The Life and Letters of John Gibson Lockhart
Chapter 23: 1853-54
CHAPTER XXIII
LONDON—ROME—LANARKSHIRE, 1853-1854
Coral for Mary Monica.—Dinner on a
herring.—Resigns editorship.—Letter to
Milman.—Haydon’s “Memoirs.”—Last meeting with
Wilson.—Journey to Rome.—Meets
Thackeray.—Studies Italian.—Visits Horace’s
Villa.—Dines out.—An invalid in Rome.—Letter to Mrs. Hope
Scott.—Failure of vital powers.—Pio
Nono.—A beatification.—Excavations.—Mrs.
Sartoris.—Manning’s
eloquence.—Swathed pictures.—Studying Hebrew and Arabic.—Father
William Lockhart.—Longs for British
fare.—Spirit-rapping.—Letter to
Milman.—Wiseman and Manning.—The
last poem.—Duchy of Lancaster.—Retiring allowance.—Dinner with
Manning.—Return to England.—Medal for Mary
Monica.—” Shorn condition.”—Last letter to
Milman.—Milton Lockhart.—Pleasant last summer.—” My wound is
deep.”—Letter to Mrs. Hope Scott.—“Be
good!”—Promised visit to Abbotsford.—Misunderstanding as to
Lockhart’s last visit.—Last letter to his
daughter.—Description by an old servant, “What a beautiful face he
had!”—His love of his granddaughter.—Takes farewell of
Chiefswood.—Last hours.—“A soft sleep.”—His religious
ideas.—His poem on immortality.
With the death of Walter
may begin the last chapter of a life of sorrows bravely borne. The diary, after
Walter’s death, contains nothing of note. On April 14, we
find, “Bought a coral for Mary
Monica,” his little grandchild, who received all that tender love of
babies which had marked Lockhart from his boyhood.
Mr. Hope now added to his own name that of Scott,
his wife being the
last lineal descendant of
Sir Walter. Lockhart writes
thus to Mrs. Hope Scott:—
“Sussex Place, March 10, 1853.
“Dear Charlotte,—I
address you by your new name, earnestly hoping it may be attended henceforth
with more of prosperity than has been the case for a long while, and that it
may be transmitted in your lineage. Every one speaks most rapturously of
Mary Monica. Uncle Bob says—‘a splendid
baby,’ and so on. I have seen nobody lately at all except your
husband and William, who dined here
yesterday, and both appeared in good health and appetite and spirits, and were,
as usual, most agreeable company, in the evening both sleeping like tops from 8
to 10.30, when, with some difficulty, having read out my book and the candles
being nearly done, I contrived to expel them. If your new house be like No. 36
(Mrs. Lane Fox’s), it is a very
nice one; and I trust you will cultivate her society for the good of your soul.
“You see that William
Alexander is dead. Boyd went over to
Ballochmyle some days before, but never saw William in
life, being forced to go to bed as soon as he got there. He had got home before
the funeral, which Claud went down on
Monday to superintend.”
On April 30, Lockhart notes that
he dined at Mr. Hope Scott’s. “Sat
between Lytton-Bulwer and
366 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
the
Editor of the Examiner.” The engagement
book, once so full of names of good company and records of old feasts, is very blank.
Mr. Gleig says that
Lockhart starved himself, living on tea and bread and butter;
there is an entry of a dinner “on a herring.” Dr. Fergusson persuaded him to return to rather more
generous fare. On July 5 he notes—
“Brodie and Fergusson agree that I must not attempt next Quarterly
Review.”
He therefore went to Brighton with his son-in-law. On July 16 he
notes—
“I suppose my last number of the Quarterly Review.”
His last article,
and he only wrote part of it, was on Cockburn’s “Life
of Jeffrey,” in 1852.1 Henceforth that busy pen,
which had produced so many volumes of “copy,” was to be idle, save for
letter-writing. In one note he cites a jest of Mr. Hope
Scott’s about certain friends of theirs, “an excellent
family, if they could be taken homeopathically.”
From Milman he did not conceal
his condition. The kindness and justice of Haydon’s remarks on himself in the Memoirs long ago cited, but only published in 1853,
cannot but have given him pleasure, which may be detected in this note:—
“Sussex Place, July 27, 1853.
“My dear Dean,—I am
very grateful to Mrs. Milman and you,
and hope to profit, ere I go abroad,
by your kind invitation; but though I
am better than when you last called here, I am still far from being fit for the
experiment of a visit even to old friends. In fact, I am not able to be much
out of bed, and my daughter is not at all aware of my condition in many
respects. You shall hear by-and-by again, and I am hopeful of amended
prospects. I quite hold to Rome for the winter, supposing strength for such a
journey, when the proper season arrives; and I rather think
Murray has already made suitable arrangements
in that view. At all events, I am for the present at least
emeritus.
“You will be entertained, I think, and interested
with the Haydon Memoirs, which Tom Taylor has edited neatly, and, I believe, in a perfectly
candid spirit.—Yours very truly,
On August 6 he notes, “Gave up Abbotsford MSS. to Hope and Cha as
functus officio.” When in
Scotland he “called on Wilson, but did not
see him.” Mrs. Gordon has described
the last meeting of these old allies. The Professor, too, was descending into the Valley of
the Shadow. Through thirty-seven years their affection, though not untried, had lasted
unbroken. It has been necessary, inevitable, here to illustrate aspects of
Wilson’s character which have been hitherto overlooked. He
has been represented as a figure of light, accompanied by the dark shadow of Lockhart.
368 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
On
Lockhart has been cast blame which was not his, though, indeed, he
was far from blameless. It is not with pleasure that I have observed and chronicled the
failings, the capricious, and, as it were, the accidental, rather than essential, less
happy qualities of Wilson’s large, strenuous, affectionate, and
usually genial nature.
Lockhart was advised, too late, to seek southern
air—too late he sought for rest. On September 27 he was at Abbotsford, on October 4
he left England. He notes that on October 7 he saw Thackeray in the Louvre—Thackeray with years of
work and fame still before him. The two men do not seem ever to have been intimate, though
both were “Fraserians,” nor do I remember to have often noticed
Thackeray’s name as a guest at any table where
Lockhart was dining. In the separate edition of “Theodore Hook,”
Lockhart adds to some comments on novels made ten years
earlier—“This was written long before Mr. Thackeray
made a full revelation of his talents in ‘Vanity Fair.’” That immortal work
was welcomed, as it should be, by Miss Rigby, in the
too celebrated review which also dealt
with “Jane Eyre.”
Lockhart reached Civita Vecchia on October 15. It is characteristic of
his mental activity that his entry for October 18 is—“Dante with Dr. Lucentini.”
Mr. Gleig, in his Quarterly article, quotes
Dr. Lucentini’s appreciation of the most eager and acute of
his pupils. They would argue together;
Lockhart, in the fretfulness of pain, would grow too
eager, and apologise next day, “Do forgive me; I was so ill.” He wrote
long letters from Italy to his daughter, and it certainly seems that he exerted himself too
much. He records a visit to Hadrian’s Villa, and
another, over roads unmended for many centuries, to the supposed site of the villa of
Horace. “The views were delightful; the
roads not touched since Horace’s time.”
