_HENRY SCOTT HOLLAND_[*]
[Footnote *: Written in 1907.]
The Hollands spring from Mobberley, in Cheshire, and more recently
from the town of Knutsford, familiar to all lovers of English fiction
as "Cranford." They have made their mark in several fields of
intellectual effort. Lord Knutsford, Secretary of State for the
Colonies from 1887 to 1892, was a son of Sir Henry Holland, M.D.
(1788-1873), who doctored half the celebrities of Europe; and one of
Sir Henry's first cousins was the incomparable Mrs. Gaskell. Another
first-cousin was George Henry Holland (1818-1891), of Dumbleton Hall,
Evesham, who married in 1844 the Hon. Charlotte Dorothy Gifford,
daughter of the first Lord Gifford.
George Holland was an enthusiastic fox-hunter, and frequently changed
his abode for the better enjoyment of his favourite sport. In 1847
he was living at a place called Underdown, near Ledbury; and there,
on the 27th of January in that year, his eldest son was born.
The first Lord Gifford (1779-1826), who was successively Lord Chief
Justice and Master of the Rolls, had owed much in early life to the
goodwill of Lord Eldon, and, in honour of his patron, he named one of
his sons' Scott. This Scott Gifford was Mrs. George Holland's brother,
and his name was bestowed on her eldest son, who was christened
"Henry Scott," but has always been known by his second name. This
link with George III.'s Tory Chancellor is pleasingly appropriate.
Let it be remarked in passing that the hyphen so often introduced
into the name is solely a creation of the newspapers, which, always
rejoicing in double-barrelled surnames, gratify a natural impulse
by writing about "Canon Scott-Holland."
I regret that the most exhaustive research has failed to discover
any recorded traits of "Scotty" Holland in the nursery, but his
career in the schoolroom is less obscure. His governess was a Swiss
lady, who pronounced her young pupil "the most delightful of boys;
not clever or studious, but full of fun and charm." This governess
must have been a remarkable woman, for she is, I believe, the only
human being who ever pronounced Scott Holland "not clever." It
is something to be the sole upholder of an opinion, even a wrong
one, against a unanimous world. By this time George Holland had
established himself at Wellesbourne Hall, near Warwick, and there
his son Scott was brought up in the usual habits of a country home
where hunting and shooting are predominant interests. From the
Swiss lady's control he passed to a private school at Allesley,
near Coventry, and in January, 1860, he went to Eton. There he
boarded at the house of Mrs. Gulliver,[*] and was a pupil of William
Johnson (afterwards Cory), a brilliant and eccentric scholar, whose
power of eliciting and stimulating a boy's intellect has never
been surpassed.
[Footnote *: Of Mrs. Gulliver and her sister, H. S. H. writes:
"They allowed football in top passage twice a week, which still
seems to be the zenith of all joy."]
From this point onwards, Scott Holland's history--the formation of
his character, the development of his intellect, the place which
he attained in the regard of his friends--can be easily and exactly
traced; for the impression which he made upon his contemporaries has
not been effaced, or even dimmed, by the lapse of seven-and-forty
years.
"My recollection of him at Eton," writes one of his friends, "is
that of a boy most popular and high-spirited, strong, and full
of life; but not eminent at games." Another writes: "He was very
popular with a certain set, but not exactly eminent." He was not
a member of "Pop," the famous Debating Society of Eton, but his
genius found its outlet in other spheres. "He once astonished us
all by an excellent performance in some private theatricals in
his house." For the rest, he rowed, steered the _Victory_ twice,
played cricket for his House, and fives and football, and was a
first-rate swimmer.
With regard to more important matters, it must suffice to say that
then, as always, his moral standard was the highest, and that no evil
thing dared manifest itself in his presence. He had been trained,
by an admirable mother, in the best traditions of the Tractarian
school, and he was worthy of his training. Among his intimate friends
were Dalmeny, afterwards Lord Rosebery; Henry Northcote, now Lord
Northcote; Freddy Wood, afterwards Meynell; Alberic Bertie; and
Francis Pelham, afterwards Lord Chichester. He left Eton in July,
1864, and his tutor, in a letter to a friend, thus commented on
his departure: "There was nothing to comfort me in parting with
Holland; and he was the picture of tenderness. He and others stayed
a good while, talking in the ordinary easy way. M. L. came, and
his shyness did not prevent my saying what I wished to say to him.
