himself during his Christmas sojourn at Dumfries House.  The news came
as a great blow to Sir James, who, with all his good qualities, had no
intellectual equipment adequate to meeting the reasoned arguments of
his young ward; and he fled up to London to take counsel with Bute's
English guardians.  The tidings caused consternation in the {44} Lord
Chancellor's Court, and (it was said) in a Court even more august; and
the cry was for a scapegoat to bear the brunt of the general wrath.
Who and where was the subtle Jesuit, the secret emissary of Rome, who
had hatched the dark plot, had "got hold of" the guileless youth, and
inveigled him away from the simple faith of his childhood?  Public
indignation was heightened rather than allayed by the impossibility of
identifying this sinister conspirator.  _Non est inventus_.  He had, in
fact, no more existence than Mrs. Harris.  The circumstances of the
case were patent and simple.  A young man of strong religious
instincts, good parts, and studious habits, had, after much reading,
grave consideration (and, it might be added, earnest prayer, but that
was outside the public ken), come to the conclusion that the religion
of the greater part of Christendom was right and that of the British
minority wrong.  And what made matters worse was that he had in his
constitution so large a share of native Scottish tenacity, that there
seemed no possibility of inducing him to change his mind.  The obvious,
and only alternative, policy was delay.  Get him to put off the evil
day, and all might yet be well.  The _mot d'ordre_ was accordingly
given; and a united crusade was entered on by kinsfolk and
acquaintance, guardians, curators, and tutors-at-law, the Chancellor
and his myrmidons, the family solicitors, and finally the dons and
tutors at Oxford, to extract from the prospective convert, at whatever
cost, a promise not to act on his convictions at least until after
attaining his majority.  After that--well, anything might happen; and
if during the interval of nearly two years he were to take to drink or
gambling, to waste his substance on riotous living (like his {45}
unfortunate cousin), or generally to go to the devil--it would be of
course very regrettable, but anyhow he would be rescued from Popery,
and that was the only thing that really mattered.

[Sidenote: 1867, Oxford alarmed]

In the midst of these alarums and excursions the young peer returned to
Christ Church for the Lent term of 1867, and found himself the object
of much more public attention and solicitude than he at all
appreciated.  "Life is odious here at present," he wrote to the always
faithful friend of whose sympathy he was sure, "and I am having a worse
time even than I had during all the rows about my guardianship.
Luckily I am better able to bear it, and nothing will ever change my

Dr. Liddon concerned himself very actively with the project of getting
Bute to agree to delay in carrying out his purpose; and with him was
associated Dr. Mansel, at that time a Fellow of St. John's and
Professor of Church History (he became Dean of St. Paul's in 1868).
There were some advanced churchmen among the Senior Students[3] of that
day, including the Rev. R. Benson, first superior of the Cowley
brotherhood, and the Rev. T. Chamberlain of St. Thomas's, who claimed
to be the first clergyman to have worn a chasuble in his parish church
since the Reformation.[4]  Such men as these would naturally {46} point
out that Bute could get all that he wanted in their section of the
Anglican Church; but by another of the Students, Mr. Septimus Andrews,
who afterwards followed Bute into the Catholic Church and became an
Oblate of St. Charles, he was encouraged to remain faithful to his
convictions, in spite of the strong pressure brought to bear on him
from all quarters.  It was even said that Dr. Pusey (who seems to have
taken no part in the agitation of the time) was to be asked to approach
Dr. Newman in his retirement at Edgbaston, and beg him to use his
influence to secure the delay which was all that was now hoped for.
There is no evidence that this step was actually taken; but the
success, such as it was, of these reiterated appeals for postponement
of the final and definitive step is attested by the following deeply
interesting letter, written by Bute to his friend at Oxford at the
beginning of the Easter vacation of 1867.

[Sidenote: 1867, A sad letter]

122, George St.,
    _Maundy Thursday_, 1867.


On this day, which was to have seen my First Communion, I do not
believe I should have the heart to write and tell you that it has all
failed, if it were not for a sort of hard, cold, listless feeling of
utter apathy to everything Divine which is new to me, but which has, as
it were, petrified me since my fall.

The long and short is that the Protestants--_i.e._ the Lord Chancellor
and his Court; my Guardians; my friends and relations; and Mansel,
Liddon, and Co. have extorted from me a promise not to become a
Catholic till I am of age.  They are {47} jubilant with the jubilation
of devils over a lost soul; but I am hopeless and weary to a degree.

There remains nothing to say now, except that I am utterly wrecked.  I
have not dared to pray since.  I have heard Mass twice, but I looked on
with an indifference greater than if I had been at a play.  I feel no
moral principle either.  It is simply all up.  Instead of feeling these
holy days, the thought of the suffering of Christ simply haunts me like
a nightmare.  I try to drown it and drive it away.

There is no use in going on this way.  It is a triumph for which
Mansel, etc., are _thanking God_ (_!_).  I know what my own position
is.  It is hopeless, and graceless, and godless.

Most sincerely yours,

If the well-meaning divines and others who had wrung from Bute, under
the severest moral pressure, the much-desired promise, had had an
opportunity of perusing the above letter, the "jubilation" of which he
speaks would surely have been considerably modified.  It is a sad
enough document to have been written by a youth in his twentieth year,
to whom his opening manhood seemed to offer, from a worldly point of
view, everything that was most brilliant and most desirable.  The day
on which it was dated, and the thought of all that day was to have been
to him, and yet was not, naturally deepened the depression under which
it was penned, and led him perhaps to exaggerate the condition of
spiritual dereliction which he so pathetically described.  But if his
life was not in reality wrecked, if he had not in truth (and we know
that he had not) lost all sense of moral principles, it is impossible
to avoid the reflection that no thanks for this are due {48} to those
who seem utterly to have misapprehended the strength and sincerity of
his religious convictions, and the very grave responsibility they
incurred (to say nothing of the risk to himself) in persuading him to
stifle them, even for a time.  It was their hope, doubtless, that the
delay they had secured would ultimately lead to the abandonment of his
purpose; but nothing is more certain that while resolved to abide
faithfully by his promise, he was inflexibly determined to follow his
conscience and carry out his declared intention at the very moment that
he was free to do so.  This resolution taken, his wonted tranquillity
returned, and he went back to Christ Church for the summer term to
resume undisturbed, and with a mind at rest, his quiet life of study
and other congenial occupations.  Reproduced here is a rough sketch
from his pen, dated at this time (May 13, 1867), but not otherwise
described.  The drawing, which is not devoid of charm and power,
depicts apparently the Communion of St. Margaret, Queen of Scotland.
On the same sheet is another sketch which seems to be a design for a
stained glass window representing Scottish Saints.


[Sidenote: 1867, A long vacation cruise]

A great part of the Long Vacation of 1867 was spent by Bute in a cruise
to the north of Scotland and to Iceland, in the yacht _Ladybird_, which
he had recently purchased.  "On Sundays in my yacht," he writes to a
friend from Edinburgh on July 13, 1867, "I am to conduct Presbyterian
services.  There is a book of prayers approved by the Church of
Scotland for the purpose: instead of sermon, some immense bit of
Scripture, _e.g._ the whole Epistle to the Romans."  This letter, by
the way, is dated "Feast of S. Anicete"--a rare instance of
hagiographical inaccuracy on the writer's part.  {49} July 13 is not
the festival of St. Anicetus, P.M. (who is commemorated on April 17),
but of an earlier Pope and Martyr, St. Anacletus.

Bute visited St. Andrews during this cruise--a fact to which he made
interesting reference on a memorable occasion many years
subsequently.[5] It {50} was, however, in quest of the relics of
another ancient saint and martyr, dear for centuries to Scottish
Christians under the title of St. Magnus of Orkney, that Bute spent
much time in far northern waters during the summer of 1867.  Magnus
Earl of Orkney, if not a martyr in the technical sense any more than
St. Oswald (called King and Martyr) and some others of the early
English Saints, was yet a Christian hero who died a violent death at
the hands of his enemies.  It was in the little island of Egilshay that
he was slain in A.D. 1116 by his treacherous cousin Haco; and there
Bute landed from his yacht, kissing (as he records) the sacred ground
as he touched the land, and recommending--he does not say with what
result--his companion, Mr. George Petrie, F.S.A., to do the same.
After visiting the ancient church, dedicated to the saint, though its
round tower is probably far older than the time of St. Magnus, Bute
spent a long time at Kirkwall in the study of its noble cathedral,
where he obtained leave to take the reputed bones of the saint from
their resting-place in the great pier on the north side of the choir.
A minute inspection of these bones, conducted by himself, Mr. Petrie,
two local doctors, and an apothecary, convinced him that the skull (an
unusually large one, of a very degenerate type, with an old sword-cut
in it over which there was a new growth of bone) was not in the least
likely to be that of St. Magnus; and there were other remains in the
cavity, clearly those of a different person.  This conclusion was
confirmed by subsequent investigations (nineteen {51} years later)
which Bute made in Orkney, and to which reference is made on a later
page.[6]  These details are worth mention, as testifying to the
scrupulous care with which he was always anxious to examine any
supposed relic of antiquity (whether the remains of a saint or anything
else) before giving credence to its authenticity.

[Sidenote: 1867, St. Magnus of Orkney]

To the memory, and for the personality, of St. Magnus himself, Bute
always cherished a lively devotion and veneration,[7] which was shown
not only in some of his later writings, but in a hymn of seven stanzas
which he composed at this time in honour of the saint, and which was
printed in the _Orcadian_ over the signature "Oxonian."  It is a free
paraphrase of the Latin vesper hymn assigned to St. Magnus in the
Aberdeen Breviary on his feast day (April 16), and has more merit than
was claimed for it by its author, who described it in a letter to Mr.
Petrie as "a very indifferent attempt."  Another poetical composition
of his dating from this period was a pretty set of verses entitled "Our
Lady of the Snows," which was published anonymously this year in the
_Union Review_ (then edited by Dr. F. J. Lee) after being declined by
the editor of the _Month_.[8]  He wrote to Miss Skene from Thurso on
July 16, 1867:


I am tickled pleasurably by the opinion of the editor of the _Union_
about my little poem.  Are we to conclude that the standard of the
_Month_ is the higher of the two, as it rejects what the Union admits,
and even describes as "feeling and beautiful"?  I confess that till now
that had not been the result produced on my mind by a comparison of
their respective "Poet's Corners."

[Sidenote: 1867, Lady Elizabeth Moore]

Bute continued his yachting cruise from Orkney to Iceland, and spent
there his twentieth birthday, viewing the volcano of Hecla in full
eruption, as he had seen Etna a year previously.  One of his birthday
letters was from Lady Elizabeth Moore, with whom he had renewed a
regular correspondence, and who was now happy in the belief that her
former ward's secession from Protestantism was postponed _sine die_.
Her letters are always characteristically kind and affectionate, if
every phrase is not altogether judicious.


You are much in my thoughts this day....  My most affectionate good
wishes on your entering your twenty-first year.  May the Almighty bless
and protect you.  May you be preserved from evil doings and _erroneous
opinions_, and prove a bright example of good to others in the elevated
position of life in which God has placed you.  Ten years ago I spent
September 12 at St. Andrews with a little boy, the cherished object of
his mother's deepest affection.  We little thought how soon he would be
deprived of that excellent parent, and how cruel would be the
consequences that followed her sad loss.  You have wonderfully escaped
the dangers and survived the difficulties of your too eventful life in
early youth.  May the future be more calm, more happy! ... Your
mother's _bequest_ to me has {53} been a source of more anxiety than
you can ever know.  My consolation is that I firmly did my duty towards
my cousin who trusted me, and towards her orphan child.

Lady Elizabeth wrote a week later:


I was charmed to receive your letter of the 16th, _with most
interesting details_.  I pass it on to-day to Sir James Fergusson, who
merits that attention.  I am thankful you are safe out of cold, dreary,
_dangerous_ Iceland, though in after times it will be amusing to talk
of your travels in such a curious unvisited country.  You are a dear
good Boy for writing so often, and I thank you _very very_ much; only
it vexed me to be forced to remain so long silent.  On your birthday we
drank your health "with a sentiment," and the servants had a bottle of
wine for the festive occasion, and Mungo [Bute's dog] was decorated
with a new ribbon....  Mr. Henry Stuart has been extremely civil in
sending me boxes of game and fruit from Mountstuart.  There were great
doings on the 12th at Rothesay, from which I gather _you_ are now
considered Somebody, instead of being Nobody (which I always felt you
were wrong in ever permitting).  If Sir J. F. had been Guardian long
ago, such a state of things would not have existed.

Bute was called away from Oxford, soon after his return for the October
term, to attend the funeral at Cheltenham of his last surviving aunt,
Lady Selina Henry.  His mother had had three sisters, but he had never
been intimate with any of them, although he appreciated their personal
piety more, perhaps, than they did his.  "When I return," he wrote from
Cheltenham to his Oxford {54} friend, "I shall be able, perhaps, to add
to your knowledge of the ultra-Protestant school, as I have already
added to my own.  It is wonderful how holy some people are in spite of
everything."  Bute always recalled with pleasure the extreme piety of
some of his Protestant forbears, notably that of his
great-great-grandmother, Selina ninth Countess of Huntingdon,[9] after
whom Lady Selina Henry was named.  He gave an old engraved portrait of
this esteemed ancestress, who was as homely-looking as she was pious,
to an intimate friend, with these words written under it by himself:
"Fallax est gratia et vana pulchritudo: mulier timens Dominum ipsa

Not only tolerant of, but conspicuously fair-minded towards, the
religious views of others, Bute gave evidence of this, as well as of
his deep interest in theological questions, in a letter written early
in 1868 on the subject of the _Filioque_ clause in the Creed, which
divides East from West.  Himself persuaded of the truth of the doctrine
on this, as on all other points, held in the Latin Church, he could not
pass unchallenged defective or disingenuous arguments even on the right

It is really breaking a fly on the wheel to attack the argument of the
writer in the _Rock_.

What he says is this: If the Spirit proceeds from the Father only, and
not from the Father and the Son, then the Father, by this attribute of
emitting {55} the Spirit, which the Son has not, is of a nature so
different from that of the Son that they cannot be of one substance.

This visibly ludicrous position can be shown to be an absurdity thus:
The Son is by generation, the Spirit by procession, which is a much
greater difference between them than there is between the Father and
the Son by the Father's being Spirit-emitting and the Son not.
Therefore, if this difference between the Father and the Son be
sufficient to make them of different substances, how much more shall
the Son and the Spirit be of different substances!

Which is absurd.

His characteristic reverence in approaching such subjects is shown in
the postscript of this letter, dated from Christ Church, March 26, 1868:

I have a great shrinking from writing or speaking upon this awful
matter.  But as you wanted it, here it is.

[Sidenote: 1868, To Russia with Lord Rosebery]

In the Long Vacation of this year--his last as an Oxford
undergraduate--Bute again spent some weeks in a yachting cruise, not
this time in Eastern waters, but in the North Sea and the Baltic, his
companion being Lord Rosebery, who was just his own age, and had
matriculated at Christ Church in the same term as himself.  At the end
of August he returned home in view of his impending majority, which was
celebrated in September all over his extensive estates with much
rejoicing, the principal festivities being held at Cardiff.  "It will
be a great ordeal," he wrote a few days previously, "and one which I
wish it were possible to avoid."  It was in truth only the strong sense
of duty by which he was {56} ever actuated that enabled him to overcome
his natural repugnance to appearing as the principal figure in such
demonstrations; but when the time came he enacted his part with dignity
and success, and won golden opinions everywhere.  His personal
appearance, hitherto unknown to thousands of those who acclaimed him in
the streets, prepossessed them in his favour.  "His well-knit and
stalwart form," writes one of those present, "and the combined
expression of amiability and decision of character stamped upon his
countenance, struck all present."  And the same observer commends in
the young peer's speeches on this occasion, the "simplicity of style,
conciseness of expression and depth of sentiment which showed him to be
a man of thought and reflection, and one thoroughly alive to the great
responsibility entailed on him by the heritage of wealth."  His
principal speech was delivered at a great dinner given him by more than
three thousand of the tradesmen and workers of Cardiff, and it very
favourably impressed all who heard it.  In reply to the toast of his
health, he said:

I tell you that when I come into this great and growing town, and see
the vast number of men who are nourished by its growing prosperity, and
when I feel the ties of duty which bind me to them; when I consider the
hopes which they fix on me and the affectionate and precious regard
with which for my father's sake they look on me; when it comes home to
me that I must perforce do great good or great evil to them; and when,
on the other hand, my self-knowledge sets before me my own few years,
my inexperience, my weakness, my many faults, my limited ability, my
loneliness, the weight of responsibility which lies on me seems
sometimes absolutely crushing.  But it will not do to be {57} crushed
by it, and I do not mean to be.  I mean to try to do my best for this
place to the end of my life, and to do this I would ask you to help me.

[Illustration: CARDIFF CASTLE.]

[Sidenote: 1868, Rejoicings at Cardiff]

The rejoicings at Cardiff, which lasted a full week, included the
public roasting of two oxen, one in the old river-bed, the other at the
head of the west dock.  The Corporation also entertained Bute to a
banquet, of which the bill of fare is worth reproducing, as a specimen
of the Gargantuan scale on which such things were done in mid-Victorian

_Soups_.--Mock turtle, ox-tail, Julienne, vermicelli.

_Fish_.--Turbot and lobster sauce, mullet _à la cardinal_, crimped cod
and oyster sauce, filets de sole.

_Removes_.--Haunch venison, boiled leg of lamb, roast beef, green
goose, rouleau of veal, ragout sausages, roast chicken, boiled turkey
(Bechamel), braised rump beef, saddle mutton, turkey _à la royale_,
forced calves' head, ducks, rouleau of venison, boiled chicken,
tongues, hams.

_Entrées_.--Sweetbreads _à la Princesse_, lamb-cutlets au Jersey,
compôt of pigeons, fillet of chicken _à la royale_, filet de boeuf,
kidneys au champagne, pork cutlets and tomato sauce, vol-au-vent.

_Game_.--Partridges, hares, grouse.

_Sweets_.--Ice pudding, Snowdon pudding, plum pie and cream, macaroni
au gratin, Charlotte Russe, cabinet pudding, Italian cream, pastries
(various), jellies (various).

The dinner, it was reported, "gave great satisfaction"; and it is only
to be hoped that those of the guests who worked conscientiously through
the _menu_ did not live to repent it.

Bute spent the rest of the autumn, after coming of age, quietly at
Cardiff, reading much, and preparing {58} himself for the important
step--his reception into the Catholic Church--which he now felt himself
free to take.  He had already begun to obey the dietary rules
prescribed to the faithful (he found them always extremely trying,
though he observed them strictly all his life).

My chief news [he wrote on October 24, 1868] is that I have begun to
keep the laws of the Church about fasting and abstinence, and had my
first fish dinner yesterday.  The series of messes, fish and eggs and
puddings, nearly made me sick.

In the same letter he refers to a more important matter, the breaking
off of his projected marriage.  He had formed an attachment to the
sixth of the seven beautiful daughters of a well-known peer; but the
rumours of his conversion, which was now known to be certainly
impending, had caused the lady's parents to withdraw their sanction to
the proposed engagement.

To-day's post [he writes] brings me a long letter from the Duchess of
----.  It is very disheartening.  Unless the woman _lies_, she will do
everything in her power to prevent the marriage.  She is, I think, too
upright a woman to deceive.

[Sidenote: 1868, A ghostly warning]

This autumn was overshadowed for Bute by an event which he felt much
for several reasons, the death (on November 10), when only in his
twenty-seventh year, of his cousin the fourth and last Marquess of
Hastings, to whose unfortunate career reference has already been made.
Bute had gone up to Scotland a few days previously, leaving at Cardiff
Castle Mr. John Boyle (the brother of one of his former curators and a
trustee of his father's {59} will), who on November 10 was expecting a
friend to dinner.  Seated in the library, he heard a carriage roll
through the great courtyard and stop at the door.  After an interval,
thinking the bell must be broken, he came into the hall, but the
butler, who was waiting there, assured him that no carriage had come.
Next morning he received a telegram announcing that Lord Hastings had
died suddenly the night before.  He only heard later, for the first
time, that the arrival of a spectral carriage was said always to
foretell the death of some member of the Hastings family.[11]

[1] Hartwell Grissell, M.A., of Brasenose, and for many years attached
to the Papal Court.

[2] The late Father James MacSweeney, Bute's principal collaborator in
his opus magnum, the translation of the Roman Breviary.

[3] The Senior Students (now called "Students") of Christ Church
correspond to the Fellows of other colleges.

[4] The writer was told by Mr. Chamberlain himself, in his old age,
that he had first worn a red chasuble at St. Thomas's Church on Whit
Sunday, 1854.  Dr. Neale, however, had certainly worn the Eucharistic
vestments before that in his chapel at East Grinstead; and they were
introduced at Wilmscote (Warwickshire) as early as 1849.

[5] "I remember when I was at Oxford," he said in his Rectorial address
at St. Andrews a quarter of a century later (_post_, p. 187), "and was
going one Long Vacation to Iceland in company with an English friend
(now the secretary of one of Her Majesty's ministers), I stopped the
yacht here [at St. Andrews] in order to show him with pride the only
place in Scotland, as far as I know, whose appearance can boast any
kinship with that of Oxford."

[6] See _post_, pp. 150, 151.

[7] "Isn't it perfectly monstrous," Bute is recorded to have once asked
a lady in a London drawing-room, _à propos_ of nothing in particular,
"that St. Magnus hasn't got an octave?"  What the lady said or thought
is not recorded, but Bute had the satisfaction of knowing, before his
death, that Pope Leo XIII. had at least authorised the keeping of St.
Magnus's festival throughout Scotland; The Scots Benedictine Abbey of
Fort Augustus is probably the only place in Christendom where the
feast-day of the holy Earl (April 16) is annually celebrated by a
solemn high Mass.

[8] The text of these two poems is given in Appendices II. and III.

[9] Patroness of George Whitefield (the inventor of Calvinistic
Methodism), and founder of numerous chapels up and down England, which
were under her absolute control.  The adherents of this sect (known as
the "Countess of Huntingdon's Connexion") for the most part joined the
Congregationalist body later.

[10] "Favour is deceitful and beauty is vain: the woman that feareth
the Lord, she shall be praised" (Prov. xxxi. 30).

[11] Mr. Boyle's grandson, who communicates this incident, adds: "My
grandfather always told this story very solemnly, and with the fullest
conviction of its truth, although he was not at all apt to believe in
anything except the most positive and material facts."

Lady Margaret MacRae (Bute's only daughter) has assured the writer that
on the eve of her father's death at Dumfries House (October 8, 1900),
she was an ear-witness of a phenomenon precisely similar to that
described in the text.





The conversion of Bute to the Roman Church, as to which his mind was
practically made up before the end of 1866, though the actual step was
delayed until nearly two years later, was brought about, as we have
seen, chiefly by his own reading and reflection, combined with the
impression wrought on his mind by foreign travel--not, it is to be
noted, mainly in Catholic countries, but in those Eastern lands where
he had every opportunity of studying at first hand the various forms of
worship and belief in which he was so deeply interested.  None of his
companions on these extended journeys were Roman Catholics, nor
apparently in any degree sympathetic with the spirit in which the young
Scottish pilgrim visited those historic spots.  A casual note in one of
his journals reveals the fact that he defrayed in most cases the entire
expenses of his fellow-travellers on these trips; but though he thus
secured companionship, there is no evidence that his varied journeyings
were carried out in society particularly congenial to him.  At Oxford,
as has been already said, his only really intimate friends (in a host
of acquaintances) were a lady already middle-aged, and two
undergraduates, whose loyal affection for him certainly {61} did not
include any intelligent sympathy with his religious aspirations.  It
was not until the Christmas vacation of 1866, when his conversion was
to all intents and purposes an accomplished fact, that he became for
the first time intimate with a Catholic family, and through them with
one who was destined to be the actual instrument of his reception into
the Latin Communion.  Let us pause for a moment at the turning-point in
his life which we have now reached, and look back some eighteen months
to the beginning and the development of this new friendship.

[Sidenote: 1867, Danesfield]

Not far from the old town of Marlow, among chalky downs starred in
early summer with masses of golden St. John's wort, stood in those days
the pretty country seat of Danesfield, the home of Mr. Charles Scott
Murray, a Catholic gentleman of Scottish descent and good estate.  He
had married a daughter of the twelfth Lord Lovat, and had a large
family; and both his country home and his house in Cavendish Square
were centres of much pleasant hospitality.  Lord Bute stayed with him
several times at Danesfield, and made there, early in 1867, the
acquaintance of the Rev. T. W. (afterwards Monsignor) Capel, who acted
as chaplain in the beautiful private chapel (one of Pugin's finest
works) attached to the house.  "Lord Bute was often at Danesfield in
those days," writes a daughter of the house, "and I remember him
sitting for hours talking to my mother--almost always on religious
subjects--and watching her embroidering vestments for the chapel."
With the chaplain also he held many conversations, and informed himself
through him about many points in Catholic practice and observance.  But
he was already, as has been {62} seen, practically convinced of the
truth of the Roman claims; and he subsequently took occasion more than
once emphatically to deny that there was any truth whatever in the
popular idea that he had been "converted" by Mgr. Capel.  Writing to an
intimate friend,[1] four or five years later, on the subject of a
biography of that prelate which it was proposed to publish, he says:

If it does come out, the only thing I hope they won't put in is that he
"converted" me, which would be, to put it plainly, a mere lie.  Mgr. C.
performed the ceremony of reception in December, 1868.  I chose him for
the purpose because, having several times met him at the Scott Murrays'
the year before, I knew him fairly well, and was pleased with his clear
and simple way of explaining certain things I wished to know.  I
received much spiritual help from him at a time when I was greatly in
need of such help, and yet was unable, for certain reasons, to take the
final step; and I was, and am, grateful to him for this and for much
else.  But that I was in any sense "converted" by him is simply

[Sidenote: 1867, Converts to Roman Church]

Bute was greatly attracted by the kindness, good sense, and sterling
Catholic piety of his host {63} at Danesfield, and had a sincere regard
and affection for both him and his wife, and indeed for the whole
family.  "His initial shyness once overcome," one of them writes, "he
became like one of ourselves.  He shared all our home life, came to
Mass and Benediction with us as a matter of course, and talked quite
simply of how he longed to be a 'real' Catholic."  Of his postponed
reception he wrote to Mr. Scott Murray in much the same terms (though
more briefly) as he had written to his friend at Oxford.

April 16, 1867.


It is all over for the present.  I have yielded to the pressure of the
Court of Chancery, my guardians, and the Oxford people, and given them
a promise not to be received until I am of age.  I do assure you that
the state of hopelessness in which I am is sad to a degree.  When I see
you next I can tell you, if you like, the details of a very wretched

I have a favour to ask, which is that you will get for me one of those
crosses such as you have hanging on your beads.  I hope you will not
refuse me this kindness, although I remain external to the Faith.

Believe me always, with many thanks for all your kindness, most
sincerely yours,


A letter to the same correspondent, towards the close of the year,
mentions the names of some recent or prospective converts to the Roman
Church, in whom Bute was naturally interested.

Dumfries House,
  _Christmas Eve_, 1867.

I was for two nights at Blenheim at the end of term; they were rather
full of Lady Portarlington's[3] {64} conversion, and told me also that
the young Norths had been received and their mother was about to be.
We heard there also of the reception of Lord Granard and Lord Louth--an
unusual event, I imagine, in Ireland.

I met at Blenheim an old Admiral, Sir Lucius Curtis[4] (at least
eighty), who became a Catholic, he told me, soon after Newman, more
than twenty years ago.  Two men connected with Aberdeen, George Akers
of Oriel[5] and William Humphrey,[6] the Bishop of Brechin's chaplain,
are both going over, I hear, almost at once.  Akers is, I believe, an
able man; but a more distinguished convert is Clarke, fellow of St.
John's[7] (and a famous rowing man).  George Lane Fox and Hartwell
Grissell are both _certain_, I believe.  So you see Oxford is moving.

[Sidenote: 1868, Fatality at Christ Church]

The friendship between Bute and Capel, begun at Danesfield, was
strengthened during the summer term of 1868, the latter part of which
Mr. Capel spent at Oxford, in residence at the Catholic presbytery.  He
arrived there a day or two after a sad fatality at Christ Church, the
shock of which was deeply felt by all--even the most wild and
thoughtless--of the members of the House.  A letter from Bute thus
describes it:


Ch. Ch., _May_ 14, 1868.

One of the most frightful accidents I have ever known took place here
last night.  A man called Marriott, whom I knew well, one of the
sporting set (he rode my horse in a steeplechase only last term), fell
out of the top windows of Peckwater, and died in about half an hour.
You may conceive what a state Ch. Ch. is in....  Mr. Capel is coming
next Wednesday, and I am sure his visit will do good.  Indeed I think
this opportunity an admirable one, when the sight of death has awakened
many from the dream of sensuality in which they habitually lie asleep.

A letter to the same correspondent next day gives a curious picture of
the state of feeling at the House:

Ch. Ch., _May_ 15, 1868.

_Another_ fatal accident!  What days we are living in.  Yesterday
afternoon some undergraduates were shooting crows with saloon pistols
about Magdalen Walks, when one of them got shot through the stomach and
died almost at once.  He was an Exeter man.

We are all in black and white at the House, and _very_ sad and
depressed.  Last night a number of us dined at the "Mitre," so as to
keep away from the House.  It was a strange meal--much noisy talk and a
good deal drunk, but every now and then came long miserable pauses, and
talk about Marriott in low, frightened tones.  Afterwards they came
down to my rooms for coffee, and as we sat here we could hear the
passing bell tolling from St. Aldate's.  Some, almost in desperation,
rushed off to the billiard-room and played pool in a gloomy sort of
way.  It was anything to keep away out of the House.  I assure you the
gloom and misery of it all are excessive.  I hear men saying that they
simply _dare_ not die.


I do feel that Mr. Capel will find men here not unprepared to listen to
him.  _Left to themselves_, they are evidently making desperate efforts
to forget it all....

I had seen him lying in the ground-floor room where he died--totally
unconscious, and breathing with great difficulty.  The Senior Censor
came in when I was there, and read over him the prayers for the dying.
This was the very clergyman who told me a few months ago that he did
not believe in prayer....  I went into the room again after the men had
gone to the billiard-room.  It was the room of a friend of his: the
walls covered with pictures of horses and actresses, and whips and
spurs and pipes.  The body lay on a mattress on the floor, covered with
a sheet.  It was all dreadful, and I tried in vain in that room to say
a _De Profundis_ for him.  As I went out I met men coming in carrying
the coffin.

A letter three days later gives an account of the funeral:

Oxford, _May_ 18.

We all assembled in the cathedral, in mourning, at 2.30 p.m.  The Dean
read the funeral service, making repeated and most painful slips of the
tongue.  Then the choir sang a really lovely anthem, "In the sight of
the unwise he seemed to die, but he is at peace."  All were much moved;
and the man next me was, I think, crying, as indeed I was myself.  We
walked in procession, two and two, to Peck., then formed a lane to
Canterbury Gate, through which the hearse passed, his friends following
it down to the station.  All in profound silence, broken only by the
tramp of feet and the tolling of the bell.  Everything inky black,
except as much of the Dean's surplice as a huge black scarf and stole
let be seen.  The coffin was all black, with no cross {67} or anything
else to relieve it.  I heard great disgust expressed at the godless
gloom of it all.

I have mentioned Mr. Capel's visit to several; and they have all hailed
it, I may say, with pleasure.  What has happened here has made many
think and say, "Now is the time to arise from sleep."  Only they are so
chained by the habits of their lives and by the fear of what the
worldly consequences may be if they follow their consciences.

[Sidenote: 1868, Capel at Oxford]

Mr. Capel, of whose visit to Oxford, and its possible results, his
friend entertained such sanguine hopes, was at that time a man of very
attractive personality, pleasing alike in appearance, manner, and
address, and possessed of a singular gift of eloquence.  Bute's hope,
no doubt, was that his earnestness, sympathy, and tact might have a
soothing effect on the nerves of his friends, still quivering from the
shock of the recent catastrophe; and to some extent his anticipations
were justified.  Several of the undergraduates made Mr. Capel's
acquaintance, and were pleased and touched by his unaffected kindness.
One of them, he found, had been for some months resolved to make his
submission to Rome; and by Mr. Capel's advice he asked for an interview
with the Dean and frankly informed him of his intention, adding,
apparently, that he thought it highly probable that his example would
be followed by others.  Capel wrote on May 31 to Mrs. Scott Murray:

The Dean of Christ Church is in a great state of mind, having just
heard from B---- not only of his own decision, but of the likelihood of
others taking a like step.  Pusey, I hear, has written to the Dean to
the effect that any secessions which might take place were to be
attributed not to the {68} teaching of the High Church party, but to
his (the Dean's) bad government of the college!  Meanwhile Liddon has
issued a peremptory mandate prohibiting the undergraduates of the House
from making my acquaintance.  As Bute puts it, this is a clear case of
shutting the stable door after the horse had been stolen.  All those
who want to know me, I think, already do.

Dr. Liddon expressed a desire, a little later, to meet Mr. Capel, who
thus describes the interview:

I saw Liddon for an hour and a half on Saturday.  Our meeting was quite
cordial: our conversation quite courteous, but quite unsatisfactory,
for he kept shifting his ground, and slipped away like an eel from
every point I raised.  To me his mind seems as confused as Pusey's,
which is saying much.  Yet to a section of people here he is more than
Pope, a little God, whose every word they accept as an oracle from
heaven.  Poor good people!  It is hard to understand such idolatry: it
is, I think, a peculiar product of Oxford, and of one school here.

Bute is in admirable dispositions, and during the month of May has been
leading the life of a true Christian.  The long delay has tried him
much: yet his spiritual progress since last summer has been
extraordinary.  I am simply amazed at some of the things he has told
me.  May our dear Lord be eternally blessed for all He has done, and is
doing, for this soul so dear to Him.

[Sidenote: 1868, Religious studies]

The long vacation of 1868 was, as has been seen, chiefly devoted to a
yachting tour in the North Sea, and a visit to Russia, undertaken by
Bute in the companionship of Lord Rosebery.  The autumn months after
the celebration of his majority were {69} spent quietly at Cardiff and
in Scotland, as much time as he could spare being given to a course of
reading recommended to him by Mr. Capel, partly by way of preparation
for his reception into the Church of his choice.  He refers to this in
an interesting letter to his attached friend at Oxford, written soon
after his coming of age.

_October_ 5, 1868.

You may imagine how busy I have been and am since my birthday.  Still I
find time every day for some serious reading, as to which I have had
competent advice.  I am going through some of the writings of S.
Cyprian, S. Ambrose, and S. Gregory, and doing a little liturgical
study.  Then there are the 12th cent. lives of Ninian and Kentigern,
and Adamnan's Columba, all of great interest to me; and I have sent for
Boethius's lives of the Bishops of Aberdeen.  Theiner's great work, not
long ago published in Rome,[8] I find most valuable, and throwing a
flood of light on the mediæval relations between Scotland and the Holy

For devotion I have St. Bernard (his Letters): a very simple
prayer-book, such as children use; and the Latin Psalter.  I wish you
were able to use this;[9] there is a beauty and fulness of meaning in
the Latin version which I think no modern language can give--except,
you will say (and as to that you have a right to speak)[10] possibly
Greek.  I sometimes dream of trying my hand at a new English version of
the Psalms; but that is part of {70} a larger scheme which it is
perhaps presumptuous of me even to think of.[11]

It was natural that when the long-anticipated time at length came for
actually taking the step prepared for with such anxious deliberation,
Bute should turn to the only Catholic priest with whom he was in any
degree intimate.  More than thirty years later Monsignor Capel, who had
then been for some time resident in California, wrote in a San
Francisco newspaper a short account of Bute's conversion, the steps
that led up to it, and his own part in receiving him into the Church.

A course of reading was suggested, I seeing him from time to time.
Newman's pathetic hymn, "Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling
gloom," was often on his lips.  In course of time he was fully
convinced that the true Church is an organic body, a Divine
institution, the source of all spiritual power and jurisdiction, and
the channel of sacramental grace, under the Vicar of Christ, the Bishop
of Rome.

Finally, after an hour of prayer before the Blessed Sacrament in the
convent chapel at Harley House, London,[12] he determined to ask
admission to the Church.

[Sidenote: 1868, Third visit to Holy Land]

Bute's conditional baptism, profession of faith, and first Communion
took place quite privately on December 8, 1868 (the Feast of the
Immaculate Conception), in the chapel of the Sisters of Notre {71}
Dame, Southwark.[13]  Mr. Capel officiated at all these acts, with the
authorisation of the Bishop of Southwark (Dr. Grant), who himself
assisted at them.  The event was not generally known until the New
Year, and it was generally believed, and has indeed often been stated
since, that the reception took place on Christmas Eve.  The young
neophyte left England a few days after the event, and was well out of
hearing by the time the excited comments of the public and the press on
his action had begun to make themselves audible.

Cardiff Castle,
    _December_ 16, 1868.


Circumstances have induced me to come to the resolution of making the
pilgrimage to the Holy Land a _third_ time.  Lady Loudoun and myself
are going together in my yacht, which is coming round, with her in it,
to Nice in January.

I am going abroad on Monday next, and expect to arrive at Nice on
Wednesday, this day week.  I venture on your kindness to propose myself
as your guest.

I will give no further information at present, but to say that thanks
to the grace of God I am what I am.  You are so kind, I believe you
will be glad to see me.