He was often in the society of Mrs.
Sartoris, of whom he speaks with strong admiration. The worst of it was
that, being able “to eat but little meat,” he was constantly dining out,
and the strain on a wrecked constitution was needlessly great. Lockhart throughout life had shared in the one vice of General Gordon—he smoked too much. Mr. Cadell had remonstrated with him about his fondness
for the weed long ago, and Sir Walter had hinted at it.
We do not learn whether or not he had limited the number of his cigars, as is probable. The
loneliness of an invalid in Rome, among crowds of busy people of pleasure, or students of
archæology, doubtless drove him into society, which must have exhausted his nervous
energies, now sunk very low. He never exaggerates his sufferings in his letters home; these
require little of comment, thus:—
“Via Gregoriana, Rome, October 21, 1853.
“My dear Charlotte,—We
arrived here in
370 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
safety last Saturday night, although our
passage from Marseilles had not been smooth, insomuch that we had to run for
shelter to Elba, and I spent some hours in walking over Porto Ferrajo and its
environs. The place is small but very strong, and (being Italian) very
clean—as poor as possible; the market produced nothing that looked
eatable but some tomatoes. A garrison of 700 or 800 men to watch over many
political prisoners and the few natives.
Napoleon’s palace in town not so big as Huntly Burn, and
its garden abounding only in cannon and balls; a villa across a bay seemed
somewhat more considerable.
“The Admiral” (he was staying with Mr. Robert Hay in Rome) “has a neat flat
of some five or six rooms, some of them looking over a large extent of Rome,
including St. Peter’s and many more fine things. I have a very tolerable
room to the rear, and could not have been lodged better, I am sure, in this
town. No woman servant at all. A man comes in to cook twice per day, all the
rest done by the lad and my courier. Hay very kind indeed.
As yet few or no fine folks here. Fanny
Kemble and Mrs. Sartoris
are near us, and dined with us one day, and Hay has drunk
tea twice with them. In a short time there will be the Duke of Northumberland, Lord
Northampton, and a world of grandees. At church on Sunday,
behold Baron and Lady Parker, Lady C.
Denison, Mr. D., and Dr. Locock, all bound for England from Naples.
Miss Parker to be married to
Colonel Lowther’s second son, and miladi
enchanted.
Jim looked very much shrunk,
and, I think, generally changed for the worse. I have seen Dr.
Pantaleone, who has, and I believe justly, a high reputation.
He, after due examination, is of the same opinion as
Brodie and Co.—that I am not suffering
from any distinct disease, unless irritability of the mucous membrane, but
rather from a general decadence of the vital powers, and I do not think his
expectations of recovery are high; but I am trying a prescription of his, and
you shall hear again by-and-by. Many days I am sick and helpless utterly, but
on others able to enjoy a walk or drive, and yesterday was out for hours with
Hay and a capital cicerone,
Peter, lately our Minister here. The appetite much as
before—that is,
null.
“I wish you would write to Miss
Joanna or Mrs. Ellis, and tell my report
about myself; also to Cousin Kate, for this is the only
epistle I venture on.—With love to you all,
“Rome, November 2, 1853.
“Dear Charlotte,—I
had yesterday yours of October 21, which told me about a ball, &c. I have
nothing so brilliant, I think, to communicate. Yes, on Sunday was the
beatification of one Bobola, I think, a Polish Jesuit,
however, murdered by the Russians one hundred years ago, and I then saw,
372 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
for the first time,
Pius
IX., who looked very comfortable, blessing away right and left,
between lines of French soldiers, who seemed to pay very little attention to
the concern. Considerable crowd and lots of trumpets. The Pope gave a dinner a
few days ago, which made some sensation. It was in a summer-house of the
Vatican garden, and the guests the Grand Dukes of Tuscany, Borghesa, and
another prince,
Wiseman, and another
cardinal. My ‘Professor’—that is, little dominie, who spends
an hour in the morning to brush up my Italian, says the English Cardinal has
come to get some dispensations connected with a late legal dispute about votes
on monastic property. I have not made acquaintance with any Italians, except my
doctor, who is a very agreeable one, and the Duke of
Sermoneta, an accomplished one. They dine apparently wherever an
English spread occurs, and the rest of the company has hitherto been about as
unvaried. I dine out continually, mostly with
Hay and
Peter; but
occasionally with
Mrs. Sartoris, or her
sister
Fanny, who are good cicerones as
to the picturesque points of view in the Campagna. Great excavations have been
made since I was here on the line of the Appian Way, and many fine monuments
revealed. For instance, one to
Seneca, with
a frieze, showing the chief circumstances of his life, and, very neatly, those
of his death. Another, very large, but not near so old, is that of the baker, a
favourite slave, that is, of some great man under
Aurelian, and in this all the operations of
the craft are cut in very bold relief. On either side, for two or three miles,
you have these works still in progress; and the Pope drives out ever and anon
to inspect, in company with his architect,
Canina, who publishes, at enormous length, on every new
discovery, a thick tome, for example, about the baker! The photographs of the
antiquities are abundant, and mostly very excellent, but absurdly dear.
“I am certainly, since I wrote last, somewhat
bettered as respects appetite; with eggs and fish I breakfast well, and with
soup and fish dine tolerably. Meat not yet within my reach exactly, though once
I did contrive to deal with part of a cold partridge. The weather is said to
have been unfavourable; it is still as hot as English August, but with
occasional rains, or rather floods.
“I will, for sake of Mary
Monica, go to St. Monica’s tomb some
day soon.
His diary gives a worse account of his health than do his letters.
“Rome, December 2, 1853.
“My dear Charlotte,—Since I had your last comfortable letter I
indited a reply to one of Kate’s, and thought she
would probably send it on, but it now seems long since I heard from or about
you, and I must not be lazy any longer. Give me good news of yourself, your
man, and Mary Monica. I am able
374 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
to report very well, on the whole, as to myself. The
weather is still, with rare exceptions, beautiful—cold unless in the
sun—but the sun usually powerful most of the day, the sky as bright as
ever June saw in England, and the whole aspect of field and tree as fine as
possible. It is a principal charm of Italy, and especially Rome, that every
garden and park, large or small, abounds in the most luxuriant and picturesque
of evergreens—ilexes in avenues—stone-pines in groves—myrtle
hedges by the mile—lemon ditto (the divinest fragrance!). What with
riding under
Hay’s orders, and
driving with
Mrs. Sartoris, I am
becoming an adept in the Campagna beauties for seven or ten miles round, and
she proves an inexhaustible fund of entertainment in
her talk meantime, about anything but poetry and picturesques, her course of
life having been one not imagined by me, and by her portrayed with a
marvellous, though not at all harsh or uncharitable frankness. In fact, she is
a delightful person—worth five hundred
Fanny
Kembles, even in talent, which is not her
forte. You will have inferred considerable improvement in strength:
it is certainly so, and the surest sign is the appetite, which has now
recovered itself, I may say, to one’s utmost wish. I eat good breakfast
and fair dinner, and though the hands and feet are still cold as before, I may
hope that symptom also will yield by-and-by.