But to Holland I could say nothing; and now that I am writing about
it I cannot bear to think that he is lost."
On leaving Eton, Holland went abroad to learn French, with an ultimate
view to making his career in diplomacy. Truly the Canon of St.
Paul's is an "inheritor of unfulfilled renown." What an Ambassador
he would have made! There is something that warms the heart in the
thought of His Excellency Sir Henry Scott Holland, G.C.B., writing
despatches to Sir Edward Grey in the style of _The Commonwealth_,
and negotiating with the Czar or the Sultan on the lines of the
Christian Social Union.
Returning from his French pilgrimage, he wept to a private tutor
in Northamptonshire, who reported that "Holland was quite unique
in charm and goodness, but would never be a scholar." In January,
1866, this charming but unscholarly youth went up to Balliol, and
a new and momentous chapter in his life began.
What was he like at this period of his life? A graphic letter just
received enables me to answer this question. "When I first met
him, I looked on him with the deepest interest, and realized the
charm that everyone felt. He had just gone up to Oxford, and was
intensely keen on Ruskin and Browning, and devoted to music. He
would listen with rapt attention when we played Chopin and Schumann
to him. I used to meet him at dinner-parties when I first came out,
by which time he was very enthusiastic on the Catholic side, and
very fond of St. Barnabas, Pimlico, and was also deeply moved by
social questions, East End poor, etc.; always unconventional, and
always passionately interested in whatever he talked of. Burne-Jones
once told me: 'It was perfectly delicious to see Holland come into a
room, laughing before he had even said a word, and always bubbling
over with life and joy.' Canon Mason said to me many years ago that
he had hoped I kept every scrap Scotty ever wrote to me, as he
was quite sure he was the most remarkable man of his generation.
But there was a grave background to all this merriment. I remember
that, as we were coming out of a London party, and looked on the
hungry faces in the crowd outside the door, I rather foolishly
said: 'One couldn't bear to look at them unless one felt that there
was another world for them.' He replied: 'Are we to have both,
then?' I know how his tone and the look in his face haunted me more
than I can say."
A contemporary at Oxford writes, with reference to the same period:
"When we went up, Liddon was preaching his Bamptons, and we went
to them together, and were much moved by them. There were three
of us who always met for Friday teas in one another's rooms, and
during Lent we used to go to the Special Sermons at St. Mary's.
We always went to Liddon's sermons, and sometimes to his Sunday
evening lectures in the Hall of Queen's College. We used to go
to the Choral Eucharist in Merton Chapel, and, later, to the iron
church at Cowley, and to St. Barnabas, and enjoyed shouting the
Gregorians."
On the intellectual side, we are told that Holland's love of literature
was already marked. "I can remember reading Wordsworth with him,
and Carlyle, and Clough; and, after Sunday breakfasts, Boswell's
_Life of Johnson_." Then, as always, he found a great part of his
pleasure in music.
No record, however brief, of an undergraduate life can afford to
disregard athletics; so let it be here recorded that Holland played
racquets and fives, and skated, and "jumped high," and steered
the _Torpid_, and three times rowed in his College Eight. He had
innumerable friends, among whom three should be specially recalled:
Stephen Fremantle and R. L. Nettleship, both of Balliol, and W.
H. Ady, of Exeter. In short, he lived the life of the model
undergraduate, tasting all the joys of Oxford, and finding time
to spare for his prescribed studies. His first encounter with the
examiners, in "Classical Moderations," was only partially successful.
"He did not appreciate the niceties of scholarship, and could not
write verses or do Greek or Latin prose at all well;" and he was
accordingly placed in the Third Class. But as soon as the tyranny
of Virgil and Homer and Sophocles was overpast, he betook himself
to more congenial studies. Of the two tutors who then made Balliol
famous, he owed nothing to Jowett and everything to T. H. Green.