Mr. Capel has been having most extraordinary success at Oxford.  He
leaves it to-day, as the colleges are going down, and will be at Nice
some time soon.  His health is giving way from the {72} perpetual
physical and mental toil.  He is not going to return till May, when he
will recommence.  For the present he has received some converts, is
preparing some more, has awakened a great many, and, partially at
least, sanctified the congregation, and reclaimed the wandering.  The
mission has received an infusion of life.  On Saturday night he heard
confessions till 11.30, and again in the morning.  They had general
Communion, and renewal of baptismal vows; at 10.30 High Mass and
sermon.  During the afternoon he operated privately on some
rationalists: in the evening they had a very long sermon, and
Benediction, with an immense congregation, among whom were a vast
number of Protestants, _several Dons_, and the _President of Trinity

Yours ever very sincerely,

[Sidenote: 1868, Christmas at Nice]

One of the Scott Murray family writes of Bute at this time:

Lord Bute was with us at Nice from December 24, 1868, until February 3,
1869.  He was very shy, and refused all invitations to dances and
picnics.  At one afternoon dance at our house we all insisted he should
appear; and then he made himself charming, but he fled as soon as he
possibly could.  He used to amuse us all at breakfast by reading out
some of the wonderful begging-letters he received--from French girls
asking him for a _dot_ so as to enable them to marry, _curés_ asking
him to rebuild their churches, and many more wonderful requests.  I
think most of the English begging-letters were seen to in England, and
only a few of them sent on.  The numbers addressed to him every day,
and by every post, were, I believe, quite incredible.

It was during this visit to Nice that he told my father that he
intended leaving directions in his will {73} that his heart should be
sent at his death to Jerusalem to be buried there.

He was very kind-hearted.  When leaving Nice at the end of his visit,
he had got into the carriage to drive with us to the yacht, when he
remembered that he had not said good-bye to my sister's ugly governess.
He insisted on jumping out of the carriage and rushing up to the
schoolroom for this purpose.

He was a regular boy, and enjoyed games with us all: one, I remember,
was pelting one another with oranges, the little hard ones which had
fallen from the trees, he leading one side, and Basil (my schoolboy
brother) the other.  He was always ready to join in any fun, as long as
he had not to meet strangers.

These details, which are wonderfully reminiscent of the childish days
at Galloway House eight years before,[14] and show how like the young
man of twenty-one was to the boy of thirteen, may be supplemented by an
extract or two from the diary of another member of the same family:

_Christmas Day_, 1868.--We had midnight Mass at St. Philip's, the
little church in our garden.  Mgr. Capel said it, he, Lord Bute, and
Basil having arrived from England the day before.  We all went to
Communion together (Lord Bute had been received into the Church a short
time previously).  Mgr. Capel said his two Christmas Masses, which we
heard, early next morning; and then we went to the cathedral.  In the
afternoon we went to Notre Dame, where Mgr. Capel preached.

_Tuesday, February_ 2.--After Mass Lord Bute took us all over his
yacht, the _Ladybird_, which had arrived on Saturday.  He gave us
luncheon, and {74} we had to go a little before 2, as the Prince and
Princess Charles of Prussia were going to see it.  The cabins are most
comfortable, and the saloon beautifully decorated with the arms of the
ports she has put in at.

_February_ 3.---We drove with Lord Bute down to the port, and the
_Ladybird_ left at 4 o'clock, with Lord Bute, Lady Loudoun, Mgr. Capel,
Miss Eden, and Dr. Bell safely on board.

From Nice Bute and his friends went straight to Rome--his first visit
there--where he spent a week, including Ash Wednesday, on which day he
received the blessed ashes from the hand of Pius IX. in the Sistine
Chapel.  Next morning he communicated at the private Mass of the Holy
Father, who afterwards administered to him the sacrament of
confirmation.  Bute made a munificent offering of Peter's Pence to the
Pope, who in turn presented him with a magnificent reliquary.  On
February 23 he wrote to Mrs. Scott Murray from Sicily:

R.Y.S. _Ladybird_,
  Harbour of Messina.

We arrived here safely last night, and are to continue our voyage this
afternoon.  As we have spent so much time already we are not going to
stop at Patmos on the way, but make straight for Jaffa, going north of

As Mr. Murray prophesied, I was very "agreeably disappointed" in Rome.
I went to only a few of the most celebrated sanctuaries, but I liked
them very much.  The sight of the Holy Father had a very great effect
on me, and it is impossible for me to speak too warmly of his kindness.
Every one was most civil, which is a rarity for me to meet with.  The
Holy Father has given all the permissions which we wanted, and we have
had Mass {75} three times on board, making up a very nice altar in Mr.
Capel's cabin.

The odd thing is that we have not had a row yet, but are all quite on
good terms, a state of things which I suppose one need not hope to

Accept my best wishes and continued thanks for kindnesses received, and
believe me,

Sincerely and gratefully, yours ever,

[Sidenote: 1868, Letter from Jerusalem]

The journey to Palestine ("the continuation of my pilgrimage of
thanksgiving," as Bute called it in a subsequent letter) was safely
accomplished, and Mgr. Capel wrote to Mrs. Scott Murray on Palm Sunday
from Jerusalem:

Thank God, all is going well.  We have had some physical discomforts,
indisposition, etc., but our pilgrimage viewed spiritually is
singularly blessed.  I hope to lay in a store of grace for my future
work.  Certainly nothing could be more touching than our visits to the
Holy Places.  Bute gives great edification.  He communicates very
frequently, and is growing rapidly in Catholic devotion.  Now that I
live with him I see, of course, some weaknesses--among others a
tendency to idleness; but he has much charm of character and
personality.  You will probably know through the papers that he has
accepted the Grand Cross of the Order of the Holy Sepulchre.

Our journey will be dreadfully prolonged.  I am afraid we shall not
reach England until June: our plans change at every moment.  I send for
you and Mr. Murray the enclosed pictures, which have touched the Holy
Places.  My affectionate regards to you all, including _the_


Another letter from Mgr. Capel to Danesfield is dated, "In the
_Ladybird_, about the Mediterranean, May 14, 1869."  It indicates that
Bute had been, as usual, not particularly fortunate in securing
congenial companionship for his journey.

When we are ever to reach home I cannot say.  We have already been
fourteen days at sea and have not yet reached our port.  Sicily is in
sight, and I trust we may very soon reach Messina.  If not we shall be
starved!  The steward solemnly tells us we have bread for only three
days longer, and that the stores are almost all consumed.

Of our party, I think I may say that Lady Loudoun, Miss Eden, and the
doctor are the worse for their visit to Jerusalem.  They had the
misfortune to make acquaintance with people, calling themselves
religious, whose delight seems to be to deny the authenticity of every
single sacred site.  The result has been, as might have been expected,
a semi-disbelief in everything.

I think, on the other hand, the pilgrimage has been very advantageous
to Bute.  It has helped him to gather up his thoughts and prepare for
action and the work of his life.  He has kindly appointed me his
chaplain.  I am not to live at either of his houses, but to be ready
when needed to go to him and to travel with him.  I cannot but feel
that this arrangement (which is entirely his own idea) will allow me to
do much more good than if I were settled in any one spot.  I hope it
may turn to the advantage of my soul and to God's glory.

[Sidenote: 1869, Early Catholic experiences]

Bute left his yacht at Marseilles (his companions continuing the voyage
to England by Gibraltar and the Bay of Biscay), and repaired to Paris,
to complete his pilgrimage by a visit of devotion and {77} thanksgiving
to the famous shrine of Our Lady of Victories.  On returning home he
went to Cardiff, and thence he wrote, later in the year, some account
of himself and his doings in a long and interesting letter to his
faithful friend at Oxford.

Cardiff Castle,
  _November_ 5, 1869.


During the past year I have had several kind letters from you, which
have gone unanswered.  Before me lie the three first pages of a letter
to you dated October 1, but never finished.  I had at that time only
just received your last, as I had been away from home for some months,
and had skilfully concealed my addresses from every one, lest any
letters (mine are almost invariably business or beggars) should follow
and find me out.

The first thing you will want to know is how I am getting on in the
Church.  I don't remember whether I ever wrote to you from Nice or not;
but that, if I had, could only have been so soon after my reception as
to make it almost valueless.  I have not been received a year, so I
suppose what I say now is not worth very much.  I am, thank God, _very_
comfortable.  I had, no doubt, a first flush of fervour and enthusiasm,
but that soon passed away, and I became almost immediately quite a
humdrum Catholic.  The practices, as you know, were already familiar to
me; and I knew also a great many, if not all, of the practical
drawbacks, of which florid figured music and appropriated and paid-for
sittings in church are (to me) the most distasteful.  Florid forms of
devotion and piety have never appealed to me any more than florid
music; and in that respect I am (so I am told) considered like the
slowest type of old English Catholicism.  The old-fashioned "Garden of
the Soul" is my book, except when visiting some very holy shrine, when
I find {78} myself able to use occasionally the "Prayers of St.
Gertrude," or at least some of them.

I am perfectly at peace in the Church, and have been.  My taste for
controversy has gone, and for theological inquiry also, to great
extent.  I think that when one has once entered the Church--well, one
has jumped over the cliff and reached the bottom, safe and sound it is
true, but in a condition that renders restlessness impossible and
controversy absolutely superfluous.

I left Nice, as you are aware, at the beginning of February, went to
Rome for a week, to be confirmed by the Holy Father, and then continued
the pilgrimage of thanksgiving to Jerusalem.  I performed the last
ceremonies in the sanctuary of Our Lady of Victories in Paris about the
beginning of June, and returned to England.  I had kept as much as
possible out of the way of letters and newspapers, but had inevitably
heard much that was very disagreeable--all sorts of lying stories, for
instance, deliberately and maliciously circulated about me--and I
arrived here in a state of very uncomfortable anticipation.  However, I
found everything very much better than I anticipated.  Every one seemed
glad to see me, and I received much kindness from all the people about.
Religious matters were easily arranged; and though large mobs of people
assembled to see me go to Mass, they were disappointed, as I had got a
little oratory ready in the house, which is served every day by the
Fathers of Charity.  And I have special permission from the Pope for
myself, my "familiars" and guests to satisfy the obligation in it on
every day in the year.  We have here between 9,000 and 10,000
Catholics, who are of course delighted at what has happened.

I am going to Rome about the 23rd of this month, and shall, I think,
certainly stay there till about Septuagesima; but if I am tempted I
shall stop over Easter.  When I return I shall go to {79} Bute.  Bute
will be much stiffer than this: they got pictures of me and made them
into cockshys; and I have had at least one threatening letter from
there.  Besides that there are no Catholics that I know of,[16] and I
cannot have a daily Mass.

My old friends are all much the same, except Lady Elizabeth, who takes
no more notice of me than if I were a dead dog.  I have written her
letter after letter, without even acknowledgment.  The company of my
dear friend, Sneyd, is a great pleasure to me.  He is my secretary.  He
is, however, an awful liberal, and is even now reading Charles
Kingsley's "Hypatia" with approval.  I consider it one of the most
impure as well as heretical books I ever saw.  I have been reading
lately, and with the greatest pleasure, Canon Jenkins's "Age of the
Martyrs,"[17] which is really charming, and a worthy product of Oxford,
where, however, I hear that the blighting disease of Liberalism has
fairly set in.  You have, I hear, Mgr. Capel with you, lecturing on
something or other; but I know not what success or effect he has had.
Ever most sincerely yours,


[Sidenote: 1869, at Mountstuart]

There were reasons why the feeling in the island of Bute about the
young peer's change of religion was, as he expressed it, "much stiffer"
than it was in Cardiff.  The sentiments of resentful surprise which the
Presbyterians felt at the lord of the island embracing a faith so alien
from their own was fostered and aggravated by the disappointment with
{80} which the local Liberals learned that he was politically quite out
of sympathy with the Whig principles of his kinsman and former
tutor-at-law, the Liberal M.P. for Cardiff and Lord-Lieutenant of
Buteshire.[18]  One Radical newspaper asserted that Lord Bute had
purposely delayed the profession of his new faith until after the
general election, so that his influence as a Tory might help the
Conservative candidate for the county to win the seat!  And the Liberal
_Buteman_ thought fit to devote a page, a month after Bute's reception
into the Church, to reprinting a _catena_ of the articles commenting on
that event which had appeared in the principal newspapers of the
country.  The feeling with which, in an age more tolerant or more
indifferent, one peruses these journalistic effusions, is one of
wonder, first at their extraordinary impertinence, and secondly at the
cool audacity with which they sit in judgment on the action of one of
whose character, personality, and motives they one and all show
themselves to be in a state of absolutely abysmal ignorance.  The
_Times_ summed up a spiteful article by concluding that the "defection
of an average curate would have said more for the Roman Catholic
religion, and might be expected to lead to more lasting results"; the
_Daily News_ announced that the new convert "had taken up his honours,
wealth, and influence, and laid them in the lap of the Church of Rome,"
adding that it was "of course a pity when a man believed too much in
religion"; a West of Scotland journal was "sure that the acquisition
would, except in a pecuniary way, be of little advantage to those who
had wheedled him out {81} of his wits and into their snares"; a Glasgow
evening paper denounced the "Jesuitism" with which "his perverted
lordship" had denied the fact of his reception in 1867, and the "fatal
facility" with which he had been received in 1868; and another Scottish
journal, after waxing eloquent over the "lithe figure, agile step, and
penetrating eye of the handsome young peer," lamented that "the poorest
labourer on his vast domains had an immediate access to truth and duty,
to conscience, and to God, which since last Christmas was denied to his
unfortunate lord."  The _Glasgow Herald_, after admitting that Lord
Bute "_was believed_ to be a studious, thoughtful youth, with high
ideas of the responsibility of his position," dolefully goes on: "If,
_as is most likely_, this perversion is the result of priestly
influences acting upon a weak, ductile, and naturally superstitious
mind, we may expect a continual eclipse of all intellectual vigour."
One wonders if this sapient prophet ever had the grace to acknowledge
the falsity of his forecast.  The _Scotsman_ was an honourable
exception to the general tone of the contemporary press.  It announced
the event "not in the slightest degree in the spirit of taunt or
reproach"; and the final sentence of a temperate article repudiated any
desire "to reproach Lord Bute with a change of religious opinion, which
even those who most deeply regret it must admit to be made at great
sacrifices and under the influence only of conscience."

On this reasonable and even generous note the subject may well be left.
A man of sensitive and impressionable nature, and one who was himself
possessed by an almost passionate love of truth, could not be
insensible to public attacks on his {82} candour and honesty, or to
mendacious statements of alleged facts, such as he refers to in his
letter cited above.  But he bore them all in silence, with the quiet
dignity characteristic of him, and trusting to time for the vindication
of the rectitude of his motives and conduct.  How amply this trust was
justified was shown by the mutual respect, regard, and affection which
daily grew and strengthened between him and his friends, neighbours,
and dependents, not only in Bute, but on his extensive estates in other
parts of the country, during the next thirty years.

[1] Hartwell Grissell.  The letter was dated from Mountstuart, November
19, 1872.

[2] Mr. Buckle, in Vol. V. of his "Life of Disraeli," quotes Mr.
Montague Corry as writing (September 22, 1868): "Fergusson says no
ingenuity can counteract the influence which certain priests and
prelates have over him, chief among them being Monsignor Capel.  The
speedy result is inevitable."

Sir James Fergusson, as Bute's guardian, probably felt it necessary to
take this view in self-vindication.  The fact, however, was, as is
abundantly shown by the letter in the text, as well as by the authentic
history of Bute's conversion as given in preceding pages, that the
event was brought about by his own study, thought, and prayer, and was
in no sense due to the influence of Capel, or of any other "priests or

[3] Alexandrina Lady Portarlington (a daughter of the third Marquess of
Londonderry) was sister-in-law to the seventh Duke of Marlborough,
Bute's host at Blenheim.  Lord and Lady North, who were received into
the Church about this time, were not very distant neighbours of
Blenheim, living at Wroxton Abbey, near Banbury.

[4] Second baronet of Gatcombe, Hants.  He died in 1869, in his
eighty-third year.

[5] A former curate of Dr. F. G. Lee at Aberdeen.  He became a canon of
Westminster and president of St. Edmund's College, Ware.

[6] M.A. of Aberdeen University; afterwards the distinguished Jesuit
writer and preacher.

[7] Became a Jesuit, rector of Wimbledon College, and later first
Master of Campion Hall, Oxford.

[8] This was Aug. Theiner's "Vetera Monumenta Hibernorum atque
Scotorum, historiam illustrantia, 1216-1547," published at Rome in 1864.

[9] More than a dozen years later Bute wrote to his friend regretting
her ignorance of "the dead languages," and recommending her to begin
the study of Hebrew!

[10] Miss Skene had lived with her father at Athens continuously from
her eighteenth to her twenty-fourth year, and was well acquainted with
the language and literature of modern Greece.

[11] The allusion, no doubt, is to his projected translation of the
Roman Breviary, published eleven years later.

[12] The convent of _Marie Réparatrice_, founded at Harley House,
Marylebone, in 1862.  It was transferred in 1899 to Willesden, and a
year later to its present site at Chiswick.

[13] The temporary chapel, now used as the Sisters' community-room.
Bishop Grant was at this time acting as chaplain to the nuns, and
saying Mass for them daily.  Bute attended this Mass for a week
previous to his reception, breakfasting afterwards with the bishop (who
was giving him a course of instruction) in the convent parlour.

[14] _Ante_, Chapter I, p. 11.

[15] Charles Scott Murray, who had just got his commission in the 1st
Life Guards.

[16] The writer was misinformed as to this.  There had been a Catholic
chapel at Rothesay since 1839; and a larger church (St. Andrew's) had
been opened two years before Bute's conversion.  The number of
Catholics at this time was probably between two and three hundred.

[17] See _post_, pp. 102, 103.  This book had just been published at
Oxford.  Two volumes of selections from Canon Jenkins's MSS. writings
were issued in 1879, after his death.

[18] Colonel James Frederick Crichton Stuart, Liberal for Cardiff from
1857 to 1880.





Although Bute's attraction towards a life of simplicity and retirement
was, even in his early manhood, as it remained throughout his life, one
of his most marked characteristics, he never allowed this to interfere
with such public duties as he conceived to be rendered incumbent on him
by the responsibilities of his position.  His first public appearance
in Cardiff, apart from the celebrations connected with his majority,
seems to have been in his capacity as chairman of the local Benefit and
Annuitants Society, when he acquitted himself to the general
satisfaction.  In 1869 he accepted the honorary colonelcy of the
Glamorgan Artillery Volunteers.  "It seemed to be expected of me," he
wrote to a friend, "and though there was never a man of less military
proclivities than myself, I regard the Volunteer movement as an
excellent one, and desire to encourage it.[1]  I look forward also,
under proper guidance, to learning something about {84} guns, though I
fear ours can hardly be said to be altogether up-to-date.  But I hope
to be instrumental in bringing about some improvement in that respect."
On November 11, 1869, he appeared in uniform at the inspection of the
regiment at the new drill-hall, which he had just erected at a cost of
over £10,000.

A few months previous to the date just mentioned, Bute had, not without
serious consideration, embarked on an enterprise which, while entailing
heavy expenditure on himself, was to have a considerable and permanent
effect on the industrial and political life not only of the
rapidly-growing town of Cardiff, but of the whole of South Wales.  This
was the launch of the _Western Mail_ newspaper, of which the first
number was published in May, 1869.  At this time the principal paper in
the district was the Liberal (weekly) _Cardiff Times_, started in 1857,
the year in which Colonel James Frederick Crichton Stuart was first
elected M.P. for Cardiff.  Bute was entirely out of sympathy with the
political views of his kinsman, and had openly declared himself on
coming of age an adherent of the Conservative party.  He wrote to a
friend at Oxford after the formation of Mr. Gladstone's first Ministry:

I suppose I may call myself--you would certainly call me--an
old-fashioned Tory.  The inclusion of Bright in the Cabinet shows that
the new Government is Radical, naked and unashamed.  And whatever else
I am, anyhow I am not a Radical.

[Sidenote: 1869, Launching a newspaper]

Deeply and intelligently interested as he was in the future development
of Cardiff, which he was to do so much to promote, Bute's conviction
was that a really healthy public opinion in the district {85} could not
be created or maintained if only one school of politicians was to have
the chance of making its voice heard.  This was the main reason which
determined him, with full foreknowledge of the heavy financial burden
it would entail on him, of starting and supporting a Conservative daily
paper in the heart of Liberal Wales.  The local Liberals were, of
course, disappointed and indignant; and the "Leap of the wolf into the
fold," as they described the new journalistic venture, was very
bitterly commented on both in the _Cardiff Times_ and in its successor,
the _South Wales Daily News_.  The "underhand influence of the Castle,"
the "Castle propaganda," the "pouring out of gold from the Castle
coffers," were the constant theme of discussion in the opposition
press, whose acrimony was not diminished by the steadily growing power
and influence of the Conservative organ.  Yet although Bute was for
some years the actual owner of the _Western Mail_, not the slightest
trace of his personal influence is to be found in its columns during
those early years, nor the least suggestion that he made use of the
paper to serve any private ends of his own.  "Not a single line that
has ever appeared in the _Western Mail_ has been written or inspired by
the Marquis of Bute," wrote the Editor when his paper had reached a
position of security and success; and the statement was literally and
exactly true.  The _Western Mail_ won the confidence of the people by
strongly upholding their rights at such times of crisis as the serious
upheaval in the coal and iron industries in 1873; and one of its most
appreciated tributes was that received from a leading Nonconformist
minister: "Though you are Conservative in name you are Liberal in
practice."  After eight {86} years' connection with the paper Bute
relinquished all financial interest in it in 1877.  He considered
himself that this journalistic enterprise had cost him from first to
last not less than £50,000.  "I have never grudged it," he once simply
said when questioned on the subject.

With these new interests at home, Bute did not lose sight of his
intention (expressed in a letter quoted in the last chapter) of
spending the winter of 1869 and the succeeding spring in Rome, and he
arrived there in the last days of November, taking up his residence at
the Palazzo Savielli in the Piazza SS. Apostoli.  He wrote shortly
before Christmas:

It is of particular interest to me to find myself living within a
stone's-throw of the building which sheltered for so many years my
unfortunate kinsmen (if I may be allowed so to call them) the exiled
Stuarts.[2]  Their cenotaph by Canova in St. Peter's (paid for by their
Hanoverian supplanter on the throne!) strikes me always as one of the
most pathetic and beautiful monuments of modern Rome.

[Sidenote: 1869, Papal infallibility]

Bute was of course drawn to Rome, like so many others at this time, by
the event on which the eyes of all Christendom were turned with curious
if widely varying interest--namely, the opening of the Vatican Council
by Pius IX.  Bute was present at the solemn inauguration on December 8,
when more than 700 mitred prelates walked in procession to St. Peter's,
preceded by the splendid silver {87} processional cross, set with
precious stones, which he had presented to the Pontiff a few days
previously.  A day or two after the imposing ceremony he records a
curious little incident in a letter to a friend:

I heard that the titular Abbot of Westminster, the head of the
Benedictine Order in England, called to report his arrival on some high
dignitary, dressed not in his habit but in the get-up of an elderly
English clergyman.  He was told that if he wanted to process with the
abbots he must attire himself accordingly, and was asked if he
possessed the insignia of his office.  "Certainly," he replied.  "I
have the ring of the Abbots of Westminster," pulling out of his
waistcoat pocket the identical ring worn by Feckenham, the last abbot
in the reign of Queen Mary!  The lamentable sequel to the story is that
as he was mounting the steps into St. Peter's on the opening day of the
Council, the precious ring, which he had not taken the trouble to get
fitted to his finger, fell off, rolled down the steps, and was never
heard of again.  If this is true it seems very deplorable.

During his sojourn in Rome Bute had opportunities, which he was not
likely to neglect, of meeting many interesting people, and hearing much
at first hand, and from both sides, of the weighty matters under
discussion at the Council.  The prelate of whom he saw most, and to
whom he was very sincerely attached, was Mgr. Clifford, Bishop of
Clifton, who with the Archbishops of Paris, Vienna, and St. Louis, and
Bishop Dupanloup of Orleans, were prominent among the opponents of the
definition of Papal Infallibility.  With the leaders of the opposite
party also he had from time to time considerable intercourse, and in a
letter addressed to {88} him nearly thirty years later by the venerable
Cardinal Gibbons, now (1920) the sole survivor of the Fathers of the
Council, his Eminence reminded Bute of a long drive he had taken with
himself and Archbishop Spalding of Baltimore, a very strong
pro-definitionist, and of their interesting talk on that occasion about
the great subject of the day.  Bute's own habit of mind, and the
influence exercised on his judgment by Bishop Clifford, undoubtedly
predisposed him to sympathise with those opposed to the definition; and
he shared the apprehensions of many of his friends among that
party--apprehensions not justified in the event--that the step if
carried through might result in a serious defection from the Church.  A
subsequent letter from him, however, will show what with instant and
edifying submission of heart and mind he accepted the decree when once
it had been promulgated by the supreme authority which he never for a
moment questioned.

[Sidenote: 1870, Society in Rome]

Bute was not so preoccupied with these grave matters but that he found
time for a certain amount of social intercourse with the distinguished
and cosmopolitan society gathered that winter in the Eternal City.  He
made friends with the Papal Zouaves, and often accepted the hospitality
of the officers of that pleasant international corps, with one of whom,
Captain the Hon. Walter Maxwell, he became very intimate.  He liked to
watch the Zouaves at rifle-practice in the Borghese Gardens, visited
the officers on guard at the Colosseum and elsewhere, and entertained
them once at a famous supper of which the recollection long survived in
the corps.  About Christmas time he was present at a great reception
given at the Palazzo Bonimi by Mr. and Mrs. Delabarre Bodenham, and
records a {89} "twenty minutes' conversation with Archbishop Manning,
in a quite empty little room opening out of the reception hall."  Soon
after New Year he attended a dinner given in a café in the Corso by the
British Committee of the Sovereign Order of the Knights of Malta, and
made a speech reported by one of those present to be "the best speech
of the evening and very well received."  His name is also recorded as
having been present at many notable religious functions--among others
the imposing funeral service, in the church of the Holy Apostles, of
the Grand Duke Leopold of Tuscany, at which the Pope assisted and gave
the final absolution.  Bute saw much, during these weeks in Rome, of
the savants and scholars--by no means all sympathisers with the Papal
regime--then resident in the city, and his modesty of demeanour,
earnestness, and intelligence made a very favourable impression on the
varied society with which he was brought into contact.  In those days
he liked to be amused as well as interested; and there was plenty of
amusement to be found at that time in the kaleidoscopic throngs of
visitors which the unique and unrivalled charms of Rome attracted
within her gates.  One of his most agreeable acquaintances--quite
outside ecclesiastical and antiquarian circles--was Olivia Lady
Sebright, the clever and charming sister of an Irish peer who had been
his contemporary at Oxford.  Her lively persiflage was doubtless a
pleasant and piquant contrast to the discourses of Bute's learned
acquaintances; and it was often jestingly remarked in Anglo-Roman
society that Lady Sebright seemed to do all the talking and Lord Bute
all the listening.  He alludes to her in one of his letters as "a very
vivacious lady, who would {90} have her joke even in the Catacombs."
Lady Sebright was included in the party which Bute invited to join him
in the yachting cruise in the Mediterranean which he made after leaving
Italy in the summer of 1870.

Bute did not remain in Rome for the final Congregation of the Council
on July 18, 1870, when 533 bishops voted in favour of the _schema_ "De
Ecclesia," with the added clauses on Papal Infallibility.  Two only
voted "Non placet," the Bishops of Ajaccio and of Little Rock,
U.S.A.[3]  The decree was immediately confirmed by the Pope in the
midst of a terrific thunderstorm; and on the same day Napoleon III.
declared war against Prussia.  In a letter to H. D. Grissell, dated
five days before the occupation of Rome by the troops of Victor
Emmanuel, Bute tells how he first heard of the momentous event:

Cardiff Castle,
  _September_ 15, 1870.

How can I tell in what a state this may find you at Rome? the Pope
perhaps gone to Malta, and the whole place in revolution, tempered only
by the presence of Italian troops.

My first act on returning to England was to go to Clifton to see
[Bishop] Clifford.  He was away, but two of his chaplains received me
and told me {91} of the definition, of which I have now received from
you the awful description.  My mind bowed itself at once before the
definition, and I believed the doctrine _ex animo_.  I have since found
that many most pious Catholics, most heartily willing to believe
anything on the Church's authority, do not see that that authority
exists in this case.  They argue in this way: I. It is admitted that an
OEcumenical Council approved by the Pope can bind the soul.  II. To be
OEcumenical it is necessary for the Council to be _closed_, the decrees
signed by a majority of the Fathers, then published and received in the
whole world.  III. This is not at present the case with the Vatican

Whether there is anything in all this I am not personally concerned to
enquire.  There seems to me no doubt that external disobedience and
denial of the doctrine are, as things now are, sinful; though some may,
and doubtless do, hold a hope that God will some day teach us by His
Church that this definition of the Vatican Council is not, after all,
part of the revealed truth.  Such thoughts sometimes make me unhappy,
and I endeavour (which is what our confessors advise) to drown them by
practical Catholic work and such attempts at piety as I am capable of.
I repeat--from the moment of the definition I had not one doubt of the
truth of the doctrine in the bottom of my soul.  The conviction that
the doctrine is truly part of God's Eternal Truth--even though it may
not yet be officially made known to us as part of that "faith" of which
St. Paul speaks when he says, "Being justified by faith, we have peace
with God through our Lord JESUS Christ"--still remains in me; and it
seems to me that I could never cease to hold it until, or unless, the
Church laid down the contrary.  {92} Let us leave the matter here: I
shall write no more of it.

Our voyage home was very happy and successful.  We travelled across
Corsica by carriage, after a week in a quiet Sardinian bay, in sight of
Garibaldi's home at Caprera.  We were nearly three weeks between Nice
and Cannes, where Lady Sebright left us; then about a fortnight at the
Balearic Isles--Palma is charming.  We touched at some Spanish ports,
passed ten days at Gibraltar, and ran up from Cadiz for a week at
Seville; then eight days at Lisbon and Cintra.  Never in England or out
of it have I seen cathedrals worked so splendidly as the few Spanish I
saw.  I could not have conceived the grandeur of the fabric,
establishment, and functions of Seville--_infinitely better than St.
Peter's_.  Not having witnessed any great solemnity, I fail to imagine
what they must be like.  Some of the Peninsular practices are very
interesting, such as the use of the double ambon, and the Portuguese
practice of administering a glass chalice with wine to communicants.[5]

George Lane Fox was married to Miss Slade by the Archbishop [Manning]
on Saturday.  I gave her for a marriage present that rosary of emeralds
you used to admire so much; and she at once wrote to ask my consent to
its being altered into a necklace! which I refused to give.

G---- (from Parker's) is down here working at my books; he wears a
cassock, with red worsted slippers embroidered with coloured glass
beads.  H told me (1) that Llandaff Cathedral was only a whited
sepulchre, and (2) that he doubted if Liddon {93} would ever succeed in
introducing Christianity into St. Paul's Cathedral.[6]

Thank God, it is only within the Church (and that, one trusts and
hopes, but for a season) that consciences have been disturbed by the
troubles of the Definition.  These have had no apparent effect on the
accession of converts.  Lord Robert Montagu has just been received, and
I hear of others.  I had lately a long discussion with a clever,
well-read, and agreeable Protestant, and he told me it appeared to him
quite immaterial, once granted the infallibility of the Church--the
only real question--in what precise place or person it resided.

[Sidenote: 1870, Foundations at Cardiff]

I have set up a great screen and rood in the Fathers of Charity's
church here, and got it opened daily from 2 to 8 p.m., which enables me
sometimes to pay a visit to the _Santissimo_.  The change seems
appreciated, and many persons come to pray.  I hope Our Lord will
sanctify them out of His holy Tabernacle.

I am about starting a convent of Sisters of the Good Shepherd about a
mile from this town, in a beautiful spot.  Their church will contain a
tribune for the public, and they will sing High Mass, Vespers, and
Benediction on Sundays and holidays of obligation.  Burges is to do the
chapel, wherein I propose to erect a large gothic baldequin.  The
building is now an old barn.  The whole will, I think, though simple,
be very nice, and a great consolation to me.

I expect to be here till the end of this month, and after that I have a
few visits to pay; but I hope to be in Bute by November 1, and intend
to stay there all the winter.  The place is very charming, {94} and is
my real home.  I have not been there since I became Catholic, and the
people are all, I fear, very strongly prejudiced; so I am afraid I
shall have rather a rough time of it--at least at first.  Will you not
leave Rome and all its troubles, and pay a good long visit to Sneyd and
me in a country where the Church is in a missionary character?  If so,
come and pass Christmas at least with me in Bute.  We shall be
delighted to see you, and you will be away from all sorts of
disagreeable things, for a time at least.

Always yours most sincerely,

Before leaving Cardiff for his home in Scotland, which he had not
visited for two years, Bute attended the annual congress of the Iron
and Steel Institute at Merthyr, was present at the banquet given to the
congress by the South Wales ironmasters, and accompanied several of the
excursions to the great works in the district in which he was
interested.  The letter which he wrote on the day of his arrival in
Bute to his old friend at Oxford showed what his feeling was about the
usurpation of the States of the Church by the Sardinian monarch.

    _October_ 26, 1870.


I ought to have written to you long ago, and really do not know what to
say--except "mea culpa."  There will be much to tell you when we next

I am quite firm, thank GOD, in the Church.  I have outgrown any
"convert enthusiasm" I may ever have possessed; but I have long ceased
to think of anything else even as a possibility, or to {95} feel
anything novel in Catholic practices.  I am quite quiet, and I think,
thank GOD, so far doing pretty well.

You ask me about Rome.  As to politics, my feeling in favour of the
Temporal Power is very strong.  Of course it had its faults, the
extreme leniency of the criminal tribunals being probably the worst;
but, putting the question of right aside, a Christian could institute
no comparison between the Italian and the Pontifical Governments.
Religiously, Rome is neither so good nor so bad as the extreme people
would make it out.  It was very edifying, and there was a great deal of
piety--more conspicuous, perhaps, among the foreigners than the Romans,
but of course that was to be expected, as the former came on purpose.
The sanctuaries of Rome are very precious, especially the Holy Reliques
and the graves of the Martyrs, and I love them very much.

At the same time I think that this dreadful Revolution may be possibly
a scourge in the hand of GOD to bring about His Will, though every
Catholic must be appalled at the wickedness of the new Pontius Pilate
and his accomplices.  Perhaps the fiery trial may destroy some abuses,
stop some things one does not like to see, and bring about others more
profitable to Rome herself and to us.

As to the Greeks in America, it is impossible for me, I am sorry to
say, to have anything to do with supplying them with my own or any
other Liturgical books for use in their (as we believe) schismatic

Always most sincerely yours,

[Sidenote: 1870, The Roman situation]

It is evident from one or two of his letters already quoted, that Bute,
who was well aware of the strong feeling aroused among the people of
his titular island by his conversion to the Roman Church, {96} had felt
some natural apprehension as to their possible attitude towards him
when he returned after a somewhat prolonged absence to live amongst
them.  "I have been getting along very comfortably here," he wrote soon
after his arrival at Mountstuart, "but have so far no opportunity of
knowing what the people think of me behind my back."  A letter
addressed a little later to the same correspondent in Oxford is
interesting in this connection.

  _November_ 10.

I am getting on very well here up to this, and doing my best to
popularise myself by going about among the people.  Yesterday, for
example, I attended both a funeral and a marriage.  I believe this was
much appreciated, and at the marriage I was very warmly received, was
begged to do them the honour of signing the "lines," etc., etc.  The
oddest part of the matter was that at the funeral the Rothesay tag-rag
outside _cheered_ me as I left the churchyard.  I thought the prayers
at both ceremonies (of course extemporary) were intended to do me a
little good: there was nothing in them with which I could not heartily
concur, but a good deal of stress was laid on the "One Oblation offered
once for all"--"the full and free Redemption which is by faith in
Christ's death," etc., which are, I find, commonly supposed to be ideas
irreconcileable with the teaching of the Holy Roman Church--why, I
can't conceive, unless it is for want of reading St. Alphonsus Liguori.

Here at Rothesay we have a chapel and schools, a superannuated bishop,
Dr. Gray, and a young Scottish priest educated in France, Mr. George
Smith, a man of piety and learning.[7]  The whole {97} island contains
about 500 Catholics, either Highlanders or Irish.  I have had one of
the rooms here made into a chapel, than which no meeting-house can be
barer.  Mass is said here on Sundays and holidays, preceded by a very
simple English service.  Last Sunday I was at Largs, on the mainland
opposite, and heard an early Mass in a very poor cottage--said in the
kitchen on a small chest of drawers.  The house was crowded by the
congregation, standing on the stairs, in the passages, and all the
rooms.  They are wonderfully devout.  Out of the East I never saw such
a sight.

Yours ever most sincerely,

[Sidenote: 1870, Life at Mountstuart]

Bute spent nearly the whole winter and spring of 1870-1871 at his
beautiful Scottish home, to which he was deeply attached.  As he came
to know his neighbours better--and he took much pains to cultivate
friendly relations with them all--the stiffness, which was, perhaps, as
much the result of his own shyness and reserve as of their lack of
sympathy with his religious opinions, to a great extent wore off, and
his simplicity, courtesy, good sense, and kindness of heart won for him
little by little the high place in their regard which he ever
afterwards maintained.  He was from the first on the friendliest terms
with the Presbyterian clergy of the island as well as with his own
pastor, and had also established very cordial relations with Mr.
(afterwards Sir) Charles Dalrymple, then and for the following fifteen
years member for the county, and resident in the island.  This cordial
acquaintanceship ripened, after the marriages of Bute and of Dalrymple,
into a warm {98} friendship between the two families which terminated
only with death.[8]

Liturgical matters engrossed at this time, as always, a good deal of
Bute's attention, and are dealt with in many of his letters.  Thus, in
March, 1871, he writes very seriously about the "truly scandalous
proceedings" at the London pro-cathedral, news of which had reached him
in Scotland, and which the context shows to have consisted in the
wearing of dalmatics instead of folded chasubles at some Lenten
function in the church in question.  As will be seen from a later
letter, he arranged for the ceremonial of Holy Week and Easter to be
carried out as far as possible in his tiny chapel at Mountstuart; and
we find him giving minute instructions to his friend Grissell, who was
to spend that season as his guest in Bute, as to bringing the
requisites for the celebrations, including "18 yellow candles, rather
slim and 18 inches long, a paschal candle 3 feet long and 1-½ inches
thick, a book on ceremonies, five grains of incense, and a wooden
clapper for Maundy Thursday."  "We had the rites of the Holy Week," he
wrote subsequently to Miss Skene, "performed in my little chapel, for
the first time in Bute since the change of religion three centuries
ago.  They seldom, if ever, take place in Scotland, and our priest here
had never (so he told me) officiated in his life before on Good Friday!
You may be surprised to hear that, having no choir to execute the
liturgical chant, we adopt as far as {99} we can the methodist style of
singing emotional hymns during the services."

