Part 27 (1/2)
On November 20th he spent the day in London, with the object of seeing ”The Little Minister” at the Haymarket ”A beautiful play, beautifully acted,” he calls it, and says that he should like to see it ”again and again” He especially ad of Mrs Cyril Maude (Miss Winifred Emery) as Lady Babbie This was the last theatrical perforh notes for his Diary, and only wrote it up every feeeks, as there are no entries at all for 1898, nor even for the last week of 1897 The concluding page runs as follows:--
_Dec (W) 10 ae roorees
_Dec 17 (F)_--Maggie [one of his sisters], and our nieces Nella and Violet, caht till 4 a problem, sent led _triangles_” I found _those sides are 20, 21, 29; 12, 35, 37; but could not find _three_
_Dec 23(Th)_--I start for Guildford by the 27 today
As my story of Lewis Carroll's life draws near its end, I have received soe Baden-Powell, MP, which, as they refer to several different periods of time, are as appropriate here as in any other part of the book The Rev EH
Dodgson, referred to in these reer brother of Lewis Carroll's; he spent several years of his life upon the remote island of Tristan d'Acunha, where there were only about seventy or eighty inhabitants besides himself About once a year a shi+p used to call, when the island-folk would exchange their cattle for cloth, corn, tea, &c, which they could not produce thein, and is exposed to theused as a church stood at so, and on one occasion the as so strong that he had to crawl on his hands and knees for the whole distance that separated the two buildings
My first introduction (writes Sir George Baden-Powell) to the author of ”Through the Looking-Glass” was about the year 1870 or 1871, and under appropriate conditions! I was then coaching at Oxford with the well-known Rev E Hatch, and was on friendly ter his house one day, and facing the dining-room, I heard mysterious noises under the table, and saw the cloth s revealed it as no burglar, and there was nothing for it but to crawl upon the-hold under the table, I was entleman Frequently afterwards did I see and hear ”Lewis Carroll” entertaining the youngsters in his inireatly did I enjoy intercourse with him over various minor Oxford matters In later years, at one time I saw much of him, in quite another _role_--naht, ill-treated and deserted islanders of Tristan d'Acunha His brother, it will be remembered, had voluntarily been left at that island with a view toto the spiritual and educational needs of the few settlers, and sent hoent demands for aid, that ”Lewis Carroll”
spared no pains to organise assistance and relief At his instance I brought the matter before Government and the House of Commons, and from that day to this frequent communication has been held with the islanders, and material assistance has been rendered them--thanks to the warm heart of ”Lewis Carroll”
On December 23, 1897, as the note in his Diary states, he went down, in accordance with his usual custom, to Guildford, to spend Christmas with his sisters at the Chestnuts He seemed to be in his ordinary health, and in the best of spirits, and there was nothing to show that the end was so near
[Illustration: The Chestnuts, Guildford _Froraph_]
At Guildford he was hard at work upon the second part of his ”Sy most of the day over this task This book, alas! he was not destined to finish, which is the ly difficult for any one else to take up the thread of the argureat amount of time and trouble which would be needed
On January 5th wood, Rector of Southwick, near Sunderland, died after a very short illness The telegrason the news of this contained the request that he would come at once He determined to travel north the next day--but it was not to be so An attack of influenza, which began only with slight hoarseness, yet enough to prevent hi fa to be sufficiently serious to forbid his undertaking a journey At first his illness seemed a trifle, but before a week had passed bronchial symptoms had developed, and Dr Gabb, the fa rapidly became hard and laborious, and he had to be propped up with pillows A few days before his death he asked one of his sisters to read him that well-known hymn, every verse of which ends with 'Thy Will be done' To another he said that his illness was a great trial of his patience How great a trial it must have been it is hard for us to understand With the work he had set himself still uncompleted, with a sense of youth and joyousness, which sixty years of the battle of life had in no way dulled, Lewis Carroll had to face death He seele was over ”Take away those pillows,” he said on the 13th, ”I shall need them no more” The end came about half-past two on the afternoon of the 14th One of his sisters was in the roo suddenly ceased The nurse, whon that he had taken a turn for the better And so, indeed, he had--he had passed from a world of incompleteness and disappoint his beautiful soul to nobler and grander work than was possible for hi to comprehend those difficulties which used to puzzle him so much, and where that infinite Love, which herevealed to him ”face to face”
In accordance with his expressed wish, the funeral was simple in the extreme--flowers, and flowers only, adorned the plain coffin There was no hearse to drag it up the steep incline that leads to the beautiful ceet and Canon Grant, Rector of Holy Trinity and S Mary's, Guildford The mourners who followed him in the quiet procession were few--but the mourners ere not there, and many of whom had never seen hirave had been filled up, the wreaths which had covered the coffin were placed upon it Many were from ”child-friends” and bore such inscriptions as ”From two of his child-friends”--”To the sweetest soul that ever looked with human eyes,” &c Then the mourners left him alone there--up on the pleasant dohere he had so often walked
A marble cross, under the shadow of a pine, raved the name of ”Lewis Carroll,”
that the children who pass by may remember their friend, who is now--himself a child in all that makes childhood most attractive--in that ”Wonderland” which outstrips all our drea from Professor Sanday's sermon at Christ Church on the Sunday after his death:--
The world will think of Lewis Carroll as one who opened out a new vein in literature, a new and a delightful vein, which added at once mirth and refinement to life May we not say that from our courts at Christ Church there has flowed into the literature of our ti, wherever its waters extend?
[Illustration: Lewis Carroll's grave _Froet, in the course of a sermon on the ”Virtue of Si to our difference of taste or teenius; but that that great gift was his, that his best work ranks with the very best of its kind, this has been oith a recognition too wide and spontaneous to leave roo forecast with ever-fresh surprise; the sense of humour in its finest and htest hand the undercurrent of pathos in the midst of fun; the audacity of creative fancy, and the delicacy of insight--these are rare gifts; and surely they were his
Yes, but it was his simplicity of mind and heart that raised them all, not only in his work but in his life, in all his ways, in the her than any mere enumeration of them tells: that al child-likeness thatin his love of children and in their love of hi creature, in a certain disproportion, now and then, of the view he took of things--yes, and also in that deepest life, where the pure in heart and those who become as little children see the very truth and walk in the fear and love of God
Some extracts froson's brothers and sisters will sho greatly his loss was felt Thus Canon Jelf writes:--
It was quite a shock to ood brother, to e soof our lives with pure, innocent fun
Personally I feel his loss very ether in old Ch Ch days from 1852 onwards; and he was always such a loyal, faithful friend to ether--of the grand, brave way in which he used the opportunities he had as a man of humour, to reach the consciences of a host of readers--of his love for children--his simplicity of heart--of his care for servants--his spiritual care for thee however sudden--for the one clear call which took hi; we can only get back our brightness by realising Who gave him all his talent, all his mirth of heart--the One who never leaves us In deep sye E Jelf