That truly great man "simply fell in love" with his brilliant pupil,
and gave him of his best.
"Philosophy's the chap for me," said an eminent man on a momentous
occasion. "If a parent asks a question in the classical, commercial,
or mathematical-line, says I gravely, 'Why, sir, in the first place,
are you a philosopher?' 'No, Mr. Squeers,' he says, 'I ain't.'
'Then, sir,' says I, 'I am sorry for you, for I shan't be able
to explain it.' Naturally, the parent goes away and wishes he was
a philosopher, and, equally naturally, thinks I'm one."
That is the Balliol manner all over; and the ardent Holland, instructed
by Green, soon discovered, to his delight, that he was a philosopher,
and was henceforward qualified to apply Mr. Squeer's searching
test to all questions in Heaven and earth. "It was the custom at
Balliol for everyone to write an essay once a week, and I remember
that Holland made a name for his essay-writing and originality.
It was known that he had a good chance of a 'First in Greats,'
if only his translations from Greek and Latin books did not pull
him down. He admired the ancient authors, especially Plato, and
his quick grasp of the meaning of what he read, good memory, and
very remarkable powers of expression, all helped him much. He was
good at History and he had a great turn for Philosophy" (_cf_.
Mr. Squeers, _supra_), "Plato, Hegel; etc., and he understood, as
few could, Green's expositions, and counter-attack on John Stuart
Mill and the Positivist School, which was the dominant party at
that time."
In the summer Term of 1870 Holland went in for his final examination
at Oxford. A friend writes: "I remember his coming out from his
paper on, Moral Philosophy in great exaltation; and his _viva voce_
was spoken of as a most brilliant performance. One of the examiners,
T. Fowler (afterwards President of Corpus), said he had never heard
anything like it." In fine, a new and vivid light had appeared
in the intellectual sky--a new planet had swum into the ken of
Oxford Common Rooms; and it followed naturally that Holland, having
obtained his brilliant First, was immediately elected to a Studentship
at Christ Church, which, of course, is the same as a Fellowship
anywhere else. He went into residence at his new home in January,
1871, and remained there for thirteen years, a "don," indeed, by
office, but so undonnish in character, ways, and words, that he
became the subject of a eulogistic riddle: "When is a don not a
don? When he is Scott Holland."
Meanwhile, all dreams of a diplomatic career had fled before the
onrush of Aristotle and Plato, Hegel and Green. The considerations
which determined Holland's choice of a profession I have not sought
to enquire. Probably he was moved by the thought that in Holy Orders
he would have the best chance of using the powers, of which by
this time he must have become conscious, for the glory of God and
the service of man. I have been told that the choice was in some
measure affected by a sermon of Liddon's on the unpromising subject
of Noah;[*] and beyond doubt the habitual enjoyment of Liddon's
society, to which, as a brother-Student, Holland was now admitted,
must have tended in the same direction.
[Footnote *: Preached at St. Mary the Virgin, Oxford, on the 11th
of March, 1870.]
Perhaps an even stronger influence was that of Edward King, afterwards
Bishop of Lincoln, and then Principal of Cuddesdon, in whom the
most persuasive aspects of the priestly character were beautifully
displayed, and who made Cuddesdon a sort of shrine to which all
that was spiritual and ardent in young Oxford was irresistibly
attracted. Preaching, years afterwards, at a Cuddesdon Festival,
Holland uttered this moving panegyric of the place to which he owed
so much: "Ah! which of us does not know by what sweet entanglement
Cuddesdon threw its net about our willing feet? Some summer Sunday,
perhaps, we wandered here, in undergraduate days, to see a friend;
and from that hour the charm was at work. How joyous, how enticing,
the welcome, the glad brotherhood! So warm and loving it all seemed,
as we thought of the sharp skirmishing of our talk in College;
so buoyant and rich, as we recalled the thinness of our Oxford
interests. The little rooms, like college rooms just shrinking
into cells; the long talk on the summer lawn; the old church with
its quiet country look of patient peace; the glow of the evening
chapel; the run down the hill under the stars, with the sound of
Compline Psalms still ringing in our hearts--ah! happy, happy day!