“Our life is gay—we dine out four or five times
a week—once always with Duke of
Northumberland—
and may, if
we please, go to dinner every night—some lady or other having assumed a
particular one weekly. The Palazzo Doria is the only great Roman house opened
yet, and we were at the assembly t’other night, when I saw some splendid
beauties, and more red stockings than I perhaps ever shall again. The rooms
most magnificent, and the Shrewsbury princess very courteous. Every day comes a
new batch of London
beau monde. As I
write I have your short but agreeable epistle of Nov. 21. Why do you not
continue your report about poor
Lord
Robertson? I had a line from him the day after the attack, but
only a line, and am certainly not a little anxious, though I think if there had
been any considerable alarm you could hardly have written without alluding to
the subject. Last Sunday I heard
Cardinal
Wiseman preach in English at S. Andrea de’ Frati, and
capably he performed—a good contrast to the donkeys of our Anglican
Chapel. I think I saw
Manning’s
skull spot in the dark church, and also a gleam of spectacles very like
Mr. Allies’s, but no symptom
as yet of the Carstairs noblesse.
Pius IX. is
lodged again at the Vatican, which he should never have left, as it is
excellently fortified. At the —— —— (?) there might be
six or eight French officers, but they seemed all generals—certainly not
one youngish man. The French ambassador is the only diplomat that opens his
house at all—whence sad complaints of our ladies.
376 |
LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
|
His health had made but a brief rally, as this letter
confesses:—
“Rome, January 16, 1854.
“Dear Charlotte,—I
was well pleased with all the news of your last, and quite approve especially
the kitchen plan, for my recollection of many summer evenings poisoned by
smells is lively enough. I have had rather a bad week, and am not yet able to
leave my own room; but I daresay, in a day or two, I shall be as well as I have
ever managed to feel of late. For a new variety I have been, indeed am,
suffering under earache—whence a constant misery, steaming, &c.,
&c. Never experienced this before. About my last outing was to hear
Manning preach an Epiphany sermon in
the S. Andrea della Valle, and, as I had not heard him before, I was, of
course, greatly struck and pleased with his voice and action—the latter I
think the most graceful I ever saw in a pulpit performer. He called since, and
made himself very agreeable, and is to show me his college, &c., one
afternoon.
“The Admiral is
very happy, as the Dorias, Borgheses, and some other princely ones, have been
inviting him to dine. Borghese, he reports, feels confident that the Czar will
be in London within three years. Well, if so, I calculate Murchison will not cut his old friend, but, on
the contrary, patronise us all, to comfort us what he can under our woe about
the downfall of the Royal
Albert—I mean
his Siberian doom.
1 Certainly I have now had enough,
not of Rome, but of that Piazza di Spagna Rome, to which fate at present binds
me, and which I should suppose might be very well matched by any three or four
crescents of Leamington or Torquay—that is, were such a place so lucky as
to have booked half-a-dozen real grandees for the nonce.
Philpotts would do well for a Pont. Max., and
there would be no difficulty to fill the place of
Monsignor Talbot. I was vexed at not seeing the noble
Domenichinos of that church when
Manning held forth, but most were covered by
the delightful red and yellow petticoats, in which it is proper that naves and
aisles should be wrapped during high festivals, and the grandest of all, the
altarpiece, by a colossal præsepe or group of gigantic wooden dolls, to
represent the whole company at Bethlehem—not forgetting,
in course, the angels in the vault, or the three black
kings and their camels’ heads. Manning calmly said
the præsepe was ‘for the people,’ and he hoped I would
see the picture by-and-by. To be sure—all quite right.
“Yesterday, a letter from Holt
at Paris; mentions some serious money losses, and that he had been over to
Versailles, to see a grave which some one unknown had surrounded with violets.
If Hope gets to town, I do trust he will
show all kindness to that little man, and consult with him
1 The Crimean trouble is referred to. |
378 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
somewhat as to my own matters; for, arrive when I may, I
shall find overwhelming botheration, and the necessity, nevertheless, of coming
to some speedy arrangement as to future locality, and so on. I suppose the end
will be a tiny cot within two or three miles of town, or a sequestered
flat near the Clubs, if such a thing be comeatable. It
signifies little which; but if I could find that my Duchy need not at all
fetter me, as possibly is the fact, then I might take a wider circle of my
compasses, and aspire to a garden and a quarter-deck walk of decent amplitude
in Herts or Surrey. Other things occur in dreams and visions of the night
occasionally—we shall see. I beg my best compliments to
Miss Hope Scott, and all other young ladies of
Tweedside. You will smile, but I continue to read a good deal, though the most,
I own, in bed. Dr. Pantaleone has a good library, and is
most liberal with its stores, and I have got through a great many sound books
connected with this town and its history.
“I have also taken up Hebrew with an eye to Arabic,
that is, in case I should spend a season in the East, after all, before
settling down at Hampstead or Watford. I find I can easily recover the Hebrew I
had lost—not very much I own—but better than nothing, and I have
gone so far at least as to get an Arabic grammar from the most authentic
quarter here, through a Mr. Howard, late
of the Blues, who is now rigged as reverendly
as
Manning, and probably lodges in the
same cloister.—Ever yours affectionately,
The spirit, courage, gaiety, and energy of Lockhart never shone more brightly than in these days of illness and exile.
“Piazza di Spagna, March 15, 1854.
“My dear Charlotte,—I
was much gratified with your last and in all its parts, but in return for so
many bits of good news I have really nothing to say, except that I have settled
to take a steamboat at Civita Vecchia on the 29th of this month, and it
promises to reach Marseilles in twenty-seven hours. I need not hurry myself as
to the French part of my journey, and will probably bestow a day or two on
objects of interest as yet unvisited by me; but I shall soon (D.V.) get to Paris (Hôtel Windsor, Rue de Rivoli), and I hope to
find H. Ellis and wife there or
thereabouts; having spent a few days with whom, I may expect to cross to Old
England and occupy once more, though for the last time and not for long, my
customary quarters in Sussex Place.
“I have found that several acquaintances go by the
boat I mention; particularly William
Osborne and his wife, who will to the best of their power help
me. She was Caroline Montagu of Rokeby,
an old
380 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
friend and stalwart beauty—a most agreeable
woman, and married to a very agreeable man—a brother of
Lord Godolphin’s.