[Sidenote: 1871, Bute as philologist]

After Easter Bute stayed for a while in London, and then returned to
Cardiff, where he remained in residence for the greater part of the
year.  He took regular lessons in Welsh at this time from one of the
Cardiff clergy, and quickly mastered the language scientifically,
though he never learned to speak it fluently.

The science of philology (the late Dean Howell wrote) seemed to cost
Lord Bute no effort, for he was a born philologist, and appeared to
penetrate and solve linguistic difficulties as it were by instinct.
Another thing that used to astonish me was his familiarity with, and
wide knowledge of, the Authorised Version of the Bible; for at that
time (1871) he could not have been more than 23 or 24 years of age.
His retentive memory (which I have never seen equalled) enabled him to
quote exactly lengthy passages; and if I chanced to quote a Welsh word
from Scripture for illustrative purposes, he would give the English
rendering of the whole passage from memory with ease and perfect
accuracy.  His tastes and accomplishments were essentially mediæval;
and history, art, and archæology had for him an inexhaustible charm.

Bute had a little before this shown his practical interest in art by
not only presiding at a Fine Art Exhibition in the drill-hall which he
had erected, but by exhibiting there valuable plate and pictures,
including a painting executed by himself.  A little later he was in the
chair at the annual meeting held at Cardiff of the Palestine
Exploration Fund, recounting in very interesting fashion his own
travels in that country.  And in July, 1871, he took an {100} active
part in the congress of the British Archæological Institute held at the
Town Hall, entertaining the members at a reception at the Castle and a
banquet at Caerphilly.  He also spoke at the congress, taking many of
the distinguished visitors by surprise with the extent of his knowledge
and information on the subjects special to the Institute.

[Sidenote: 1871, Belmont and Llanthony]

Soon after the meeting of the Archæological Congress, Bute left England
for Ober Ammergau to witness the Passion Play, which had been postponed
for a year owing to the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War.  He then
joined his yacht at St. Malo, and after a cruise off Devon, Cornwall,
and the Channel Islands returned to Cardiff for the autumn.  During
this time he paid several visits to the Benedictine Priory at Belmont,
near Hereford, where his liturgical tastes found satisfaction in the
solemn rendering of the Divine service by the monastic community.  One
of the fathers then resident there[9] has some interesting
recollections of these periodical visits:

Lord Bute came to Belmont three or four times, I think, in the year
before his marriage.  He left on us the impression of a modest,
unassuming, and extremely intelligent young man with serious tastes,
who seemed quite at home in the simple surroundings of a monastery.  He
frequented the Divine Office regularly, and followed all the Church
functions with interest.  He joined the Fathers at coffee after meals,
and conversed very pleasantly, telling us sometimes of his Cardiff
interests or of his early experiences and travels.  He was a good deal
with {101} Prior Vaughan,[10] of course; but as I was acting
guestmaster and about his own age, I walked out with him several times,
and we talked of many subjects, chiefly, perhaps, archæological or
theological topics.  I remember his telling me of a conversation with a
Protestant clergyman who came to interview him, possibly with hope of
influencing an unformed mind.  Lord Bute proposed for discussion the
precise theological value of the verse on the Precious Blood[11]--

  "Cujus una stilla salvum facere
  Totum mundum quit ab omni scelere;"

and I gathered that they soon came to an end of the poor parson's
divinity, and of his efforts to "snatch a brand from the burning."

The prior took Lord Bute to Llanthony, where they saw "Father
Ignatius," who told them that he reserved the Holy Eucharist under
three rites--Anglican, Greek, and Roman.  He also said (which struck
Lord Bute as very whimsical) that he insisted on his visitors keeping
strict silence when walking over a field in which his cloisters were
one day to be built.[12]

[1] As a little boy of twelve Bute had been enrolled as an honorary
member of the 1st Bute Rifle Volunteers, and had occasionally appeared
in the dark-grey uniform with blue facings.  When the Cardiff Yeomanry
went on service in the South African War, Bute showed his patriotism by
subscribing £500 to the funds of the corps.

[2] The kinship was undoubted, if somewhat remote.  Bute was fifteenth
in direct male descent from King Robert II. of Scotland, the lineal
ancestor of James VIII. (the "Chevalier de St. George"), to whom the
Pope made over the Palazzo Santi Apostoli as a residence in 1720, the
year of the birth of Prince Charles Edward.

[3] The caustic comment in Vatican circles was, of course, that it was
a case of the "Little Rock" in conflict with the Rock of Peter; but it
should be added that the two dissentient prelates, immediately after
voting against the decree, left their places and prostrated themselves
before the Papal Chair in token of their submission.  Similarly every
one of the eighty-eight bishops who had voted "Non placet" in the
Congregation of July 13--not, of course, against the dogma, but against
the opportuneness of its definition--accepted the decree without
qualification as soon as it was officially promulgated.

[4] On October 20, 1870, a month after the forcible occupation of Rome
by the Piedmontese troops, Pius IX. issued a brief proroguing the
Council.  It has never been either closed or reassembled.

[5] Fr. Herbert Thurston, S.J., in a learned article in _The Month_
(October, 1911), has shown that the custom of offering a "purification"
of unconsecrated wine and water to lay communicants, after their
reception of the Host, was practically universal in England down to the
period of the Reformation, and was continued until the reign of James
II.  The practice is still generally observed at Ordination Masses, and
on one or two other rare and special occasions.

[6] The learned and eloquent Professor of Exegesis had been appointed a
canon of St. Paul's by Mr. Gladstone in the spring of this year, and
had preached his first sermon under the dome as canon-in-residence on
September 11, four days before the above letter was written.

[7] Father George Smith, who had studied at St. Sulpice, and was an
excellent scholar and theologian, became Bishop of Argyll and the Isles
in 1893, occupying the see for a quarter of a century until his death
in 1918.

[8] Long after the termination of his political connection with Bute,
Sir Charles Dalrymple used to recall with pleasure the remark once made
to him on Rothesay Pier by a Buteshire farmer of the old school: "Weel,
sir, we've got three things to be thankful for in the Isle of Bute, and
forbye they all begin with an M: we've a gude mairquis, and a gude
member, and a gude meenister."

[9] Right Rev. J. I. Cummins, O.S.B., now (1920) titular Abbot of St.
Mary's, York.

[10] This was Dom Roger Bede Vaughan, younger brother of Cardinal
Herbert Vaughan of Westminster.  He was cathedral prior of Belmont from
1862 to 1872, and in 1877 became Archbishop of Sydney, N.S.W.  He died
in 1883.

[11] From the Eucharistic hymn _Adoro Te devoiè_, written by St. Thomas
of Aquin about A.D. 1260, and known as the "Rhythmus S. Thomæ
Aquinatis."  Sixteen English versions of it have been published at
various times.

[12] The Rev. J. Leycester Lyne--commonly known as "Father
Ignatius"--was at this time endeavouring, with no great success, to
establish an Anglican Benedictine monastery among the Black Mountains
of Wales.  About a year previous to Bute's visit he had laid the
foundation of the conventual buildings.





Included in Bute's great inheritance were a considerable number of
advowsons, carrying the right of presentation to livings in the
Established Church.  Nearly a dozen of these benefices were in
Glamorgan, two (St. Mary's and Roath) being within the town of Cardiff.
Bute was, of course, from the time of his conversion to the Roman
Church, legally disabled from the exercise of his right of patronage in
regard to these livings; but instead of allowing them to "lapse" (as
the technical phrase is[1]) he from time to time made over the next
presentations to two _quasi_-trustees, friends of his own, and members,
of course, of the Church of England.  One of these "trustees" was for a
time Canon John David Jenkins, a Fellow of Jesus College, Oxford, with
whom Bute had become intimate during his university career.  Dr.
Jenkins became vicar of Aberdare, one of the Bute livings, in 1870, and
we find Bute writing to an Oxford friend about a year later:


Canon Jenkins has just appointed the Revs. Puller[2] and Stuart to two
out of the three parishes here; and Puller, at any rate, will be
inducted in Ember week.

[Sidenote: 1871, Church Patronage in Wales]

The practice adopted by Bute with regard to the livings in his gift--a
practice probably unique among Roman Catholic patrons, and one which,
in the case of a man less conscientious and honourable than himself,
might have been open to obvious objections--was not continued by his
successor after his death; nor, indeed, could it have been, after the
assignment of next presentations ceased to be legally permissible.  The
ten family livings in the county of Glamorgan fell accordingly, as
provided by the statute, to the gift of the University of Cambridge.[3]
The advowsons of other livings, in Monmouthshire and Northumberland,
were sold in Bute's lifetime or by his successor.

The friendship between Canon Jenkins and Bute was maintained until the
death of the former in 1876[4]; and he was one among the little group
of learned men--scholars, antiquarians, and ecclesiastics--much senior
in age to the young Scottish peer, whom he gathered round him at this
time, and often invited to share the solitude of his Welsh {104} castle
or his island home in Scotland.  That it was something of a solitude,
and that he felt it to be so there are many indications in his letters
at this period.  His only intimate friend of his own age was his old
schoolfellow George Sneyd, with whose views on many subjects, sincere
as was his affection for him, he was (as has been seen) in some
respects entirely out of sympathy.  What he was longing for and looking
forward to, as he found himself approaching his twenty-fourth birthday,
was domestic happiness and the home life of which he had known so
little since his early boyhood; and this, as was natural, he hoped to
secure by an early and happy marriage.

In the summer of 1871 his name was connected by the rumour, or gossip,
of the day with that of the charming ward of a well-known Catholic
peeress, whose hospitality had often been extended to him on the
occasions of his visits to London.  Bute took the opportunity, when
writing to an old friend on whose sympathy he could rely, to deny
categorically the truth of the rumour in question, and at the same time
to give expression with his usual frankness to the feelings of
dissatisfaction and discontent with which he was entering on his
twenty-fifth year.

Cardiff Castle,
  _July_ 29, 1871.


As there is, I fear, little chance of my being in Oxford just now, I
will not delay longer in replying to your kind letter.

I had not seen the reports to which you refer, although I knew that
they had been circulated by the scandalmongers of the press.  I may
tell you at {105} once--I had meant to do so before--that there is no
truth in them whatever.  There is no engagement between Miss ---- and
myself, and nothing is less likely than that there ever should be.  I
will tell you all about it some day when I see you, or in a future
letter: I cannot write more about it at present, except to say that
here I am thrown out on the world again, feeling very lonely and
desolate.  My future, indeed, looks pretty blank just now, as you may
imagine easily enough.  There is nothing for it but to go on one's way,
trying to do one's duty--and literature.  I have also a considerable
taste for art and archæology, and happily the means to indulge them.
When I return from Ober Ammergau, whither I go next month, to see the
Passion Play, I shall do a little yachting in home waters, and then
return here for the autumn and winter.  There is plenty to do here, of
course; and building, archæology, and writing will perhaps help me to
forget my troubles.  After Christmas this place will be unbearable, and
I think I shall go to Bute.

Yours ever very sincerely,

[Sidenote: 1872, Engagement and Marriage]

Whatever may have been the disappointment or mortification occasioned
to Bute by the episode in his life referred to in the above letter,
they were amply compensated for, and indeed wholly forgotten, in the
happiness of the event which he was able to announce to his friends at
the close of this year.  This was his engagement to the Hon. Gwendoline
FitzAlan Howard, eldest daughter of the first Lord Howard of Glossop by
his first wife.  The marriage took place at the Oratory Church on April
16, 1872, Archbishop Manning officiating, assisted by five Oratorian
fathers.  Bute's cousin, Lord Mauchline (afterwards Earl of Loudoun),
{106} wearing Highland dress, was the best man, the principal
bridesmaid being the Hon. Alice Howard of Glossop, who married Lord
Loudoun in 1880.  Mgr. Capel said the Nuptial Mass and preached the
sermon; and the register was signed by the Duke of Cambridge, the Dukes
of Northumberland and Argyll, and Mr. Disraeli.  The wedding aroused an
extraordinary amount of popular interest and even excitement; and the
_Spectator_ commented with satiric surprise on the fact that the London
newspapers devoted entire pages to describing the ceremony, which
actually occupied--but that perhaps was less astonishing--thirty
columns of the Cardiff _Western Mail_.  How distasteful this public
excitement was to the chief actors in the ceremony may be gathered from
a letter written by Bute to a friend in Rome a fortnight later:

Cardiff Castle,
  _April_ 29, 1872.

The whole thing went off very well; the religious part of it, which
most concerned us, was very well done, and, I hear, pleased and
impressed the many Protestants who were present.  I suppose you will
have seen descriptions and pictures of it.  You will understand that to
the principals the whole thing--I mean the secular part of it--was
absolutely detestable.  As Lord Beauchamp says: "There is only one
thing more disagreeable than being married in London, and that is being
married in the country."  Of course we have been extremely quiet ever
since, and expect to be so.  My Lady is the last person in the world to
"rout one out" and want to make a flare-up and a splash.

The Pope sent presents to us both,[5] and I wrote to Mgr. Howard to
express our gratitude, enclosing {107} a letter of thanks in very
indifferent Latin, which I composed and we both signed; but it was not
to be given if it was contrary to etiquette.

I find it the custom of Protestants, when they are married by an
Archbishop, to present that dignitary with a pair of gloves--theirs
being always white kid sewn with gold.  I think I shall have a pair of
cloth-of-gold _chirothecæ_ made for Abp. Manning, and shall get Burges
to design them.  I know the Roman ones are often made of spun silk, but
you can have them of other stuff, too, can you not?

A relique of St. Margaret of Scotland has been got for me, and I think
of having a bust made for it, of silver-gilt; but I have not yet
received it and don't know what it is like.  I think also of sending to
Chur (Choire) for a relique of St. Lucius of Glamorgan (Lleurwg
Mawr).[6]  _A propos_ of Reliques, they have been making wonderful
discoveries of the shrine of St. Alban in his abbey.[7]

[Sidenote: 1872, Reception at Cardiff]

Lord and Lady Bute had gone immediately after their marriage to
Cardiff, where they received a very cordial welcome, the mayor reading
an address to them at the Castle gates.  "I assure you," said Bute in
his brief reply, "that my wife comes here to-day with a sincere desire
to do what is right, and to be of service not to me only, but to all by
whom {108} she is surrounded, and among whom her life is to be
henceforth spent."  It is sufficient to say here that Bute's
anticipations of the new happiness that this step would bring into his
life were more than justified by the event.  "I cannot but thank God,
and congratulate myself, on this marriage," he wrote in May, 1872; "and
I hope and believe that it will bring me many blessings."  A little
later he wrote to the same friend:

I have done two good things (besides some foolish ones) since my
twenty-first birthday; the first on December 8, 1868, when I was
reconciled to the Catholic Church; the second on April 16, 1872, when
the same Church blessed my happy marriage.  It is a satisfaction to
feel that twice in one's life, at any rate, one has done what one is
certain never to repent of nor to regret.  Do you not agree with me?

Bute's marriage brought him into intimate relations, and indeed some
degree of kinship, with some of the ancient Catholic families of
England, of whom he had up to that time known very little.  Profoundly
interested as he always was in every phase of religious belief and
practice, he welcomed the opportunity now afforded him of witnessing a
traditionally religious life as unostentatious as it was obviously
sincere, and contrasting alike with the austere Puritanism of his
childish days and the fussy restlessness which was the chief
characteristic of the earlier adherents of the advanced school of
Anglicanism.  Writing of some Catholics of the old school, to whose
country home he and his wife had been paying a visit, he says:

They have edifying habits of piety, but of a very Low Church type--the
school of "Hymns Antient {109} and Modern without the Appendix," red
baize boxes in galleries, family prayers and daily Mass in the most
unadorned of private chapels, and an absolute minimum of ritual.  You
will understand that the unassuming simplicity of it all appeals to a
person like me--especially when I see the goodness that accompanies it.
But some of our "advanced" Anglican friends would stare if they saw the
good old-fashioned practices which prevail in old Catholic circles.  I
only wish they could.

[Sidenote: 1873, Old English Catholic homes]

A visit to Arundel Castle in the year following his marriage gave him
evident pleasure; and a letter thence gives a pleasant glimpse of the
home circle in that historic Catholic home:

The party here is an entirely family one;[8] and Whitsuntide and the
Month of Mary [May] add by a shade to the amount of church-going, which
is considerable here always: for, as you know, they are a very devout
as well as a very merry and very nice family.  I am rather looking
forward to the procession of the Blessed Sacrament on Sunday week for
Corpus Christi.  The "Fête-Dieu" in the streets of an English country
town will be rather an experience.

We have been down at the sea for the last month.  We have no London
address, neither of us caring for the place, where no one left me an
house and where I have not the least intention of buying one.

Having at this time, as mentioned above, no London residence, Lord and
Lady Bute spent their year chiefly between Cardiff and Mountstuart,
with occasional visits to Dumfries House, for which Bute had always a
particular affection.  The stay at {110} Cardiff after their marriage
was unexpectedly prolonged owing to Lady Bute being laid up there with
scarlet fever, while he had the misfortune to break his arm.  As soon
as they could travel they went to Mountstuart for the autumn and
winter, and Bute dictated thence the following letter, the last
sentence of which illustrates the curious displeasure with which,
notwithstanding his theoretical and archæological admiration of
monastic institutions, he always received the news of any friends of
his own entering a religious order:[9]

  _September_ 23, 1872.

You will perceive by the handwriting that I am still incapable of using
my right hand, which is, indeed, tied up with a piece of wood.  I am
glad to say that my Lady is now very nearly well; and I trust that her
escape from the climate of Cardiff will soon complete her recovery.

The quiet routine of my life here is the same as formerly.  My Lady
plays the harmonium in our little chapel: we venture on nothing more
than hymns, and get along pretty well.

The histories one hears from Rome seem all to be so "cooked" to suit
the varying views of people who retail them, that one really feels
quite uncertain as to how things are going on.  I am told that there is
an Italianising party among the Cardinals, from which much trouble may
be expected in the event--may it be very far distant!--of the election
of a successor to Pius IX.


I greatly regret to report that H---- G----[10] in a convent as a
Redemptorist novice.  I can only say that I most sincerely trust, as
far as I lawfully may, that he may soon find that he has made a mistake.

[Sidenote: 1873, Oxford revisited]

The reference to the learned Jesuit Father MacSweeney in the following
letter, written to his old Oxford friend in the spring of 1873, shows
that Bute was now entering on what was to be the most considerable
literary work of his life, namely, the translation into English of the
entire Roman Breviary.

  _April_ 27, 1873.

We are really coming south for a little, after a peaceful sojourn here
of many months; and I hope for an opportunity of seeing you.  I am not
forgetful, and it will be a great pleasure.  There is not much to bring
me to Oxford now, as except yourself and very few others I have no
friends there now, and I have not the footing I should have had if I
had taken my degree.  One day, however, I am to come, and my wife is to
be "lionised" by old Mr. Parker, between whom and me archæology has
formed ties.  I have also business with the erudite Jesuit Fr.
MacSweeney,[11] who has just been sent there.  Most of my Oxford
friends are married and changed and away--and I suppose I am very much
changed myself.  I fear I am not less indolent than I was, and my life
is devoid of stirring incidents.  My luxury is art, and perhaps the
favourite pursuit Antiquarianism, as {112} History is the favourite
reading.  I study, too, a little science.  I wish I were better as
regards devotion--I want stirring up in that; but my associations of
that kind are so much with the South, and so difficult to adapt (though
I know I ought to try to adapt them) to the environment in which one
has to live.  We are both, however, looking forward to a Mediterranean
trip next winter.

The projected visit to Oxford--Bute's first since his change of
religion five years previously--duly came off, and he thus refers to it:

To "do" Oxford in a day is suggestive of the American tourists who "do"
Rome in three; but my wife saw the most noteworthy things under the
skilled guidance of old Parker, whom I fear we unduly fatigued.  You
may imagine the feelings and memories that came over me as I led my
young wife through Christ Church.  It is difficult to estimate exactly
what I owe to Oxford, but the debt is a heavy one....  Materially the
place seemed to me very little changed.  The newest thing I noticed was
St. Barnabas's, which impressed me.  Only I wish they'd had the courage
to Romanise it enough to put the Altar so--

[Illustration: Sketch of altar arrangements]

Apropos of Americans "doing" Italy, Story told me that Gibson, the
American sculptor, once met and talked with a countryman of his, who
was "doing" Italy in some incredibly short space of time.  "Yes, I
guess I have been nearly everywhere," he said (the conversation took
place in a North Italian {113} railway-carriage), "and one place that
struck me very much was--I can't remember the name, but it begins with
R."  Gibson suggested Ravenna, Reggio, Recanati, and other names.  "No,
no, it was a shorter name than any of those: there was a big church
with a dome, and a colonnade and fountains in front."  "Good heavens!
you surely don't mean _Rome_?" said Gibson, aghast.  "Yes, that was
it--Rome.  I knew it was a short name, but I couldn't recall it for the
moment."  This is a fact, as newspapers sometimes say after telling a
more than usually unbelievable story.

[Sidenote: 1873, A winter in Majorca]

The second winter after his marriage Bute had the pleasure of spending
in the south which he loved so well, and in more congenial and
sympathetic company than he had always secured for his bachelor
journeyings, even those which in some degree partook of the nature of a
pilgrimage.  "Our plan," he wrote on November 6, 1873, "is to dawdle
through France and winter by the Mediterranean--we have been thinking
of the Island of Majorca."  The project was successfully carried out,
and we see, from a letter written early in the following spring to the
same friend, how much quiet enjoyment he was deriving from the rest and
sunshine which he found in the Balearic Isles.  The latter part of the
letter refers to the recent death of his first cousin Edith Countess of
Loudoun, who, it will be remembered, had been one of the party that
accompanied him to the Holy Land a few weeks after his reception into
the Roman Church.

  Palma, Mallorca,
    _February_ 24, 1874.

This is a very fair place indeed, the best of it being the climate.
I'm nearly always happy when {114} I'm abroad, particularly in the
Mediterranean.  I suppose there's something in fogs and perpetual rain
and cold and darkness which is especially uncongenial to me.  Also
there are no business and bothers here to speak of, which is certainly
a great change from home.  We have the quiet and peace which we both
enjoy and value, and I am glad to say that I have been getting on very
well with the Breviary; for whereas I had hoped before returning to
have reached Ascension Day, I now venture to think of the third Sunday
after Pentecost.

A drawback (my Lady reminds me) to our residence here is its distance
from any church, our only accessible service being one Low Mass each
Sunday.  There's an impressive, and very Spanish, Cathedral at Palma,
with functions well and carefully done; but it is remote from us here.

The death of Edith[12] was a great shock to me, as well as a source of
sincere sorrow.  _Requiescat in pace_.  We shall all go the same way in
the long run, 100 years {115} hence it'll be all the same; but it does
seem rather hard that the axe should fall on the neck of all of us
(however much it may grieve or inconvenience the survivors), and cut us
off from the only world we have any experience of.  Not, for the matter
of that, that it's much worth stopping in--still, it's all we've got.
However, crying over this spilt milk--and I confess to having shed some
tears since I heard the news--will never put it back into the pitcher,
so perhaps there is not much use in crying.  But I am sincerely
grateful for your kind sympathy.

[Sidenote: 1874, Domestic happiness]

Later in the same year, after his return to England, Bute took
occasion, in a letter to his ever-faithful friend at Oxford, to repel
with indignation some malevolent rumours which had reached him to the
effect that he had not found in his home life the happiness which he
had anticipated.

Not one jot of truth is there, or has there ever been, in these
iniquitous calumnies.  Our happiness indeed is complete, and the terms
on which we live completely affectionate and intimate.  I find myself
more attached to G. the longer I have the privilege and honour of
living with her, and of seeing, as St. Augustine says of St. Monica,
"her walk with God, how godly and holy it is, and to us-ward so sweet
and gentle."

This letter was written from Heath House, Weybridge--"a little house,"
writes Bute, "which we have hired for a month or two.  I go hence to
London nearly every day to read Hebrew with a Rabbi [this was in view
of the new version of the Psalms for his projected translation of the
Breviary], and all sorts of things with a Jesuit.  Besides the sacred
language 'in which the Eternal spoke,' and certain branches {116} of
Liturgiology, I continue, as formerly, to read history and
science--very humbly.

"We go to Scotland this month, but perhaps shall be at Cardiff for
Christmastide, though Mountstuart, as you know, is the home of our

Before Christmas of this year, which Bute spent not at Cardiff but at
Mountstuart, he published (anonymously) a little book containing a
translation of the Christmas Offices from the Roman Breviary.  "I hope
and believe," he wrote, "that it may be of some service to those (there
must be many) who desire to follow with intelligence the Liturgy of
that holy season, but are prevented from doing so by their partial or
total ignorance of the language of the Church.  For this reason I
should wish the booklet made known through the ordinary channels--a
matter in which I confess to thinking our Catholic publishers very much
less enterprising and business-like than those who cater for devout
Anglicans.  But for this state of things, I fear, _non c'è remedio_."

In Bute's own chapel he was accustomed to have the church offices (with
the exception, of course, of the Mass) recited in the vernacular.
"Christmas went well here," he wrote to a friend in January, 1875.  "We
had the Monsignor [Capel] down.  Mattins and Lauds were said in
English, the altar being incensed at the _Benedictus_; and Mgr. C.
treated us to a short and rather eloquent _fervorino_ after the gospel
at Mass.  By the way, the progress of my Breviary is most
discouragingly slow: _eppur si muove_."

[1] "Lapsed" livings are those in the gift of Catholics, who are
legally incapable of presenting to them.  By statutes passed in 1603
and 1715, the patronage of such livings is vested, according to their
situation, in the universities of Oxford or Cambridge.  All such
benefices in Glamorgan were assigned to Cambridge.

[2] The Rev. F. W. Puller, the well-known Anglican divine and
controversialist, resigned the vicarage of Roath in 1880 to join the
Society of St. John the Evangelist at Cowley.

[3] The Welsh Disestablishment Act of 1920 has, of course, abolished
private patronage in Wales.

[4] Canon Jenkins had held one of the "missionary fellowships" founded
at Jesus by his namesake Sir Leoline Jenkins in the seventeenth
century, and had accordingly gone out to Natal in 1853, and become a
canon of Maritzburg.  He had returned to Oxford when Bute came into
residence at Christ Church, and was successively dean and bursar of
Jesus between 1864 and 1870.  A fine portrait of him by Holman Hunt
hangs in the common-room of his college.

[5] Pius IXth's wedding gifts were beautiful cameos set in gold.

[6] The (probably mythical) "king of Britain" whom Bede reports to have
written to Pope Eleutherius asking for instruction in Christianity.
Lucius is supposed to have left Britain, preached among the Rhætian
Alps, and died at Chur or Coire, where he is still venerated as a
saint.  The Welsh legend makes him founder of the churches of Llandaff,
Roath, etc.  Lleurwg or Lleurfer (Light-bearer) is the Welsh rendering
of Lucius.

[7] More than 2000 fragments of the fourteenth-century base of St.
Alban's shrine were discovered in 1872, built into the walls, and were
pieced together again with extraordinary patience and skill, and
re-erected on the original site.

[8] The Duke of Norfolk and his four unmarried sisters were at this
time living at Arundel with their widowed mother.

[9] One recalls in this connection the cases of two of the most devout
and accomplished Catholic writers of the nineteenth century, the Count
de Montalembert and Kenelm Digby.  Both expended the utmost enthusiasm
and eloquence in their description of the religious life of the Middle
Ages; and both resisted to the utmost, and not without bitterness, the
entry into religion of members of their own immediate family circles.

[10] A contemporary of Bute's at Harrow and Christ Church.  He had
become a Catholic in 1871.

[11] In the preface to his translation of the Breviary, published six
years later, Bute pays a handsome tribute to the "long pains and
unwearied patience and kindness" which the learned Jesuit had expended
in assisting him in the work.  Father MacSweeney read the whole of it
in proof, and contributed much valuable criticism, especially in
connection with the translation of the Psalter.

[12] One of the testamentary dispositions of Edith Lady Loudoun, who
had succeeded to the Scottish earldom in 1868 on the premature death of
her brother, fourth and last Marquis of Hastings, curiously recalls a
provision afterwards made by Bute in his own will.  Lady Loudoun
directed that her right hand should be severed after death, and buried
apart from her body (which was interred in the family vault in
Scotland) in the park at her husband's seat at Donington, her home
before she inherited her brother's title.  Curiously enough, a similar
provision had been made by her grandfather (and Bute's), the first
Marquis of Hastings, the distinguished Governor-General of India, who
died in Malta in 1826, his wife and children being at the time in
Scotland.  He was buried at Malta, but his right hand was by his wish
carried to Loudoun, and placed in the grave destined for his wife.
When the latter was dying fourteen years later, her daughter Sophia,
afterwards Marchioness of Bute, wrote a note to the parish minister,
asking him to bring her a small iron box which he would find in the
family vault.  "There must be no delay," the missive ended.  The young
minister did Lady Sophia's bidding: the box was taken to her mother's
deathbed, and two days later was enclosed in her coffin according to
her husband's desire.  This minister was the Rev. Norman Macleod,
afterwards the chaplain and intimate friend of Queen Victoria.





Bute's domestic happiness was crowned, at the close of the year 1875,
by the birth of his eldest (and for some years his only) child, the
event taking place at Mountstuart on December 24, 1875.  "At twenty
minutes to five a.m. on Christmas Eve," he wrote to a friend, "the
first cries of my daughter were heard, and the little thing is and has
been in excellent health and strength.  I cannot believe there is ever
much likeness in babies to one parent or the other; but what she has
_absolutely_, such as the colour of the eyes, formation of the ears,
etc., is after me, and not after her mother ...  She was baptised that
evening at six, I asking the farmers round about.  Mgr. Capel made a
kind of little sermon for the occasion, very well done."

The autumn of the following year was marked by a Royal visit to the
Isle of Bute--a rare event in those parts, and one which for that
reason aroused all the greater interest and appreciation.  H.R.H.
Prince Leopold was the guest of Lord and Lady Bute for four days at
Mountstuart, arriving in the evening in Lord Glasgow's yacht _Valetta_
at the picturesque harbour of Rothesay, which was illuminated for the
occasion.  The Prince next day paid a kind of official visit to the
{118} Aquarium (the chief public attraction of Rothesay), and had a
most enthusiastic reception.  On Sunday he attended service in the
parish church, accompanied by the Protestant members of the
house-party; and in the evening he was present at the Catholic service
of vespers in Lord Bute's private chapel.  A ball was given at
Mountstuart during his visit; and he much enjoyed a cruise in the yacht
round the islands, as well as a visit to the interesting colony of
beavers which Bute had established some little time before on a spot
adapted for their damming and tree-cutting operations.


[Sidenote: 1875, The Cardiff vintage]

From his boyhood Bute had been a lover of animals, though, unlike the
young hero of "The Mill on the Floss" (who "was very fond of
animals--that is, of throwing stones at them"), he took no interest
whatever in their destruction.  Besides the beavers, to whose
constitutions the dampness of the Bute climate ultimately proved fatal,
he introduced a number of kangaroos (or rather wallabies) into the
sheltered woods round Mountstuart; and his visitors used to view with
surprise these agile little marsupials leaping about among the bushes,
as much at home as, and indeed much less shy than, the familiar hare or
rabbit of our English coverts.  The acclimatisation of exotic shrubs in
the grounds of his island home (where the prevailing mildness of
temperature encouraged such experiments) was always a source of
interest to him; whilst at Cardiff he derived particular pleasure from
the success of his efforts to grow grapes there for wine-producing
purposes.  Vines were selected from the colder districts of France, and
were planted in 1875 on the slopes of Castell Coch, near Cardiff, in
light fibrous loam soil.  One particular vine, the _Gamay Noir_ (a
favourite in the Paris {119} district), so flourished that a second and
larger vineyard was propagated from it.  Forty gallons of wine were
made in the second year after planting, and after two or three bad
seasons so good a vintage was secured in 1881 that the wine, pronounced
by connoisseurs to resemble good still champagne, was all sold at
excellent prices.  The record year, however, was 1893, when the entire
crop of forty hogsheads, or over a thousand dozen, of the wine realised
a price which recouped all the expenses incurred during the previous
eighteen years.  Dr. Lawson Tait, as famous for his taste in wine as
for his surgical skill, bought some of it; and when sold with the rest
of his cellar after his death it fetched 115_s._ a dozen.[1]  The
success of Bute's viticultural experiments aroused very general
interest in England; and it is perhaps worth while putting on record,
as a good specimen of the now discredited art of the punster, a notice
of the new industry which appeared, now nearly half a century ago, in
the principal comic paper of the day:

The Marquis of Bute has, it appears, a Bute-iful vineyard at Castle
Coch, near Cardiff, where it is to be hoped such wine will be produced
that in future Hock will be superseded by Coch, and the unpronounceable
vintages of the Rhine will yield to the unpronounceable vintages of the
Taff.  Cochheimer is as yet a wine _in potentia_, but the vines are
planted, and the gardener, Mr. Pettigrew, anticipates no petty growth.

No distinctive name was, as a matter of fact, ever given to the wine
made from the Castle Coch grapes; {120} and Bute on more than one
occasion asked good Welsh scholars (including some of the Cardiff
clergy) to dinner, in order to consult with them as to this point.  The
site of one of the vineyards was a place called Swanbridge
(Pont-yr-alarch), and it was suggested that "Sparkling
Pont-yr-alarch"[2] would look well in a wine merchant's list.  "True,"
was Bute's comment, made in the serious vein in which he loved to treat
such subjects: "yet I fear that such a name would militate against the
casual demand for my wine in hotels or restaurants.  One can hardly
imagine the ordinary diner calling for a bottle of Pont-yr-alarch at
the beginning of his meal, still less asking for a second bottle at a
more advanced stage of the repast.  All orders for this particular
vintage would have, in practice, to be given in writing."  The wine
continued to be anonymous; and Bute, who frequently had it served at
his own table, used to puzzle his guests by asking their candid opinion
of it.  "Well, now, Lord Bute," said a distinguished connoisseur once,
after tasting the 1893 vintage and rolling it over his palate _secundum
artem_, "this is what I should call an _interesting_ wine."  "I wonder
what Sir H---- M---- exactly meant by that," Bute would sometimes say
afterwards, recalling the incident.

[Sidenote: 1875, Order of the Thistle]

The year 1875 was marked for Bute by an incident which gratified him
not a little, namely, the {121} bestowal on him by Queen Victoria of
the Knighthood of the Thistle.  It was characteristic of him that he
did not accept this honour, as some noblemen of high rank and large
possessions might easily have done, as a mere matter of course.  He
regarded it, on the contrary, as a recognition of the services he had
endeavoured to render to education, learning, and the civic life; and
he valued and appreciated it accordingly.  Apart from any question of
personal merit, he was gratified, as a patriotic Scot, by his admission
into the most exclusive order of chivalry in the kingdom, and one which
had been conferred for generations on the most eminent of his
countrymen.  He had held for some years the Grand Cross of two
distinguished Papal Orders--those of St. Gregory and of the Holy
Sepulchre; but on the occasion of his next ceremonial visit to Rome and
to the Pope, it was remarked at the Vatican (where such details never
pass unnoticed) that he was not wearing the Pontifical decorations, but
only the insignia of the Scottish Order.[3]

The loyal affection cherished by Bute for his few near relatives has
already been mentioned; and it may therefore be easily imagined with
what sympathetic interest he learned in the summer of 1875 that his
cousin Lady Flora Hastings, elder sister of Lord Loudoun, had been
received into the Catholic Church, and was in consequence being
subjected to a species of domestic persecution which seems strange in
these more tolerant days, but was {122} by no means uncommon fifty
years ago.  Bute wrote as to this to an intimate friend:

_Jan._ 10, 1876.

The treatment to which she has been submitted at home has naturally
been extremely trying and painful to her;[4] but she has endured it
with admirable patience, being reinforced and supported by the
remarkable kindness of her brother.  Loudoun's behaviour has indeed
been considerate to a degree that can hardly be imagined, and far more
so than could have been at all expected.  You will understand, without
my saying more, what we all feel about this.  Norfolk has been kindness
itself to her, and so, too, have others.

An interesting sequel to the reference in the last sentence was the
happy engagement concluded in 1877 between the Duke of Norfolk and Lady
Flora.  As first cousins respectively to the bride and bridegroom, Lord
and Lady Bute were of course very specially interested in this
marriage, which took place at the Oratory on November 21, 1877.  "We
are all occupied all day here," Bute wrote from a London hotel on
November 16, "talking about the wedding next week, and some of us with
other things besides talk, for there is much business to be done and

Neither on this nor on any other occasion did Lord and Lady Bute care
to remain away from their own home longer than was absolutely
necessary.  Bute wrote a few days afterwards from Lord Glasgow's seat
in Fife, where they were paying a short visit:


We quitted London--as usual, with much satisfaction--the very day after
the ceremony, which was decorously done, and the mob of sightseers was,
I am inclined to think, better behaved (anyhow inside the church) than
at our marriage five years ago.  Lord Beaconsfield, who was in the
front row next to Princess Louise, sat throughout the function wrapped
in his long drab overcoat, and gazing at the altar with Sphinx-like
immobility.  He told me at the reception afterwards that he had thought
the music (which at Norfolk's express wish was plain-chant throughout)
"strangely impressive."