It was enough. The resolve that lay half slumbering in our souls
took shape; it leapt out. We would come to Cuddesdon when the time
of preparation should draw on!" Readers of this glowing passage
have naturally imagined that the writer of it must himself have
been a Cuddesdon man, but this is a delusion; and, so far as I
know, Holland's special preparation for Ordination consisted of
a visit to Peterborough, where he essayed the desperate task of
studying theology under Dr. Westcott.
In September, 1872, he was ordained deacon by Bishop Mackarness, in
Cuddesdon Church, being chosen to read the Gospel at the Ordination;
and he was ordained priest there just two years later. It was during
his diaconate that I, then a freshman, made his acquaintance. We
often came across one another, in friends' rooms and at religious
meetings, and I used to listen with delight to the sermons which
he preached in the parish churches of Oxford. They were absolutely
original; they always exhilarated and uplifted one; and the style
was entirely his own, full of lightness and brightness, movement
and colour. Scattered phrases from a sermon at SS. Philip and James,
on the 3rd of May, 1874, and from another at St. Barnabas, on the
28th of June in the same year, still haunt my memory.[*]
[Footnote *: An Oxford Professor, who had some difficulty with
his aspirates, censured a theological essay as "Too 'ollandy by
'alf."]
Holland lived at this time a wonderfully busy and varied life. He
lectured on Philosophy in Christ Church; he took his full share
in the business of University and College; he worked and pleaded
for all righteous causes both among the undergraduates and among
the citizens. An Oxford tutor said not long ago: "A new and strong
effort for moral purity in Oxford can be dated from Holland's
Proctorship."
This seems to be a suitable moment for mentioning his attitude
towards social and political questions. He was "suckled in a creed
outworn" of Eldonian Toryism, but soon exchanged it for Gladstonian
Liberalism, and this, again, he suffused with an energetic spirit
of State Socialism on which Mr. Gladstone would have poured his
sternest wrath. A friend writes: "I don't remember that H. S. H.,
when he was an undergraduate, took much interest in politics more
than chaffing others for being so Tory." (He never spoke at the
Union, and had probably not realized his powers as a speaker.)
"But when, in 1872, I went to be curate to Oakley (afterwards Dean
of Manchester) at St. Saviour's, Hoxton, Holland used to come and
see me there, and I found him greatly attracted to social life
in the East End of London. In 1875 he came, with Edward Talbot
and Robert Moberly, and lodged in Hoxton, and went about among
the people, and preached in the church. I have sometimes thought
that this may have been the beginning of the Oxford House."
All through these Oxford years Holland's fame as an original and
independent thinker, a fascinating preacher, an enthusiast for
Liberalism as the natural friend and ally of Christianity, was
widening to a general recognition. And when, in April, 1884, Mr.
Gladstone nominated him to a Residentiary Canonry at St. Paul's,
everyone felt that the Prime Minister had matched a great man with
a great opportunity.
From that day to this, Henry Scott Holland has lived in the public
eye, so there is no need for a detailed narrative of his more recent
career. All London has known him as a great and inspiring preacher;
a literary critic of singular skill and grace; an accomplished
teacher in regions quite outside theology; a sympathetic counsellor
in difficulty and comforter in distress; and one of the most vivid
and joyous figures in our social life. It is possible to trace
some change in his ways of thinking, though none in his ways of
feeling and acting. His politics have swayed from side to side
under the pressure of conflicting currents. Some of his friends
rejoice--and others lament--that he is much less of a partisan
than he was; that he is apt to see two and even three sides of
a question; and that he is sometimes kind to frauds and humbugs,
if only they will utter the shibboleths in which he himself so
passionately believes. But, through all changes and chances, he
has stood as firm as a rock for the social doctrine of the Cross,
and has made the cause of the poor, the outcast, and the overworked
his own. He has shown the glory of the Faith in its human bearings,
and has steeped Dogma and, Creed and Sacrament and Ritual in his
own passionate love of God and man.
