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That his health was indeed in a very precarious state appears constantly. His eldest son, Maurice, who had been employed on a railway-survey in Mexico, came home on a visit about the time of his father's appointment to Westminster, and was
so much struck with his broken appearance that he urged • upon him rest and change, and a sea-voyage, before he entered on a position of fresh responsibility.' His medical advisers also strongly recommended the change; but it was the following year before he could be persuaded to go for a time to America. He sailed for New York on January 29, 1874, accompanied by his eldest daughter, who had before been with him in the West Indies.
The Americans of all classes received him with open arms and much hospitality; and in freedom from work and worry, perhaps, too, in pleasant excitement, his health seems to have much improved. He himself took-or, perhaps, with the wish to lessen his wife's anxiety, pretended to take--a most favourable view of it. On March 8 he writes: I have not been so
well for years ; my digestion is perfect, and I am in high 'spirits ;' and again, on March 23 : * I do not tire the least, · sleep at night, and rise in the morning as fresh as a lark to
eat a good breakfast.'
Of his travels in America it would be needless to speak. He was taken everywhere and shown everything, from Niagara and the Yosemite Valley to San Francisco. When the Americans wish to display hospitality, no people on the face of the earth can do it better, when they wish to lionise a stranger, there are few people who can gather larger and more frequent crowds; and Kingsley, in renewed health and spirits, seems to have very thoroughly enjoyed both the hospitality and the lionising, in the course of which he delivered the lecture-room trifles which have been, with rather doubtful judgment, published since his death.
The end of all this was, however, very sad. The climate of San Francisco, with a hot sun and a chilling wind, is excessively trying: and Kingsley caught a severe cold. The doctors there ordered him to leave the city as quickly as possible; and though still very ill, he managed to reach' Denver and to get on to Colorado Springs, where he was laid up
for some weeks with a severe attack of pleurisy. From this he recovered; but when he returned home in August, was certainly not the stronger for his expedition. A severe attack of congestion of the liver followed in September, just as he went into residence at Westminster, and his health continued ex
tremely feeble, rendered more so by the anxiety caused by the dangerous illness of his wife.
On Advent Sunday, November 29, 1874, he preached his last sermon in Westminster Abbey. It was the winding up of his work in the Abbey; it was, in fact, the winding up of his work on earth. A great storm was raging, and the fierce gale, which seemed almost to shake the vast pile, gave a point to his discourse, the subject of which was suggested by the day. He spoke at great length, with a fervour and beauty which he himself had never surpassed, of the many different ways in which Christ may make known His coming ; in joy, in sorrow, in prosperity, in failure; in the repose of Nature, or · He may come, as He may come this very night to 'many a gallant soul; not in the repose of Nature, but in her ‘rage; in howling storm, and blinding foam, and ruthless rocks, • and whelming surge; and whisper to them even so, as the
sea swallows all of them which it can take, of calm beyond · which this world cannot give and cannot take away. But, he concluded, “in whatsoever way Thou comest, even so come, • Lord Jesus.' They were the last words he spoke in public.
On December 3, in company with his wife, he went to Eversley; but the journey over-taxed Mrs. Kingsley’s strength; her illness again took a serious form, and she was considered to be in most imminent danger. In attending on her, and careless of his own health, Kingsley, who had been far from well, caught a fresh cold. This resulted in pneumonia, and after lingering for a few weeks, more or less under the influence of opiates, he died quietly on January 23, 1875.
It had been wished by some that the late Canon of Westminster should be buried within the Abbey; his family, however, guided by his own wishes, happily determined that he should rest in the churchyard of the parish of which he had been so long the Rector, and with which his name will ever be associated. The churchyard is separated by a low wall from the garden which it had been the Rector's joy and delight to adorn; this, from the wilderness which it was in 1844, bad become, even in the eyes of the professional gardener, one of the beauty-spots of the South of England; not in modern fashion, a mere blaze of gaudy bedding-out plants, but arranged by the taste and feeling of the historian, the poet, the artist, and the naturalist. The Rectory itself, though as a dwelling incommodious and damp, or even wet, is from an outside point of view exceedingly pretty. It is described as literally covered with vegetation; a mass of magnolias, Japanese honeysuckle, wistarias, ceanothus, roses, and ivy. In front of it stand three
magnificent Scotch firs, which throw their shade over the neighbouring wall, and over the grave where now lies all that remains of Charles Kingsley.
It has often been said that Kingsley's temper and frame of mind were those of the age of chivalry rather than of the nineteenth century. We think, on the contrary, that he was emphatically a man of his own time. To a good and earnest man, his own age
in which he has to work-is actually the age of chivalry; his own work makes it so; and Kingsley's work, in the minutest detail, belonged to the present. The vices he warred against, the science of which he was the popular exponent, were all things of the present. Whatever illustrations he might adopt from history, it was to the present that he applied them. Whether he wrote of the old wars between Roman and Teuton, or of the foul and courtly .har• lotocracy' of France in the eighteenth century; of the old struggle between Pagan philosophy and Christianity, as in • Hypatia,' or between tyranny and freedom, between superstition and religion, as in Westward Ho!' the present was as much before him as when he wrote of cleanliness and whitewash ín • Two Years Ago,' or of the abominations of tight-lacing and · high heels, and the nasty mass of false hair'in Nausicaa.'