The bridegroom, by the way, forgot to order a carriage to take them
away after the ceremony, but finding his father-in-law's carriage at
the church door, handed in the bride with great presence of mind.  They
were just driving off when Mr. Hastings came out fuming, and insisted
on a seat in his own carriage.  So they all drove away together, quite
in violation, I imagine, of the established etiquette on such occasions.

[Sidenote: 1877, Burning of Mountstuart]

Bute's hopes of spending the winter of 1877-1878 quietly at his old
home near Rothesay were rudely frustrated by the catastrophe of
December 3, 1877, when Mountstuart House was practically burnt to the
ground, only the two wings (one of them containing the little private
chapel) escaping the flames.  He wrote early in December, in reply to a
letter of condolence:

Many thanks for the kind expressions in your letter.  It has all been,
of course, very distressing.  Nearly all moveables (including books and
pictures) were most fortunately saved,[5] but the confusion is {124}
and has been so great that I am practically bookless for a while, and
feel like a snail that has lost its shell.  But the Breviary is slowly

The destruction of his birthplace was, of course, far from leaving Bute
in any sense homeless; for Cardiff Castle as well as Dumfries House,
the fine old seat of the Crichtons, were still at his disposition, and
to these he added in course of time two other country-places in
Scotland, besides leasing for a term of years first the Duke of
Devonshire's cedar-shaded villa at Chiswick, and later the beautiful
domain of St. John's Lodge, in Regent's Park, which was almost as much
a _rus in urbe_ as Holland House itself.  Superficially, and in one
respect, he may thus be said to have resembled the anonymous duke in
Disraeli's most popular novel, who was the owner of so many magnificent
seats that he could never feel (it was his one grievance) that he
possessed a home.  But Bute, who considered it a matter of duty and
conscience to spend a certain time at all his places in turn, contrived
to find in each of them the _Lar domestico_ (as the Portuguese call it)
which makes a house a veritable home.  Happy in the society of his wife
and growing family (three sons were born to him between 1880 and 1887)
and surrounded by the books which he loved, he was well contented to
live remote from cities, although quite devoid of any instincts
whatever for the sports which alone make country life tolerable to so
many Englishmen.  A good swimmer and fencer (as we have seen) in his
early manhood, he indulged in middle life in no other bodily exercise
than that of country walks; and even in these, given a congenial
companion, what is called the "object of the walk" was often forgotten
in the interest of some conversation on {125} topics strangely remote
from the picturesque surroundings of a Scottish country house.  One who
was often his associate in such rambles, perhaps on the high moorlands
above Mountstuart, recalls how they would pause at some notable point
of view, and how his companion, gazing with unseeing eye (though in
reality far from insensible to the beauties of nature) at the matchless
panorama of woods and mountains, sea, and sky spread out before them,
would dismiss the prospect, as it were, with a wave of the hand, and
continue his discourse on the claim of some mediæval anti-pope to the
recognition of Christendom, or the precise relation between the
liturgical language employed by the Coptic Church and the tongue of
ancient Egypt as spoken by the Pharaohs.

[Sidenote: 1877, Bute as a landowner]

Bute was scrupulous and exact in the performance of his duties as a
landowner; he kept himself informed of all the details connected with
the management of his extensive estates, and never grudged the demands
on his time and patience made by the lawyers, agents, and others for
business interviews extending over many hours and sometimes even days.
That he found these prolonged transactions irksome and fatiguing enough
is clear from some expressions in his correspondence; and it was always
a pleasure and relief to him to get back to his books and literary
work, which were, perhaps, on the whole the chief interest of his life.
Although he expended annually a considerable sum on the equipment of
his libraries, Bute was no bibliophile in the sense in which that word
is now often used.  Tall-paper copies, first editions, volumes unique
for their rarity, and publications de luxe had no interest for him at
all.  What he aimed at was to surround himself with a first-rate
working library, furnished especially with those {126} works of
reference--_sources_, as the French term is--most likely to be of
service to him in the historical and liturgical researches with which
he was chiefly occupied.  His librarian had standing orders, in the
case of new books of interest and utility, to purchase three copies, so
that wherever he chanced to be resident he found the tools of his craft
ready to his hand.[6]  A letter written in the autumn of 1877 shows
that the work at that time occupying most of his attention was his
translation of the Roman Breviary, which after several years of
assiduous (though not, of course, continuous) labour was now nearing
its completion.

  _August_ 28, 1877.

At last I am relieved from a more than usually tedious spell of
business with lawyers and factors, and am able to fulfil my promise to
tell you of my liturgical _opus magnum_ (I call it so, though my office
has been but the humble one of the translator).  For the present, keep
the matter to yourself.

I have been engaged since the winter of 1870 in translating the whole
of the Roman Breviary into English; and the MS. is nearly finished, and
the printing now going on.  I expect it will be published next year.  I
have learnt Hebrew (more or less) for the purpose, and done an amount
of reading which it quite frightens me to think of.  This translation
is _my beloved child_.  I send you a volume of proof, and will give you
a copy of the two volumes when they come out.  Please keep it quiet: I
don't want to be badgered about it, as I should be if people knew that
I was doing it.


I am executing a paraphrase in English prose, with a critical
commentary, introduction, notes, analysis, and all the rest of it, of
the Scots metrical romance upon the Life of William Wallace, written by
"Blind Harry" in the XVth century.

From my Scotch historical reading, I am gradually compiling a skeleton
chronology of the History of Scotland, with references to every fact:
it is intended to stretch from the fall of Macbeth to that of
Mary--_i.e._ the national, Catholic, and feudal period.

And--pleasure after business--I have in hand a translation of the
Targum (Paraphrastic Commentary by the Jewish Fathers) upon the Song of
Solomon, from the Latin version published at Antwerp in 1570.  This has
just been rejected by the Jesuits for one of their publications as
"dull."  As I did not compose it, I feel free to differ from their
verdict.  I think now of offering it to _Good Words_.  It is mystic
(not fleshly) and very wild, picturesque, and diffuse--indeed, in my
opinion, touching not infrequently on the sublime.

So you see I have lots of work in hand.

Bute took an infinity of pains over his English Breviary, polishing and
repolishing his version of the mediæval Latin text over and over again,
and correcting and revising the proofs with such meticulous care as
greatly to add to the expense of the production (which was defrayed by
himself, not by the publishers) and also to the delay in bringing out
the work.  Probably few books of the size and character of these two
portly volumes were ever printed with a smaller proportion of
typographical errors; but Bute professed himself far from satisfied
with the work on its appearance.  Sending a copy to a friend, he wrote:

There are a good many things in it--blunders and {128} oversights
(mostly mine, not the printers', who have done their work
extraordinarily well)--which make me anything but contented with it.  I
am on the whole, seeing the book in print, least dissatisfied with the
rendering of the _prayers_, in which I venture to think I have not
quite failed to reproduce to some extent the measured and sonorous
dignity of the original Latin.

Reviewers, as a rule, received the Breviary with respectful admiration,
their tributes being, however, paid in many cases less to the work
itself than to the astonishing industry of the translator.  Bute
himself was disappointed at the slowness of the sale.  "I hope," he
wrote to a friend at Oxford, "you will speak of it if occasion offers,
as the circulation is not large."  And some months later he wrote
again, "I am very glad that you find the Breviary of use, and that
there are others who do the same.  It is not, however, a feeling as yet
very widely disseminated among the public, seeing that I am still £300
out of pocket by having published it."

There was, in truth, no very considerable body of educated
English-speaking readers to whom these two ponderous and necessarily
expensive tomes were likely to appeal.  The Catholic clergy had no
money to spare for literary luxuries, and felt no special need of an
English version of their familiar office-book: the Catholic laity,
devoid for the most part of all liturgical taste, and nurtured on
modern methods and manuals of devotion, knew and cared little about the
ancient and official prayer of the Church, either in Latin or in
English; and thus those chiefly interested in this really monumental
work, to which the translator had devoted such prolonged and unwearied
labour, proved to be, not (pathetically enough) his own
co-religionists, but a small group of scholars and devotees mostly
{129} belonging to one section of the Church of England, and including
liturgiologists of acknowledged eminence.  In some religious houses,
however, both of men and women, the Breviary was introduced, and
greatly valued, as a means of instructing novices and others in the
Divine Office; and in a certain number of Anglican communities,
especially in the United States, it was brought into use as the regular
office-book.  Bute always heard with sincere gratification of any
instances of this which were brought to his knowledge.[7]

[Sidenote: 1882, The _Scottish Review_]

Next to the Breviary, the "_beloved child_" of his brain, which was
published in the autumn of 1879, Bute's chief literary labours may be
said to have been in connection with the quarterly _Scottish Review_,
to which he first became a contributor in 1882, and of which he
afterwards assumed the control, purchasing the periodical outright in
1886.  A series of his letters dealing with the _Review_, all eminently
characteristic of the writer, have been preserved, mostly addressed to
the editor, the Rev. W. Metcalfe, an Established Church minister of
Paisley, who was afterwards closely associated with him during his
Rectorship of St. Andrews University, and was during a long series of
years one of his most intimate friends and most regular correspondents.
One of his first letters, in reply to one suggesting certain subjects
for possible articles from his pen, shows the complete frankness with
which, when necessary, he acknowledged his own ignorance.


Dumfries House,
  _October_ 10, 1882.

I am sensible of the kindness of your offer, but I know my own
limitations.  About prehistoric antiquities I can write nothing, for I
know nothing; and of the Scots Men-at-Arms I know if possible even
less.  For the latter subject I could no doubt "mug up," as Arthur
Pendennis did for his articles in the _Pall Mall Gazette_; but _cui
bono_?  As for early Scottish Christianity, the subject is too vast:
you might almost as well ask me for an article on the history of the
human race.  It must be done in _fragments_.  I think I might try my
hand on some scrap, say the ancient Celtic Hymns, in Latin; and I am
now taking steps to ascertain if there are known to be any more of such
compositions than I already possess--also to get a legible transcript
of one of mine, a (to me) illegible lithographic facsimile of an
ancient Codex....  As to the Men-at-Arms, I am of opinion that Mrs.
Maxwell Scott of Abbotsford would do this well.  She is somewhat of an
invalid, and spends much time in study, in which she has the advantage
both of great natural ability and of her illustrious
great-grandfather's admirable library.  She is (unreasonably)
diffident; but were the article once written, I feel sure you would not
find yourself in search of any excuse not to print it.

[Sidenote: 1883, Contributions to the _Scottish Review_]

Bute's own paper on "Ancient Celtic Latin Hymns" appeared in February,
1883, and was the first of over twenty articles contributed by him to
the _Scottish Review_.[8]  Other articles followed, dealing
respectively with St. Patrick, the Scottish Peerage, and the Bayreuth
Festival, which he attended for the first time in 1886, the same year
in which he acquired {131} control of the _Review_.  The last-named
article has a particular interest of its own, as having been written by
a man quite devoid (as he himself frankly acknowledged)[9] of any
æsthetic appreciation of music, but who was yet moved and impressed to
an extraordinary degree by the Wagnerian cycle as presented at
Bayreuth.  "Had you not better," he writes to the editor in sending the
Bayreuth article, "submit my _Festival_ to some expert musician of
Wagnerian mind, that he may add a few technicalities at appropriate
places?  (I have indicated in pencil where I think this may fitly be

The article on St. Patrick aroused some interest, especially in the
perennial question of the Saint's birthplace--a subject to which Bute
makes whimsical reference in a letter relating to hoped-for
contributions from the Rev. Colin Grant,[10] the learned priest of

He (G.) is at all sorts of things at this moment, including a memoir of
Simon Lord Lovat, also a {132} formal attack on a priest (one M----)
who writes an article every six months, making St. Patrick be born in a
new place every time, as readily as if he were a kind of early Celtic
Homer or Gladstone.  Grant swears by Dumbarton; but whenever he crushes
M---- in one place it is only to find him giving birth to the Saint
again in a new one.

[Sidenote: 1886, A troublesome Greek]

A note to the editor of the _Review_ on the proper designation of a
Greek named Bikelas, who had contributed an article, shows the extreme
attention paid by Bute to such comparatively subsidiary points.  The
note was addressed from Dresden, which Lord and Lady Bute were visiting
after their pilgrimage to Bayreuth, and where they prolonged their stay
for several days (in spite of their usual eagerness to get home), in
order to witness there another performance of the Nibelungen Tetralogy
which they had seen at Bayreuth a few days previously.

_Sept._ 14, 1886.

Bikelas kicks against being called "the K. Bikelas": he wants the title
"Mr."  I tell him that we usually give foreigners the title they use
themselves--not "Mr."  Thus we say "M." not "Mr." Grévy--"Signor" not
"Mr." Depretis--Herr not "Mr." von Hartmann--"Señor" not "Mr."
Canovas."  Greeks are vulgarly designated "M.," which must be wrong,
as, whatever they are, they are not Frenchmen, nor are we.  It is a
mere blunder founded on ignorance.  They themselves always use the
style [Greek: _ho kúrios_]--e.g. [Greek: _ho_ K. _peparrêgopoulos_].
Consequently I maintain that they should be called in English "the K."


Under Bute's regime the columns of the _Scottish Review_ were open to
capable writers professing any religion or none; but he seems to have
found the latitudinarian views of "[Greek: _ho K. Bikelas_]" as
troublesome as his title.

_December_ 11, 1886.

B. is very tiresome indeed.  The fact is, the man has lived more at
Paris than has been good for him, and looks on anybody taking any
interest in religion as a folly to be apologised for.  This is a state
of mind which will appear as strange and shocking in this country as it
would in his own.  I told him therefore that I thought I must "cook"
his most free-thinking paragraphs, and he assented.  Now he insists on
having it all scepticised.  I suppose that I must do as he wishes, and
leave him--and ourselves--to the fate that may befall us.  I fear,
however, he won't be redeemed even by being sandwiched in between the
Unknowable in front and the miracles of St. Magnus behind.  There is,
however, just the hope that the country ministers who do the notices
won't see what he's driving at.

Bute's view about the application of the term "British" to his
countrymen is expressed in a note referring to an article written for
the number of January, 1887, by Amin Nassif, a Syrian _protégé_ of his,
translated from the Arabic by Professor Robertson, and prefaced by a
rather mysterious foreword, apparently from Bute's pen.

I would not call Nassif's article "Egypt under the British," but "Egypt
under the English invasion."[12]  I dislike the word "British," which
really only means Cymro-Celtic.  It has a tendency to confound us with
{134} the English, and to obscure to the popular mind the extent to
which our forefathers in 1706 tried to make us a mere English
province.[13]  To every one their due: to the Westminster Parliament
that of the bombardment of Alexandria and the rest of it.

The appearance of the first number of the _Review_ published subsequent
to Bute assuming control of the periodical is referred to with some
complacency, in a letter written from Mountstuart on April 16, 1887:

It seems to me the best number of the _S.R._ that I have ever seen.
But as I have had more to do with it than with any other, I probably
see it with prejudiced eyes.  The first newspaper notice or two will
display it in its true light, in the same way that the impressions of
Molière's housekeeper on his literary efforts were a precursor of those
of his public audiences.

The "first newspaper notice" which came to hand, that in the _Ayr
Observer_, evoked a comment which seemed to show that Bute was not then
so hardened as he afterwards became to the depreciatory remarks of
"irresponsible reviewers."

_May_ 9, 1887.

The _Ayr Observer_ man had clearly not even glanced at any of the
articles except the first and one other (to which he was attracted by
my name as of local interest).  He seems to believe the word
"Byzantine," now seen by him for the first time, to be a synonym for
"German" or "Russian."  As none of the sentences parse, I conceive that
the notice was {135} written in the small hours (from a dogged
determination not to go to bed without getting it done), after
separating from some scene freely enlivened by alcoholic stimulants.

[Sidenote: 1887, A London garden party]

A long letter to the editor written on June 18, 1887, contains, _inter
alia_, lamentations on the writer's "hard fate" at having to return to
London in mid-summer, and attend, incidentally, a crowded garden party

Fancy leaving this place [Mountstuart] at its very best, in order to be
jammed in a stuffy back garden in London, in a hollow surrounded by
houses, for hours on a midsummer's afternoon.


I see astrologically that Mars has a good deal to say with regard to
the *******;[14] it may possibly mean sunstroke or apoplexy as well as
dynamite.  Really one would think they ought to provide not only an
ambulance tent and nurses, but also a dead-house and a competent staff
of undertakers.[15]

William Skene, the eminent Celtic scholar and historiographer-royal for
Scotland, had proposed writing an article for the _Review_ on the
question of reunion between the Episcopalian and Presbyterian Churches;
and this gave Bute an opportunity of ventilating his deep-seated
animosity against what he considered the hopelessly Erastian element
inherent {136} in, and (as he believed) essential to, Anglicanism.  He
wrote from Raby Castle on October 11, 1887:

If Dr. Skene advocates Bishop Wordsworth's views, he is likely to find
himself strongly controverted in the next number.  What the Bishop
means by reunion is the unconditional surrender of the Scottish nation
to a foreign body, whose marriages form 2 per cent. of those celebrated
in Scotland.  This seems to me simply insane impertinence.  A reunion
between Presbyterians and Catholics looks to me far less unlikely; for
the very essence of the Presbyterian position--that the sacramental
character of Order belongs only to the presbyterate, the episcopate
being merely its full exercise--is at least a discutable[16] question
with _us_, and we are already agreed on Christ's Divine Headship "on
earth as it is in heaven": whereas the Anglicans have nailed their
colours to the mast on the first point, and have abandoned every shred
of Catholic principle on the second.  Their doing this last is indeed
the sole reason why they exist at all, either in England or in Scotland.

The withers of the historiographer-royal were probably quite unwrung by
this rather polemical outburst, the fact being that Dr. Skene had (as
he himself mildly explained) no sympathy at all with Bishop
Wordsworth's views on reunion, which his article was designed not to
support but to confute.[17]

[1] The vintage of 1885 was also a very good one.  "The Mayor of
Cardiff," Bute noted in his diary in July, 1892, "has bought three
dozen of my 1885 wine--like, but in his opinion better (and I really
think it is) than, my Falernian here."

[2] It may be worth while to point out that the suggested Welsh name
for the wine is based on a mistaken etymology.  The word "Swanbridge"
has nothing to do with swans, but is from the Norse or Danish proper
name Sweyn (Swegen, Swain or Svend).  The narrow neck of land
connecting the place, at low tide, with the island of Sully is the
"bridge" or "brigg" forming the second half of the word.  Norse names
are common all along the south coast of Glamorgan.

[3] It is to be observed, in reference to this, that the occasion
referred to was that of an exclusively Scottish deputation to Pope Pius
IX.--an occasion on which Bute doubtless thought it congruous and
becoming to appear wearing only the decoration of the highest Order of
Scottish chivalry.

[4] By a singular sequence of events, the persecuting parent (who was
afterwards created Lord Donington) followed his daughter's example a
few years later, and died a devout member of the Catholic Church in

[5] Much of the credit of this was due to the sailors from the Clyde
guardship, who arrived on the scene in time to render invaluable
service in the work of salvage.

[6] The writer has been reminded, since the above sentence was penned,
that another standing order to the librarian was to purchase annually
one or two works of fiction among those most in demand during the
current year.

[7] A tale (possibly _ben trovato_) in this connection was told of a
certain nun, a blonde of very homely appearance, whose intonation in
choir of the antiphon, "I am black but comely," provoked such unseemly
giggles in the community, that the Superior promptly ordered the
English Breviary to be discarded, and the Latin one adopted in its

[8] Afterwards reprinted in book form (_post_, p. 143, note).  A
complete bibliography of Bute's published writings is given in Appendix

[9] "Since I have been here," he wrote in January, 1887, from Oban,
where he had built a church and established a choir of men and boys for
the daily celebration of the Liturgy, "I have been attending choir
myself very regularly.  I have no natural musical gifts at all, as you
(being musical yourself) are well aware; but I think it better to put
on a surplice when here, as it shows fellow-feeling."  The Emperor
Charlemagne, we are told, presided regularly over the choir in his
private chapel; but beyond the fact that he coughed or sneezed
(_sternutabat_) when he wished the lessons to stop, we do not hear of
his taking any audible part in the service.  Probably both he and Lord
Bute, having instituted a choir to do the singing, thought it best
themselves to follow the injunction which is, or was, posted up in the
ante-chapel of Magdalen College, Oxford, bidding visitors "join in the
service silently."

[10] One of the most deeply learned men of his time in Scotland,
especially on the lore and history of the early Celtic Church.  He was
appointed to the See of Aberdeen in 1889, but--to the great loss of
Scottish learning--died only six weeks after his episcopal
consecration.  See _post_, p. 147.

[11] The articles contributed by this writer were, as a matter of fact,
signed [Greek: _Demétrios Bikelas_, and appear in the index under the
name of D. Bikelas.  In some reviews of his writings he is, however,
styled "the K."  His "Seven Essays on Christian Greece," translated by
Bute, appeared in book form in 1890.

[12] The title of the article as published was "Egypt on the Eve of the
English Invasion."  It was anonymous.

[13] One cannot but recall, in this connection, Mr. Putney Giles's
words to Lothair in regard to the preparations for the celebration of
his majority.  "Great disappointment would prevail among your
Lordship's friends in Scotland, if that country on this occasion were
placed on the same level as a mere English county.  It must be regarded
as a Kingdom."--"Lothair," Chap. XXVII.

[14] The asterisked word is, of course, "Jubilee."  Some time before
this Bute had written: "I am dabbling, among other things, in
astrology, and find it a curious and in some ways fascinating study."
See _post_, p. 176.

[15] A curious parallel to this curious passage occurs in a letter
written by Disraeli to Lady Chesterfield on July 14, 1887 ("Life," vol.
vi. p. 169).  "Garden parties in London are wells, full of dank air.
Sir William Gull told me that if the great garden parties in future are
held at Buckingham Palace and Marlboro' House instead of Chiswick and
so on, his practice will be doubled."

[16] This odd synonym for "discussible" seems almost an [Greek: _hápax
legómenon_].  The Oxford Dictionary gives but one example of its use,
from an article in the _Saturday Review_ of 1893.

[17] Dr. Skene's article did not, as a matter of fact, appear in the




1886, 1887

"They will say that we are dull, of course," Bute wrote to his editor
in 1887, discussing the contents of a forthcoming number of the
_Scottish Review_.  "But they say that anyhow, without reading us,
whatever we put in or leave out."  Bute did not always feel sure that
his own contributions, written as they were with an immensity of care
and painstaking, were not open to this charge.  "I feel rather low
about the 'Coronations,'"[1] he wrote a few weeks later.  "It seems to
me dull, very long, and intensely technical....  It is true that the
Lord Lyon has returned my proof with a note calling the article 'most
valuable,' and saying he could scarcely suggest any improvement.  So
far so good; but then he is a professional State Master of Ceremonies."

At other times Bute appeared rather to resent the charge of "heaviness"
not infrequently applied to his _Review_.  "They call us
_ponderous_--it is their favourite adjective," he wrote in this mood a
little later.  "It is easy to bandy epithets, but I should say that we
are positively _light_ in comparison with {138} some other quarterlies
I could name.  I was drowsing for two hours last night over one of
them, which I can designate by no other word than _stodgy_."
Nevertheless it must be frankly admitted that Bute did not possess the
power of treating with any kind of light touch (or perhaps of inspiring
others to do the same) the various interesting and important subjects
which were the staple of the _Review_.  The gift of humour he certainly
possessed, and in a high degree: he could see as well as any man the
incongruous and ridiculous side of the most serious subject: he liked a
good story, and could tell one himself, with a sort of solemn jocosity
which, combined with his singular felicity in the choice of language,
added vastly to the effect of the anecdote.  Moreover, he could write
as well as talk wittily, as is evident from the caustic and sometimes
mordant humour which characterises many of his letters.  But this
feature is almost or wholly absent from his published writings; and in
these he seems to have adopted the principle which Dr. Johnson
certainly practised as well as preached: "The dignity of literature is
little enhanced by what passes for humour and wit; and the true man of
letters will do well to reserve his jests for the ears of his private
friends, and to treat serious subjects, on the printed page, in a
serious manner."

Bute hardly seemed to realise that the following of the sage counsel
just quoted could be any bar to the popularity of the _Review_ with the
general reader; and he was at times almost querulous with what he
called the "unaccountable apathy" of the Scottish public in particular.
"I think," he wrote to a literary friend, "you ought to pitch strongly
into the Scottish people for their distaste for anything like serious
reading.  I am told that of the books borrowed from {139} the Edinburgh
Public Library for home perusal, more than 75 per cent. are works of
fiction.  One thing which I have particularly noticed about them is
crass ignorance of their own history, to a point which is really quite

In order to increase the circulation of the _Review_, and make it if
possible self-supporting ("a state of things which, for the sake of the
principle involved," wrote Bute, "I am extremely desirous to bring
about,") the desperate expedient was proposed of transferring the
_Review_ to London, following the precedents of the _Edinburgh_ and the
_North British_.  But this was too much for Bute's _amor patriæ_.  He
wrote to the Oxford friend from whom the suggestion had emanated:

_October_ 1, 1887.

One might, of course, do better business by dropping it as a _Scottish_
review, and starting another English magazine in London under the same
name, and with a continuity of numeration.  This, however, would be to
destroy in its very essence the attempt to keep going a Scottish
quarterly in Scotland.  It must be owned that the apathy of the
Scottish public is quite enough to drive any one to such a course, and
it would be entirely their own fault if it were taken.

[Sidenote: 1888, Bute's historical method]

A typical example of Bute's method of treating subjects drawn from the
byways of history may be seen in his studies on the trial and execution
of Giordano Bruno,[2] whose memory a noisy party in Italy was at that
time (1888) endeavouring to exalt as that of an innocent victim and
martyr.  The opinion of educated Catholics might have been thought
pretty well made up as to the justice of the {140} sentence on the
notorious Neapolitan philosopher and ex-Dominican, of whom not a Roman
Inquisitor, but a Protestant divine, had said that he was "a man of
great capacity, with infinite knowledge, but not a particle of
religion."  Bute, however, approached the subject in his usual attitude
of complete intellectual detachment, with no trace of _parti pris_.
"There is much obscurity about the whole matter," he wrote from
Sorrento on March 21, 1888, "but I flatter myself that my paper will at
least be a triumph of impartiality, of absolutely colourless
neutrality."  It is sufficient to record here that his conclusion,
after many months of patient sifting of evidence, much of it drawn from
contemporary sources hitherto unexplored, was much the same as that of
Bruno's accusers and judges in Venice and in Rome.  He wrote as follows
to Dr. Metcalfe, before his articles appeared in print:

What I fail to understand is why they executed him at all.  If the
Church Courts had kept him to themselves and imprisoned him for life,
he could not have done any one any harm, and might with advancing age
have repudiated and repented some of his blasphemous utterances (one
being that Christ was not God, but only a magician of extraordinary
cunning).[3]  In the case of this obscure and repulsive vagabond, whose
chief literary work could not be printed to-day without the author
being prosecuted for obscenity, there was surely no need of a terrible
public example, such as might have been (and was) urged in the case of
the burning of Servetus.


[Sidenote: 1888, Garibaldi's Autobiography]

Equally characteristic of his zeal for what he calls "colourless
neutrality" in the presentment of historic facts are his observations
on a proposed article for the _Review_ on the autobiography of
Garibaldi, then recently published.  As to this he writes (February,

Perhaps the Contessa M---- C---- could do it; and if the book is on the
Index (which is not unlikely),[4] she could easily get a dispensation
by stating her object in wishing to read it.  I suppose she is not a
Garibaldian, by the way? that would never do.  She should express as
little opinion of any sort as possible--I don't mean, of course, that
she should abstain from stating known facts--and should leave the man
to speak for himself by an analysis and a string of quotations, which
must be given from the Italian text, and severely literal.

The above example--many others could of course be cited--are sufficient
to indicate the spirit of rigid impartiality in which Bute treated, and
desired that others should treat, historical questions of every kind,
and his almost passionate endeavours to follow in all such researches
the old maxim, _Audi alteram partem_.  It must be confessed,
however--indeed he himself practically owned--that were his
historiographical principles universally adopted, English literature,
if not the cause of historic truth, would be the poorer.  "Most
history," he said in one of his addresses to a body of university
students, "is not history at all, but romance, sometimes fascinating
but seldom trustworthy, coloured, as it often is deeply, with the
prejudices and prepossessions of its {142} writers.
Names--facts--dates--there is true history; but when a man gets beyond
that, when he begins to dissect characters, to attribute motives, to
analyse principles of action, then in nine cases out of ten he ceases
to be a historian and becomes a romancer.  Gibbon, with his enormous
erudition, could have presented to us all the details of Rome's decline
as they really were---he has given us instead a travesty of them
distorted by his own devilish hatred of Christianity.  Macaulay, whose
whiggery may have been all very well on the hustings, disgusts us by
intruding it into every page of his so-called "History of England."
Froude vaunts that his history of the English Reformation is entirely
based on original documents; by which he really means that he has used
all those which have helped him in his self-imposed task of
whitewashing Henry VIII., and has suppressed all the rest.[5]  I need
not give other instances."

Bute might have pointed to his own laborious work on Scottish
Chronology in illustration of his theory of how history should be
written--the immense folio volumes, specially constructed for the
purpose, in which day by day and year by year he inserted dates, with
the barest and briefest statement of facts bearing on the history of
Scotland and her early kings, as he encountered them in the course of
his omnivorous reading.  He could hardly have seriously maintained the
paradox that history in this skeleton {143} form was the only true
history worthy of the name.  But no historic student (and he disclaimed
for himself any higher title) ever aimed more anxiously than he did, in
every line that he wrote, to set forth the plain facts of history
absolutely uncoloured by any views or prepossessions of his own.  It
was this marked characteristic, coupled (it is not necessary to say
contrasted) with his complete and unquestioning loyalty to the
teachings of his Church, which, especially to those who knew him, gave
a unique interest to everything that came from his pen.  Genuine
erudition--a virile independence of thought and judgment--an engaging
personal diffidence and a complete absence of anything like obtrusion
of the writer's own opinions, combined with a gift of expression and a
command of language which often soars to real, if sober,
eloquence--these qualities may all be found in the essays which he
wrote during the years which were the most intellectually productive of
his life; and it is well that they have been rescued from the _pozzo
profondo_ of the pages of a provincial periodical of limited
circulation, and are accessible, in two handsome volumes,[6] to all who
care to read them.

[Sidenote: 1888, Tribute from Lord Rosebery]

It may be well at this point, and in this connection, to cite an
interesting tribute to Bute's literary abilities paid by one who had
been among the earliest friends of his dawning manhood, and whose own
distinction in the world of letters gives a particular value to his
judgment.  Lord Rosebery said of him as follows:--[7]


The late Lord Bute was a remarkable character to the world at large,
whether they knew him well or did not.  To some it may often have
seemed that he was out of place in the nineteenth century.  His mind,
his thoughts, his studies were so entirely thrown back into a past more
or less remote; and I think, had he had more incentive to make known
the objects and subjects of his researches, he would have left no mean
name in the republic of letters.  And even as it is he has left behind
him a rectorial address to the University of St. Andrews, which
contains, I think, one of the strangest, most pathetic, most striking
passages of eloquence with which I am acquainted in any modern

This is high praise; but to those who are familiar with the passages to
which Lord Rosebery refers, it will not seem exaggerated or misplaced.
They form the peroration to Bute's inaugural address delivered at St.
Andrews on the occasion of his election to the lord-rectorship of that
University; and they run as follows:--

On the 5th of March, in this year, I took a walk with Professor Knight
to Drumcarrow.  It was a fine, sunny day.  We stood among the remains
of the prehistoric fort, and looked over the bright view, the glorious
landscape enriched by so many memories, the city of St. Andrews
enthroned upon her sea-girt promontory, the German Ocean stretching to
the horizon, from where it chafes upon the cliffs which support her
walls.  And we remarked how God and man, how nature and history, had
alike marked this place as an ideal home of learning and culture.  And
then the view and the name of the Apostle together carried my thoughts
away to another land and a narrower and land-locked sea.  I do not mean
that where Patrai, the scene of Andrew's death, looks from the shores
of Achaia towards the home of {145} Ulysses over waters rendered for
ever glorious by the victory of Lepanto.  I do not mean the City of
Constantine, where the first Christian Emperor enshrined his body, and
where the union of ineffably debased luxury and ineffably debased
misery, which drains into the Sea of Marmora, excites a disgust which
almost chokes grief and humiliation.  Neither do I mean those sun-baked
precipices which, by the shores of the Gulf of Salerno, beetle over the
grave where lies the body that was conformed in death to the likeness
of the death of the Lord.  I mean the land of Andrew's birth--the hot,
brown hills, which, far below the general sea-level of the world, gird
in the Lake of Gennesareth--that strange landscape which also is not
unknown to me, the environing circle of arid steeps, at whose feet,
nevertheless, the occasional brakes of oleander raise above the line of
the waters their masses of pink blossom, and whence the eye can see the
snows of Hermon glistering against the sky far away;--and I pray that
some words which he heard uttered upon one of those hills may be
realised here--that the physical situation of this place may be but a
parable of its moral position--and that it may yet be said of the House
of the Apostle that "the rain descended, and the floods came, and the
winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not, for it was
founded upon a rock."[8]

In 1888 Mr. Gardner of Paisley, publisher of the _Review_, was honoured
with the appointment of publisher to the Queen.  Bute, who was
interested in every detail concerning the periodical, wrote to the
editor with one of his quaint comments:

_September_ 30, 1888.

I think it would be just as well that Gardner should put his Royal
title at the foot of the title-page, as in his other publications, and
just in the same way.  {146} I suppose H.M. will not consider that she
is thus made responsible for all the opinions to be found within.  If
she does, it will be time for her to say so when it strikes her.

I have just attacked a great frequenter and pillar of the Athenæum Club
for not having us taken in there; and I hope he will succeed in wiping
this reproach from the institution.

Bute's control of the _Scottish Review_ was maintained until the end of
his life.  The seventy-second and final number appeared in October,
1900, the month in which he died.  Occasional entries in his diaries
show that he had incurred very heavy expenses in connection with the
_Review_--perhaps, from first to last, almost as heavy as those
entailed on him by the establishment and support, twenty years before,
of a Conservative daily newspaper in the heart of Liberal Wales.  As he
had not grudged that outlay in what he believed to be a good cause, so
he did not consider the money expended on this literary enterprise to
have been expended in vain.  If the _Scottish Review_ under his control
had not proved precisely a commercial success--and perhaps he had never
really expected that it would--its conduct and management had at least
provided him with congenial work and occupation during a period
extending over several years.  It afforded him a convenient vehicle for
the publication of his curious researches into some of the obscurer
corners of ecclesiastical and general history: it brought him into
contact, either personally or by correspondence, with many
distinguished scholars and men of letters whom he might otherwise have
had no opportunity of knowing: it led indirectly to the forming of at
least one intimate friendship which was the source of pleasure and
interest to him until the {147} end of his life; and it brought him
opportunities which he valued of playing the part of an unostentatious
Mæcenas--in other words, of giving practical encouragement to literary
beginners in whom he discerned actual ability or promise for the
future, enabling them to make their first public appearance in a
periodical of repute, and thus assisting them to mount at least the
first slopes of the Parnassus to which they aspired.

[Sidenote: 1889, Death of Bishop Grant]

Reserved, undemonstrative, and cold as Bute was often deemed, there is
abundant evidence that his colleagues and collaborators on the
_Scottish Review_ appreciated highly the uniform courtesy,
consideration, and kindness which they received at his hands.  His real
warmth of heart and loyal affection to his friends are well shown in
the touching letter which he wrote on hearing of the death of his old
and dear friend Bishop Colin Grant, who had not only contributed to the
_Review_, but had given him, for many years past, constant and very
highly valued assistance in his researches into the early history of

_September_ 28, 1889.

My own feelings are divided between grief for the loss of my old and
esteemed personal friend, and a sense of desolation, almost amounting
to despair, at the loss which Scottish historical science has
sustained.  There must be among his papers masses of notes which ought
not to be lost to the world.  I have written to his nephew to implore
him not to let a single scrap of paper be destroyed.  As for himself,
if we can only put aside our grief at the loss to ourselves, and at the
apparent loss to the Church upon earth, we can only feel a curious joy
as we picture his admission, far beyond the sphere where time works,
into the blessed company of the just made perfect (especially those of
our own land, on whose {148} earthly lives he loved so much to
dwell[9]) and above all, into the very presence of their Divine Head,
the great Shepherd of the sheep, Whom to please he so humbly and
cheerfully devoted a lifetime in striving to serve His flock.

[Sidenote: Scottish Home Rule]

A short time before writing this tribute to his old friend and
fellow-worker, Bute had attended a meeting held at Dundee to advocate
the claims of Scotland to Home Rule--a claim which he regarded with a
great deal of interest and not a little sympathy, as is evident from
the article he wrote for the _Scottish Review_ (October, 1889) on
"Parliament in Scotland."  He thus gives his impressions of the meeting:

The Home Rule meeting in Dundee seemed to me to be really a sort of
battle between Dr. Clark and the Edinburgh Executive on the one hand,
who gave me the impression of being well-informed, able, and educated
people, either Tories or very moderate Liberals, with whom I get on
perfectly; and on the other hand the great body of delegates, who
seemed to me to be extreme Radicals unconscious of their own ignorance.
Mrs. Maxwell Scott has read the proof of my forthcoming article, and is
exceedingly pleased with it.  The Home Rule people all wanted to know
whether the _Scottish Review_ could not be turned into their monthly
organ!  but I replied that such a change would be equivalent to
annihilation of what the _S.R._ was designed to be, has always been,
and is.