Stupid people misunderstand him. Wicked people instinctively hate
him. Worldly people, sordid people, self-seekers, and promotion-hunters,
contemn him as an amiable lunatic. But his friends forget all measure
and restraint when they try to say what they feel about him. One
whom I have already quoted writes again: "I feel Holland is little
changed from what he was as a schoolboy and an undergraduate--the
same joyous spirit, unbroken good temper, quick perception and
insight, warm sympathy, love of friends, kind interest in lives
of all sorts, delight in young people--these never fail. He never
seems to let the burden of life and the sadness of things depress
his cheery, hopeful spirit. I hope that what I send may be of some
use. I cannot express what I feel. I love him too well."
This is the tribute of one friend; let me add my own. I do not
presume to say what I think about him as a spiritual guide and
example; I confine myself to humbler topics. Whatever else he is,
Henry Scott Holland is, beyond doubt, one of the most delightful people
in the world. In fun and geniality and warm-hearted, hospitality, he
is a worthy successor of Sydney Smith, whose official house he
inhabits; and to those elements of agreeableness he adds certain
others which his famous predecessor could scarcely have claimed.
He has all the sensitiveness of genius, with its sympathy, its
versatility, its unexpected turns, its rapid transitions from grave
to gay, its vivid appreciation of all that is beautiful in art and
nature, literature and life. No man in London, I should think,
has so many and such devoted friends in every class and station;
and those friends acknowledge in him not only the most vivacious
and exhilarating of social companions, but one of the moral forces
which have done most to quicken their consciences and lift their
lives.
* * * * *
By the death of Henry Scott Holland a great light is quenched,[*]
or, to use more Christian language, is merged in "the true Light
which lighteth every man that cometh into the world."
[Footnote *: Written in 1918.]
Light is the idea with which my beloved friend is inseparably associated
in my mind. His nature had all the attributes of light--its revealing
power, its cheerfulness, its salubrity, its beauty, its inconceivable
rapidity. He had the quickest intellect that I have ever known. He
saw with a flash into the heart of an argument or a situation. He
diffused joy by his own joy in living; he vanquished morbidity by
his essential wholesomeness; whatever he touched became beautiful
under his handling. "He was not the Light, but he came to bear
witness of that Light," and bore it for seventy years by the mere
force of being what he was. My friendship with Dr. Holland began
in my second term at Oxford, and has lasted without a cloud or a
break from that day to this. He was then twenty-five years old,
and was already a conspicuous figure in the life of the University.
In 1866 he had come up from Eton to Balliol with a high reputation
for goodness and charm, but with no report of special cleverness.
He soon became extremely popular in his own College and outside
it. He rowed and played games and sang, and was recognized as a
delightful companion wherever he went. But all the time a process
of mental development was going on, of which none but his intimate
friends were aware. "I owed nothing to Jowett," he was accustomed
to say; "everything to Green." From that great teacher he caught
his Hegelian habit of thought, his strong sense of ethical and
spiritual values, and that practical habit of mind which seeks
to apply moral principles to the problems of actual life. In 1870
came the great surprise, and Holland, who had no pretensions to
scholarship, and whose mental development had only been noticed
by a few, got a First Class of unusual brilliancy in the searching
school of _Literoe Humaniores_. Green had triumphed; he had made a
philosopher without spoiling a Christian. Christ Church welcomed a
born Platonist, and made him Senior Student, Tutor, and Lecturer.
Holland had what Tertullian calls the _anima naturaliter Christiana_,
and it had been trained on the lines of the Tractarian Movement.