He wrote of the present, and for the present; his writing, meant for present effect, was careless in the extreme. As it first flowed from his pen it went before the public, and so remains. Mrs. Kingsley seems to consider this rapidity a mark of his genius ; in one sense it doubtless was so. His work came so directly from the heart, rather than from the head, that its effect on readers of the present time was almost magical. It stirred up many and vehement enemies, whose hostility he in great measure lived down ; it kindled, on the other hand, much love and admiration, and won for him many friends, known or unknown, to whom the very name of Kingsley still sounds as the synonym of goodness and virtue. But work so hastily reeled off is seldom of a character to last; and we cannot think that Kingsley's will prove an exception. It is not merely that his writing is exceedingly careless, that there is hardly a page on which the critical eye may not detect some sin against grammatical rule or canon of taste; it is rather that most of what he wrote is in its very essence ephemeral. The present generation knows, admires, and reveres in him, not so much the popular writer, as the good man and the earnest teacher; fifty years hence he may be remembered only as the writer of a few volumes of manly and sympathetic sermons, or of two or three high-minded but old-fashioned novels.
ART. VI.—1. Further Correspondence relative to the Affairs
of South Africa. Presented to both Houses of Parliament
by command, February 1877. 2. The South African Conference. The Views of the Cape
Ministry and their Supporters on Earl Carnarvon's South African Policy as set forth by their Speeches in the Cape Parliament. With an Introduction by an Old Colonist.
London: 1876. THE HE January number of the Quarterly Review 'contains
an article on · English Policy in South Africa,' intended to put the case of the Dutch population of the Cape of Good Hope before England as it appears to themselves and to the writer, to whom it certainly appears black enough. He adopts the opinion of Sir G. Clerk that the Dutch farmers have been alienated by our neglect and habitual disdain. From the past history of the Colony he extracts with industry and weaves together with skill all that can illustrate our blundering ignorance and prejudice. He criticises contemptuously the proceedings of the last Ministry—the annexation of the Basutos' land, the establishment of responsible government, and finally the appropriation of the Diamond Fields, which last he denounces as perhaps the most discreditable incident in British • Colonial History'-a proceeding which taught our Dutch
fellow-subjects to regard us as a people whom neither equity (nor treaties could bind.' He overwhelms us with an unbroken succession of indictments, ancient and modern, embracing fifty years of error and injustice, and unvaried by a single gleam of sense or consideration. We are allowed to perceive that even Lord Carnarvon's well-known proposal of a South African Conference was, in form at least, a miscalculation, as it provoked an unnecessary resistance from the Colonial Parliament. This however was a concluding mistake. Here at length half a century of misgovernment came to an end, and a new era began. After thirty-eight pages of unflagging exposure the three last burst upon us like the rising of the sun.
* The response from the people of the Colony was more appreciative [than that of the Parliament]. They asked for explanations, and Mr. Froude, who had gone out to represent the Imperial Government at the intended Conference, took upon himself to give these explanations. He was accused of trespassing, in doing so, upon official etiquette. He may have felt that to allow the gloss which had been put upon the proposal of a Conference to pass unchallenged would not only have been unfair to Lord Carnarvon, but would have seriously aggravated the existing difficulties. He may have thought also that it was indispensable to call out colonial opinion in some shape or other to guide Lord Carnarvon's action. The result at any rate was that the proposal of the Colonial Office received a general welcome. Addresses of thanks were forwarded from the interior towns. The Dutch of the Western Province, little given to demonstrative forms of expression, showed in crowded meetings their satisfaction that an English Minister had at last remembered their existence. The suspicions of the leading politicians have since been removed, and there is now every prospect that the Colonial Office and the Cape Parliament will be able to work in harmony. The dispute with the Orange Free State has already been happily arranged." The Diamond Fields remain British Territory. The Free State receives a compensation ' [of 90,0001.] ‘with which the President has declared himself satisfied; and the news that the quarrel is arranged has given universal pleasure. Griqua Land West can now be annexed to the Colony, as Lord Kimberley originally intended. Natal, it is hoped, may soon be united to the Colony also, if we give assurances, as we are bound to do, that a force adequate to maintain peace shall, for the present, be maintained there; and the Confederation of the British Provinces will thus be an accomplished fact.'
Venit, vidit, vicit. If Lord Carnarvon was not himself a perfect manipulator, he had at least a fine tact in the choice of a representative. Sometimes the world knows nothing of
its greatest men.' But, here at least, the whole truth comes out; and impartial history records with pleasure, in the pages of our contemporary, how the well-meaning imprudence of the chief was retrieved by the rapid insight, the dexterous courage, and the quick adoption of responsibility of the subordinate.
Having thus done justice to Mr. Froude, the reviewer proceeds. • The Transvaal Republic, he tells us, presents ' greater difficulties '—arising principally from a formidable native war, in which our influence has just sufficed to save the Boers from destruction, not without great peril to the lives of our colonists and our own character, if we are induced to make common cause with them. But
* To steer wisely through these conflicting dangers may be a delicate, but it is not really a difficult, task. The South African Dutch and English are an excellent people—a little vain perhaps, but not disposed to quarrel with Great Britain, if they are treated with consideration. They are well aware of the value of the connexion to them, and with a little patience, South Africa may be made one of the most attached, as it is already one of the most valuable, of all our colonial possessions. But we have made mistakes gh. Lord Carnarvon, we will hope, has turned the leaf and begun a new chapter.
“Of the soundness of his judgment, Lord Carnarvon has given admirable evidence in the selection of Sir Bartle Frere as the new