Years have rolled on, and yet the intercourse with so striking a person has left a remembrance not to be deadened by lapse of time. The noble form-- that beautiful, intellectual countenance--the kindly tone of voice, so encouraging in difficulty, so sympathetic in sorrow, so persuasive in advice--who that knew James Hope-Scott could ever forget?
He had a peculiar way of listening, with the head a little bent on one side, to the most trivial subject broached by a friend in conversation, as if it was of the deepest importance, which pleased you with its unintentional flattery. With true Christian politeness he never interrupted you, but, if the subject was an important one, he would come down with some unanswerable view which at once approved itself to the listener as the course to be followed: 'Hope thinks so-and-so'--and it always proved the right thing.
With regard to his generosity, it was his nature to be generous--he had learned the pleasure of giving; and, when any principle was involved in a gift, there was no stint. As an illustration of this, I remember on one occasion a friend--not rich--known to us both, had given me a picture to dispose of, as she did not care for it: it was small, and out of condition, and of an objectionable subject, though we had not perceived its closely veiled viciousness. I failed in persuading a picture dealer to purchase it, and, having to return home by my husband's chambers, I there found Mr. Hope-Scott. I mentioned my want of success, and your father at once said, 'Let us see it.' It was fetched up from the carriage, and after looking at it attentively--'Well,' he said, 'Mrs. Bellasis, I think you must leave this with me.' I did so, and learnt afterwards that on my leaving the room he crushed the painting with his heel, put it on the fire, and sent me a cheque for my friend for 30_l._
His faculty for languages was very great, and when in the south of France, rambling daily over the pretty property he possessed at Hyères, I used to be amazed at the fluent way in which he talked with the workmen; whether it was the carpenter, the plasterer, mason, or gardener, he talked with each in the terms of their respective occupations and trades, quite unhesitatingly. Provençal talk is certainly puzzling, but he seemed as if born to it; and the French gentlemen told me he spoke exactly all the niceties of their language, whether in repartee or in illustration.