“When tolerably well I have made various little
expeditions to see celebrated places within a day’s drive, and mostly
with the two Kemble ladies, and an artist or two of their
suite. Next Saturday the like is to happen if the sun shines, and before I quit
Civita Vecchia I shall, I believe, contrive to spend three or four days in that
vicinity, where Etruscan antiquities (Cornato, Tarquinii, &c.) abound. But
I am at best very uncertain in any arrangements of this nature, for I am
subject to seizures that lay me quite on my back for two or three days. I am
to-day better than I have usually been for some weeks: but the constant
recurrence of most wearisome symptoms is enough to break one’s spirit,
even if one had any left to be broken. I am entirely satisfied that travel is
insanity for a sick creature; and once established again in a home, however
humble, I shall not be likely to quit it on any such speculation.
“Hope and you will be sorry to hear that R. Monteith and all his family have been laid
up with ‘Roman fever,’ so called, ending in what we call typhus.
One little girl died on Saturday, and I greatly fear my next intelligence may
be the death of another of them, with that of poor R.
Monteith himself. William
Lockhart (the monk), known to you, sees them hourly, and lets me
know daily.
Yesterday the last
Sacraments were to be administered to R. Monteith. This
William Lockhart came over with
Manning, and will return with him. He is very
near to the Lees, and I knew his father well in early
life. He seems a most amiable young man, and is very kind to me, as, indeed,
sundry of his cloth here are. I understand I am in bad odour with the good
Anglicans for going to hear Papist sermons pretty often; but, first, I get
Protestant ones (or can) readily at home; and, second, the specimens here are
better bad.
“You both, I think, were acquainted with the
Bishop of Salisbury. I am sorry for
his death. My old master, Jenkyns, too,
has dropt. I wonder who will be the new Bishop; but I do not look for Milman. More likely Whewell; Hallam is, I hear, mending decidedly.
“The day I touch a bit of well-dressed cod or salmon,
with a slice of roast beef or mutton, and glass of sound ale or port, I fancy I
shall feel greatly comforted. There is nothing wholesome or refreshing to be
had in this infernal place for love or money. Wherefore, may perdition attend
the population, from Pope Pio to the beggar on
the stairs.
“My chief companion and next-door neighbour (in the
house) is old Lord Stanhope—occupied
mostly with the spirit-rapping—I fancy a prime victim of the mediums. He
says there is much preaching here on the subject, the tone being that the facts
are all correct, but the whole the work
382 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
of Satan. Indeed,
that is what I have picked up from my orthodox friends
here.—Affectionately yours ever,
David Dunglas Home was not yet in Rome at this time;
some inferior medium was at work. Lockhart’s
dislike of Italian cookery and of the detestable wines of Italy comes out in a letter to
Milman:—
“Rome, Casa Serny, March 21, 1854.
“My dear Milman,—I am
ashamed of not having sooner acknowledged a very kind and interesting epistle
from the Deanery; but as I have been quite idle, you will readily understand
and excuse. My health has had many ups and downs; when tolerably well I have
tried to do something (occidentally and orientally), but in general I have been
too unwell for such matters. At this hour I am better by much than usual, and
hope to keep so during my homeward travels. I do not, on the whole, think I
have been improved by foreign drugs, and sigh for home comforts—oh, how
deeply!
“I had only yesterday a
complete leave of absence as to Duchy of Lancaster, but this does not alter my
programme, as I must, whatever order I may take about future modes of
existence, go to Sussex Place, for a little while at all events, to settle
about surrender of house there at Michaelmas, &c. I have no notion where I
shall plant me, or how
occupy my time, but
if, as I would fain still hope, I am to be capable of some work, I know myself
too well not to attempt to a certain extent a resumption of the old habits.
Many jobs may suggest themselves by-and-by for filling up a few hours daily in
an otherwise objectless existence. I rather think the temptation of society,
and especially friendship, will prevent me from fixing at any considerable
distance from London:
nous verrons.
Even if you be (as I hope) the new bishop, you won’t be without a
town-house any more than a comeatable palace in the country. I am sorry to see
that good little
Jenkyns is no more;
also not a little so at the sudden departure of poor
Talfourd.
Manning is poorly in looks, but charming in converse, and I see
a good deal of him very quietly; also of my namesake
William Lockhart (son of
L. of St. Mary’s Hall by a
Miss Jacob), who has given up a fair fortune
to be a monk of some new order—a fine, handsome, amiable young man; and I
may say the same of a
Herbert Vaughan, a
priest too, though secular, eldest son of a rich Welsh squire, another
handsome, elegant, good-natured, young English gentleman, gone the way of
Newman! The Cardinal,
Manning, and a Dr. English
preach, it seems, in pretty regular succession at a church near me here, and I
have attended them all frequently—Manning with real
delight as well as pain—
Wiseman
with unmingled aversion and disgust.” (An extremely severe expression of
opinion, or
384 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
prejudice, follows, but need not be quoted.)
“My tender homages wait on your lady. I quite enter
into her and your distress on the loss of Lady
Milman, for whom, though meeting her but rarely, I had always a
very particular liking as well as respect. Truly grieved I am for Sir William, and ever yours affectionately,
“Beds black with bugs,
Monks fat as slugs,
Beggars groaning,
Thieves atoning,
Leering models, lounging artists,
Strutting, strumming Bonapartists;
Mutton young, and stinking mullet,
Wine sharp enough for Rossi’s gullet.
Fancying these, make speed to Rome,
Curse beef and beer, law, truth, and home;
For me, I’d jump at once to ——,
Before returning.
“J. G. L.”
|
These are, perhaps, Lockhart’s last verses.
Still from Rome he writes to Mr. Hope
Scott about his post in the Duchy of Lancaster:—
“Rome, March
20, 1854.
“Dear Hope,—I think
it very probable that you have had some communication, since you reached town,
with Mr. Strutt, and will therefore hear,
without surprise, what he now communicates to me, viz., that my resignation as
auditor of the Duchy of Lancaster will be acceptable with reference to certain
proposed reforms, &c., &c., but
that
Prince Albert desires me to receive a
retired allowance equal to the salary. This is exceedingly gracious, and I have
of course written accordingly to Mr. Strutt.
“This will in no inconsiderable degree lighten my
difficulties as to arranging for the future course of my domesticities, and I
trust William and you will bestow some
reflection on it with that view. I do not wish such matters to be talked of
generally, but I will thank you to mention the occurrence confidentially to
Holt, Fergusson, and Christie, also to Mr. Murray, when you are next passing Albemarle Street. I mean
to take steamer on the 29th at Civita Vecchia, and, D.V., to reach London some
ten days later.
“You will be happy to learn that Monteith is thought to have decidedly got the
turn. He has not yet heard of the child’s death. Manning has just been here with this news, and
is to dine with me solo at 1.30 on Wednesday, which will
be a great treat to me. I asked him to invite Vaughan or W. Lockhart,
both of whom I am as fond of as he is, but he preferred a two-handed talk for
once.—Yours affectionately,
Lockhart reached Sussex Place again, and those
comforts which Rome could not yield. He writes:—
“Tuesday, April 11, 1854.
“Dear Charlotte,—I
am writing in my old
386 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
chair in my own old room once more.