Bute had already accepted an engagement to preside this year (1889) at
the St. Andrew's Day dinner of the Scottish Corporation in London, but
{149} was extremely dubious as to what kind of reception he would have
from a company of whom many were doubtless quite out of sympathy with
the views on Scottish Home Rule set forth in this article.  His letter
on this subject, expressing his obvious relief at the manner in which
things had turned out, makes amusing reading:

Chiswick House,
  _December_ 1, 1889.

The St. Andrew's Day dinner came off last night.  I had been extremely
nervous about it, so that I could really take up nothing else until it
was over.  This was folly, and really almost sinful folly, because the
desire to be liked is only vanity at bottom, and vanity is a bastard
cousin to pride.  But I knew also (and there I was on fair enough
ground) that, although politics were not to be mentioned, the thing was
in fact to be a political demonstration, and that it was not yours
truly, John M. of B., who was to be placed in the chair, but the author
of "Parliament in Scotland"; and the question was, how the Scottish
commercial colony in London would receive him.  It had even been
publicly suggested in print that the charity should be boycotted
because I had been asked to take the chair, "although, no doubt," (the
writer charitably added,) "that must have been done before the article
appeared."  Well, the festival duly came off, and I think I was never
more cheered in my life.  They cheered for quite long periods every
time I had to come forward, from the time I entered the drawing-room
before the dinner.  And I will not quote the language which was used to
me about the speech which I made.

The interest which Bute had always felt in St. Magnus of Orkney since
his visit, or pilgrimage, to the scene of the saint's martyrdom in his
under-graduate days,[10] was evinced by the new and careful {150}
investigations which he undertook in 1886, in view of an article on the
subject in his _Review_.  His cautious, yet reverent, attitude towards
the supernatural is well shown in a passage of a letter to his
publisher, relating to the local tradition about a perennially green
spot of ground said to mark the site of Magnus's death in the isle of

I own that, with such information as I have ever had, together with my
own recollections of the place, I am inclined to think that the
phenomenon is, if not strictly miraculous, in the strongest sense of
the word, a special intervention of Divine Providence, which may be
called a preternatural testimony of God's favour towards His martyred

Bute later entered into negotiations for the purchase of the site above
referred to, with a view to its preservation; but this was not carried
out.  He also wrote at considerable length to his correspondents in
Orkney, throwing great doubts (as he had done nineteen years
previously) on the supposed bones (or "reliques," as he calls them) of
St. Magnus preserved at Kirkwall--chiefly on account of the degenerate
type of the skull.  "It may be," he characteristically says, "that this
only indicates a triumph of grace over nature.  But it seems to me to
be incompatible, I will not say with holiness, but with the
intellectual, high-minded, and beautiful character and tastes of the
Martyr."  On these and other grounds he urges that the local
photographer of the skull must be strictly enjoined not to circulate
the photograph under false pretences.


[Sidenote: Relics of St. Magnus]

A letter which Bute addressed (in Latin) to the Cardinal Archbishop of
Prague as to reputed "reliques" of St. Magnus preserved in the
cathedral there elicited no response.  "The reliques of St. Magnus
themselves," Bute wrote in some displeasure, "could not be more
voiceless than the Cardinal of Prague in regard to my (I hope)
courteously-worded request."  Through Cardinal Manning, however,
information finally reached him that the relics at Prague (venerated
there for several centuries) included a shoulder-blade.  This was
missing from the bones in Kirkwall Cathedral--so far satisfactory; but
they also included a shin-bone (_crus_), whereas the shin-bones
(_crura_) at Kirkwall were complete and intact.[11]  Bute's final
conclusion (and the incident is recorded as showing the curious
interest with which he pursued such minute investigations) was that the
bones at Kirkwall were not St. Magnus's at all, but probably those of
Earl St. Rognwald, nephew to St. Magnus, another Norse saint and hero
venerated in the same locality.  He thought it worth while to insert in
the _Review_ a letter from Orkney informing him that there was a
tradition in Egilsay that one would always find an open flower on the
site of the martyrdom, and that the writer had found there on December
10, after heavy snow and gales, several daisies in full bloom.[12]


The first two years of Bute's connection with the _Scottish Review_
were perhaps among the busiest of his life, not only because of the
assiduous care which, as we have seen, he devoted to the conduct and
control of that journal, but also by reason of the increasing duties
which devolved on him in connection with his extensive estates.  To the
latter he made very considerable additions at this period, increasing
his Buteshire property in 1886 by the acquisition of the island of
Cumbrae from the trustees of the sixth Earl of Glasgow, and also
purchasing in the following year the important estate of Falkland in
Fife, to which was annexed an office of the greatest interest to him,
the hereditary keepership of the ancient palace of Falkland.  In
Cardiff, also, there was a great increase of business connected with
the reorganisation of the vast docks.  The new Roath Dock was opened in
1887 by his six-year-old heir, Lord Dumfries (his first appearance in
public), and on the same day his youthful daughter cut the first sod of
Roath Park, for which he had made a free gift of land valued at
£50,000.  His generosity was further shown after the disastrous failure
of the Cardiff Savings Bank, when it was sought to make him liable as
honorary president of the institution.  As soon as it was judicially
decided that there was no claim whatever against him, he voluntarily
contributed £3,000 towards making up the deficiency.  In the previous
year he had manifested his liberality towards his Scottish tenants by
obtaining (in view {153} of the prevalent agricultural depression) an
independent valuation of his farms in Bute, and reducing the rents by a
third.  It was not without reason that the local Liberal newspaper, in
many respects even vehemently hostile to him, described him as "a just
and generous landowner"; whilst in Cardiff this handsome tribute was
paid to him by one extremely well qualified to pronounce an opinion:
"As regarded his estates, he was, of course, a most excellent and
liberal landlord, as all who had the privilege of being his tenants
would certainly admit."

[Illustration: FALKLAND PALACE.]

[Sidenote: 1889, A cathedral foundation]

Much of Bute's correspondence at this period is taken up with a scheme
which he had greatly at heart, namely, the establishment of the full
liturgical service of the Church at Oban, where his diocesan (the
Bishop of Argyll and the Isles) had his see, and where he himself had
built a handsome church.  He was concerned that the canonical office of
the Roman Breviary, for which he had so high a veneration, should not
be recited daily in a single cathedral church throughout Britain;[13]
and he incurred a great deal of trouble and expense in his efforts that
this reproach should be wiped out at least in one church in Scotland.
He defrayed the whole cost of organ and organist, choirmen and
chorister-boys, instituted and supported a convent-school for the
education of the last-named, and paid a chaplain for the exclusive work
of presiding in choir and singing the daily Mass.  The question of
providing a chaplain {154} exercised him much, and he wrote to a friend
in Italy on this point:

_May_ 8, 1886.

I imagined that, the duties being light and the remuneration (I venture
to think) adequate, a chaplain could easily be found; but the
difficulties seem endless.  Whether the cause be chronic ill-health,
constitutional indolence, or an entire want of interest in the Liturgy,
I know not; but so far no priest has been found in England or Scotland
able or willing to celebrate the daily sung Mass.  Kindly set on foot
inquiries among the unattached clergy of Rome, popularly known as
_preti di piazza_--many of them, I believe, estimable priests,
unoccupied through no fault of their own--and see if one can be found
to supply our needs.  Unexceptionable references would be, of course,

This and other difficulties were in time overcome, and the daily choral
office was duly carried out for a period extending over several years,
and was much appreciated by the numerous Catholic visitors who
frequented Oban during the summer and autumn.  Unfortunately it was not
found possible to continue the daily services for any long time after
the death of the founder.

Bute expressed, with his usual frankness, his sentiments on the subject
of the rather nondescript festivals commonly known as "church openings":

Chiswick House,
  _April_ 17, 1886.

I am suffering much at present from the persistent wish of my Lord of
Argyll to have what he calls an "opening" of the tin temple[14] in
August--_i.e._ {155} during the tourist and shooting season.  This
anomalous celebration is not designed in honour of the inauguration for
public worship, which was last Sunday; nor its ecclesiastical blessing,
which is arranged for an earlier date, nor the inception of the Divine
office--but something in the nature of the "opening" of the Westminster
Aquarium, a new Dissenting Chapel, municipal washhouses, or a fancy
fair, with (I presume) tickets, placards, and posters, and probably
excursion-trains.  The bishop seems moved by a conviction that the
local Protestants are anticipating a junketing of this kind with even
more eagerness than the Catholics.  But he is a gentleman; and I am
sure when he knows how I hate the whole thing he will give it up.

[Sidenote: 1886, Church building in Scotland]

Besides the pro-cathedral at Oban, Bute was interesting himself this
year (1886) in building a church at a mining town in Ayrshire, near
Loudoun Castle, the ancestral home of his mother's family.  Discarding,
as usual, conventional ideas, he chose for his model the great church
of St. Sophia at Constantinople, of which the church at Galston was a
carefully-executed miniature copy.  One of the first solemn services
held in it was a Requiem Mass celebrated for Lord Loudoun's sister,
Flora Duchess of Norfolk, who died on April 11, 1887.  Lord and Lady
Bute attended her funeral at Arundel, and also that of Clara Lady
Howard of Glossop, Lady Bute's sister-in-law, whose death occurred a
few days later.

[1] "The Earliest Scottish Coronations": "The Coronation of Charles I.
at Holyrood"; "The Coronation of Charles II. at Scone."  These appeared
in the _Review_, 1887-1888, and were reprinted, with an additional
article and an Appendix, in 1902, after Bute's death.

[2] "Giordano Bruno before the Venetian Inquisition" (July, 1888): "The
Ultimate Fate of Giordano Bruno" (October, 1888).

[3] In his first trial (at Venice) Bruno tried to defend himself on the
principle of "two-fold truth," maintaining that he had held and taught
the errors imputed to him "as a philosopher, and not as an honest

[4] It does not appear on the official _Index Librorum Prohibitorum_
published at the Vatican Press.

[5] This may seem a severe judgment; but some contemporary French
critics of Mr. Froude had much harder things to say about his literary
honesty.  "L'historien d' Henry VIII. et d'Élizabeth," wrote M. de
Wyzewa, "était victime de ce q'un critique a appelé 'la folie
d'inexactitude.'  Il ne pouvait pas copier un document sans y
introduire des variantes qui souvent en altéraient le sens."--"Rév. des
Deux Mondes," tom. xv. (1903), p. 937.

[6] "Essays on Foreign Subjects" (1901), and "Essays on Home Subjects"

[7] The occasion of this striking utterance was an annual meeting of
the Scottish History Society, held subsequent to Bute's death.

[8] Reprinted in "Essays on Home Subjects" (1904), pp. 263, 264.

[9] Bishop Grant was, among other things, a noted hagiographer, having
made profound studies of the lives and acts of the early Celtic saints
of Scotland.

[10] See _ante_, p. 50.  The writing of the article on St. Magnus was
entrusted to Mrs. Maxwell Scott of Abbotsford, but illness prevented
her from completing it, and Bute himself, as he says, "saw it through."
It was published in January, 1887.

[11] Although the high authority of the Bollandists (_Acta Sanctorum_,
April, tom. II. p. 435) is on the side of the relics at Prague being
actually those of St. Magnus of Orkney, King and Martyr, it is
impossible not to remember that there was another St. Magnus (popularly
known as St. Mang), monk of St. Gall and Apostle of the Algau, who was
greatly venerated in Germany, and whose _cultus_ would seem more
antecedently probable at Prague than that of the holy Norse Earl.

[12] In March, 1919, thirty-three years after Bute's second
investigation of the supposed relics of St. Magnus, a discovery was
made fully justifying his grave doubts as to the identity of the bones
interred in the north pillar of the choir of Kirkwall Cathedral.  A
casket was found in one of the _southern_ pillars of the choir,
containing remains (including a skull with a clean cut in the parietal
bone and a sword-cut through the jaw,) which there seems reason to
believe may be the actual relics of St. Magnus.

[13] At Belmont Abbey, until recently cathedral of the diocese of
Newport (in which Cardiff lay), the daily Divine office has been
chanted by monks without intermission for more than sixty years; but
their office is of course the Benedictine, not the Roman.  The latter
has been recited daily, and continuously, in Westminster Cathedral
since its opening in 1902.

[14] The Oban pro-cathedral was a provisional structure of iron, but
its interior was handsomely and even richly fitted up at Bute's
expense.  He usually gave the name of "tin temples" to the iron chapels
which he set up in various parts of the country.





Notwithstanding the increasing and incessant claims on his time and
attention of literature, business, and family duties, there were few,
if any, years in which Bute was not able to secure an interval of what
to him was real enjoyment, in foreign travel.  Even from such
journeys--and they were not infrequent--as were undertaken purely for
reasons of health, he seldom failed to derive both pleasure and profit.
"I am ordered abroad at once," he wrote on one occasion, "to drink the
waters of Chales, in Savoy.  They are, I believe, exceptionally nasty,
but you know how I like being abroad, and I am quite in spirits at the
prospect of the trip."  He never travelled very far afield, his most
distant journeyings having been, perhaps, to Petersburg (in Lord
Rosebery's company) and to Teneriffe in 1891.  The countries bordering
on the Mediterranean, France and Italy, Spain and Portugal, Palestine,
Egypt and Greece, were the scenes of most of his foreign sojournings;
and in them all he found sources of continual and inexhaustible
interest.  He had travelled a good deal abroad with his mother in his
childhood, and often recalls in his diary these early visits:


_July_ 30, 1886.  The very same rooms at the Belle Vue, Brussels, as we
had when I came here in childhood....  The house is full of Americans,
as like one another (to English eyes) as Chinese or negroes.  It is
impossible to tell them apart.[1]

At Dresden also, a few months later, he records his vivid recollections
of an early visit to that capital.  This was the year of his first
pilgrimage to the shrine of Wagner at Bayreuth (he attended the
festival there also in 1888 and 1891).  Many of his letters to the
editor of the _Scottish Review_ are dated from foreign addresses; and
interspersed in these with business and literary details are numerous
picturesque notes on the customs and doings of the people among whom he
was living.  The descriptions of the religious observances of the
inhabitants of Sorrento have a certain piquancy, when one remembers
that they were addressed to a minister of the Scottish Presbyterian
Church.  Bute wrote on such matters _currente calamo_, and took for
granted--no doubt with reason--that his friend would be as much
interested in such matters as he was himself.

  _February_ 15, 1888.

We had a magnificent voyage, which made me feel immediately in a most
robust and lively condition.  I find, however, that a calm in the Bay
of Biscay, such as we had, is considered ill-omened by the sailors; and
one of the passengers committed {158} suicide on the night before we
left Gibraltar.  Curiously enough, the same thing happened in the same
circumstances on another occasion which I remember of a calm in the
same spot.  We landed at Naples last Saturday.  The lewdness, cruelty,
etc., of the Neapolitans seems as bad as usual; but some non-Neapolitan
clergy have lately been introduced, who say Mass very reverently, and
preach and pray in the vernacular.  I hear they are beginning to do
much good.  We arrived here yesterday, and are fasting to-day (Ash
Wednesday) in great discomfort.  Rome is crowded.  The Scotch
deputation (about 140 persons) is to be received by the Pope to-morrow
at 10.30 a.m.

Bute read the address to Pope Leo XIII. on behalf of the Scottish
pilgrimage, which had come to Rome to join with the rest of Christendom
in congratulating the venerable Pontiff on the celebration of his
sacerdotal jubilee.  From Sorrento, where he afterwards spent several
weeks, he wrote to Dr. Metcalfe on Holy Saturday:

The people had their fill (I should hope) of services, and especially
of preaching, yesterday (Good Friday).  They began with a procession
round the town at 4 a.m., which I did _not_ join, commemorative of the
procession to Calvary.  The Liturgy began in the cathedral at 8, and
ended at 11.  At 1 a man began preaching in the cathedral and went on
till 4.15--I wonder he could do it.  The church was full, and all, even
small boys and girls, very attentive.  He preached nine sermons, or
rather one enormous sermon in nine points, with short and very sweet
Italian anthems sung between each.  Many of the congregation were
affected to tears.  The service of _Tenebræ_ began at 5 and lasted an
hour and a half; then they began another procession through the
streets, this time in commemoration of Christ being {159} borne to the
grave.  A spectator said to me quite cheerily that this procession was
going the round of seven churches; and that there would be a sermon in
each.  At 9.30 p.m. I heard from our garden the town band (which
accompanied the procession) still playing in the distance sacred music
and funeral marches.  The people are now buying at the confectioners'
small lambs made of the least indigestible sugar procurable, so that
they may "eat the lamb this night" without violating the Lenten law of
abstinence from flesh meat.

[Sidenote: 1888, Easter at Sorrento]

A long letter addressed to the same correspondent on Easter Monday
seems worth reproducing almost in its entirety.  It affords testimony,
more convincing than any words of a biographer could be, of Bute's
extraordinary interest in the religious services of his Church, and of
the vivid and even moving eloquence which inspired his pen when
describing the worship and the devotion of the simple Campanian folk
among whom he was temporarily sojourning:

The people go on hearing sermons.  There were at least two delivered in
the Cathedral on Sunday, at 7 and 10 a.m.  These preachments have their
peculiar features, besides their length.  They seem very often to
conclude with an _extempore_ prayer.  I call it _extempore_, although
it is of course prepared beforehand, and, in the works at any rate of
St. Alfonso Liguori, these prayers are printed along with the sermons
to which they belong; but no MS. is used.  When the prayer begins the
people generally kneel down, and sometimes the preacher asks them to
join with him, in which case he prays very slowly, and they repeat
after him.  One day I went into the large Church of the Saviour at
Meta.  There was barely standing-room.  A man was preaching against
{160} blasphemous swearing.  After a time he dictated to the
congregation a sort of pledge never to commit this sin again, and many
of them repeated it after him.  He then, after the manner of old
precentors I have heard of in the Highlands, when the people could not
read, sang an hymn line by line, the people singing every line after
him.  After this he knelt down in the pulpit and offered a long and
vehement _extempore_ prayer; and when this was over he rose and began
on the same subject again.  I then left.

[Sidenote: 1888, Church services at Sorrento]

On the Feast of St. Benedict there were special services in the
Benedictine convent church here.  Before Benediction, the Archbishop
officiating, the whole congregation sang the _Te Deum_ together by
heart, in Latin.  Then the Archbishop began to preach, from the
altar--a series of puns on the name of Benedict (_Benedetto_,
"Blessed"), very well done.  He spoke of the blessedness of the
servants of God, here and hereafter, and in reference, no doubt, to the
nuns behind their grating as well as to the women in the church, made
allusion to the special blessedness of the women who serve God.  This
was followed by a long _extempore_ prayer, the people (who had stood
while he preached) sinking on their knees.  He besought a blessing on
himself and his flock, naming the different classes of his people in
turn with great simplicity and fervour.  The final supplication that
all--not one being missing from the flock--might at last be brought
together in the glory of heaven, was very moving.  Then he gave the
Sacramental benediction.

The use of the vernacular seems to be very considerable.  At the
parochial Mass on Sundays, besides the sermon, and Italian prayers
before Mass begins, at certain moments the whole congregation repeat
Italian prayers together.  The similarity of their language to Latin
robs the latter of much of its terror.  Many of the commoner Latin
hymns, etc., they seem all to know by heart quite familiarly.  {161} I
have spoken of the _Te Deum_.  On Saturday they all sang the Litany,
repeating every clause after the precentors.  On Thursday, while the
Sacrament for next day's Communion was being carried to the Chapel of
Repose, the whole congregation sang on their knees the hymn of Thomas
Aquinas upon the Last Supper; and the sublimity of the words, the
spectacle of the kneeling multitude, and the solemnity of the
procession moving through the church, made a very impressive whole.
The clergy here are all extremely clean and respectable-looking, and
very decorous and reverential, both out of church and in.  And this
remark applies also to the whole of the Divinity students, and the
whole choir and staff of the Cathedral.  The music--even when poor--is
very grave and solemn; the services are conducted (and evidently
prepared) with the utmost care, and a certain effect of subdued
splendour is produced--with the air of being produced incidentally and
unintentionally--by the real costliness and richness, combined with
scrupulous cleanliness and neatness, of every object and garment
employed, in their several degrees.

The admirably conducted services in the Cathedral have had a damaging
effect on the Anglican chapel, some of the congregation of which have
been assiduously attending them, to the not unnatural annoyance of the
clergyman in charge, whose own domestic circle is not unaffected by the
contagion.  The erratic sheep, when summoned to private interviews of
remonstrance, meet their pastor with questions as to what possible
grounds Bishop Sandford of Gibraltar can have for pretending to possess
and exercise Episcopal authority in the diocese of Sorrento.

I hope these details may interest you.

It may be said that practically every one of Bute's journeyings to
foreign lands either partook {162} more or less of the nature of a
pilgrimage, or else was made in search of health.  Pre-eminent among
the first class were his frequent visits to the Holy Land, of which
some account has already been given.  Except for occasional references
in his letters, we have little about these from his own pen.  "My
latest pilgrimage to the Holy Places," he writes on one occasion, "has
been extraordinarily blessed to me."  It is of interest in this
connection to cite some passages inserted in the fly-leaf of a copy of
Stanley's "Sinai and Palestine," presented by Bute to a friend.  They
are not in his own handwriting--except the Latin quotation (from St.
Luke xii. 34) at the end--nor is there any evidence as to their
authorship; but their sentiment is undoubtedly one which would strongly
appeal to him:

The attractions of Rome and Jerusalem are not comparable, and should
not be compared.  The interest of Rome is of course by far the more
varied.  Not all who journey thither go to venerate the Tombs of the
Apostles.  There are those to whom the Palace of the Cæsars appeals
more than do basilicas built by Popes, who regard the Colosseum rather
as the monument of emperors than as the palæstra of martyrs, to whom
the Mamertine prison speaks of Catiline rather than of St. Peter.[2]
People throng {163} to Rome not only to pray, but to study art,
antiquities, and music, to enjoy the most cosmopolitan society in
Europe, sometimes to hunt foxes on the Campagna.  Jerusalem, on the
other hand, is a city of faith, and (roughly speaking) all who visit it
do so as pilgrims.  _Illuc enim ascenderunt tribus, tribus Domini_.
Rome has a thousand charms--Jerusalem one, but that one transcendent.
Its sacred soil has been trodden by the feet of God made man, and it is
the Holy City as no other city can ever be.  _Ubi enim thesaurus vesler
est, ibi cor vestrum erit_.[3]

The last words, written by Bute himself at the foot of the manuscript
just quoted, are of particular interest, referring, as they doubtless
do, to his long-cherished resolve that his heart, after his death,
should mingle with the sacred dust of the Mount of Olives.

[Sidenote: At Ober-Ammergau]

The visits to the Ober-Ammergau Passion-play, which Bute made in 1871,
in company with Bishop Clifford and two Oxford friends, again in 1880
with his wife, and also in 1890, were undertaken, too, in the pilgrim
spirit.  "We start for Ober-Ammergau on Monday," he wrote on September
11, 1880, "and are both hoping to reap spiritual good from our stay
there."  A letter to his old friend at Oxford on his return home gives
some interesting impressions:

The new theatre looks like a railway station, and the stage
arrangements are considerably more elaborate than they were nine years
ago.  The crowd, too, was infinitely greater, but its behaviour was on
the whole decent, except for some attempts to applaud (emanating, I
fear, from our countrymen), {164} which were extremely distressing.
The play itself was not less impressive than I remember it; and I was
pleased with the simplicity and piety of the people, who seem unspoilt
by the leap within recent years of their retired village into fame.  I
ventured to express, through a German-speaking friend, my satisfaction
on this point to one of the most respected inhabitants of the place
(one of the principal actors); and his reply (of which my friend gave
me a translation) pleased me very much.  "God be thanked," he said,
"that is true; but it would not be so if we accepted the many offers
made to us to give representations of the Passion-play in various
cities of Europe.  Also it is well for our people that the play is
given but once in ten years; for in the intervals we lead our
accustomed quiet life in this valley, and a new generation of children
has time to grow up in the old traditions of the place."[4]

Bute refers later, in letters written from Bayreuth, to what he calls
the "outrage" of applause from the audience during the performance of
_Parsifal_, in terms which indicates how strongly he felt the religious
appeal of the Wagnerian drama:

  _July_ 23, 1888.

On Sunday the illiterate part of the audience insisted on applauding
Acts II. and III. of _Parsifal_, in spite of all the protests of the
cultured hearers; and the effect was most distressing and shocking.
The {165} allusions to the Eucharist are of such a nature that it was
almost as unseemly as it would be to clap a church choir during the
Communion Service; and putting aside the gross irreverence and
unseemliness of such conduct, it is an outrage and fraud on the public,
who are at these moments wrapped in religious thought, and whom it is
brutal and shameful to disturb by a revolting noise.

In his diary for 1891, Bute notes that he had written a letter to Frau
Wagner, begging her to take steps to prevent any applause during the
representation of _Parsifal_; but it is not recorded if this appeal had
the desired effect.

[Sidenote: Incognito in Sicily]

The travels on the Continent were carried out without any sort of
ostentation; and Bute found it even expedient occasionally to preserve
his incognito when abroad.  Thus he wrote on one occasion to one of his
oldest friends:

_Ascension Day_, 1882.
  Aci Reale, Sicily.

The outside of your letter gave me, I confess, less pleasure than any I
have ever had from you.  You know the state of Sicily, and the way
brigands have with people whom they believe to have money.
Consequently, when ordered here by the doctors I was urged both in
Naples and Messina to drop my title absolutely; and I am known here
only as "B. Crichton Stuart."  You may thus imagine the discontent with
which I saw "The Marquess of Bute" staring me in the face out of the
letter-rack in the hall.

Pray be most careful both to address me only as B.C.S., and also to
keep your knowledge of my whereabouts most strictly to yourself.  I
need not point out the great annoyance and possible danger to which you
might otherwise expose me.

I have been very ailing for more than a year.  {166} Sometimes I feel
as though the horizon of life were closing in, and wish I could recall
the rest of the verse beginning:

  When languor and disease invade
    This trembling house of clay....[5]

But the warmth and sunshine here are helping me.  I propose, when my
"cure" is over (for good or evil), to go to Greece, and look for
quarters in Athens where I may spend the winter with my wife and child.

I prefer this place to Italy, at least to Naples, whose people on the
whole impress me as the off-scourings of humanity.  The great
difference between Sicily and Italy strikes me very much: it is,
perhaps, due to the fact that Sicily belongs (I believe), both
geographically and geologically, to Africa.

From Egypt, where he spent one spring, being ordered a spell of dry
desert air by the doctors, he wrote characteristically to a friend (a
Benedictine monk), then resident in a remote corner of Brazil:

Helouan, Egypt.

I deserve your reproaches for not writing before.  But really one has a
feeling (I know _I_ have) that writing to a distant address is,
literally and physically, an heavier undertaking than writing to a near
one.  Query: If some philosophers are right in thinking that space, as
well as time, is purely subjective, may not this have something to do
with it?

One or two notes from his diary in Egypt are interesting:

"_March_ 7.  Amin Nassif brought a "professed {167} sorcerer to see me"
(a later note adds, "I believe him to be a pure impostor").

"_March_ 15.  Tried the ascent of the great Pyramid, but collapsed from
giddiness half-way.  Margaret [his daughter, then aged sixteen] had no

"_April_ 6.  Monophysite Copts do not now reserve the B. Sacrament
(although they formerly did so), because the species was once eaten by
a snake, which was then eaten by a priest, who died in consequence!"

"_April_ 24 (Alexandria).  At the Greek Catholic church the new French
Consul was received with extraordinary honour by three priests, vested
respectively in red, white, and blue!  There was no sermon, but a
speech in which the benefits conferred by France on Syria and Egypt
were highly praised."

[Sidenote: 1891, Trip to Teneriffe]

Another journey which may be mentioned here was his trip to Teneriffe
in the spring of 1891.  His health at this time was far from robust,
and was indeed causing some anxiety to his friends; but he was
determined as usual to gain from his visit intellectual profit as well
as (if possible) some benefit to his health.  He wrote to H. D.
Grissell on March 16, 1891:

Orotava, Teneriffe.

I date to you from this eccentric place, whither I have come to try and
patch myself together by a stay of a few weeks.  Of course these
islands are utterly unknown to me, and the vegetation in particular is
at first sight quite startlingly novel.  The air is delicious, but I
feel the want of sun, and there is much cold wind.  As Piazzi Smyth
speaks much of the clouds here, I suspect that this stupendous {168}
mountain (of which we rarely see the top, and only in early morning or
late evening) has much to do with it.

The outcome of Bute's sojourn in the Canary Islands was a remarkable
paper, "On the Ancient Language of the Inhabitants of Teneriffe," which
he read at the meeting that summer of the British Association at
Cardiff, and afterwards published in the _Scottish Review_.  Like most
of his writings on such recondite subjects, it was more or less
"caviare to the general"; but it aroused considerable attention among
philologists, who recognised it as a genuine and valuable contribution
to linguistic science.  Professor Sayce wrote to him from Queen's
College, Oxford:

_October_ 17, 1891.

Many thanks for your kindness in sending me your monograph on the
extinct language of Teneriffe.  I wish that all linguistic
investigations had been conducted with similar care and caution; we
should have had fewer difficulties to contend with in the study of
linguistic science.  You have shown us exactly what are the materials
on which we can base our opinion on the ancient language of Teneriffe,
and how far those materials can be trusted.  For this reason your paper
seems to me to be of very real value.

It seems right to refer in this place to another and later tribute paid
by another and equally distinguished man of science, who in his
estimate of Bute's remarkable attainments makes special allusion to the
article we are now considering.  Sir William Huggins, who was very
intimate with him in the later years of his life, wrote as follows:

The Marquess of Bute was one of those, the deeper side of whose mind
and character could be duly {169} appreciated only by those who had the
privilege of his friendship.  A man of great natural gifts, he was
highly cultured on many sides; and the extent and the variety of his
information on a vast variety of subjects was really remarkable.  No
scientist[7] could discuss a scientific matter with him without being
struck by the clear-sighted way in which he saw into the heart of the
matter, and the fairness and patience with which he would weigh and
consider it from various points of view.  These qualities were well
shown in the very interesting and valuable paper on "The Ancient
Language of the Natives of Teneriffe" contributed by him to the British
Association when it met at Cardiff....  Lord Bute's sensitive nature
revolted from the killing of any living thing.  But he was keenly
interested in natural history, and had a knowledge of many creatures
and of their habits as intimate and searching as that of the most
scientific sportsman.

[Sidenote: Home in Regent's Park]

The reference in the last paragraph recalls the fact that when (in
1888) Lord Bute first acquired a London domicile, purchasing the
twenty-seven years' lease of St. John's Lodge, in Regent's Park, he was
particularly interested in finding himself in close proximity to both
the Zoological and the Botanic Gardens.  A priest who was often his
guest there used to say that he could walk on the terrace, with its
matchless view of garden and park and forest trees, and recite his
Office in perfect quietness, with the tumult of London reduced to a
distant hum, and the silence only occasionally broken by the roar of
wild beasts in the "Zoo" not far away.  Bute was {170} a fellow of both
societies, and often strolled in one or other of the gardens with his
guests or members of his family of a Sunday afternoon, talking freely
with the custodians of animals and plants, and not infrequently
astonishing them with the variety of his knowledge.  One of his guests
was looking, in the Botanic Gardens, at a remarkable and
recently-acquired collection of dwarf Japanese trees, and observed that
Lord Bute would be interested in seeing them.  "Yes," was the reply,
"his lordship knows a lot about plants.  But then, he knows a lot about
most things, don't he, sir?"[8]

[Sidenote: 1888, Hospitalities in London]

That Bute did know "a lot about most things" was undoubtedly true; and
what used often to strike those who were intimate with him was the
singular _orderliness_ of his knowledge.  "His memory was prodigious,"
writes one who often consulted him on points of history, "and he seemed
to me to keep everything which he had ever learned or read stored away,
so to speak, in watertight compartments of his brain, ready for instant
use when called for."  But he never paraded his knowledge of history or
anything else, and one of his most engaging characteristics was the
extreme respect and, indeed, deference which he paid to acknowledged
masters of any branch of learning or science.  He welcomed the
opportunity which his occasional periods of residence in London
afforded him of offering hospitality to such.  "My experience of men of
intellectual eminence," he once said, "has been that they are not only
interesting, {171} but as a rule extremely agreeable."  Among those who
from time to time were his guests at St. John's Lodge were men of such
varied distinction as Lord Halsbury, Lord Rosebery, Mr. W. H. Mallock,
Sir Ernest A. W. Budge, F.S.A., Cardinal Vaughan, Sir William Huggins,
Mr. Walter Birch, Mr. Westlake, Sir William Crookes, Mr. F. W. H.
Myers, etc.  Later on, after the presentation of his only daughter, his
charming house in Regent's Park (which, as well as its spacious
gardens, he did much to improve and adorn) became the centre of much
agreeable hospitality of a more general kind.  Bute himself was pleased
to think that the entertainments given there in the beautiful
ball-room--lit from garlands of Venetian glass, and opening on to the
illuminated grounds--were popular and appreciated by society.  "I
really think," he wrote, "that people enjoy making up parties to come
to us on these occasions.  Regent's Park is a _terra incognita_ to a
great many Londoners; and there is perhaps a certain piquancy about a
place which almost simulates to be a country house and is yet only a
shilling cab-fare from Piccadilly Circus."

In 1888, the same year in which he acquired his London residence, Bute
paid his first visit to Falkland, his new possession in Fife--his
first, that is, as owner of the estate and keeper of the ancient
palace; for (as he notes in his diary) he had visited it as a boy of
thirteen, nearly thirty years previously, in the company of Lady
Elizabeth Moore, and had been there before more than once with his
mother.  The firstfruits of his new connection with the place was a
carefully-written paper on "David Duke of Rothesay," the hapless heir
of Robert III., said to have been starved to death in Falkland Palace
in March, {172} 1402.[9]  Of this article the friendly critic already
quoted[10] appreciatively writes:

Lord Bute's qualities as a historian appear conspicuously in the
lecture on David Duke of Rothesay, where the scanty material available
about this unfortunate prince is treated in a truly scientific spirit.
The zeal for truth shown in it is only equalled by his noble desire,
even at the eleventh hour, to do justice to the poor lad so cruelly
murdered by his contemporaries and misrepresented by posterity.

A rumour had been widely current, in the year of Queen Victoria's
golden jubilee, that Bute was to be created "Jubilee" Duke of
Glamorgan.  It is permissible to question whether his patriotism would
have allowed him to consent to the merging of his historic Scottish
title in a brand-new one derived from a Welsh county; but his only
written reference to the matter appears in a letter to a friend who had
sent him a newspaper-cutting on the subject:

I cannot believe that there is anything in the report to which you have
called my attention.  Were it so, I imagine that I should have heard of
it before now through some other channel than the Society columns of a
halfpenny newspaper.

In the spring of 1890 the office of Lord-Lieutenant of Glamorganshire,
then vacant, was offered to him {173} by the Prime Minister (Lord
Salisbury), but he did not see his way to accept it.  A single line in
his diary records the fact; but there is a brief further mention of it
in a letter written at the time:

I have little or no acquaintance with the county, or with "them that
dwell therein" beyond the limits of Cardiff and of my own property.
For this and other more personal reasons, I have--in, I hope, a not
unbecoming letter--begged leave to decline the honour.

[Sidenote: 1890, Mayor of Cardiff]

With another offer made to him a little later in the same year Bute
found himself able to comply, much to the satisfaction of all
concerned.  This was a requisition that he should allow himself to be
nominated as Mayor of Cardiff for 1890-91.  It is a point of
considerable interest, and one certainly illustrative of the strong
sense of duty which always animated him, that the first peer to hold
the highest municipal office in any English or Welsh borough for
several generations--certainly since the Reform Bill--should have been
one whom his natural love of retirement, and aversion from public
display, might have prompted to refuse any office of the kind.  Once
elected, he attended with sedulous care to such duties as devolved on
him in virtue of his office; and early in 1891 he wrote to his old
friend Miss Skene, giving a cheerful account of his stewardship.  The
last part of this letter, in which some of his deeper feelings are
touchingly disclosed, would have appealed with very special force to
his correspondent, one of the chief works of whose life at Oxford was
the rescue of girls and women; and for that reason a portion of her
reply is appended:


  _January_ 23, 1891.


This gorgeous paper[11] is that which the town of Cardiff supplies for
the use of its mayors.  As I have had nothing to do personally with
originating it, I may freely say that I think it very pretty.  And the
arms of the town are certainly interesting historically, as a memorial
of the De Clares, Lords of Glamorgan, of whom the last male
representative fell at Bannockburn in 1314.

I get on pretty well with my civic government here.  My official
confidants are nearly all Radical Dissenters, but we manage in quite a
friendly way.  They only elected me as a kind of figure-head; and
although they are good enough to be glad whenever I take part in
details, I am willing to leave these in the hands of people with more
experience than myself, as far as I properly and conscientiously can do

I have, however, felt it to be my duty (owing to some terrible facts)
to insist upon the enforcement of the laws for the protection of little
girls; and here I find unanimous and hearty support from quite a
majority of the officials, who differ from one another as widely as
possible upon every religious, political, and social question.  I
learned yesterday of a certain lot of children whom I have been
honoured to be the instrument of getting out of a bad house of the
worst kind.  This will cheer me on my death-bed--or beyond, for I shall
have forgotten, but Another will not.

Sincerely yours,






Miss Skene replied a few days later:

I cannot tell you what immense pleasure it gave me to receive your kind
letter, and I think you were indeed most good, in the midst of all your
work, to write to me yourself....  I am most deeply interested in what
you have been able to do for the rescue of the poor little victims of
evil-doers.  I wish with all my heart that the mayors of other towns
would take the same view of their duty in these matters; but alas! this
is not always the case....  I am sure it will always be a happiness to
yourself to feel that you have saved the poor children of whom you
speak.  These things are not forgotten in heaven.

