DANESFIELD--RECEPTION INTO CATHOLIC CHURCH
1867-1869
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
untrue.[2]
[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.
MY DEAR MR. SCOTT MURRAY,
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
business.
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,
BUTE.
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:
{65}
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.
{66}
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 mediaeval relations between Scotland and the Holy
See.
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,
Cardiff,
_December_ 16, 1868.
MY DEAR MRS. SCOTT MURRAY,
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
College_!
Yours ever very sincerely,
BUTE.
[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, _cures_ 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
Crete.
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
continue.
Accept my best wishes and continued thanks for kindnesses received, and
believe me,
Sincerely and gratefully, yours ever,
BUTE.
[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_
officer.[15]
{76}
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.
MY DEAR MISS SKENE,
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,
BUTE.
[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
prelates."
[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 Reparatrice_, 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.
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