When he went up to Oxford he destined himself for a diplomatic
career, but he now realized his vocation to the priesthood, and was
ordained deacon in 1872 and priest two years later. He instantly
made his mark as a preacher. Some of the sermons preached in the
parish churches of Oxford in the earliest years of his ministry
stand out in my memory among his very best. He had all the preacher's
gifts--a tall, active, and slender frame, graceful in movement,
vigorous in action, abundant in gesture, a strong and melodious
voice, and a breathless fluency of speech. Above all, he spoke
with an energy of passionate conviction which drove every word
straight home. He seemed a young apostle on fire with zeal for
God and humanity. His fame as an exponent of metaphysic attracted
many hearers who did not usually go much to church, and they were
accustomed--then as later--to say that here was a Christian who knew
enough about the problems of thought to make his testimony worth
hearing. Others, who cared not a rap for Personality or Causation,
Realism or Nominalism, were attracted by his grace, his eloquence,
his literary charm. His style was entirely his own. He played strange
tricks with the English language, heaped words upon words, strung
adjective to adjective; mingled passages of Ruskinesque description
with jerky fragments of modern slang. These mannerisms grew with
his growth, but in the seventies they were not sufficiently marked
to detract from the pure pleasure which we enjoyed when we listened
to his preaching as to "a very lovely song."
Judged by the canons of strict art, Holland was perhaps greater
as a speaker than as a preacher. He differed from most people in
this--that whereas most of us can restrain ourselves better on paper
than when we are speaking, his pen ran away with him when he, was
writing a sermon, but on a platform he could keep his natural fluency
in bounds. Even then he was fluent enough in all conscience; but he
did not so overdo the ornaments, and the absence of a manuscript
and a pulpit-desk gave ampler scope for oratorical movement.
I have mentioned Holland's intellectual and moral debt to T. H.
Green. I fancy that, theologically and politically, he owed as
much to Mr. Gladstone. The older and the younger man had a great
deal in common. They both were "patriot citizens of the kingdom of
God"; proud and thankful to be members of the Holy Church Universal,
and absolutely satisfied with that portion of the Church in which
their lot was cast; passionate adherents of the Sacramental theology;
and yet, in their innermost devotion to the doctrine of the Cross,
essentially Evangelical. In politics they both worshipped freedom;
they both were content to appeal to the popular judgment; and they
both were heart and soul for the Christian cause in the East of
Europe. Holland had been brought up by Tories, but in all the great
controversies of 1886 to 1894 he followed the Gladstonian flag with
the loyalty of a good soldier and the faith of a loving son.
When in 1884 Gladstone appointed Holland to a Canonry at St. Paul's,
the announcement was received with an amount of interest which is
not often bestowed upon ecclesiastical promotions. Everyone felt
that it was a daring experiment to place this exuberant prophet
of the good time coming at what Bishop Lightfoot called "the centre
of the world's concourse." Would his preaching attract or repel?
Would the "philosophy of religion," which is the perennial interest
of Oxford, appeal to the fashionable or business-like crowd which
sits under the Dome? Would his personal influence reach beyond the
precincts of the Cathedral into the civil and social and domestic
life of London? Would the Mauritian gospel of human brotherhood and
social service--in short, the programme of the Christian Social
Union--win the workers to the side of orthodoxy? These questions
were answered according to the idiosyncrasy or bias of those to whom
they were addressed, and they were not settled when, twenty-seven
years later, Holland returned from St. Paul's to Oxford. Indeed,
several answers were possible. On one point only there was an absolute
agreement among those who knew, and this was that the Church in
London had been incalculably enriched by the presence of a genius
and a saint.
In one respect, perhaps, Holland's saintliness interfered with
the free action of his genius. His insight, unerring in a moral or
intellectual problem, seemed to fail him when he came to estimate
a human character. His own life had always been lived on the highest
plane, and he was in an extraordinary degree "unspotted from the
world." His tendency was to think--or at any rate to speak and
act--as if everyone were as simply good as himself, as transparent,
as conscientious, as free from all taint of self-seeking. This
habit, it has been truly said, "disqualifies a man in some degree
for the business of life, which requires for its conduct a certain
degree of prejudice"; but it is pre-eminently characteristic of
those elect and lovely souls
"Who, through the world's long day of strife,
Still chant their morning song."