Ever your faithful old friend,

[Illustration: _The Marquess of Bute, Mayor of Cardiff, 1890-1891_]

Bute gave his mayoral banquet in the Drill Hall at Cardiff on February
4, 1891, wearing the beautiful chain which he had had specially
designed and made for the chief magistrate of the borough.  Some alarm
was caused, in the middle of the dinner, by the sudden breaking out of
fire in the decorations of the roof; but no one was injured, and
(largely owing to Bute's own coolness) there was no panic of any kind.
In one of his letters he makes this curious comment on the mishap:

I should have been prepared for the misadventure, for I was suffering
at the time under an evil direction of [Symbol: Mercury], who was just
then in [Symbol: Mars] with [Symbol: Uranus], so that I was almost
bound to anticipate some untoward happening.[12]


On his return from Teneriffe, Bute spent several months at Cardiff,
where, as already mentioned, he entertained the Royal Association at
their meeting there, and read his paper on the ancient language of the
islanders.  He attended the corporation-meetings regularly between
April and November, and was able to note in his diary in the latter
month that his year of municipal office had been a success.  He was
particularly gratified by a letter from the Duke of Norfolk, himself
the mayor-elect for Sheffield, asking his advice on various points
connected with the office--"advice," added the Duke, "which your most
successful tenure of the mayoralty of Cardiff renders you so admirably
qualified to give."  Bute showed this letter to a friend, remarking in
his quiet way: "The local press has spoken very kindly of my conduct as
mayor, but I value this letter more than any number of newspaper

Bute went up from Cardiff in May to attend the Royal Academy dinner, as
he did on several subsequent occasions.  It was of a later one of these
entertainments that he noted: "The Academy was bad, and the dinner the
dullest I have been at, only redeemed by Rosebery's very witty speech,
which was, however, obviously the result of long toil.  The Lord
Chancellor's [Halsbury] seemed much more spontaneous."  Bute does not
seem to have spoken at any of these functions, as he did occasionally
at the dinners of the Scottish Academy in Edinburgh.


Sir Mountstuart Grant Duff records in his diary the impression made on
Sir Alexander Grant, at one of these dinners, by Bute's oration.

I met Sir A. Grant, who was full of the speech which Lord Bute
delivered the other night at the Scottish Academy dinner, in which he
said that "Athens and Assisi had spoilt him for everything else."[13]

[1] Froude makes the same remark ("Oceana," Chap. XIV.) about the
Chinamen on board the steamer by which he travelled from Australia to
New Zealand.  "I suppose," he adds, "that to Chinamen the separate
personalities are as easily recognised as ours.  To me they seemed only
what Schopenhauer says that all individual existences are--'accidental
illustrations of a single idea under the conditions of space and time.'"

[2] A friend of J. H. Newman, referring to some papers contributed by
him, under the title of "Home Thoughts Abroad," to the _British
Magazine_, after his memorable tour in Italy and Sicily in 1833, says:
"These papers were the first to turn people's thoughts from the
classical antiquities and fine arts of Rome to its Christian
associations.  It was a new idea to me when I read the papers, and, I
really think, to everybody else.  Now (1885) any one would say it never
was otherwise; the fact was, however, that no one then thought of Rome
in connection with St. Peter and Paul, much less St. Leo and St.
Gregory, or of sumptuous worship as anything but a kind of theatrical
sight."  This paper was reprinted in 1872, in the volume called
"Discussions and Arguments," under the new title of "How to Accomplish

[3] "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

[4] The original German text (of which Bute's letter contained a copy)
ran as follows: "Got sei Dank, das ist wahr; aber es wäre nicht so,
wenn wir die vielen Anerbieten, das Passionspiel in verschiedenen
Stadten Europas aufzuführen, annehmen würden.  Es ist auch gut für
unsere Bevölkerung, dass das Spiel nur alle zehn Jahre gegeben wird,
denn in der Zwischenzeit führen wir unser gewohntes und ruhiges Leben
in diesen Tale, und ein neues Geschlecht von Kindern hat Zeit
heranzuwachsen in den alten Ueberlieferungen unseres Ortes."

[5] Bute was only in his thirty-fifth year when he wrote these words.

[6] He had made the ascent of the Pyramids before--in 1865, when in his
eighteenth year, and again in 1879.

[7] The eminent astronomer was, of course, himself a man of science
rather than a man of letters, and as such must be pardoned the use of
the uncouth word "scientist," which disfigures his otherwise eloquent
tribute to his friend.

[8] Bute was interested in the longevity of parrots, and had many talks
on the subject with the intelligent parrot-keeper at the Zoological
Gardens.  "The parrot they had longest," he notes, "lived with them
fifty-four years; but they do not know how old it was when they got it."

[9] This article, published in the _Scottish Review_ in April, 1892,
was in substance a reproduction of a lecture given by Bute in January,
1872, to the Associated Societies of Edinburgh University, of which he
was honorary president.

[10] Sir William Huggins.

[11] Emblazoned with the scarlet and gold arms of Cardiff--or three
chevronels gules.  Since 1906 this charming and historic coat-armorial
has unfortunately given place to one described by a respected citizen
of Cardiff as "an abomination"--a shield bespattered with red dragons
and leeks, and other Welsh emblems, and surmounted by three ostrich
feathers.  The last-named assumption is particularly indefensible, the
ostrich plume being, of course, the badge of the King's son and heir,
and not of the Prince of Wales as such.

[12] Bute's interest in astrology has been already noted (_ante_, p.
135), and is also referred to in Mr. Myers' obituary notice (_post_,
Appendix V.).  He was not, of course, unaware that the _practice_ of
astrology had been forbidden to the Christians of the early Church, and
condemned by a sixteenth-century Pope.  But he also had the authority
of St. Thomas for believing, if he desired to do so, that the heavenly
bodies do influence the bodies of men, and so indirectly their passions
and their conduct.  This is a matter of science, not of theology, which
forbids, not the study of the science, but the belief, once so widely
current, that the astrologer can predict with certainty the course of
events and man's future actions.

[13] _Notes from a Diary_ (1873-1881), vol. ii. p. 101.





An incident which gave Bute sincere pleasure, during the year of his
mayoralty of Cardiff, was the presentation to him of the freedom of the
city of Glasgow, which took place on October 7, 1891.  The honour was
conferred on him, according to the burgess-ticket which he received,
"in recognition of the distinguished services he has rendered to
Scotland, by erecting and gifting[1] to Glasgow the Bute Hall, by his
personal contributions to literature, and by the warm sympathy he has
ever shown in whatever is fitted to promote the interests of art and

Bute replied to the presentation in a speech which he himself described
in anticipation as "maddeningly dull," but which was nevertheless very
well received; and on the same day he performed the opening ceremony of
the new Mitchell Library, delivering an address which he thought, in
contrast with the other, appeared "almost lively, with a tendency even
to flippancy."  It was not his first public appearance in Glasgow; for
some time before this he had made an oration at the opening {180} of
the new Jesuit College of St. Aloysius, and had warmly congratulated
Scottish Catholics on taking another step in the resumption of a
tradition which identified higher culture with the Catholic Church.[2]

Cherishing as he did, to the end of his life, feelings of grateful
affection towards all those who had shown him kindness during his
somewhat solitary childhood, Bute was sincerely grieved to hear, in the
autumn of 1892, of the death of Lady Elizabeth Moore, one of his
earliest and most devoted friends.  The temporary estrangement between
them caused by his change of religion had long passed away; and only
nine days before her death, on the occasion of her eighty-eighth
birthday, his daughter had written to her a letter of good wishes which
Lord and Lady Bute and all their children signed.  He wrote thus
feelingly of this loss:

Of her affection for me, and mine for her, I cannot speak too strongly.
It is an event which finally cuts me off (till my own death) from the
generation to which my mother belonged, and in which I was born....  A
great friend of my mother's, and a second mother to me; and I am ever
grateful to her for her defence of me against General Stuart and others
in 1860.

By a strange coincidence, General Stuart himself died two days later.
The death of Colonel J. B. Crichton Stuart, Bute's former tutor-at-law,
had occurred in the previous year; and the Lord-Lieutenancy of
Buteshire, which he had held since 1859, {181} was in due course
offered to Bute and accepted by him.  He performed all the duties
pertaining to the office with the scrupulous conscientiousness which
characterised him; and he told a friend, some time afterwards, that he
had been particularly gratified by the Lord Chancellor expressing his
approbation of the care which he (Bute) had exercised in the
recommendation of persons for the commission of peace in his titular

[Sidenote: 1892, Benefactions to South Wales]

In September, 1892, Bute attended the meeting of the National
Eisteddfod, and delivered an address with which he was himself
extremely dissatisfied, though it is only fair to say that on such
occasions he was the severest critic of his own orations, with which
his audiences appeared well content.  He had always been warmly
interested in the Eisteddfodan, had subscribed liberally to their
funds, and had presided and given an address at a previous meeting held
at Cardiff in 1882.  He also gave generous assistance to the
Cymrodorion Society for its publication of Welsh Records, and enabled
the Cardiff Library, by his subscription of £1000, to acquire the
valuable MSS. which had belonged to Sir Thomas Phillips.  Nor was it
only the cause of learning which he assisted by his judicious
benefactions.  Every scheme set on foot for the benefit of the
districts with which he was connected found in him a generous
supporter.  To King Edward VII.'s Hospital (then the Glamorgan and
Monmouthshire Infirmary) he gave a site for the new building worth some
£5000, having before this paid off the debt on the institution.  For
many years he maintained entirely a cottage hospital at Aberdare; he
gave a large donation to the building fund of the Merthyr Hospital, and
a still larger one to the Seamen's {182} Hospital at Cardiff, and
contributed liberally both to the "Rest" at Porthcawl, and to the
Miners' Relief Fund for Monmouthshire and South Wales.

Unostentatious as were his innumerable charities, it is right that
these things (which include his benefactions in South Wales alone)
should be recorded.  Bute's name was known in his lifetime, and has
been handed down to posterity, as that of a munificent patron of
scholarship and learning, of science and architecture and art.  He
richly deserves this tribute; but it is not to be forgotten that he was
also a wise, discriminating,[3] and most generous benefactor of a score
of institutions designed only for the relief of the distressed, the
needy, and the suffering.  Every one knew him to be a scholar, and a
friend and patron of scholars, but it was only his innermost circle of
friends, and the countless beneficiaries of his far-reaching
generosity, who knew how truly, how continually, his heart was open to
the calls of mercy and of charity.

Bute never hesitated about expressing his opinion of men whom the world
called famous, but whose claim to any such distinction he failed to
recognise.  Writing of Lord Randolph Churchill, whom he had met at
luncheon in September, 1892, he says:

He seemed to me ill-informed, ill-mannered, and stupid.  I used to know
him slightly at Oxford, and thought little of him there.  I wonder
whether his wife writes his speeches.

{183} His notes on Royalties are, on occasion, quite as frank as on any
one else.  After attending the Lord Mayor's dinner in October, 1892, he

The Maharajah of Baroda (it is a mere ignorant vulgarism to call him
"the Gaikwar") spoke, I found, much better English than the Duke of
----.  The latter went off home from the Lady Mayoress's boudoir,
whither we men were taken to smoke, without returning to the
drawing-room to wish her good-night.

[Sidenote: 1892, Relations with Universities]

The closing weeks of 1892 were marked by an event which brought Bute
into intimate connection with the oldest of the four Scottish
Universities, namely, his unanimous election as Lord Rector of St.
Andrews.  The honour was one which he very greatly appreciated, and the
duties of the office would have been not only extremely interesting,
but altogether congenial to him, had he not been involved by the
peculiar circumstances of the time in a series of highly contentious
questions, which, in his somewhat enfeebled state of health, caused him
for a period of time extending over several years considerable trouble
and anxiety.

Bute's keen and practical interest in educational matters, and
especially in the promotion of higher studies throughout the country,
had naturally brought him into relation, at different times of his
life, with several of the national universities.  With Oxford, since
his student days there at the most memorable crisis in his life, he had
little subsequent connection.  He refers occasionally in his letters to
the disadvantage which he had suffered from having been prevented by
circumstances from taking his degree; and Oxford never saw fit to
honour him, {184} or herself, by conferring on him an honorary degree
in recognition of his services to learning and scholarship.  He never,
however, lost his interest in his original _Alma Mater_; and nothing
gave him greater pleasure, during the closing years of his life, than
the news of the removal of the restrictions which had hitherto
prevented Roman Catholic students from frequenting the universities of
Oxford and Cambridge.  A friend, head of one of the Oxford Halls, was
visiting him in London some time subsequently, and informed him that
there were already, in consequence of this change of policy, more than
seventy Catholic undergraduates in residence at that university.  Bute,
who was at that time quite an invalid, raised himself on his couch, and
said with the quiet emphasis with which he always spoke when strongly
moved: "I wish there were seven hundred."  He only visited Oxford once
or twice after his marriage, but his continued affection for it was
evinced in many ways; and the Catholic church and mission there, as in
so many places, benefited by his munificence.[4]

The establishment of a University College at Cardiff was to Bute
naturally a matter of great interest, of which he gave many practical
proofs.  He accepted the presidency of the institution in 1890, when he
contributed generously to the foundation of a chair of engineering; and
six years later he gave a special donation of £10,000 to the funds.
Besides his inaugural address, he gave another, in 1891, to the pupils
of the science and art schools.  His many gifts to the college included
a complete {185} set of the valuable _Acta Sanctorum_ of the
Bollandists; and he was particularly gratified by the very appreciative
acknowledgment of this present which he received from the librarian.
Bute proposed Mr. Gladstone as the first Chancellor of the University
of Wales.  Although profoundly opposed to some of the political views
of that statesman, he had an admiration for his character and
attainments; and he looked on it as a special honour, some years later,
to receive the Honorary Doctorate of St. Andrews on the same occasion
as the veteran Liberal leader.

[Sidenote: 1892, Honorary Doctorates]

The first of the Scottish universities with which Bute found himself
practically connected was that of Glasgow, to which he presented in
1877 the noble hall, for graduation and other ceremonies, since known
as the Bute Hall.  Two years later, in recognition of this splendid
gift, which is said to have cost him nearly £50,000, the Honorary
Doctorate of Laws was bestowed on him by the university.  He received
the same honour from Edinburgh in 1882, and from St. Andrews in 1893,
the first year of his rectorship.  In 1883 he was invited to stand for
the Lord Rectorship of Glasgow University, being nominated in the
Conservative interest against Mr. Fawcett as the Liberal candidate.
John Ruskin was also nominated.  A regrettable element of religious
animus was introduced into the contest, but the leading Glasgow journal
warmly supported Bute.  Mr. Fawcett was elected, the figures
being--Fawcett 796, Bute 690, Ruskin 329.

By his appointment in 1889 as a member of the Scottish Universities
Commission, Bute came, of course, into intimate relation with the
affairs of all the four universities.  He was an active member of the
Commission, attending its meetings regularly, {186} and giving much
time and attention to the important questions which came up for
discussion and solution.  But as a member of a mixed body of this kind,
of which some--and these not the least distinguished--were sure to
hold, and to express, views sharply conflicting with his own, Bute was
not, it must be frankly said, at his best or happiest.  The candid
biographer must admit that, with all his admirable qualities, he was
not of a temperament that could easily or patiently brook opposition to
his matured views.  The absolute impartiality and freedom from
prejudice with which, as we have seen, he approached the consideration
of any subject, literary or other, on which he had to form an opinion,
made him, perhaps not unnaturally, all the more tenacious of that
opinion when once formed.  "I know no one," remarked one of his friends
and admirers, "to whom the description of Horace, _Justum et tenacem
propositi virum_, could be applied with greater truth"; and the tribute
was a deserved one.  But he did not always find it easy to realise that
the views of those opposed to him might be as considered and as
conscientious as his own; and he was, perhaps, too apt to regard their
opposition in the light of personal hostility to himself.  "It might, I
think, have been observed," he wisely says in one of his university
addresses, with reference to Peter de Luna's disputed claim to the
Papacy, "that where so many learned and able persons were divided in
opinion, a difference of judgment from one side or the other did not
necessarily imply moral obliquity."  It is not suggested that Bute
imputed "moral obliquity" to those who differed from him either on the
Universities Commission, or afterwards in the vexed questions which he
had to encounter at St. Andrews.  But {187} that he resented their
action, and in some cases even with a certain bitterness, is clear from
many passages of his correspondence; and this feeling was in one
instance sufficiently acute to interrupt and suspend a friendship which
had lasted for nearly a quarter of a century, though it is pleasant to
add that the breach was entirely healed, and cordial relations resumed,
long before his death.

[Sidenote: 1892, Rectorial address]

Bute's election to the Lord Rectorship of St. Andrews took place on
November 24, 1892.  "I had great difficulty in accepting," he wrote to
his friend Dr. Metcalfe, "because I had already declined Glasgow[5] on
the grounds of want of unanimity and probable inability to fulfil the
duties, and only accepted St. Andrews on an assurance of unanimity, and
that the duties are almost nominal."  The latter hope was disproved by
the event; but whether light or heavy, Bute entered on the duties of
his office with his usual conscientious resolve to fulfil them all to
the utmost of his ability,[6] and for the benefit of the ancient seat
of Scottish learning which he had loved and venerated from his earliest
years.  He alluded in his inaugural address, with charming simplicity,
to these childish memories, "associated with that of the only parent
whom I ever knew, and with those of friends of hers, nearly all of whom
are now passed away":

I dimly recall the old garden of St. Leonard's and a variety of
mechanical toys working by wind and water, with which Sir Hugh Playfair
had adorned it.  I remember gazing from St. Andrews at the {188} great
comet which there was about the time of the Indian Mutiny; and when we
were living in the Principal of St. Mary's House, my kinsman, Charles
MacLean,[7] came home wounded from India and stayed with us, and with
his maimed hand gave me some elementary lessons in fortification, with
wet sand in a box.  I find in my diary, under date of July 20, 1889:
"To St. Andrews ... saw the last of the old garden of St. Mary's
College, where I used to play (and eat unripe pears) as a child: they
are going to build the library extension over it."  Well, I can only
hope that the fruits of the tree of knowledge, to the cultivation of
which that spot is now dedicated, may prove less crude and more
wholesome than the grosser dainties, to the attractions of which I
there formerly yielded.

It was an undoubted satisfaction to the new Lord Rector to be able to
nominate, as he did in the month following his own election, to the
office of his assessor his old friend and fellow-worker on the
_Scottish Review_.  He gives his reasons, with his usual clearness, in
a letter addressed to Dr. Metcalfe himself:

I have come to the conclusion to nominate you, because you are a man of
public position versed in these matters--you are (if you will allow me
to say so) on most friendly and even intimate terms with me for years
past--we are, I believe, after many conversations with you, quite at
one upon University questions--and you are almost bound to be _persona
grata_, having quite recently received the Honorary Doctorate of the
University.  Besides which, I think that an outside expert is better
adapted to see questions fairly than somebody who is necessarily inside
some local groove.


[Sidenote: 1892, St. Andrews and Dundee]

Dr. Metcalfe was duly appointed to the assessorship; and with one at
his side in whose sound judgment as well as his personal attachment to
himself he had the fullest confidence, Bute was greatly encouraged in
the assumption of his important duties with regard to the university,
in which he had already shown his practical interest by giving it, at a
time of some financial distress, very timely and welcome help.  This
help had been all the more welcome in view of the unsympathetic
attitude of successive Governments towards St. Andrews.  Mr. Arthur
Balfour had indeed during his Rectorship (1886-1889) persuaded the
administration of which he was a member to build the addition to the
library to which Bute refers in the extract from his diary quoted
above.  But, generally speaking, Tories and Liberals alike had shown
towards the premier university of Scotland the minimum of interest and
generosity.  This was the more remarkable, inasmuch as the patronage of
the principalships of the United College as well as of St. Mary's, and
also of the chairs of Church History, Biblical Criticism, and Hebrew
and Oriental Languages, was vested in the Crown.  In 1889 Parliament
had actually entrusted to the newly appointed Universities Commission
powers to abolish St. Andrews University altogether--a proposal which
found a certain measure of support in Dundee, where University College
had been founded in the same year.  The relations of this new college
to the ancient university were still indeterminate when Bute took
office in 1892; but its medical possibilities, situated as it was in
the heart of a populous and growing city, had of course become quickly
apparent to its managers.

It must be borne in mind that medical degrees had all along been
granted by St. Andrews itself after due {190} examination by the
professors of the university, who were assisted by external examiners
of high distinction.  The number of such degrees, originally unlimited,
had been afterwards reduced to ten.  At the time of Bute's coming into
office there were two main contentions as to medical teaching at St.
Andrews.  The first was that provision should be made for one _annus
medicus_ only, so that practically the whole weight of medical teaching
should be thrown on Dundee.  The second was that there should be two
complete _anni medici_ in St. Andrews; but this was at the time
impracticable, owing to the insufficiency of adequate medical teaching.
Bute saw clearly that if, as was his great desire, the science of
medicine should be worthily represented in the university, proper
provision for the teaching of that science must be made in St. Andrews
itself, and students of medicine must be encouraged to come to St.
Andrews for the completion of their medical course.  At no stage of the
long controversy between St. Andrews and Dundee did he ever seek or
propose to establish a complete medical school at St. Andrews; and he
would have been the first, with his robust common sense, to see the
absurdity of such a proposal as regarded the university city, where
there was not even a hospital, and therefore no opportunity for the
necessary clinical instruction.  Unguarded language on this subject may
have been employed by some of his supporters, but never by himself.  He
aimed only at what was practicable and desirable, and this he made it
possible to attain by instituting a lectureship (now the Bute
professorial chair) of Anatomy, by promoting the refoundation of the
Chair of Physiology,[8] and by {191} building at his own cost the new
medical school, the completion of which, though he did not live to see
it, was a source of satisfaction to him only a few weeks before his
death.  It would have been not less gratifying to him to foresee, had
that been possible, the natural result and development of his
enlightened munificence, as shown in the following figures.  The number
of students of anatomy in the Bute Medical School was, in 1914,
eighteen; in 1915-16 thirty; in 1916-17 thirty-seven; in 1917-18
fifty-four; and in 1919-20 ninety.

It would be doing Bute a great injustice to suppose that in his
attitude towards Dundee he was actuated by any feeling of hostility
towards the newly-founded college.  The very contrary was indeed the
case.  Keenly interested as he was in the higher education of the
people, especially in large centres of population, he was naturally as
favourably disposed towards University College, Dundee, as he had shown
himself to be towards University College, Cardiff.  But he could not
view with equanimity the prospect which was, as he well knew, hopefully
contemplated by some of the supporters of the new college, namely, that
of its ultimately not only absorbing the ancient university to which it
had been united within the last three years, but even possibly of
crushing it out of existence altogether.  Of this prospect he wrote on
March 12, 1893:

The object of the Dundee people is evidently to obtain entire command
of the university, which they {192} will employ by secularising St.
Mary's and translating all the Science subjects to Dundee, as well as
starting, I take it, a complete Arts curriculum there, possibly
allowing the United College to exist as a kind of outhouse.

"It has been said, and said publicly, by one of that party," he wrote
on another occasion, "'Give us two years more of the union, and we will
drag St. Andrews at our chariot wheels.'"  To Bute, with his almost
passionate veneration for the ancient university, which for centuries
had been the chief home of religion and learning in Scotland, it was
intolerable to think of St. Andrews being deposed from its pride of
place and sinking into a decaying village, a mere resort of sea-bathers
and golfers.  From this fate he was resolute, if possible, to save the
"House of the Apostle" (as he loved to call it), at whatever cost to
himself.  "For months past," he wrote a little later, "I have been
slaving for St. Andrews.  The people--or some of them--may not be worth
saving, but the place surely is.  My vital force is, it is plain to
myself, much diminished by all this anxiety and strain; but I shall
work on as long as I have strength to do so."

In the long and elaborate memorandum which he drew up in the second
year of his Rectorship, on the four possible relations in which the
University of St. Andrews and the college at Dundee might conceivably
stand to one another, Bute gives clear evidence of his genuine desire
that the cause of education and learning should flourish equally in
both institutions.  But both he and those who thought and acted with
him were perfectly convinced that this would never be so long as Dundee
continued its intrigues to become the predominant partner in {193} what
he calls the "ill-assorted union" between them; and he was equally
convinced that an absolutely essential preliminary step in this
direction was the dissolution of the Order of the University Commission
of March 21, 1890 (_dies nefastus_, as Bute calls it in one of his
notes), by which the existing union between St. Andrews and Dundee had
been brought about.  It was with this object that an action was brought
in the Court of Session in July, 1894, for the "reduction" of the union
in question, and also that a bill was introduced into the House of
Lords by the Chancellor of the university, the Duke of Argyll, whose
sympathies were entirely with Bute in the question at issue.[9]

[Sidenote: 1893, St. Andrews and Oxford]

"I have sometimes dreamt," wrote Bute in one of the most picturesque
passages of his Rectorial Address, "of the primeval headland, still
lifting skyward its crown of ancient towers, but with that crown
encircled by an aureola of affiliated colleges--a commonwealth of seats
of learning, an Oxford of the North."  It may have been with some such
vision as this before him that Bute had suggested to his assessor, some
time before drawing up the memorandum above referred to, another
solution of the difficulty:


_March_ 28, 1893.

Why should it not be suggested to Dundee, that instead of a division of
forces, difference of place, etc., etc., they should build a college
for themselves at St. Andrews, just as we hope Blairs will do, confined
to Dundee people?  I think that would meet the foundress's intention,
and it might be called Dundee College.  This would be transferring her
benefaction to St. Andrews, instead of St. Andrews being bled into such
veins as Dundee possesses.

I do not see why St. Andrews, holding a unique position, geographically
and otherwise, should not also hold a unique position in being
constituted, as Oxford and Cambridge are, of a congeries of free and
affiliated colleges.

The above mention of "Blairs" has reference to another scheme which
Bute hoped might, if carried out, fulfil the two-fold object of
strengthening the position of St. Andrews, and of raising the
educational standard--an object he had much at heart--of his
co-religionists in Scotland.  With this view he had proposed the
transference to St. Andrews, and the affiliation to the university, of
the College of Blairs, near Aberdeen, the training-school of the Scots
Catholic clergy; and had promised substantial help both towards the
acquirement of a site, and in the endowment of the new seminary.  The
success of such a scheme obviously depended to great extent, if not
entirely, on the concurrence of the ecclesiastical authorities.  They
were divided on the matter, among those opposed to the plan being the
then Metropolitan of Scotland, as well as the rector of the college;
and finally the Holy See, much to Bute's disappointment, decided
against the project.  An alternative scheme, providing for the
establishment in {195} the university city of a house of studies in
connection with the abbey of Fort Augustus, also proved impracticable.
The Benedictines were only invited to make the foundation on the
understanding that, and as long as, Bute's offer was not taken
advantage of by the secular clergy, and they did not see their way to
accept it under those conditions.

[Sidenote: 1894, Interest in the Jews]

Simultaneously with the plan just referred to, Bute likewise cherished
the hope of attracting to the university members of the Jewish body, in
which he had always been warmly interested.  He wrote as to this on
June 8, 1894:

Mr. Mocatta has given me a tract, and talked to me at length of the
religious desolation of the young Jews who are sent to Christian
schools and colleges without any provision for their own religious
instruction and practices.  I am trying to persuade him and others that
all they seek to gain would be gained, and all they deplore avoided, by
starting a Jewish college at St. Andrews.  I think the idea is dawning
on them.

Three months later he wrote to the Chief Rabbi that he was much
gratified at the prospect of young Hebrews matriculating at St.
Andrews.  "I do not pretend," he added, "to have any other motive in
the matter than zeal for the good of the university; but I sincerely
think that the benefits would be reciprocal."[10]  Bute was not a
little incensed at this time by what he called a "most unseemly" letter
written to the newspapers by one of the professors, who said that he
would much prefer that a group of Jewish students should have "a
comfortable {196} berth in Abraham's bosom" than that they should come
to St. Andrews.  A question subsequently arose as to the unsuitability
of a certain Saturday--which was not only, of course, the Hebrew
Sabbath, but chanced to be also their solemn Day of Atonement--for the
entrance examination of Jewish candidates.  The Principal suggested, as
an alternative, holding an examination on the following Sunday--a
proposal that drew from Bute a characteristic protest, in which he
gives interesting proof of his sympathy with Hebrew religious ideals:

The Day of Atonement is, as the Chief Rabbi feelingly wrote me, the
most solemn day in all their year....  Anything more defiantly
contemptuous of their race and religion than the original selection of
that particular day for the examination can hardly be conceived, nor
any device better calculated to raise contempt for St. Andrews in the
whole Jewish world.  I fear it can hardly have been inadvertent....
The amended proposal, of holding the examination on the Sunday, seems
to me hardly less objectionable.  I had suggested Thursday, in order
that the young men's minds might be as free as possible on their
solemnity.  On the Principal's plan, they would have to reach St.
Andrews--a place utterly strange to them--on Friday evening and there
pass the Day of Atonement alone, presumably in an inn.  When night set
in on Saturday, they would have been 26 hours without so much as a
crumb or a drop of water--unwashed, barefooted, and probably dressed in
grave-clothes--their minds having been fixed as far as possible on Sin,
Death, and Eternity--and worn out by hours of recitation of Hebrew
prayers.  Would they be likely in this state to do themselves justice
in an examination held a few hours later?


[Sidenote: 1893, Bute's disinterestedness]

It seems unnecessary, after a lapse of a quarter of a century, to enter
into further details of the regrettable controversy between St. Andrews
and Dundee, which persisted throughout Bute's term of office in the
university, but of which all, or nearly all, the protagonists have now
passed over

  "To where, beyond these voices, there is peace."

There is no doubt but that the part taken by Bute in the affair was
much misinterpreted in many quarters; and he in turn may have to some
extent misunderstood, and unconsciously misjudged, the actions and
motives of his opponents.  Enough, however, has perhaps been said to
show, what no impartial person can question, that he was throughout
animated by a single-hearted desire to act for the best, and to promote
by every means in his power the highest interest of the university
which he loved so well.  That this was the view of those whose
suffrages had placed him in office, and with whom he had never ceased
to maintain the most cordial relations, namely, the students of the
university, was shown by the substantial majority by which, as will be
seen, they voted for his re-election to the Rectorship.

[1] It is to be feared, from their use of this particularly
objectionable word, that the then Glasgow Corporation did not combine a
literary sense with their other (doubtless) admirable qualities.

[2] Bute's speech on this occasion, delivered in reply to two addresses
presented to him, was in Latin.  Some of those present were rather
disconcerted by this classical outburst, for which they were not in the
least prepared.

[3] Bute's far-reaching charities were regulated, like everything else
in his busy life, by strictly business-like methods.  Every appeal for
help which reached him was carefully sifted and inquired into through
the almoner to whom, from the time of his coming of age, he entrusted
the investigation of all such cases before dealing with them himself.

[4] The marble altar in the church was given by him.  An inscription on
it, inconspicuous yet visible to every priest who celebrates there,
asks for prayers for Bute himself and for his wife.

[5] This was on a subsequent occasion to the election of 1883, referred
to on a previous page.

[6] "I pray God bless my Rectorship of St. Andrews," he wrote in his
diary on the last day of this year.

[7] It was to this same kinsman that Bute, then in his thirteenth year,
had addressed the remarkable letter quoted on p. 6.

[8] A condition attached by Bute to his foundation of the Chair of
Anatomy was that a new Chair of Physiology should be constituted from
the former Chair of Medicine, which a majority of the University
Commissioners had wished to transfer to History.

[9] The Court of Session refused to grant the "reduction" of the union;
and the House of Lords, after some further litigation, finally decided,
on July 27, 1896, that Dundee College was not merely affiliated to, but
actually incorporated in, the University of St. Andrews, and that the
union between them was valid, permanent, and irreversible.  In
November, 1900, a month after Bute's death, the same tribunal dismissed
an action raised by certain members of St. Andrews University, craving
the reduction of all the documents constituting the Union.  Since the
last-named date the union has remained as constituted in 1890, except
that University College, Dundee, is no longer represented by two
members in the University Court.

[10] In the same letter Bute expresses his willingness to give a site
for the new synagogue to be erected at Cardiff.  He did, as a matter of
fact, a little later grant a ninety-nine years' lease, on very
favourable terms, of an excellent site for the Jewish place of worship.





Although Bute (who was not given to exaggeration) found occasion to
write at the end of 1894, in his usual brief summary of the events of
the past twelve-month, "The whole year has been spent in the struggle
for the University of St. Andrews," he nevertheless found time, with
the ordered industry which was one of his marked characteristics, not
only for the numerous other duties incumbent on him, but also for the
social amenities which the _début_ of his only daughter had brought
into his retired life.  His note on the Caledonian ball in London,
which he attended this year, is amusing, if not altogether appreciative:

The ball was doubtless a great success as regarded the charity which
benefited by it; but it was mismanaged, crowded, and hot beyond
expression, and the dancing was a mere rough-and-tumble (as seems to be
the way now), with neither science, grace, nor even an elementary idea
of time.  The poetry of motion seems to be asleep.

A dinner given to Lord Rosebery[1] by his old {199} contemporaries at
Christ Church, which Bute attended, must have evoked curious memories
of long-past days.

R's cynical witticisms (when the doors were shut) on the state of
politics were quite startling: we were all his political opponents
except one.  The well-remembered names and changed faces were rather

Bute has a note on the famous Ardlamont murder trial, which was
arousing general interest in the early days of 1894:

Lord Kingsburgh said that ten of the jury were determined to hang
Monson, and _he_ was determined they should not, as he did not consider
the evidence legally conclusive.  Nobody doubts M.'s guilt morally.[2]

[Sidenote: 1894, Maiden speech in Parliament]

On June 4 Bute made his maiden speech in Parliament (it was his last as
well as his first,) in reference to certain petitions he had occasion
to present on the affairs of St. Andrews University.  He wrote of this
to Dr. Metcalfe:

I had a conversation with Lord Salisbury on Saturday, and consequently
made my maiden speech in the House of Lords to-day.  There were only
two {200} or three Peers present, but I was so nervous that I don't
know what I said.  However, Lord Windsor told me that I had been
perfectly smooth and lucid, so I suppose I repeated mechanically the
few sentences I had prepared.

A sequel, and to himself a very interesting one, to Bute's new and
intimate connection with St. Andrews was his acquisition of the site of
the ancient priory of canons-regular adjoining the ruined cathedral.
Part of this was occupied by a modern villa, around and under which
Bute carried out a series of exploratory excavations which must have
been somewhat disconcerting to the occupants of the house.  The
discoveries consequent on these digging operations (_Scoticè_
"howkings"), including that of a hitherto unknown vaulted chamber
beneath the old refectory, were a very welcome diversion from the
harassing duties of the Lord Rectorship.  Bute always undertook and
pursued such researches with the acutest zest and interest.  "I think,"
a friend wrote of him with kindly humour, "some of the happiest hours
of his life were spent standing by, wrapped in his long cloak and
smoking innumerable cigarettes, while a band of workmen, directed by
one of his many architects, dug out the foundations of a mediæval
lady-chapel, or broke through a nineteenth-century wall in search of a
thirteenth-century doorway."

How seriously Bute took his unremitting efforts "to save St. Andrews,"
as his own expression was, is shown in a characteristic passage of one
of his letters describing a recent discovery among the priory remains:

A head of Christ in stone, seemingly life-size, has just been found
under the earth at the Priory.  {201} I would I could take this as an
intimation of His favour towards the [Greek: _témenos_] of His [Greek:
_prôtóklêtos_].[3]  I have written for much prayer at the grave of the
Apostle, primarily thanksgiving for the graces bestowed upon him in
time and eternity.

Bute had of course visited more than once the tomb of St. Andrew at
Amain, of which he speaks in the striking peroration, already quoted,
of his Rectorial address.  At his request the Archbishop of Amalfi sent
him a large number of photographs, including some of the tomb, and one,
specially taken, of the skull of the Apostle, which Bute, who attached
much importance to craniological evidence, greatly valued.

[Sidenote: 1894, Winter sports in Scotland]

The winter of 1894-1895 was an unusually severe one, even in the mild
and sheltered Isle of Bute; and Bute, always complacent towards the
frolics of the younger generation, speaks of curling, sleighing, and
tobogganing as the order of the day, and of the "extraordinary descent
of a snow-covered slope by Mr. S---- (a distinguished architect at that
time a guest at Dumfries House) upon, or rather with, a tea-tray."  He
writes further, in this connection, of his schoolboy sons:

J---- and N---- seem both devoted to curling; and this fact, and the
way in which it associates them with the people, delights me.[4]


The latter reference is interesting, and even pathetic, recalling as it
does the pleasure Bute himself had always taken from his boyhood,
notwithstanding his natural shyness, in associating on kindly terms,
whether at weddings or less formal social gatherings, whenever
opportunity offered, with his humbler neighbours in Buteshire and
elsewhere.  It was this characteristic, combined with his singular
courtesy and unpretentiousness of manner, which won the affection as
well as the respect of the reserved and undemonstrative people among
whom, for the most part, his life was spent.[5]

[Illustration: _The Marquess of Bute, Lord Rector of St. Andrews
University, 1892-1897_]

A letter written in March, 1895, just after the death of Professor
Blackie, gives a thumbnail sketch of that eccentric scholar, who was as
unconventional in dress as in everything else:

The last time I met him (by invitation) he was dressed in a long velvet
gown bound with a bright cherry-coloured sash, and a big _sombrero_
hat.  There was a middle-aged lady present, to whom he introduced me,
and whom he insisted on my _kissing_.  I think we kissed to please him.
His accent (pronunciation) was so vile in Greek, and I believe in
Gaelic, as almost to argue a physical defect of ear.