I stood my long journey well enough, having pleasant society
throughout—viz.,
William Osborne
and his wife (
Caroline Montagu of
Rokeby), and their niece, Miss Fazakerley, and
as far as Paris, the
Duke of Wellington.
The Rhone being dried up, we found difficulty in getting the boat replaced, but
finally hired and posted (five maîtres and five domestiques) in a solemn
cast-off diligence. At Lyons we reached running water again, and on to Paris so
and by rail. I dined one day with
Ellis,
but never saw miladi, she being really ill. My only other visit was to
Versailles—of which when we meet.
“I have not yet seen Holt, but
I hope to do so this evening, and anticipate, with his help and
Woolford’s, escaping from this house before that
month expires. I am to be myself on trial as respects climate, &c., and
believe my wisest plan will be to deposit my books, &c., at the
Pantechnicon (all but a few boxes full), and hire for the nonce a lodging not
far from my clubs; in which case Hannah might sigh a long
farewell.
“I have a medal of Pius
IX. for M. M., with
sundry rosaries and so on, at your commands.
“Two more very old allies of mine are just buried, I
see—John Wilson and the Dean
of Wells (Jenkyns of Balliol).
“I am to dine to-day with Murchison, who looks doubly august with his
increase of fortune, which
must
atone for my shorn condition in purse and person.—Affectionately yours,
Shorn, indeed, Lockhart was. He
had never been rich; he had no valuable copyrights; the years of a large income had ended
with the first flush of Murray’s Family Library; his
expenses in consequence of Walter’s faults had
been great. Now he had to resign the Quarterly Review, and this is the time when Miss Martineau speaks of him as “opulent,” and
owner of a lucrative landed estate!
“Sussex Place, April 18, 1854.
“Dearest Charlotte,—I
shall be very happy to dine with you on the appointed day, when I hope to see
M. M.1 in
great beauty and attraction, and her papa and mamma strong and well. I have
seen Lady Hope, and was delighted with
her vigorous looks—also Lady F. H.,
who seems as jolly as ever, all woes notwithstanding. I have nothing to say of
myself but that I don’t feel as if I were at all the worse for being
here—if anything, the contrary, and take what share I can in the great
quest of a shelter; but I daresay your arrival will find that still on foot. It
seems to be extremely hard to get at anything decent on decent terms anywhere,
and actually impossible in the civilised regions of the town. Christie is not yet seen by me—he is at
Beaumanoir. Lady
388 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
Davy is in her white hairs and no roses,
but in very fair spirits—quite herself indeed. Oh! on Easter Sunday I was
good boy and went to the old ——’s”
(the family best taken homeopathically), “with the usual cod and
pigeon-pie, &c., &c.;
he rayther doited, I
fear—all the rest as of yore. Scotty very nice. So
is neighbour Daisy here—
very.
Poor
Mrs. Grant seems much shaken and
aged.
Frank (Grant)
has now finished his me to his own satisfaction, and threatens engraving; but I
have not had any other opinion. My own is that there is very little resemblance
to the senior whom I
should shave every morning.
“I am not surprised, but sorry, to hear whispers of
a separation between —— —— and her
virtuoso, whose neglects have at last exhausted her patience; but I shall have
particulars whenever I meet the Eastlakes, and till then mum.”
The following brief note is his last to his old friend Dean Milman:—
“19th July 1854
“Dear Dean,—I have
now read your book all
through, and am very sorry to find myself at finis, but hope to see more vols, speedily. This is a
real good history, most learned, instructive, and abundant in sense and taste.
I beg pardon for praising it—excuse the presumptuous habits of an old
editor.
“I think A.
Stanley’s article a very able and interesting one—in
fact, the best thing he has as yet
| LAST VISIT TO SCOTLAND | 389 |
printed—always excepting passages in his
‘
Arnold,’
which neither he nor another will readily beat.—Yours,
In August, Lockhart retreated to
his brother’s hospitable house at Milton
Lockhart. His health was not mending; a chilliness in the hands and feet, and great
weakness, were the most notable symptoms. “Bob,” in the
following letter, is his brother Robert, then on the
point of being married.
It is pleasant to think that his latest summer, in his own country, was
happy in warmth, a grateful breeze, and the “sheathed” sun, on which he quotes
Wordsworth. He, like Scott, made a final visit to Douglas and its stern monuments; and he
remembered, we may be sure, that day of dark and lowering heat, when Sir
Walter, moved beyond himself, quoted—
“My wound is deep, I fain would sleep.” |
Deep was Lockhart’s wound,
beyond all healing, and rest was near. How touchingly his words in the following letter on
youth and health, and on people’s duty to be “what it is easy to
preach,” recall Scott’s “Be a
good man, my dear!” But he addressed, and he knew it, one to whom it was easy
to be good:—
“Milton, August 29, 1854.
“Dear Charlotte,—Kate says I should
write, but I really have nothing to say except what she is
390 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
sure to have said to you lately. She and
William are both most kind, and so is
Bob (when he can be spared us for a little),
in their attention to my ease and comforts. The pony has hitherto served me no
great deal, because my bones are so naked that the surface gets easily injured,
and the poor man can’t attempt remounting for some while. Otherwise, I
should expect real good from that exercise, and we shall see by-and-by how
things go on. I am not better, I think, on the whole, but not worse, and for
this one should be thankful.
“The weather is delicious—warm, very warm, but
a gentle breeze keeping the leaves in motion all about, and the sun sheathed, as Wordsworth hath it, with a soft grey layer of cloud. To-day I
am tempted to try the pony again, though, besides other griefs, I can get no
companion—William just once,
and yet God only knows what he does all day before sleeping hours.
“I am glad to fancy you all enjoying yourselves (I
include Lady D. and sweet M.
M.), in this heavenly summer season—such a rarity beneath
our sky. If people knew beforehand what it is to lose health, and all that
can’t survive health, they would in youth be what it is easy to
preach—do you try. I fancy it costs none of you
very much effort either to be good or happy.—Yours affectionately,
“Milton, September 9, 1854.
“Dear Charlotte,—I
am probably doing what William ought to
have done—anyhow, your grouse arrived this morning, and will be very
useful. I have lived on grouse-soup ever since I came to Milton, with the
addition of some curds and cream, lots of butter-milk, and now, behold, a
kebbock procured from a renowned dairy hard by for my special benefit! I am, in
some minor respects, rather better, and persist therefore in riding almost
daily for two or three hours, but the feebleness in the limbs, I fear,
progresses still. It is with considerable difficulty I get my legs over the
saddle, and I never even attempt more than a walk.
“I suppose I must soon think of moving southwards,
and that will include a little visit to you, unless you shall have shown
yourselves here at any rate; but I don’t mean that I don’t wish and
intend to be with you whether you have been here or not. If I feel tolerably up
to any visiting, I will, if I can, go to Bob’s wedding,1 but I doubt if I
shall be able, and suspect the absence of so ghastly a visage and form may be
much more to the hilarifying of Kate (who alone will
remember it) than the presence of your most obedient.
“We have the most heavenly weather.