In this same spring Bute visited Sanquhar, where {203} he had lately
bought back the ancient Crichton Peel tower, which the first Earl of
Dumfries had sold to the Buccleuch family in 1639.  "The Duke," he
notes, "had allowed the tower to fall almost completely down.  I bought
some mugs here--'Presents from Sanquhar'--for the children, and found
on investigation that they were made in Germany!"

An interesting little bit of Fife folk-lore is noted on April 6:

I found the children of Falkland rolling Easter eggs downhill, calling
the day "Pace (Pasch) Saturday."  It was a week too soon, according to
the Kalendar; but one little girl said that Pace Saturday was always
the first Saturday in April.

[Sidenote: 1895, Lord Acton]

Bute received this summer a letter, which pleased him much, from the
eminent historian Lord Acton, a recently "capped" doctor of St. Andrews
University, to whom Bute had presented a hood made in the mediæval

The Athenæum,
  _July_ 5, 1895.


I have just received the historic and venerable hood you are so very
kind as to bestow on me.  It has a very real value to me as coming from
you, personally as well as from your sovereign position in the
university to which I am proud to belong; and I beg to thank you for it
as heartily and sincerely as it is possible to acknowledge an act of

If I was not one of your own recommendation,[7] {204} I shall deem
henceforward that you have adopted me, just as if you had named me for
the distinguished honour I have received.

Believe me, most sincerely and gratefully yours,


Towards the close of his three years' Rectorship, Bute showed his
interest in the city, as well as the university, of St. Andrews, by
presenting to it a handsome chain of office for the use of the
provosts.  A member of the council, who had himself passed the civic
chair, wrote thus to him in reference to this gift:

_February_ 3, 1893.

I need not say what our appreciation is of your most handsome act.  In
an informal conversation held yesterday by the Provost, Dr. Anderson
and myself, it was agreed that while it was in the power of any wealthy
man to perform the mere act, yet there was only one nobleman in the
three kingdoms who could perform it in the delicate and gracious way in
which it will now come before the Town Council.

In the early autumn of 1895 Bute was able, in the course of a cruise in
his yacht _Christine_, to revisit the Orkneys, and to set foot again in
Kirkwall, Egilsay, and other spots sacred in his eyes to the memory of
St. Magnus, as he had done when a youth of twenty, nearly thirty years
previously.  "These islands," he notes, "are far more picturesque than
I remember them before, and I am much struck by the number, industry,
and wealth of their inhabitants."

[Sidenote: 1895, Bute opposed by Lord Peel]

A cause of special satisfaction to Bute, and that for more than one
reason, was his re-election, at the end {205} of November, 1895, to the
Lord Rectorship of St. Andrews University.  Viscount Peel had been
nominated for the office by the party opposed to Bute's policy, and the
Master of Balliol had sent to the students a printed testimonial to
Lord Peel's qualifications, and an urgent appeal to them to support his
candidature.  "This," wrote a member of the professorial staff to Bute,
"is quite a new departure in Rectorial elections, and its legality is,
I should say, as questionable as its taste."  He adds in the same

We had a very large and influential meeting [in London] last evening of
the St. Andrews Graduates' Association.  The President, Sir Benjamin
Ward Richardson, made a very strong speech in your favour.  It was
followed by what was virtually an ovation, so enthusiastic was the
whole assemblage.

A letter to the press, shortly before the election, stated that the
writer could not understand how any man of honour and intelligence,
_knowing all the facts_, could possibly stand in opposition to Bute.
His comment on this letter was as follows:

I cannot for a single moment believe that Lord Peel knows the facts, or
that he in the least realises the fearfully burdensome nature of the
duties.  His only alternative, if elected, would be either to take that
yoke upon him, or to neglect the duty of doing so.  The writers of some
things that have appeared in the papers seem to be under the impression
that the Lord Rector's sole duty is to deliver a literary address!

I enclose a letter received a few months ago: you may show it to any
one you please.  It may be good for some people at this juncture to
know what the great Presbyterian Duke thinks.


The last sentence, of course, refers to the Duke of Argyll, Chancellor
of St. Andrews University since 1851, whose eminent abilities and
distinguished personal character placed him at that time in the very
forefront of the Scottish nobility.  The Duke had written:

  _March_ 7, 1895.

I wish I could accept your invitation, but in my present state of
health, barely recovered from a sharp attack of this insidious
epidemic, it is impossible.  You have always made Falkland very
pleasant to me, and I enjoy seeing the great public spirit with which
you discharge all your duties.  I hope I need not assure you of the
indignation with which I have seen the attempt to arouse a sectarian
spirit against you,[8] whose whole course of conduct has been so
signally liberal, in the best sense of that much-abused word.

On learning the result of the election, in which Bute defeated his
opponent by a majority of forty votes, the Duke at once wrote:

  _November_ 28, 1895.

The telegram this afternoon was very acceptable.  I am glad that the
University has not disgraced itself by electing _any one_ else than you
at this juncture.  As to Lord Peel himself, I suspect that he now feels
very much relieved.

No one of the many congratulatory letters received by Bute on his
re-election gave him more {207} sincere pleasure than the following,
written by a member of the students' committee:

The 120 who won the election were the resident students of the
university--those who, without distinction of sect or political
partisanship, were most touched with the spirit and traditions of the
place.  We feel sure that you look on this circumstance as having a
value far above the mere figures of the majority.

[Sidenote: 1896, A scheme that failed]

It was during his second term of office that Bute conceived the
project--which would probably have occurred to no one but himself--of
restoring the vast ruined Cathedral of St. Andrews, or a portion of it,
for the purposes of a university church.  The plan might, he thought,
be realised if every member of the Scottish peerage could be induced to
subscribe a thousand pounds towards it.  But there were at least three
reasons which militated against the success of the proposal.  In the
first place, the pedigrees of the peers of Scotland were in most cases
a great deal longer than their purses; in the second, few of them were
probably much interested in university education in general, or in St.
Andrews in particular; in the third, the majority of them were members
of the Episcopalian body, not of the Established Church, to which the
university church would as a matter of course be aggregated.  It is
curious that the only promise of substantial support received by the
Catholic Rector towards a scheme which must, it is to be feared, be
pronounced fantastic, came from a wealthy nobleman who was not a member
of either the Episcopalian or the Established Church, but a devoted and
almost fanatical Free Churchman.


Bute's academic labours and anxieties were diversified at this time by
the preparation of a book in which he took great interest, on the
subject of the "Arms of the Royal and Parliamentary Burghs of
Scotland."  The study of heraldry had always had an attraction for him,
although he was perhaps, in practice, sometimes more inclined to follow
his own fancy than the rigid rules of that most exact of sciences.  "I
call Bute a sentimental rather than a scientific herald," a friend much
interested in the subject once said of him; and perhaps the criticism
was a just one.  In any case, his curious and out-of-the-way erudition
found its scope in the production of this volume, which he published in
collaboration with Mr. S. R. N. Macphail and Mr. H. W. Lonsdale in
1897.  A copy with plates specially coloured under Bute's supervision,
and handsomely bound, was presented by the Town Council of Rothesay to
Queen Victoria, who accepted it very graciously.[9]

An acquisition which Bute was able to make at the beginning of 1896,
and which gave him great satisfaction, appealing as it did to his
intense veneration for the religious monuments of the past, was that of
the ancient friary and chapel of the Greyfriars in Elgin.  He restored
the chapel in its original Franciscan simplicity, and made it over for
the use of the Sisters of Mercy, already established in Elgin.  The
ancient stone tabernacle or sacrament-house, detached from the altar,
was still preserved in the chapel; and a long letter from the Bishop of
Aberdeen (then in Rome), among Bute's papers, shows that the {209}
latter was engaged in the difficult task of trying to induce the Sacred
Congregation of Rites to derogate from modern rules and practice, and
to allow this interesting relic of the past to be again used for the
purpose for which it had been originally intended.[10]  Writing to the
Provost of Elgin, in acknowledgment of a presentation made to him by
the contractors and clerk of works employed at Greyfriars, Bute said
with his usual felicity of expression:

My purchase was one on which I must congratulate myself, not only
because in interest it has exceeded my expectation, but because it has
enabled me to be of some service to Elgin by preserving an historical
monument of considerable value to the town and district.

[Sidenote: 1896, Elected Provost of Rothesay]

Bute had several years before this been solicited to allow himself to
be nominated to the provostship of the Royal Burgh of Rothesay.  He had
not seen his way at that time to accept the offer, but when it was
renewed in the autumn of 1896, he signified his willingness to
undertake the office, and he was unanimously elected on November 6,
1896.  It was a source of legitimate pride to him to be called to the
chief magistracy of the ancient burgh with which his family had been
associated for five hundred years, and in which five of his lineal
ancestors had held the office of provost.[11]  He applied himself to
the duties {210} of the position with his habitual assiduity and care,
not infrequently travelling long distances to attend the meetings of
the corporation, and presiding at them with a combined dignity and
aptitude for business which favourably impressed all with whom he was
brought into contact.  He only once took the chair in the police-court,
sensibly leaving that department, as he had done at Cardiff, to the
charge of those better versed in police administration than himself;
nor, as it happened, was he qualified to preside at licensing-courts,
owing to the fact that he was himself a licence-holder for the sale of
the produce of his Cardiff vineyards.

No extensive schemes were carried out in Rothesay during Bute's tenure
of the provostship; but it is of interest to note that whereas the
harbour had been greatly improved, and gas first introduced into the
town, during the time (1829-1839) that his father was provost, he
himself, during his term of office, made a large extension of the pier,
and introduced the electric light.  He also interested himself in the
sanitary improvement of the burgh, and entertained the members of the
Sanitary Congress, which met at Rothesay in 1898, at a garden party at
Mountstuart.  Following his own precedent at Cardiff, St. Andrews, and
Falkland, he presented to the corporation a beautiful chain of office
for the use of the provosts.

The occurrence of Queen Victoria's diamond jubilee during Bute's
provostship gave occasion for his further munificence; and in
commemoration of the event he placed in the council-chambers a series
of heraldic stained-glass windows.  To each of the Town Councillors he
presented a replica of the medal which he and the other provosts of
Scottish burghs received at a special audience given to them by the
{211} Queen.  Bute gave pleasure to the councillors by reminding them
that the Scriptural quotation on the obverse of the medal--"Longitudo
dierum in dextera ejus, et in sinistra gloria"[12]--would probably be
more familiar to them all in the rendering of the Scottish Paraphrase:

  In her right hand she holds to view
    A length of happy days:
  Riches with splendid honours joined
    Are what her left displays.

Bute himself drafted the jubilee address from the corporation to her
Majesty, and had it engrossed in facsimile after the original charter
to the burgh of the year 1400 A.D., preserved in the British Museum.
Sealed with the ancient seal of the burgh, and enclosed in a box made
of the old oak beams of the drawbridge of Rothesay Castle, lined with
cloth of gold, the address was, at Bute's instance, presented to the
Queen by H.R.H. the Duke of Rothesay (Prince of Wales).  It was one of
the very few addresses on exhibition in London, where it aroused
considerable attention and admiration.

An anniversary of more personal interest to Bute in the spring of 1897
was his own "silver wedding day."  The event was celebrated with quiet
happiness in the family circle, and, later in the year, by a great
reception in the Exhibition-building at Cardiff, at which some three
thousand guests were entertained.  Bute, who received a congratulatory
{212} address on the occasion, enclosed in a silver casket, from his
Town Council at Rothesay, gave public and permanent expression to his
thankfulness for twenty-five years of happy married life, by
instituting both there and at Cardiff, what came to be known as the
"Bute Dowry."  This was the provision of an annual sum to be handed, on
the recommendation of the municipal authorities, to some girl or girls
of the poorer classes, to enable her to get married.  The religious
spirit in which Bute founded this benefaction is seen from a letter he
addressed to the minister of Rothesay, announcing his intention of
attending on the first occasion of the dowry being awarded:

  _December_ 23, 1897.

I will put on the chain, but not, I think, the gown, as I will leave
the religious ceremony entirely to you; and I think it would be better
if _you_ read John ii. 1-11 (as well as the passage from Ephesians).
The only reason why I stipulated for the reading of John ii. 1-11 as a
part of the ceremony, was to impress the idea that that marriage is
truly blessed to which Jesus is called by humble prayer, and at which
nothing takes place but the natural and harmless gaiety which is
consonant with His sacred presence and approval.  It does not matter at
all who reads it.

[Sidenote: 1899, Failing health]

The success of Bute's three years' tenure of the office of provost was
proved by the unanimity with which the council, at its conclusion,
expressed its wish that he would accept re-election for another term.
This would have included the fifth centenary of the erection of the
royal burgh, which it was proposed to celebrate in 1900; and Bute,
notwithstanding his rapidly failing powers (of which no one {213} was
more conscious than himself), consented to be nominated for a second
term on certain conditions, one of which was that he should be
permitted to resign the office immediately after the centenary.  In his
letter thanking the council for their invitation he thus alluded to his
state of health:

I spoke of this, when I first entered on the provostship, by saying
that I realised that circumstances might arise in which I should feel
myself unable any longer to be of service to the burgh, and should
consequently be obliged to resign; but that in any case nothing could
reverse the past or delete the fact of the honour of the office having
once been conferred upon me.  Should the council re-elect me, I can
only say the same thing again....  I take this opportunity of thanking
each and all of the Members of Council for the honour they have paid me
now for the second time, as well as for all the kindness which I have
always received at their hands.

While fulfilling his municipal duties at Rothesay to the satisfaction
of every one concerned, Bute had continued, to the best of his ability,
and with undiminished interest, to discharge his functions as Lord
Rector of St. Andrews.  He was still able to carry out, though not
without fatigue and strain, what he called the "routine work" of his
office; but he was no longer physically able to take the strenuous part
he had formerly done in the government of the university, and the
defence of her interests at the University Court and elsewhere.  Early
in 1897 he had heard with some dismay of the urgent desire of the
students (who were doubtless very imperfectly acquainted with the
condition of his health) that he should deliver a second Rectorial
address, on the occasion of his re-election.  To this {214} effort he
felt absolutely unequal, and he wrote as follows to his assessor:

_Jan._ 19, 1897.

You must do what you can to prevent the students insisting on another
address.  They cannot know what they are asking.  I can get through my
ordinary business, but cannot attempt the impossible, such as a
Rectorial address.  If I did, my failure would be as annoying to them
as it would be painful to myself.  Please try to make them understand

I do not complain.  "The night cometh when no man can work," sooner or
later.  It has come to me through overwork and anxiety as Rector, and
it is perhaps better that way than many others.  But I am sure that
those on whose behalf I have incurred it would not try to goad me into
a fiasco which could only be distressing to all concerned.

Bute probably knew well that this pathetic appeal to the good sense and
good feeling of the St. Andrews students would not be made in vain.
Between them and himself the feeling had never been otherwise than
kindly and cordial, with no trace of the misunderstandings or
bitterness which had sometimes clouded his relations with other
sections of the university.  They respected him as a great Scottish
noble: they admired his zeal for, and jealousy of, the honour and
reputation of their Alma Mater: they were proud of his position in the
world of letters, of his deserved distinction as a munificent and
discriminating patron of learning, science, and art.  Most of all, they
were grateful to him for his continual and unfailing kindness towards
themselves--kindness which he had proved not only by the generosity of
his public gifts, but by acts of private beneficence of which the
outside world knew nothing, and which he himself would have been the
last to wish made public.

[1] Lord Rosebery's brief tenure of the Premiership (1894-95) had just
commenced at the date of this entertainment.  He had been Foreign
Secretary during the two previous years.

[2] The verdict was the unsatisfactory one of "Not
Proven"--unsatisfactory, that is, to the public, although doubtless
preferable from the prisoner's point of view to one of "Guilty."  The
present writer, who chanced to hear the concluding part of the case,
well remembers the surprise caused, both within and without the court,
by the judge's strong summing up in the prisoner's favour.  A legal
kinsman of the writer told him subsequently what he had never before
heard--that a Scottish judge, unlike an English one, considered it his
duty not merely to sum up the evidence impartially, but also to direct
the jury how to regard it from the point of view of a trained mind.

[3] Bute felicitously applies to St. Andrews, seat of the first-called
([Greek: _prôtóklêtos_]) of the Apostles, the word [Greek:
_témenos_]--land "cut off" and assigned or dedicated to divine or
sacred purposes.  Syracuse was of old the [Greek: _témenos_] of Ares
(Mars), as the Acropolis at Athens was that of Pallas Athene.

[4] Bute himself was a keen curler, thoroughly enjoying a spell at the
"roaring game" with his country neighbours.  A family tradition records
how, night falling before the end of a hotly-contested march on The
Moss, above Mountstuart, Bute sent for footmen to bear lighted candles
round the rink, so that the game might be concluded that evening.

[5] See _ante_, p. 96.  The popular appreciation of such kindly
intercourse could hardly be shown more neatly, and at the same time
more humorously, than it was on the occasion of a garden party given at
Mountstuart, some years later, in celebration of the majority of Bute's
eldest son and successor.  Sir Charles Dalrymple, who was present,
remarked on the success of the fête to one of the guests, a Buteshire
farmer.  "Ou ay," was the reply, "it was just grand a'thegither; and
the young Mairquis--did ye obsairve, Sir Charles?--he was _mixing

[6] It is probable that the hood given to Lord Acton was a facsimile of
that worn by Bute himself with his academic robes.  This was copied by
the university robe-maker (but in richer material and colours) from the
ancient form of hood as worn by a Scots Benedictine monk who
occasionally acted as his chaplain.

[7] University College, Dundee, had the right of presenting certain
candidates for the Honorary Doctorate of St. Andrews University; and
Lord Acton was one of those so nominated.

[8] The allusion is to an unworthy effort which had been made in
certain quarters to stir up an _odium theologicum_ against Bute, in
connection with the proposed transference of Blairs College to St.

[9] A supplementary volume, "The Arms of the Baronial and Police Burghs
of Scotland," in which Messrs Stevenson and Lonsdale collaborated, was
published in 1903.

[10] An attempt had been made in Belgium, at the time of the Gothic
revival, to restore the ancient use of detached Sacrament-houses, but
it had been very decidedly negatived by the Roman authorities.  In 1863
the Sacred Congregation of Rites definitely prohibited the placing of
the tabernacle elsewhere than in the middle of the altar.

[11] Portraits of four of these--the second and fourth Earls, John
Viscount Mountstuart, and the second Marquess, were presented by Bute
to the Town Council of Rothesay.

[12] "Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches
and glory."--Prov. iii. 16.  Bute's Presbyterian friends and neighbours
knew and respected his familiarity with, and veneration for, the
Scriptures.  "He was a Bible-loving man, and very religious-minded,"
one of them said of him: "I have heard that he always opened the
meetings [of the Town Council] with a prayer he wrote himself."  See as
to this, Appendix IV.





The latest addition made by Bute to his large landed possessions in
Scotland was one which on several accounts was the source of much
interest to him during the last years of his life.  Just as the chief
attraction of Falkland, which he purchased in 1887, had been the fact
that it included the ancient royal palace and its hereditary
Keepership, so the principal inducement to him to acquire, as he did in
1897 from the Earl of Fife, the Morayshire estate of Pluscarden, was
that he thereby came into possession also of one of the most beautiful
and interesting ecclesiastical relics in Scotland.[1]  This was the
roofless church, as well as considerable remains of the domestic
buildings, of Pluscarden Priory, founded by King Alexander III. seven
centuries before for monks of the little-known Order of the
Cabbage-valley.[2]  In {216} the middle of the fifteenth century
Pluscarden had passed into Benedictine possession; and connected with
this change of ownership were several architectural problems of the
kind which it always interested Bute to attempt to solve.  He had a
dislike of the word "restoration," as applied to ancient edifices which
were, and still are, so often spoiled in the process; but he expended
much time and care, and not inconsiderable sums of money, in putting
the different portions of the venerable buildings--choir,
chapter-house, dormitory, and calefactory--into such repair as was
possible.  He was deeply moved and gratified at being able to arrange,
in the summer of 1898, for the celebration of Mass (the first for fully
three hundred years) by a Scottish Benedictine monk, in the
perfectly-preserved oratory of the prior's lodgings.

[Illustration: PLUSCARDEN PRIORY.]

It was characteristic of Bute's scrupulous regard for tradition and
order, that before taking possession of Pluscarden he applied to Rome,
through the Bishop of Aberdeen, for a _sanatio_, in other words, a
sanction of his acquisition of the property of the Church, and asked if
he should, as a preliminary step, give the refusal of the buildings to
the Benedictines of Fort Augustus.  A reply was received in September,
1897, from Cardinal Ledochowski, Prefect of the Congregation of
Propaganda, to the effect that such an offer was not necessary, and
that the great benefactions already made by Lord Bute to the Catholic
Church were to be considered as ample compensation.


[Sidenote: Building achievements]

Pluscarden Priory was the last, and to himself not the least
interesting, of the many ancient and historic buildings to the
maintenance of which Bute was in a position to apply his profound
archæological knowledge as well as the architectural skill and taste
which made him, as it was expressed by one well qualified to pronounce
an opinion, "the best unprofessional architect of his generation."  It
will be appropriate in this place to give a brief _conspectus_ of the
principal building operations which he undertook in the course of the
thirty-two years between his coming of age and his too early death.

The restoration and partial rebuilding of Cardiff Castle was the
earliest work of the kind undertaken by Bute.  The lofty tower
conspicuous on the southwest of the castle enclosure, the restoration
of the great southern curtain wall, with its covered way, and the
erection of the noble staircase were among the most important of his
building operations at Cardiff, which included also the discovery and
partial restoration of the old Roman walls and gateway, the
re-excavation of the moat, and the clearing and re-marking the sites of
the mediæval friaries of the Dominicans and Franciscans.  Most of the
work at Cardiff was carried out under the direction of the
distinguished architect William Burges, who was responsible for the
whole of the fanciful and elaborate interior decoration both of the
castle and of Castell Coch, the thirteenth-century fortress some five
miles north of Cardiff.  This castle, which was in a completely ruined
condition, was restored by Bute, under Burges's direction, to its
original state; and experts in such works have pronounced it one of the
most perfect restorations ever carried out.

Two anecdotes of Burges, whose personality and {218} genius were both
somewhat of the eccentric order, may be here related on the authority
of a distinguished and venerable member of his own profession, who knew
him well.  Bute invited him to come and see his new house at
Mountstuart, then nearly complete, and took him into the great
drawing-room, where he called his attention to the ceiling with its
lining of panelled mirrors, on which were painted clusters of grapes
and vine-leaves.  Burges looked up, shrugged his shoulders, muttered "I
call that damnable," and walked on.

Burges was accustomed to keep with him in his office a favourite
terrier, which made itself occasionally disagreeable to visitors who
called.  When it was pointed out that the effect of this might be to
keep away possible clients, Burges only grumbled out, "A good thing
too!  I have far too many as it is."  Once a sporting friend came in to
see him, bringing his own terrier, which he boasted was the best ratter
in the country.  Burges would not hear of this, and the matter was at
once put to the test.  The office-boy was sent out to some neighbouring
purlieu for a sack of rats: a rat-pit was extemporised out of
drawing-boards, architectural folios, and other paraphernalia of the
office; and an elderly and distinguished client who chanced to call,
intent on business, found the rat-hunt in full cry, and the eminent
architect and his friend in their shirt-sleeves, hallooing on their
respective champions to the slaughter.

[Sidenote: Restorations in Bute]

Bute contributed handsomely to the restoration funds of such historic
edifices as St. John's Church at Cardiff and others on his Glamorgan
estate; and he re-roofed and put in complete repair the small
twelfth-century church of Cogan, near Cardiff, which {219} had fallen
into decay.  It may be of interest, in this connection, to quote a
letter which he addressed to his brother-in-law and fellow-Catholic,
Lord Merries, who had consulted him as to the propriety of his
subscribing to the restoration fund of Selby Abbey, which had been in
great part destroyed by fire:

The question is one of some delicacy; but its solution is facilitated
by the circular which you have sent me, which specifies various objects
for which subscriptions are invited.  I can only advise you in
accordance with my own practice in such matters.  You may reasonably
decline to provide such adjuncts or accessories to Anglican worship as
pulpits and litany-desks, service-books and altar-cloths, lecterns and
candlesticks.  But to give a donation towards the actual rebuilding of
a most venerable monument of Christian piety (which your ancestors
probably helped originally to erect) is a thing which, I conceive, you
may very properly do--and all the more so in view of your official
connection with the county.[3]

Bute's native and titular island, which within its comparatively small
area contains perhaps as many interesting remains of feudal and
ecclesiastical antiquity as any district in the kingdom, afforded him,
of course, many opportunities of applying his archæological and
architectural knowledge to the congenial task of repairing and
preserving these venerable fragments of the past.  Prominent among them
is the ruined eleventh-century castle in the middle of Rothesay, of
which Bute was hereditary keeper, and of which he restored the gateway,
drawbridge, and moat, clearing away the mean modern {220} tenements
abutting on the castle, and also re-building and re-roofing the great
hall.  The ruined church of St. Blane, also of the eleventh century,
was likewise partially restored by Bute four years before his death,
when a large number of interesting objects were discovered among the
foundations of the early Celtic buildings.[4]  Bute also restored the
ancient castle of Wester Kames, and rebuilt the wall round the
venerable chapel of St. Michael in North Bute, to preserve it from
further depredations.

The greatest architectural enterprise undertaken by Bute in his native
island, or, indeed, anywhere else, was the erection, from the designs
of Mr. (afterwards Sir Robert) Rowand Anderson, of the palatial house
of Mountstuart, which replaced the plain old mansion burned down in
1877.  This great pile of pink sandstone, with its curious upper storey
of brick and oak, vast marble hall and staircase, high-pitched roofs,
corbelled oriel windows, and beautiful private chapel with vaulted
crypt, was begun in 1879, and at Bute's death twenty-one years later
was still unfinished.  His characteristic slowness in completing any
architectural work which absorbed him is treated of, with much else of
interest in the same connection, by Sir R. Rowand Anderson in his
valuable appreciation of Bute in his relation to architecture and

[Sidenote: Work at Falkland Palace]

Bute's acquisition in 1887 of the estate of Falkland, carrying with it
the hereditary keepership of the ancient royal palace, gave him even
more scope {221} than Mountstuart for indulging what some one once
designated his "passion for stone and lime," or, as the phrase would
run in England, for bricks and mortar.  Falkland appealed to him not
only as an architect, but as an antiquarian.  The varied beauty of its
sadly-dilapidated buildings, and the long and romantic story of the
palace and its occupants, were to him of equally absorbing interest.
He spared neither time nor money in his work of restoring the historic
pile to something of its ancient grandeur; and it was said that for a
number of years he devoted the whole available income of the estate to
his building operations at the palace.  The corridors and floors were
laid with oak and teak; many of the rooms were elaborately panelled in
oak, and their ceilings emblazoned with heraldic and other devices;
while in the Chapel Royal, the royal pew and ancient pulpit, and the
magnificent oaken screen, were completely and carefully restored.[6]
Besides the costly interior work, mostly in the main or southern block,
Bute executed much judicious excavation in and about the palace; and it
was a great satisfaction to him to discover in the garden the
foundations of the great twelfth-century round tower, dating from the
time when Falkland was in the possession of the Earls of Fife.  Another
interesting work was the restoration of the old royal tennis-court,
which Bute was accustomed to say had been, he believed, last used for
play in the reign of James V., the father of Mary Queen of Scots.


Mention has already been made of Bute's purchase of the site and
remains of the Augustinian priory of St. Andrews, where he did a great
deal of careful excavation and made many valuable discoveries.  At
Elgin, too, as has been seen, he was able to acquire the interesting
old monastery and church of the Greyfriars; and it was a particular
happiness to him, as it has been also to his youngest son, who
inherited his property in the county of Elgin, that this unpretending
sanctuary--now a convent of Sisters of Mercy--should have been once
again, after more than three centuries, made available for the
religious worship to which it was originally dedicated.

[Sidenote: 1899, Catholicity of taste]

It is unnecessary, even were it possible, to give anything like a
_catalogue raisonné_ of Bute's less important architectural
achievements.  For more than thirty years, in the graphic phrase cited
by one of the most distinguished members of the profession, "his hands
were never out of the mortar-tub."  No one familiar with the
multitudinous and varied work executed under his immediate supervision
during those years could fail to be struck by the catholicity of his
taste, as well as by his curious and detailed knowledge of all
architectural styles and periods.  The feudal massiveness of Cardiff
and Castell Coch, of Rothesay Castle and Mochrum, the graceful Gothic
of Pluscarden, the Franciscan austerity of Elgin, the rich Renaissance
and Jacobean details of Falkland, the Byzantine perfection of Sancta
Sophia (copied by him in miniature at Galston)--all these appealed to
him, each in its degree, with equal interest and force; and this
catholicity of taste was reflected not only in the new buildings which
he raised, but in the ancient buildings which he {223} repaired,
re-roofed, or restored with such careful reverence.  Every detail of
such work was personally supervised by himself; and he would be equally
at home, and equally absorbed, in working out an heraldic design for
the roof of an abbey church,[7] excavating among the almost shapeless
ruins of a mediæval cathedral,[8] elaborating a purely Greek scheme of
decoration for the oratory of his house in London,[9] or studying the
details of the Sainte Chapelle at Paris, the upper basilica of Assisi,
and the Gothic dome of Zaragoza,[10] in order to reproduce something of
their varied beauties in his exquisite private chapel at Mountstuart.
The transparent honesty which was part of his character was manifested
in such restorations as he undertook at Cardiff, Rothesay, and St.
Andrews, where at the cost of some æsthetic sacrifice, and often at
much added expense (for the materials had sometimes to be brought from
afar), he carried out the work in a stone different in colour from the
ancient building, so that there should be no possible future confusion
between the old and the new.  Altogether it must be said that to Bute's
other titles of honour is to be added that of a noble patron of a noble
art.  He enriched his native land with many splendid edifices, and he
probably did more than any man of his generation to preserve and secure
for posterity the venerable and priceless relics of his country's'
past.  _Cor suum dabat in consummationem operum, et vigilia sua ornabat
in perfectionem_.[11]

One of the last publications issued by Bute (it {224} appeared in 1899)
was a book entitled "The Alleged Haunting of B---- House," a curious,
if not altogether convincing, account of certain phenomena said to have
occurred at a country residence in Perthshire, which Bute had leased
for the purpose of psychical investigation.  He had always, and more
especially in the later years of his life, been attracted by such
questions, and was at the time of his death a vice-president of the
Society for Psychical Research.  He was particularly interested in the
subject of second sight, of which he endeavoured to obtain first-hand
evidence by instituting inquiries among the Catholic Highlanders of
north-west Scotland; but the person whom he commissioned to conduct the
inquiry was to a great extent baffled by the insuperable reluctance of
the Highlanders to communicate on such matters with a stranger.  Bute
himself maintained a very open mind as to all such phenomena, although
he did not of course dispute their objective possibility.  He had a
profound distrust of paid and professional mediums, and was fully alive
to the physical, moral, and spiritual risks attendant on all such
researches unless conducted with due precaution and under proper

One of the chief ornaments of the judicial bench, who knew Bute well,
once observed of him that if his vocation had been to the law, he might
have reasonably looked to attain the highest honours of that profession:

Industry, learning, patience, impartiality, capacity for work, a
remarkable power of grasping facts and weighing evidence, clearness of
expression, and a single-minded desire for truth--if these, combined
with a noble presence and a lofty integrity {225} of character, are
qualifications for judicial office, Bute possessed them all, and in a
high degree.

[Sidenote: 1899, Effect of psychical study]

Such qualities, or most of them, were no doubt equally serviceable when
brought to bear on the obscure phenomena of psychical research, which
Bute approached with the same unprejudiced detachment as he did the
study of astrology, or the problems from the nooks and corners of
history with which he loved to grapple.  A friend ventured to ask him,
not very long before his death, if he grudged the many hours he had
devoted to these recondite investigations.  He replied emphatically in
the negative, adding after a pause: "I cannot conceive any Christian,
or, indeed, any believer in life after death, _not_ being painfully and
deeply interested in such questions.  For my own part, I have never
doubted that there is permitted at times a real communication between
the dead and the living, but I am bound to say that I have never
personally had any first-hand evidence of such communication which I
could call absolutely convincing."  The last words were spoken with a
certain melancholy earnestness which made a deep impression on the
hearer.  That Bute's interest in these matters had no frightening or
depressing effect on himself is shown clearly enough from a note in his
diary in which, after referring to his own rapidly-declining health, he
adds: "My study of things connected with the S.P.R. has had the effect
of very largely robbing death of its terrors."[12]

With the resignation of his Lord Rectorship of St. Andrews at the end
of his second term of office, {226} Bute's public work may be said to
have come to an end.  He had, as has been seen, conditionally accepted
his re-election as Provost of Rothesay, but as the time drew near his
resumption of the office was seen to be impossible.  It was, in fact,
in August, 1899, three months before the time due for the election,
that he was struck down with what proved to be the beginning of his
fatal illness.  He rallied for a time, and his mind remained as
unclouded, and his interest in many things as keen, as they had ever
been; but it became before long increasingly evident that there was no
prospect of any return to the activities of the past.  1900 was the
year of the Passion-play at Ober-Ammergau; and he had always hoped to
go thither once again with his family, and to renew in their company
the well-remembered impressions made by his three previous visits.
When this could not be, he rejoiced that his children were able to make
the pilgrimage under the escort of an old friend, and he interested
himself in every detail of their journey.

As time passed on, and his weakness increased, reading and writing,
which had been the chief solace of his life, were of course no longer
possible to him.  He suffered little bodily pain during his last
illness, but much weariness and depression, which he bore with his
usual quiet fortitude and patience; and the gradual declension of his
remarkable mental faculties, his keen intellect, vivid imagination, and
retentive memory, was (it is a consolation to believe) far less
distressing to himself than it was to the devoted watchers at his
sick-bed.  In the summer of 1900 he was removed to Dumfries House, in
the hope that its more bracing air might be beneficial to him.  He had
always, as has been already remarked, loved {227} the beautiful old
home of his Crichton ancestors, which both within and without was one
of the most notable works of the brothers Adam, although the amenity of
its surroundings had been to some extent spoiled by the numerous
coalpits.  "Falkland is probably, the most luxurious of my houses," he
had once remarked, "but I think Dumfries House is, perhaps, the
homeliest of them all."  The improvement to his health wrought by this
change was unhappily only transient: he grew gradually weaker, and on
October 9, 1900, a few hours after being attacked by a second stroke,
he quietly breathed his last, being then in the fifty-fourth year of
his age.

[Sidenote: 1900, Death and funeral]

Bute was buried, according to his own wish, in the chapel close to the
sea, within the grounds of Mountstuart, which he had fitted up some
twenty years previously for Catholic worship.  The funeral service was
all the more impressive because of hired pomp and grandeur there was
absolutely none.  His coffin, made by his own carpenters, was borne by
his own workmen from Dumfries House to the little wayside station,
whence it was conveyed to the sea, and thence across the Firth of Clyde
to Kilchattan Bay, in Bute, where a great assemblage awaited its
arrival, and followed it for nearly five miles on foot, the only
carriage being that of the widow.  One who was present thus describes
the sad procession:

Through the russet and gold of the October woods it passed, preceded by
the cross and a long array of bishops and clergy, and followed by the
young sons, the Duke of Norfolk, Lords Loudoun, Glasgow, and Herries,
and many other notable people.  Night was falling as our _cortége_
reached the little chapel on {228} the shore where the remains were to
rest; and the pine torches carried by the assistants threw a sombre
glare on the coffin, on which were laid a black and gold pall, and the
dead peer's coronet and the chain and green velvet mantle of the
Thistle.  Vespers of the dead were sung: black-robed sisters watched by
the bier all night; and next morning the dirge was chanted, the requiem
mass celebrated, the five absolutions reserved for prelates and great
nobles solemnly pronounced.  The single bell tolled from the little
turret as the mourners silently dispersed, leaving John Lord Bute to
rest in peace within the ivy-covered walls washed by the waves which
encircled his island home.

A few days after the last sad rites, Bute's widow, with her daughter
and three sons, left England for the Holy Land, in order to carry out
his long-cherished desire that his heart should be interred in the
sacred soil of Olivet.  It was reverently laid in the tiny garden of
the Franciscans, outside the humble chapel known as _Dominus
Flevit_--"The Lord wept"--the traditional spot, half-way up the holy
mountain, where the Saviour shed tears over the approaching fate of the
beloved city.  An oleander tree alone marks the place of sepulture; but
at the entrance of the little sanctuary is affixed a marble tablet
bearing the following inscription:[13]





















[1] Conversing with a friend not long before his death, Bute thus
characteristically referred to the point of view from which he regarded
his acquisition of these two interesting estates.  "Having bound myself
to provide landed property of a certain value for my younger sons, I
looked about for places which I might play with during my own life, and
leave to them afterwards.  Hence Falkland and Pluscarden."

[2] The Valliscaulians ("Val des Choux" was the name of their first
house, in Burgundy), founded about 1193 by Viard, a Carthusian
lay-brother, had about thirty houses, most of them in France.  There
were none in England, but three in Scotland--Pluscarden, Beauly, and
Ardchattan, of which the last two became Cistercian priories a century
before the Reformation.  The Order dwindled and became finally extinct
about thirty years prior to the French Revolution.

[3] Lord Merries held the office of Lord-Lieutenant of the East Riding
of Yorks from 1880 until his death in 1908.

[4] These are described in much detail, and copiously illustrated, in
the "Proceedings of the Soc. of Antiq. of Scotland" (vol. x. 3rd
series, pp. 307 _seq._).

[5] This appreciation, specially written by the distinguished architect
for the present biography, is given in Appendix V.