Kate and I went with William yesterday to Douglas to show her the monuments, and
that he might call
392 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
at the castle. Lord D. was not well
enough to be seen.
“Lord Peter
is to be here on Thursday; going on Saturday to the Belhavens, who have just
returned from the Rhine. My respects attend all the fair, not excepting
M. M.
Lockhart’s final visit to Abbotsford has
sometimes been represented as the sudden freak of a stricken man to die at home. The
foregoing and following letters prove that he had always contemplated and promised a visit
to his daughter. Mr. Ornsby, in his “Life of James Hope Scott,”1 writes thus: “Mr.
and Mrs. Hope Scott went to see him at Milton
Lockhart, and entreated him to come to Abbotsford. He at first decidedly refused, and
his will was a strong one; but some time after, when the house was full of Catholic
guests, he suddenly announced that he wished to go immediately to
Abbotsford.”
This makes a rather ungracious impression. Lockhart’s letters, of course, remove it; he always meant to go to
see his daughter and “M. M.”
This is his last letter to his daughter. He journeyed to Abbotsford,
and died among those dearest to him:—
“Milton Lockhart, 29th September 1854.
“Dear Charlotte,—I
am certainly somewhat
stronger on my poor limbs, but as I have
not learnt to eat, the difficulty is only protracted by such changes. However,
I write merely to say that your last to Kate greatly
surprised and perplexed me; for I had not before had the least notion about
your two visits, and fully believed that
Hope would be off for his English trip before Monday next.
Meantime I had settled in my own mind that, if I should feel courageous enough
for a day of travel, I would quit this place by, at latest, the middle day of
October—if possible a week sooner. As to that point, I have had no letter
lately from
Fergusson; he has left mine
unanswered; so I concluded that in absence he would rather not interfere. But
as you will no doubt come hither on Monday, I need not trouble you with more of
this to-day. It seems a bit of destiny that
M.
M. and J. G. L. do not meet in a hurry. I
am very sorry to hear of
Lady
Davy’s new attack, but she has a vitality that I may well
envy. Love to you all.
The date of Lockhart’s
arrival at Abbotsford is unrecorded.
An old servant of Mrs. Maxwell
Scott’s family, Mrs. Doyle, gives this touching
description of Lockhart’s fondness for his
little grandchild, which partly deals with his dying days at Abbotsford.
“She used to be quite
frightened at him, as a
394 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
baby, when he lived at Regent’s
Park. Poor gentleman, he used to be so often ill, and when we used to go to see him, he
would be in his dressing-gown and a red cap. She would cry, and I had to take her out
and walk in the garden. Her mother used to be so vexed, and used to talk to her.
Mr. Lockhart told Dr. Locock what a naughty little girl she was! At last
she was good, and pleased to let her grandpapa take her in his arms, and he kissed her,
and I saw the tears run down his cheeks. I remember when Mr.
Hope Scott came home, how dear Mrs. Hope
Scott met him on the stair to tell him baby had been good to her
grandpapa, and let him take her in his arms: he came straight to the nursery to kiss
her, and tell her she had been a good baby. When Mr. Lockhart was
ill at Abbotsford, how he loved to hear her running about the house. He said it was
life to him. What a beautiful face he had! What a dream it all seems: how often I sit
and think of these days.”
Mr. Ornsby, in his “Life of James Hope Scott,”1 says: “He arrived there hardly able to get out of his carriage, and
it was at once perceived that he was a dying man. He desired to drive about and take
leave of various places.”
We can imagine his last visits to Chiefswood, Huntly Burn, the
Rhymer’s Glen, Torwoodlee, Gledswood, perhaps “the dowie dens of
Yarrow,”—“displaying, however, a sort of stoical fortitude,
and never making a direct allusion to what was
impending. To save him fatigue it was important he should have his room near the
library, but he shrank from accepting the dining-room (where Sir Walter had died), and it required all Mr. Hope Scott’s peculiar tact and kindness to induce him to
establish himself in the breakfast-room close by. There he remained until the end. Yet
he would not suffer any one to nurse him, till, one night, he fell down on the floor,
and, after that, offered no further opposition. Father
Lockhart, a distant cousin, was now telegraphed for, from whom, during
Mr. Lockhart’s stay in Rome, he had
received much kind attention, for which he was always grateful. He did not object to
his kinsman’s attendance, though a priest; and yielded also when asked to allow
his daughter to say a few prayers by his bedside. . . . The end came suddenly. Mr. and
Mrs. Hope Scott were quickly called in, and found
Miss Lockhart (affectionately called in the family
‘Cousin Kate’) reading the prayers for the dying.
Mr. Lockhart died on November 25.”
He was buried, by his desire, in Dryburgh Abbey, “at the feet
of Sir Walter Scott,” within hearing of
the Tweed. Mrs. Robert Lockhart, at that time a bride, makes the
following extracts from letters of her husband, who
was in attendance on the dying man:—
“I was in the dining-room during the night, which is next the
sick-room. It is the room in which old Sir Walter
died. My thoughts during
396 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
the night I can scarcely describe,
thinking of my poor brother in his younger days, with the Scott
family, now all gone.”
“Abbotsford, November
26, 1854.
“I arrived early this morning, but, alas! too late for the
momentary gratification of being with him at the last. As Dr. Clarkson had assured us, his end was but a soft sleep—no
pain, no struggle. The change is not great from what he appeared lately, and his
expression is mild. My poor mother was brought before me so perfectly. In death he
resembles her far more than he did in life.”
The biographer of Father William
Lockhart informs me that the Father used to read to Lockhart, in his last days, passages from “The Garden of the Soul.” Mr.
Gleig says, touching his religious creed, that a clergyman, an Oxford friend
(probably himself), used to walk with Lockhart on Sunday afternoons in
Regent’s Park. “With whatever topic their colloquy began, it invariably fell
off, so to speak, of its own accord into discussions upon the character and teaching of
the Saviour; upon the influence exercised by both over the opinions and habits of
mankind; upon the light thrown by them on man’s future state and present destiny.
. . . Lockhart was never so charming as in these discussions. It
was evident that the subject filled his whole mind, for the views which he enunciated
were
large, broad, and most reverential—free
at once from the bigoted dogmatism which passes current in certain circles for
religion, and from the loose, unmeaning jargon which is too often accepted as
‘rational Christianity.’ . . .”
Of religion, in his extant letters, Lockhart never speaks, save in some brief ejaculation, or in acknowledging
and humbly bowing to that Will which so often, and so severely, tried his own.
Lockhart, in his will, left little memorials to his surviving
friends, and a sum of one hundred pounds to Mr.
Christie, “for a purpose which he knows”—veteris haud immemor amicitiæ.
Mr. Froude, in his “Thomas Carlyle,”1 writes
of “a poem sent to him (in part) by a friend whom he rarely saw, who is seldom
mentioned in connection with his history, yet who then and always was exceptionally
dear to him. The lines themselves were often on his lips to the end of his own life,
and will not be easily forgotten by any one who reads them.”
These lines came to him who now writes, with Lockhart’s letter to Carlyle, in an hour of sorrow, and will not be forgotten while memory
endures. They are written in full on a page pasted into one of
Lockhart’s diary books, and are dated June 21, 1841. They
had been seen by Mrs. Norton, who, in one of her
letters to him—letters singularly vivid, but clouded by many torturing
anxieties—says
398 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
that “some good angel must have caught him in a trap.”
“When youthful faith has fled,
Of loving take thy leave;
Be constant to the dead,
The dead cannot deceive.
|
Sweet, modest flowers of spring,
How fleet your balmy day!
And man’s brief year can bring
No secondary May.
|
No earthly burst again
Of gladness out of gloom;
Fond hope and vision vain,
Ungrateful to the tomb!
|
But ’tis an old belief,
That on some solemn shore,
Beyond the sphere of grief,
Dear friends will meet once more.
|
Beyond the sphere of time,
And sin, and fate’s control,
Serene in changeless prime
Of body and of soul.
|
That creed I fain would keep,
That hope I’ll not forego;
Eternal be the sleep,
Unless to waken so.”
|
So may he have wakened—out of weakness made strong, out of
weariness refreshed—to meet the eyes of her whom he never ceased to love and long
for, and of that great soul beside whose mortal ashes his own body lies at rest.
Claud Alexander, first baronet (1831-1899)
Of Ballochmyle, son of Boyd Alexander; he was lieutenant-colonel in the grenadier guards
and MP for South Ayrshire in 1874.
Thomas William Allies (1813-1903)
Educated at Eton and Wadham College, Oxford where he was a fellow and a Tractarian; in
1850 he left his church living and converted to Roman Catholicism.
Henry Lytton Earle Bulwer, baron Dalling and Bulwer (1801-1872)
English diplomat, the elder brother of the novelist Bulwer-Lytton; he was a member of the
London Greek Committee, ambassador to Florence (1843-8), the United States (1849), and
Constantinople (1858-65). He was raised to the peerage in 1871.
Frances Butler [née Kemble] (1809-1893)
English actress and writer, daughter of Charles Kemble and Maria Theresa Kemble; on a
tour to America in 1834 she was unhappily married to Pierce Butler (1807-1867).
Robert Cadell (1788-1849)
Edinburgh bookseller who partnered with Archibald Constable, whose daughter Elizabeth he
married in 1817. After Constable's death and the failure of Ballantyne he joined with Scott
to purchase rights to the
Waverley Novels.
Luigi Canina (1795-1856)
Italian archaeologist and professor of architecture at Turin; he restored interiors at
Alnwick Castle, Northumberland.
Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881)
Scottish essayist and man of letters; he translated Goethe's
Wilhelm
Meister (1824) and published
Sartor Resartus
(1833-34).
Jonathan Henry Christie (1793-1876)
Educated at Marischal College, Baliol College, Oxford, and Lincoln's Inn; after slaying
John Scott in the famous duel at Chalk Farm he was acquitted of murder and afterwards
practiced law as a conveyancer in London. He was the lifelong friend of John Gibson
Lockhart and an acquaintance of John Keats.
James Burnet Clarkson (1865 fl.)
Surgeon at Melrose, licensed in 1818; he was the son of Sir Walter Scott's friend
Ebenezer Clarkson.
Henry Cockburn, Lord Cockburn (1779-1854)
Scottish judge, reformer, and friend of Francis Jeffrey; he wrote a
Life of Lord Jeffrey (1852) and
Memorials of his Time
(1856).
Dante Alighieri (1265-1321)
Florentine poet, the author of the
Divine Comedy and other
works.
Lady Jane Davy [née Kerr] (1780-1855)
Society hostess who in 1798 married Shuckburgh Ashby Apreece (d. 1807) and Humphry Davy
in 1812.
Domenichino (1581-1641)
Italian painter of the Bolognese school.
Lady Elizabeth Eastlake [née Rigby] (1809-1893)
Art critic, translator, and reviewer for the
Quarterly; she
married Sir Charles Lock Eastlake in 1849. She was related to Lady Palgrave through her
mother, Anne Palgrave.
Sir Henry Ellis (1788-1855)
English diplomat, the illegitimate son of Robert Hobart, fourth earl of Buckinghamshire;
he published
A Journal of the Proceedings of the Late Embassy to
China (1817).
Sir William Fergusson, first baronet (1808-1877)
Scottish physician educated at Edinburgh University; in 1840 he was appointed to the
professorship of surgery at King's College, London.
John Forster (1812-1876)
English man of letters and friend of Charles Lamb and Leigh Hunt who was editor of
The Examiner (1847-55) and the biographer of Goldsmith (1854),
Landor (1869), and Dickens (1872-74).
James Anthony Froude (1818-1894)
English historian and man of letters; he published
History of England
from the Fall of Wolsey to the Death of Elizabeth, 12 vols (1856-70).
George Robert Gleig (1796-1888)
Prolific Tory writer who rose to attention with
The Subaltern,
serialized in
Blackwood's; he was appointed chaplain-general of the
forces in 1844.
Charles George Gordon (1833-1885)
British military officer in China and Sudan; he was killed at Khartoum.
Sir Francis Grant (1803-1878)
Scottish artist known for his portraits and sporting scenes; he was president of the
Royal Academy (1866-78).
Henry Hallam (1777-1859)
English historian and contributor to the
Edinburgh Review, author
of
Introduction to the Literature of Europe, 4 vols (1837-39) and
other works. He was the father of Tennyson's Arthur Hallam.
Robert William Hay (1786-1861)
After education at Christ Church, Oxford, he was private secretary to Viscount Melville,
first lord of the Admiralty (1812) and permanent under-secretary of state for the colonies
(1825).
Benjamin Robert Haydon (1786-1846)
English historical painter and diarist who recorded anecdotes of romantic writers and the
physiognomy of several in his paintings.
Daniel Dunglas Home (1833-1886)
Scottish spiritualist raised in the United States; he traveled to Europe in 1855 where
his sitters included Bulwer Lytton, Lord Brougham, and Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Lady Georgina Alicia Hope [née Brown] (d. 1855)
The youngest daughter of George Brown of Ellerton, Roxburghshire; in 1805 she married
General Sir Alexander Hope (1769–1837) of Rankeillour and Luffness.
James Robert Hope-Scott (1812-1873)
The son of General Hon. Sir Alexander Hope; in 1847 he married Charlotte Harriet Jane
Lockhart, daughter of the editor of the
Quarterly Review. He was a
barrister and Queen's Counsel.
Horace (65 BC-8 BC)
Roman lyric poet; author of
Odes,
Epistles, Satires, and the
Ars Poetica.
Richard Jenkyns (1782-1854)
Educated at Balliol College, Oxford, where he was elected master in 1819; he was
vice-chancellor (1824-28) and dean of Wells (1845).