[6] Lord Bute's second son (and successor as Keeper of Falkland
Palace), the late Lieut.-Col. Lord Ninian Stuart, M.P., who fell
gallantly in action in 1915, further enriched the Chapel Royal in 1906,
by hanging on its walls some magnificent Flemish "verdure" tapestries
of the seventeenth century.

[7] Paisley.

[8] Whithorn.

[9] St. John's Lodge.

[10] Called by the people the "media naranja," or half orange.

[11] "He gave his heart to the consummation of his works, and by his
watchful care brought them to perfection."--Ecclesiast. xxxviii. 31.

[12] See Mr. F. W. H. Myers' remarkable obituary notice Appendix VI.

[13] Written by Dowager Lady Bute, and translated into Latin at her
request by the author of this memoir.




(Written by Bute at Harrow School, _æt._ 15-½.)


(The footnotes are the young author's own)

  When the long requiem's assuaging strain
  Sounds high and solemn through the holy fane,
  And loud and frequent in the darkened pile
  The organ's heavy swell is heard the while,
  Askest thou, pilgrim stranger, wherefore low,
  In prayer unceasing, mournful hundreds bow;
  Why choral hymns unceasingly arise,
  And thuribles with incense cloud the skies,
  While dying tapers glimmer pale and low
  Upon the bloodless alabaster brow
  That only represents the hero now?
  Read sculptured on a grave that royal name,
  So often blown abroad by noisy fame:
  Yes; low as other men, the caitiff tomb
  Has dared to shroud his splendour in its gloom!
  Edward, who once the Knight of England shone,
  Lies cold and stiff beneath this sculptured stone.
  The brilliant Phosphor of a brighter day
  Too soon in night is passed for aye away!
  The lordly thistle blooms in purple pride;
  The shamrock clusters by her sheltering side;[1]
  And, though from each full many a spray is riven,
  Unshaken yet they rise to friendly heaven.
  The golden lily, even in her tears,
  Full many a flower of vernal promise bears;
  The pomegranate hangs fruitful on the tree;
  The olive waves o'er many an eastern sea;
  And strong beneath her eagle's sable wings
  The pine upon her fir-clad mountains clings;
  The rose alone, the fairest of them all,[2]
  Is doomed to see her bud of promise fall!
  The green genista's golden bloom is shed,
  Her brightest offspring numbered with the dead.
  O! plundered flower, O! doubly plundered bloom
  Whose fairest fragrance only feeds the tomb!
    'Tis said that when upon a rocky shore
  The salt sea billows break with muffled roar,
  And, launched in mad career, the thundering wave
  Leaps booming through the weedy ocean cave;
  Each tenth is grander than the nine before,
  And breaks with tenfold thunder on the shore.
  Alas! it is so on the sounding sea;
  But so, O England, it is not with thee!
  Thy decuman is broken on the shore:
  A peer to him shall lave thee never more!

  Ring forth, O mournful harp--no nobler strain
  Than this to-day shall e'er be thine again.
  See where amid her ruined towns and towers
  France broods upon her country's shattered powers.
  Ask her his glories--at the fatal name
  Her olive cheek grows red with burning shame,
  The tear starts flashing to her careworn eye,
  She points where stiff and cold her children lie,
  Beneath the bloody sod of many a plain,
  By victor Edward's dreaded arrows slain;
  From where on Cressy's dark and trodden ground
  Two kings were slain and princes died around,
  To where Limoges' streets ran red with blood,
  And lives of thousands fed the crimson flood;
  Or where, again, in Poitiers' fatal lane
  The flower of all her gay noblesse were slain,
  And trodden down amid the gory clay,
  In useless valour threw their lives away;
  While many a lordly tower and holy spire
  Fell blackened ruins to the invader's fire.

  But not upon thy fields, O France, alone
  Like meteor shot from sphere of light he shone.
  Rise, Spain, and witness how thy fair Castile
  Has bled upon Najarra's fatal hill,
  When sullen Najarilla's voiceless flow
  Rang to the buckler's clang and falchion's blow,
  And legions melted as a morning's snow.
  But own that, when before his victor brand
  He stretched defenceless all the humbled land,
  It then was Edward's voice that stemmed the tide,
  And Guzman only for his treason died.
  Ungrateful Pedro! gilt and sceptred slave!
  Ill hast thou merited the crown he gave!

  "The crown he gave," and now, alas! has he
  Who was the heir to England's sovereignty
  No diadem except the cerecloth band,
  No sceptre but the taper in his hand!
  The glory that embalms his brilliant name
  Alone is deathless through the voice of fame;
  Or where, adorned in many a loyal heart,
  It burns unmoved till life itself shall part--
  It lives undying there.  What other throne
  So meet for him who called those hearts his own?

  But O! when history with frigid eye
  Shall write the lengthened list of deeds gone by,
  And deal with justice, passionless but true,
  The meed deserved the living never knew,
  Forbid it, Heaven! her voice divine should stay
  The tide of praise that swells his name to-day.
  Tell how, when victory had wreathed his arms,
  And peace at length replaced war's dread alarms,
  (Such peace is theirs who can resist no more)
  When captive led from France's vanquished shore
  A conquered monarch graced the victor's car,
  The splendid trophy of the finished war.
  Say how, eclipsed in an inferior's guise,
  He scorned to feed with show the people's eyes;
  And spurning Roman conqueror's gaudy pride,
  Rode, humble, by the French usurper's side.
  Such deed as this shall live to mock decay
  When time has borne war's fading wreaths away.

  The golden corn shall wave on Cressy's plain,
  The thrush shall sing in Poitier's woods again;
  The rosemaries upon Najarra's hill
  Shall perfume Najarilla's noiseless rill;
  The fields of France shall bloom in verdant pride,
  Unstained by ruthless conquest's crimson tide;
  The summer roses bloom in far Castile--
  While, levelled by the dart we all must feel,
  The mortal victor lies--a wreck of clay,
  Once brilliant and as perishing as they.
  There mark the armour that in life he wore
  Hangs o'er his dreamless head!  O never more
  Shall coat so princely fence so meet a heart!
  And still, as if demanding ne'er to part,
  There yet the leopards in their sanguine shield
  Alternate with the lilies' heavenly field.

    One step aside, and blazing through the gloom,
  The pinnacles that deck the martyr's[3] tomb
  Rise high and glittering o'er the golden urn;
  And there for aye the dying tapers burn,
  As if they cried to men in protest high
  That soon their earthly honours all must die;
  But that upon the Christian's sainted shade
  Alone is bound a wreath that cannot fade.
  O! ye who lie together, levelled here,
  In life so sundered and in death so near--
  He who has shed men's blood to win a throne,
  And he who for Religion shed his own;
  What thoughts unnumbered on the rapid mind
  Arise, with mingled grief and awe combined!

    O! for a worthier art with skill to paint
  The light eternal that surrounds the saint:
  And justly mete the song of swelling praise
  The hero's virtues force our hearts to raise!
  Shades of the great, the holy, and the brave,
  Whose earthly vestment slumbers in the grave,
  Teach us by bright example each to tread
  The heavenward pathway hallowed by the dead.
  What though the trembling element of earth
  May swell again the clay that gave it birth;
  What though again the wanton breeze reclaim
  The vital breath it lent to warm your frame;
  Not less ye live because our feebler race
  Your lordly presence now no more shall grace.
  Where'er the wild and careless winds can blow,
  Where'er the ocean's cold, dark waters flow,
  Where'er the heart heroic dares to die,
  There--there your fadeless memory lives for aye,
  Till Ruin claims her universal sway,
  And worn-out Time himself shall pass away.


[1] Edward Bruce was once King of Northern Ireland.

[2] The symbols of the chief powers of Europe are taken from a royal
masque in the reign of Henry VIII.  The pomegranate represents Spain,
the olive Italy, and the pine-cone Germany.

[3] St. Thomas of Canterbury.




(Written by Bute at Kirkwall during a visit to Orkney, in July, 1867,
_æt._ 19.)

  Glory be to Jesus
  In the highest heaven,
  For His grace triumphant
  Unto Magnus given--
  Wondrous grace that made him,
  Looking on the Cross,
  For the love of Jesus
  Count all things but loss.

  Born to all earth's splendour,
  Cradled by a throne,
  He in very childhood
  Knew God's love alone;
  Nazareth's holy stripling
  Boyhood's pattern made;
  Through the years of manhood
  By his Saviour stayed.

  Like to Paul converted
  From a world of sin,
  He into our Master's
  Sheepfold entered in--
  Till God's love within him
  Lit and warmed him through,
  As the bush of Horeb
  Burned but ever grew.

  With the saintly maiden.
  Whom he made his bride,
  For ten years a virgin
  Lay he side by side;
  Like unto the angels
  Of our God in heaven,
  Who in carnal wedlock
  Give not nor are given.

  From the Lord's own altar
  Haled, the martyr died;
  Him the Lord's own offering
  His last breath supplied.
  Earthy lilies stricken
  Perish on the ground,
  But God's witness dying
  Fadeless glory found.

  Jesus, by whose mercy
  Magnus was victorious,
  Give us grace to follow
  In his footsteps glorious;
  So by Thee, our Saviour,
  Truth, and life, and way,
  We may come where he is
  In undying day.

  Glory to the Father,
  Glory to the Son,
  Glory to the Spirit,
  Three, and three in one,
  Glory from his creatures
  Both in earth and heaven
  To the King of Martyrs
  Endlessly be given.  Amen.




(Written by Bute in November, 1867, _æt._ 20.)

  The world is very foul and dark,
    And sin has marred its outline fair;
  But we are taught to look above,
    And see another image there.
  And I will raise my eyes above--
    Above a world of sin and woe,
  Where sinless, griefless, near her Son,
    Sits Mary on her throne of snow.

  Mankind seems very foul and dark,
    In some lights that we see it in,
  Lo! as the tide of life goes by,
    How many thousands lie in sin.
  But I will raise my eyes above--
    Above the world's unthinking flow,
  To where, so human yet so fair,
    Sits Mary on her throne of snow.

  My heart is very foul and dark;
    Yes, strangely foul sometimes to me
  Glare up the images of sin
    My tempter loves to make me see.
  Then may I lift my eyes above--
    Above these passions vile and low,
  To where, in pleading contrast bright,
    Sits Mary on her throne of snow!

  And oft that throne, so near our Lord's,
    To earth some of its radiance lends;
  And Christians learn from her to shun
    The path impure that hellward tends,
  For they have learnt to look above--
    Above the prizes here below,
  To where, crowned with a starry crown,
    Sits Mary on her throne of snow.

  Blest be the whiteness of her throne;
    That shines so purely, grandly there!
  With such a glory passing bright,
    Where all is bright and all is fair!
  God make me lift my eyes above,
    And love its holy radiance so
  That some day I may come where still
    Sits Mary on her throne of snow.


APPENDIX IV (p. 211)


The following was the prayer always said by Bute at the opening of the
meetings of the Town Council of Rothesay, during the term of his
provostship.  It was composed by himself, or rather compiled from two
prayers contained in the Roman Breviary--one the Collect for
Whit-Sunday, and the other a prayer at the end of the Litany of the


"O God, Who dost teach the hearts of Thy people by sending to them the
light of Thine Holy Spirit; grant unto us that the same Thy Spirit may
inspire us in all our doings by His heavenly grace, and bless us
therein by His continual help, that every prayer and work of ours may
begin from Thee and by Thee be duly ended, and that we, who cannot do
anything that is good without Thee, may so by Thee be enabled to act
according to Thy will, which is our sanctification; through Jesus
Christ our Lord, Who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Spirit,
one God, world without end.  Amen."


APPENDIX V (p. 220)


16, Rutland Square, Edinburgh,
  _October_ 4, 1920.

I quite appreciate your desire that I should send you something of my
recollections of the late Marquis of Bute, for whom I had the honour of
doing some important work.  Lord Bute's architects certainly had
considerable opportunity of meeting him and getting to know him as he
appeared in their department, for one of the outstanding facts of his
life was that he was never out of the mortar-tub.

It was one of his brothers-in-law, the late Lord Herries, I think, who
used to tell him that he would go down to posterity as the
Brick-and-Mortar Lord.  But no one who had the privilege of knowing him
ever associated his works with any of the ideas of quantity, monotony,
and mere utilitarianism, which the mention of the humblest of building
materials might conjure up in the minds of people who had not that
privilege.  Quantity of production, and expenditure of time and money
had no prescribed relations to each other when time or money was
required to procure the most appropriate material, or time was required
to determine the precise design.  I remember saying to him once, when
something had been delayed till I thought it must be tiresome to him,
"Why not let it be finished, and off your mind?"  His reply was, "But
why should I hurry over what is my chief pleasure?  I have
comparatively little interest in a thing after it is finished."  That
saying supplied the key to much that, without it, might be misconstrued
in the annals of his architectural undertakings.  What he did not
consider of importance was allowed to go through at once.  What he
thought of importance he made a matter for his personal thought, and no
detail was so small as to be secure of passing unobserved, or so
apparently insignificant {242} that an indefinite delay might not be
suffered till he had determined whether it was to be converted into a
feature, or at least the vehicle of an allusion to some idea which
interested him.

The fact is that Lord Bute possessed great imagination, learning, and
taste, and an inexhaustible patience and power of calm deliberation
before coming to any conclusion which he deemed to be of any
importance; and it so came about that he seldom, if ever, changed his
mind and ordered anything to be altered after it had once been done.

I have heard a tale which was supposed to exemplify the nicety of his
taste and the grand scale on which he gratified it.  The story may have
been meant for a parable only, but it narrated circumstantially how
that his architect had imported a shipload of marble columns from
Italy, and put them up in a certain palace which he was building for
the Marquis, but that when his lordship came to see them, behold, they
were not of the exact tint which he wanted, so incontinently they were
thrown out, and another shipload was brought, which turned out, of
course, to be perfection, of which the pillars themselves, as they
stand there to-day, are the lively proof.

That the story of the throwing out of the pillars, like the tale of the
three hundred and sixty Celtic Crosses in Iona, which were said to have
been thrown into the sea, is apocryphal, I gravely suspect.  The thing
which it professes to relate never occurred in connection with any work
in which I was concerned, and I think I would have heard of it had it
happened in any of Lord Bute's other undertakings, at least in
Scotland.  The unlikely part of the story is that he had allowed
himself to be landed with a vast quantity of the wrong stuff for such
an important purpose.  The rest of it, his fabled measures for getting
himself out of the difficulty, is quite true to his character.  I, at
least, never knew him to be diverted from his intention on the score of
delay or cost.

I remember a case which is somewhat in point, his choice of the
railings for the gallery of the great hall of his house, or, rather,
palace of Mountstuart, although the case is more interesting as an
illustration of his mind in a more important aspect.  I had proposed,
in accordance with my duty, a design strictly in keeping with the
mediæval character of the building.  Lord Bute, however, had seen and
{243} remembered the ancient and curious bronze railings which stand
round the tomb of Charlemagne at Aix-la-Chapelle, and he determined to
take, what was to him the opportunity of erecting a facsimile of them
in Scotland.  I went, therefore, to Aix and made measured drawings of
them on the spot.  By his directions I had the copies cast in
Edinburgh, and they stand now in their place in Mountstuart in all the
variety and yet unity of their originals.  They are not Florentine, but
if you ask me what should have prevented a Florentine nobleman from
erecting them in his palace in Florence, I could not tell you.
Sentimentally, at any rate, they would have been appropriate.  I refer,
of course, to the historical fact, of which I am sure the Marquis was
aware, that it was no other than Charlemagne who relieved the
Florentines from the tyranny of the Longobards, and conferred upon them
the freedom of a municipal government.

The influence of the art of Peter de Luna, as seen in the style which
was chosen by Lord Bute in matters connected with the Chapel at
Mountstuart, occurs to mind in this context.  That the famous Spaniard
was an architect, or a discriminating patron of architecture, Saragossa
testifies; but he was more to Lord Bute, he was the Pope, the Benedict
XIII., whose papal bull confirmed the foundation charter of St. Andrews
University.  He was not acknowledged as Pope by England or Italy, but
he was acknowledged by Scotland, and that went a long way with Lord
Bute.  That his lordship reflected on the possibility of his choice
giving pain to any one who did not accept de Luna's pontificate is, I
think, unlikely, seeing that without question, he was confiding the
execution of his whole ideas to an architect who was actually a member
of a Reformed Church.  I pointedly omit to make any allusion in this
context to the traditional authorship of the design of the Cathedral of

Lord Bute's mind was steeped in history; and on that account, though he
by no means always bowed the knee to authority, his ideas, like his
conversation, in matters of architecture were always interesting.  Soon
after the first occasion on which he did me the honour to consult me,
he told me that he made it his practice not to give all his
undertakings into the hands of any one architect, that he liked always
to be in touch with several of the profession; it was to his advantage,
he was good enough to say, as well {244} as his pleasure, to hear the
opinions of different men on the things of their trade.  If I may judge
by the numbers of specialists in very different departments, whom I
used to meet on my visits to his lordship, he had a satisfaction in
their conversation and their ways of looking at things which was
perhaps similar to that which Sir Walter Scott records in his Journal
that he had found in the conversation of Robert Stevenson, the engineer
to the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses.

So far as I know, Lord Bute never had any building done for himself in
this country after any varieties of the style of Ancient Greece.  That
this abstention in his particular case should be credited only to his
wise sense of its unfitness for his purposes in a climate such as ours,
must be the opinion of any one, who, like myself, ever had the
privilege of visiting the remains of Ancient Greece in his company, and
of observing the extraordinarily deep impression which they made on him.


P.S.--By way of footnote to the paragraph in which I mention Peter de
Luna, I may say that it was on a visit which I made to Saragossa on
Lord Bute's behalf that I was fortunate enough to procure a cast of de
Luna's now mummified head.  The cast I have now confided to the care of
St. Andrews University.


APPENDIX VI (p. 225)


(From the Journal of the Society for Psychical Research, November,


_Magnus civis obît_.  The death of the Marquis of Bute has removed from
earth a great chieftain, a great magnate, a great proprietor, yet
withal a figure, a character, which carried one back into the Ages of
Faith.  Many will mourn the close of that life,--magnificent at once
and munificent; far-governing, and yet gently thoughtful in minute
detail.  Some will miss in more intimate fashion the massive simplicity
of his presence; the look in his eyes of trustfulness at once and
tenacity--that look which we call doglike, when we mean to imply that
dogs are nobler than men.  The youth whose vast wealth and eager
religion suggested (it was said) to Lord Beaconsfield the idea of his
"Lothair" had become constantly wealthier and more religious as years
went on.  Amid the palaces of his structure and of his inheritance he
lived a life simple and almost solitary; a life of long walks and long
conversations on the mysteries of the world unseen.  To a fervent Roman
Catholicism he joined a ready openness to the elements of a more
Catholic faith.  That same yearning for communion with the invisible
which showed itself in his Prayer-books and Missals, his Byzantine
Churches restored, his English Churches built, showed itself also in
the great crystal hung in his chapel at St. John's Lodge; as it were
the mystic focus of that green silence in the heart of London's roar;
and in the horoscope of his nativity painted on the dome of his study
at Mountstuart; and in that vaster, strange-illumined vault of
Mountstuart's central hall.

[Greek: _'En dé tà teírei pánta ta t' ou'ranos e'stephanôtai_]

{246} Hardly had such a sight been seen since Hephæstus wrought in
flaming gold the Signs of Heaven, and zoned the Shield of Achilles with
the firmament and the sea.  For in like manner at Lord Bute's bidding
was that great vault encircled with a translucent zone which pictured
the constellations of the Ecliptic; the starry lights represented by
prisms inserted in that "dome of many-coloured glass."  Therethrough,
as through a fictive Zodiac, travelled the sun all day; with many a
counterchange of azure stains or emerald on the broad floor below, and
here and there the dazzling flash of a sudden-kindled star.  It seemed
the work of one who wished, by sign at least and symbol, to call down
"an intermingling of heaven's pomp" upon that pavement which might have
been traversed only by the pacings of earthly power and pride.

Through such scenes their fashioner would walk; weary and weighted
often with the encumbering flesh; but always in slow meditative
brooding on the Spiritual City, and a house not made with hands.  "A
cruel superstition!" he said once of those who would presume to fetter
or forbid our communication with beloved and blessed Souls behind the
veil.  A cruel superstition indeed! and hardly with any truer word upon
his lips might a man pass from the company of those who listen, to
those who speak.[1]

F. W. H. M.

[1] Mr. Myers himself died on January 17, 1901, only a few weeks after
penning this striking tribute to his departed friend.





(This list does not include certain articles separately reprinted from
the _Scottish Review_, and all contained later in the two volumes of
"Essays on Home and Foreign Subjects," published after his death.)

Order of Divine Service for Christmas Day, according to the Use of the
Church of Rome.  1875.

The Early Days of Sir William Wallace.  1876.

The Burning of the Barns of Ayr.  1878.

The Roman Breviary: translated out of Latin into English.  2 vols.

The Altus of St. Columba, with prose paraphrase and notes.  1882.

The Coptic Morning Service for the Lord's Day.  1882.

Address written for the Rhyl Eisteddfod.  1892.  (English and Welsh.)

Address delivered November 20, 1893, at University of St. Andrews
(inaugural address as Lord Rector).  1894.

A Form of Prayer following the Church Office, for the use of Catholics
unable to hear Mass upon Sundays and Holidays.  1896.

On the Ancient Language of the Natives of Teneriffe.  1897.

The Arms of the Royal and Parliamentary Burghs of Scotland (in
collaboration with J. R. N. Macphail and H. W. Lonsdale).  1897.

Order of Divine Service for Palm Sunday and Whitsuntide. 1898.


The Alleged Haunting of B---- House (in collaboration with A. G.
Freer).  1899.

The Blessing of the Waters on the Eve of the Epiphany (in collaboration
with E. A. W. Budge).  1901.

Essays on Foreign Subjects (reprinted from the _Scottish Review_).

Essays on Home Subjects (reprinted from the _Scottish Review_).  1904.

The Arms of the Baronial and Police Burghs of Scotland (in
collaboration with J. H. Stevenson and H. W. Lonsdale).  1903.

The Inquisition in the Canary Islands: Catalogue of a collection of
original MSS. formerly belonging to the Holy Office.  1903.

Lenten Readings from the Writings of the Fathers.  1906.



ACTON, John Lord, letter to Bute from, 203

Advowsons owned by Bute, 84

Akers, George, 64

Anderson, Sir R. Rowand (architect), 3, 220; his recollections of Bute,

Andrews, Septimus, at Ch. Ch., 45

Ardlamont murder trial, 199

Argyll, George 8th Duke of, witnesses Bute's marriage, 106; letters to
Bute from, 206

Argyll and the Isles, Angus Bishop of, 153, 154

-- -- -- --, George Bishop of, 96, _note_

Arundel Castle, Bute at, 109

Astrology, Bute's interest in, 135, 176, _note_

BALFOUR, Arthur J., Lord Rector of St. Andrews University, 189

Baroda, Maharajah Gaikwar of, 183

Bayreuth, festival at, 131, 132, 157, 164, 165

Bellingham, Sir Henry, at Harrow, 20

Belmont, Benedictine Priory at, 100, 153, _note_

Benson, Rev. R., at Ch. Ch., 45

Bikelas, [Greek: _ho kúrios_], 132, 133

Black Prince, Bute's poem on the, 24, 231

Blackie, Professor, death of, 202

Blairquhan Castle, 4

Blairs College, 194, 206, _note_

Bodenham, Delabarro, in Rome, 88

Boyle, Archibald, curator to Bute, 19

-- John, 58

Breviary, Roman, Bute's first idea of translating the, 70, _note_; work
begun, 115, 116; his "beloved child," 126; published, 129

Bruno, Giordano, Bute's studies on, 139, 140

Burges, William (architect), anecdotes of, 217, 218

Bute, John 3rd Earl of, 1; monument to, 3

-- -- 1st Marquess of, 2; portrait of, as Harrovian, 26

-- -- 2nd Marquess of, character of, 2; early death of, 3; Provost of
Rothesay, 210

-- -- 3rd Marquess of, his descent, 1; childhood of, 3, 4; litigation
about, 5, 6; at Galloway House, 9-14; at private school, 14-17; at
Harrow, 19-26; first visits Holy Land, 26, 27; at Ch. Ch., 28 _et
seq._; travels in East, 34-38; religious studies of, 39-43; postpones
reception, 40, 63; facsimile of sketch by, 49; his cruise to Iceland,
52; and St. Magnus, 50, 150, 151; poems written by, 24, 25, 51,
231-239; to Russia, 55, 68; comes of age, 55-57; at Danesfield, 61;
received into Roman Church, 71, 72; to Rome, 74; to Palestine, 75; on
his conversion, 77, 78; the newspaper press on, 80, 81; founds _Western
Mail_, 84-86; at Rome during Vatican Council, 86-90; at Cardiff and
Mountstuart, 78, 90-98; as philologist, 99; marriage of, 105, 106;
visits Majorca, 113, 114; his love of animals, 118, 169; created K.T.,
121; as landowner, 125; acquires _Scottish Review_, 129; his
contributions to it, 130, 143; as historical student, 143; a Home Ruler
for Scotland, 149; and foreign travel, 156-168; _incog._ in Sicily,
165; mayor of Cardiff, 173, 174; receives freedom of Glasgow, 179;
Lord-Lieutenant of Buteshire, 180; his benefactions to S. Wales, 181,
182; Hon. LL.D. of three Scottish universities, 185; on Universities
Commission, _ib._; Lord Rector of St. Andrews, 187 _et seq._;
interested in Jews, 195, 196; makes maiden speech in Parliament, 199;
re-elected Lord Rector, 206; as a herald, 208; acquires Greyfriars,
Elgin, 208, 209; Provost of Rothesay, 209-213; "silver wedding day" of,
211; purchases Pluscarden Priory, 215; his achievements as a builder,
217-222; his interest in psychical research, 224, 225; end of his
public work, 226; last illness and death of, 226, 227; funeral of, 227;
his heart taken to Jerusalem, 228; obituary notice of, by F. W. H.
Myers, 245; bibliography of, 247

Bute, Gwendoline, Marchioness of, marriage of, 105; takes her husband's
heart to Jerusalem, 228

--, Sophia, Marchioness of, 3; her character, 4; death of, 5

CANTERBURY, Randall, Archbishop of; on Bute as a Harrovian, 24

Capel, Rev. T. W. (Mgr.), at Danesfield, 61; at Oxford, 67 _et seq._;
his interview with Liddon, 68; receives Bute into Church, 71; preaches
at Oxford, 71, 72, 79; at Nice, 73; to Palestine, 74-76; at
Mountstuart, 116, 117

Cardiff, coming-of-age celebrations at, 56, 57; _Western Mail_ started
at, 84; wine-growing at, 118-120; Bute mayor of, 173, 174; arms of,
174, _note_; University College at, 184: restoration of castle at, 217

Castell Coch, vineyards at, 118; restored, 217

Chamberlain, Rev. T., at Ch. Ch., 45

Chiswick House, leased by Bute, 124

Christ Church (Oxford), Bute at, 28 _et seq._; his contemporaries at,
_ib._; he gives ball at, 30; fatal accident at, 65, 66; revisited by
Bute, 112

Churchill, Lord Randolph, 182

Clarke, William, at Oxford, 64

Clifford, Bishop William, at Vatican Council, 87, 88

Constantinople, visit to, 34, 38; Bute on, 145

Crichton-Stuart, Col. Jas. Frederick; Bute's tutor-at-law, 8, 12; M.P.
for Cardiff, 80, 84; death of, 180

-- -- Lady Margaret, 22, _note_; psychical experience of, 59, _note_,
117, 152, 167

Cumbrae, Greater, bought by Bute, 152

Cummins, Abbot, 100, _note_

Curtis, Admiral Sir Lucius, 64

DALRYMPLE, Sir Charles, 97, 98; at Mountstuart, 202, _note_

Danesfield, Bute's intimacy at, 61 _et seq._

Disraeli, B., witnesses Bute's marriage, 106; at Norfolk's marriage,
123; his novel of "Lothair," 124, 134, _note_

Dumfries, John Earl of, opens Roath Dock, 152; at garden party, 131,

Dumfries House, 32, 109; death of Bute at, 227

Dundee University College, its relations with St. Andrews, 189 _et seq._

Dupanloup, Bishop, at Vatican Council, 87

EAST HENDRED, chapel at, 43

Egypt, visit of Bute to, 166

Elgin, Bute acquires Greyfriars in, 208, 222

Essex, Thomas (schoolmaster), 14; his report of Bute, 13

Etna, Mount, ascent of, 35; Bute's description of, 35-37

FALKLAND, purchased by Bute, 152; visit to, 171; Easter eggs at, 203;
restorations at, 221

Fergusson, Lady Edith, 43

-- Sir James, curator to Bute, 19; at Dumfries House, 32, 43, 53; on
Bute's conversion 62, _note_

Fort Augustus, Benedictines of, 195

GALLOWAY, Randolph 9th Earl of, appointed Bute's custodier, 9, 19

Galloway House, Bute's boyhood at, 9-14

Galston, new church at, 155

Gardner, Alexander, 145

Garibaldi's Autobiography, Bute on, 141

Gibbon as historian, Bute's estimate of, 142

Gibbons, Bishop (afterwards Cardinal) James, at Vatican Council, 88

Gilbert, Sir F. Hastings, 5, 19

Gladstone, W. E., first Chancellor of University of Wales, 185; Hon.
LL.D. of St. Andrews University, _ib._

Glasgow, Bute receives freedom of, 179; presents Bute Hall to, 185; Hon
LL.D. of, _ib._

Glasgow, George 6th Earl of, 117, 122, 152

Granard, George 7th Earl of, 64

Grant, Bishop Colin (of Aberdeen), and the _Scottish Review_, 131;
Bute's grief at the death of, 147

-- Bishop Thomas (of Southwark) assists at Bute's reception, 71

Grisewood, Harman, at Ch. Ch., 34

Grissell, Hartwell, 39 _note_; conversion of, 64; letters to, 62, 90,

HALSBURY, Earl of, 171, 177

Harrow, Bute at, 19-26

Hastings, Francis 1st Marquess of, tomb of, at Malta, 35

--, Henry 4th Marquess of, at Ch. Ch., 28; early death of, 58

--, Lady Flora, conversion and marriage of, 122; death of, 155

Hay-Gordon, Adam, 23, 29

Henry, Lady Selina, death of, 53

Home Rule for Scotland, Bute in favour of, 148, 149

Howard of Glossop, Clare Lady, death of, 155

-- -- --, Hon. Alice, married to Earl of Loudoun, 106

-- -- --, Hon. Gwendoline, Bute's marriage to, 105

Howell, Dean, on Bute as a philologist, 99

Huggins, Sir William, tribute paid to Bute by, 168, 172

Humphrey, William, 64

Huntingdon, Selina, Countess of, Bute's veneration for, 54

"Hypatia" (Kingsley's), Bute's opinion of, 79

ICELAND, Bute's cruise to, 48, 52

"Ignatius, Father," at Llanthony, 101

JENKINS, Canon, books by, 79, 102, 103

Jerusalem, Bute's first visit to, 26, 27; subsequent pilgrimages to,
34, 75; compared with Rome, 162; Bute's heart buried at, 228

Jews, Bute's interest in, 195, 196

LANE FOX, GEORGE, conversion of, 64; married, 92

Leighton, Mrs., 33

Leo XIII., Pope, sacerdotal jubilee of, 142

Leopold, H.R.H., at Mountstuart, 116, 117

Liddon, Dr. H. P., at Ch. Ch., 41, 45; his interview with Capel, 68; at
St. Paul's, 92, 93

Llanthony, visit to "Father Ignatius" at, 101

Loudoun, Charles 11th Earl of, 105, 106

--, Edith Countess of, accompanies Bute to Palestine, 74, 76; death of,

Louth, Randall 13th Lord, conversion of, 64

MACSWEENEY, Father James, S.J., 40, _note_; 111

Magnus, St., visit to shrine of, 50; relics of, 50, 150, 151; Bute's
hymn on, 51, 238; investigations as to, 150, 151, 204

Majorca, visit of Bute to, 113, 114

Malta, visit of Bute to, 35

Malvern Wells, Bute's private school at, 14-17

Manning, Archbishop, in Rome, 89, 92; officiates at Bute's marriage,
105; cloth-of-gold gloves for, 107

Mansel, Dr. H. L., at Ch. Ch., 45, 47

Maxwell, Sir Herbert, on Bute's bees, 24

--, Hon. Walter, in Papal Zouaves, 88

Maxwell-Scott of Abbotsford, Hon. Mrs., and the _Scottish Review_, 130,
148, 150, _note_

Metcalfe, Rev. Dr., editor of _Scottish Review_, 129; assessor to Bute
at St. Andrews, 188, 189

Montagu, Lord Robert, conversion of, 93

Moore, Lady Elizabeth, co-guardian to Bute, 5; removed from office, 8;
letters from, 52, 53; death of, 180

Mountstuart, old house of, 3; Bute at, 94-98, 111; beavers and
wallabies at, 118; burnt down, 123; description of new house at, 220;
Bute buried at, 227

Myers, F. W. H., obituary notice of Bute by, 245

NAPLES, Bute on the people of, 158, 166

Newspaper press, the, on Bute's conversion, 80, 81

Nice, visit of Bute to, 64

Norfolk, Henry 15th Duke of, at Arundel, 109; marriage of, 122; Mayor
of Sheffield, 177

--, Flora Duchess of, _see_ Hastings, Lady Flora.

North, Lord and Lady, conversion of, 64

Northumberland, Henry 7th Duke of, 28; witnesses Bute's marriage, 106

OBAN, cathedral, services at, 131, _note_, 153

Ober-Ammergau, visits to, 100, 163, 226

Orkney, Bute's cruises to, 50, 204

"Our Lady of the Snows," Bute's hymn on, 51, 238

Oxford, Bute at, _see_ Christ Church; Mgr. Capel at, 67, 71; visit of
Lord and Lady Bute to, 111, 112; St. Barnabas' Church at, 112; Bute's
interest in, 184

PARIS, visits of Bute to, 34, 76

Patrick, St., the birthplace of, 131, 132

Peel, Arthur 1st Viscount, opposes Bute at St. Andrews, 205; defeated,

Pius IX., Pope, receives Bute, 74; opens Vatican Council, 86; prorogues
Council, 91, _note_; sends marriage presents to Bute, 106

Pluscarden Priory, purchased by Bute, 215

Portarlington, Alexandrina Countess of, 63

"Provost's Prayer, A," 240

Psychical Research, Bute's interest in, 224, 225

Puller, Rev. F. W., Vicar of Roath, 103

Pusey, Dr. E. B., at Ch. Ch., 46; on secessions to Rome, 67

ROME, Bute's first visit to, 74; during Vatican Council, 86-90; his
views on situation in, 91, 95, 110; anecdote of American in, 112; with
Scottish pilgrimage in, 158; compared with Jerusalem, 162

Rosebery, Archibald 5th Earl of, at Ch. Ch., 28; to Russia with Bute,
55, 68; his tribute to Bute, 143; speech of, at R. Academy banquet,
177; Ch. Ch. dinner given to, 198

Rothesay, catholics at, 79; Royal visit to, 117, 118; Bute Provost of,

Rothesay, David Duke of, Bute's paper on, 171, 172

Ruskin, John, candidate for Lord Rectorship at Glasgow, 185

ST. ANDREWS, Bute's visits to, 49, etc., 188, 200; Lord Rector, 187 _et
seq._; his rectorial address at, 143, 187, 193; he acquires
priory-buildings at, 200; his re-election at, 206, 207; proposed
restoration of cathedral at, 267 [Transcriber's note: no such page
exists in the source book]

St. John's Lodge, leased by Bute, 169; hospitalities at, 171

Sanquhar, purchase of Peel tower at, 202

Sayce, Professor, letter to Bute from, 168

Scott-Murray, Charles, 61; at Nice, 72

_Scottish Review_, the, Bute's connection with, 21, _note_; acquired by
him, 129; his articles in, 130, 136 _et seq._; proposed transference to
London of, 139; Bute's contributions to, 143

Sebright, Olivia Lady, 89, 92

Sicily, Bute _incog._ in, 165; contrasted with Italy, 166

Sinclair, Archdeacon William, 14, 15

Skene, Felicia, Bute's early friendship with, 31; letter to Bute from,

--, Dr. William, 31; and the _Scottish Review_, 135, 136

Smith, Bishop George, of Argyll, 96, _note_

Sneyd, George E., at Harrow, 23; "an awful liberal," 79, 94

Sorrento, Bute's letters from, 158-161

Spain, impressions of cathedrals in, 92

Spalding, Archbishop Martin, of Baltimore, at Vatican Council, 87

Stevenson, Father J., S.J., on the Reformation, 40

Stewart, Hon. Fitzroy, 12; Hon. Walter, 11

Stuart, _see_ Crichton-Stuart.

--, General Charles, Bute's co-guardian, 5 _et seq._; death of, 180

TENERIFFE, Bute visits, 167; on the ancient language of, 168

VALLISCAULIANS, Order of the, 215, _note_

Vatican Council, the, 86; opened by Pius IX., _ibid._; prorogued, 91,
_note_; decree of the, 90, 91

Vaughan, Archbishop Bede, O.S.B., 101, _note_.

--, Cardinal Herbert, at St. John's Lodge, 171

Victoria, Queen, golden jubilee of, 135, 172; diamond jubilee of, 210;
address of Rothesay corporation, to, 211

Vogüé, Eugene Vicomte de, 34, _note_.

WESTCOTT, Bishop, a master at Harrow, 22

_Western Mail_, the, started at Cardiff, 84-86; on Bute's marriage, 106

Westminster, anecdote of the titular abbot of, 87

Westminster Cathedral, divine office chanted in, 153, _note_

Wine-growing at Cardiff, 118-120

ZOOLOGICAL Gardens, Bute at the, 169, 170



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