Adelaide Kemble (1815-1879)
English soprano who studied music with John Braham; the daughter of Charles Kemble and
sister of Fanny Kemble, she retired following her marriage to Edward John Sartoris in
1842.
Alexander Lockhart (1788-1832)
Son of William Lockhart; he was educated at St. Mary Hall, Oxford and was rector of Stone
in Buckinghamshire (1822).
John Gibson Lockhart (1794-1854)
Editor of the
Quarterly Review (1825-1853); son-in-law of Walter
Scott and author of the
Life of Scott 5 vols (1838).
Martha Lockhart [née Jacob] (1798 c.-1872)
The daughter of William Jacob MP (1761/2-1851); she was the second wife of Alexander
Lockhart, rector of Stone in Buckinghamshire.
Robert Lockhart (1805-1859)
The son of the Rev. John Lockhart and brother of John Gibson Lockhart; he was a merchant
in Glasgow. In 1854 he married Marion Kinnear, daughter of John G. Kinnear.
Walter Scott Lockhart (1826-1853)
The younger son of John Gibson Lockhart and his wife Sophia; a military officer, he
inherited Abbotsford in 1847.
William Lockhart (1787-1856)
Of Germiston and Milton-Lockhart, the elder, half-brother of John Gibson Lockhart; he was
Conservative MP for Lanarkshire (1841-56).
William Lockhart (1819-1892)
The son of the Rev. Alexander Lockhart (1788-1832) and cousin of John Gibson Lockhart;
educated at Exeter College, Oxford, he was the first of the Tractarians to go over to
Rome.
Sir Charles Locock, first baronet (1799-1875)
A pupil of Benjamin Brodie, he was physician to the Westminster Lying-in Hospital and
physician accoucheur to Queen Victoria.
Hon. Henry Cecil Lowther (1790-1867)
The son of William Lowther. first earl of Lonsdale; he was MP for Westmorland and Deputy
Lieutenant of Cumberland.
Cardinal Henry Edward Manning (1808-1892)
Educated at Harrow and Balliol College, Oxford (where he was tutored by Herman Merviale),
he converted to Catholicism under the influence of John Henry Newman (1851), becoming
archbishop of Westminster in 1865.
Harriet Martineau (1802-1876)
English writer and reformer; she published
Illustrations of Political
Economy, 9 vols (1832-34) and
Society in America
(1837).
Mary Monica Maxwell-Scott [née Hope-Scott] (1852-1920)
Of Abbotsford, author, the daughter of James Robert Hope-Scott and granddaughter of Sir
Walter Scott; in 1874 she married the Hon. Joseph Constable-Maxwell.
Henry Hart Milman (1791-1868)
Educated at Eton and Brasenose College, Oxford, he was a poet, historian and dean of St
Paul's (1849) who wrote for the
Quarterly Review.
Robert Monteith of Carstairs (1811-1884)
The son of Henry Monteith (d. 1848); at Trinity College, Cambridge he was a member of the
Apostles; he converted to Rome in 1846 and was a prominent Christian socialist.
John Murray III (1808-1892)
The son of the Anak of publishers; he successfully carried on the family publishing
business.
Emperor Napoleon I (1769-1821)
Military leader, First Consul (1799), and Emperor of the French (1804), after his
abdication he was exiled to Elba (1814); after his defeat at Waterloo he was exiled to St.
Helena (1815).
Cardinal John Henry Newman (1801-1890)
Educated at Trinity College, Oxford, and Fellow of Oriel, he was a leader of the Oxford
Movement before becoming a Roman Catholic in 1845.
Robert Ornsby (1820-1889)
Educated at Lincoln College, Oxford, he resigned his church living in 1847 to join the
Roman Church, and was professor of classics at new Catholic University in Ireland.
Caroline Osborne [née Montagu] (d. 1867)
The daughter of Matthew Montagu, fourth Baron Rokeby; in 1843 she became the second wife
of William Godolphin Osborne, son of Francis Godolphin Osborne, first Baron
Godolphin.
Henry Phillpotts, bishop of Exeter (1778-1869)
High-church Tory clergyman and controversialist opposed to Catholic emancipation; he was
dean of Chester (1828) and bishop of Exeter (1830).
Pope Pius IX. (1792-1878)
The Pope during the Victorian era, 1846-1878.
Patrick Robertson [Peter] (1794-1855)
Scottish judge, poet, wit, and friend of John Wilson; familiarly known as “Peter,” in
1848 he was elected lord rector of Marischal College.
Seneca (4 BC c.-65)
Roman statesman, philosopher, and tragic playwright, advisor to Nero and author of
Medea,
Troades, and
Phaedra.
Philip Henry Stanhope, fourth earl Stanhope (1781-1855)
Son of the third earl (d. 1816) and brother of Lady Hester Stanhope; he was MP for
Windsor (1806-07), Hull (1807-12), and Midhurst (1812-16), afterwards an ultra-Tory
peer.
Arthur Penrhyn Stanley (1815-1881)
The son of Edward Stanley, Bishop of Norwich; he was educated at Rugby under Thomas
Arnold and at Balliol College, Oxford; he was regius professor of ecclesiastical history at
Oxford (1856) and Dean of Westminster (1863).
Edward Strutt, first Baron Belper (1801-1880)
The son of the cotton manufacturer William Strutt (d. 1830); educated at Trinity College,
Cambridge, he was a Liberal MP for the borough of Derby (1830-47) and chancellor of the
duchy of Lancaster (1852-54). He became a peer in 1856.
George Talbot (1816-1886)
Educated at St Mary's Hall, Oxford, he became a Catholic priest in 1843 and was appointed
a canon of St Peter's, Rome, rector of the English college, and an influential chamberlain
to Pope Pius IX.; he suffered from insanity in his later years.
Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd (1795-1854)
English judge, dramatist, and friend of Charles Lamb who contributed articles to the
London Magazine and
New Monthly
Magazine.
Tom Taylor (1817-1880)
Educated at Glasgow University and Trinity College, Cambridge where he was one of the
apostles, he was professor of English literature at London University (1845), a popular
author, and the editor of
Punch (1874-80).
William Whewell (1794-1866)
Writer on science; he was professor of mineralogy at Cambridge (1828-32) and master of
Trinity College (1841-66).
John Wilson [Christopher North] (1785-1854)
Scottish poet and Tory essayist, the chief writer for the “Noctes Ambrosianae” in
Blackwood's Magazine and professor of moral philosophy at Edinburgh
University (1820).
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
With Coleridge, author of
Lyrical Ballads (1798), Wordsworth
survived his early unpopularity to succeed Robert Southey as poet laureate in 1843.
The Examiner. (1808-1881). Founded by John and Leigh Hunt, this weekly paper divided its attention between literary
matters and radical politics; William Hazlitt was among its regular contributors.
The Quarterly Review. (1809-1967). Published by John Murray, the
Quarterly was instigated by Walter
Scott as a Tory rival to the
Edinburgh Review. It was edited by
William Gifford to 1824, and by John Gibson Lockhart from 1826 to 1853.