DEATH OF SIR GEORGE GREY.

Lyttelton Times, Volume C, Issue 11724, 31 October 1898, Page 5

DEATH OF SIR GEORGE GREY.

LONELY LAST DAYS. HOW THE END CAME. [From Our Correspondent.] LONDON, Sept. 23. The “one clear call for me,” which Sir George Grey had; so long and patiently awaited, came on Monday evening last, and with a gentle sigh of content the strong soul quitted the worn-out body and passed “beyond these voices.” . It must have been a welcome release. To pretend anything else would be affectation. If Sir George could have had a say in the time of his own decease, I am sure he would have chosen to go whilst his keen intellect remained unimpaired. But he had extraordinary pluck, and a thoroughly wholesome disposition. Instead of crouching over the fire and wailing “ Oh, God, my mind’s going, my mind’s going,” as I have known too many very old folks do, he faced the inevitable with wondrous courage. When he could no longer remember recent events in New Zealand, he talked of South Africa, South Australia, and even earlier days. His resurrection last year in order to do honour to Mr Seddou, was a triumph of will over weakness. Doctors, nurse, private secretary, relatives, were aghast at the great Pro-Consul’s sudden resolve to visit the New Zealand Prime Minister at the Hotel Cecil. Only a week previously he had—for about the fourth or fifth time—been pronounced irretrievably moribund. “ Die before the Jubilee I” cried Sir George on recovering, “ certainly not ! I’m living for it, and' mean to see it through.” And so he did, though that reckless visit to the Hotel Cecil nearly ended him. Later Mr and Mrs Seddon visited Sir George at the Norfolk Hotel, when nothing would satisfy the great Pro-Consul hut that they should all be photographed together.- He-wanted to go out to have it done, but this the nurse vetoed. Ultimately a man was gjot from close by, and a group taken. It is not an altogether satisfactory picture, ' as by the rime things were, arranged, the: aged statesman was very tired, and the bright light of intelligence, bad gone . out * of, his face. Still, it is the last photograph of Sir George, and so far as I know, the Premier of New Zealand and Mr Leys, of Auckland, alone possess copies. Sir George was the despair of his medical attendants, whose predictions he consistently falsified. When they pronounced him in extremis, he forthwith recovered, and if they called him better, he promptly relapsed. Last week we, had scarcely been informed by the nurse that he was physically stronger than he had. been for a long time, before the final illness supervened. HOW HE DIED, On Friday came the beginning of the end. When his former companion and secretary called to tee him that morning after the requiem service for Lady Grey, he was sleeping peacefully, hut in the evening congestion of the brain set in, his temperature went up rapidly, and paralysis appeared to some extent. .The Jong spell of hot weather had doubtless taxed his strength considerably. Those in attendance sent for Dr Walker m hot haste, and believed that at last death was about to triumph. But Sir George 3 elastic vitality remained unsubdued for the next three days. On Saturday evening hia temperature was better, and ice was placed on bis head. Lady Gray’s maid and his nurse, Mrs Wilkinson, were in constant attendance. He opened his. eyes and looked about, but spoke little, and it is doubtful whether he was conscious. Soon after lunch on Sunday afternoon came, another crisis. The breathing was affected, there was deata in his fade, and again his relations expected that every moment would be bis last. But he lingered on unconscious all Sunday night. On Monday morning came a wonderful change for the better. It seemed—so the nurse surmised —as if there had been a clot of blood On the brain, which had now cleared away. He was able to get out of bed without difficulty, and to reply “No” and “ Yes,” when Mr Biddulph asked Have you had your breakfast?” “Would you like me to get you some?” Both physically mad mentally he seemed stronger. He was ame to speak a little, and gleams of consciousness manifested themselves from tune to time. It looked as if the old statesman, worn as he was, had managed to shake off his grim antagonist again. But the ray of sunshine was soon clouded by death s lass storm. Soon after lunch on Monday, it was clear that Sir George was dying, his breathing became laboured, his whole frame heaved with the struggle for breath, the teeth became clenched, and he was unable to swallow the brandy and water which Air Biddulph and the nurse tried to give him. From time to time his eyes ojpened, but all consciousness had left thorn, and he became quite black in the face. There was nothing to do hue moisten his lips and await the end. Dr Barlow was out of town, but Dr Colenso, the son of Sir Georges old friend, Bishop Colenso, was at hand, and Df Walker, his regular medical attendant, looked in from time to time. As the evening wore on, his colour improved a little, but at half-past ten Sir George ceased his heavy breathing, drew a few quiet breaths like a child, then the breath just stopped, the head fell forward, and good Governor Grey, the great Imperialist, had passed peacefully to another Empire. At the bedside were Mi- and Mrs Campbell, Mr Ormus Biddulph (who has been living at the Norfolk Hotel during Sir George’s illness), and the doctors and nurses. Lord Stamford, who had not been present at Lady Grey’s funeral, was still away in Scotland.

A FAITHFUL. FRIEND,

Death must have come as a happy re lease to the oldman eloquent, who realised that the tongue that had once held thousands spellbound would no longer respond to its owners* thoughts. The last year since the Jubilee had brought naught but sorrow to the dying statesman, “ remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow,” even in the throbbing heart of the great Empire which he had done so much to preserve and consolidate. But for the unremitting care and attention of Miss Aston, the daughter of an old South African friend, who as a pure labour of love gave up the greater part of her day to tending him, reading to him for hours at a time and endeavouring by patient sympathy to fathom the vague thoughts and wishes that tried in vain to find utterance, Sir George’s fate would have been still sadder. It was she who attended to his correspondence, put his affairs into order, and, above all, bore with him in his trying momenta as with an ailing child, until he felt that she .alone of all people was able to grasp his desires, and could by tho expression of his face almost think for him. It was pathetic to see the way the once strong despot leant upon her, and could not bear to be parted from her. Miss Aston has never pushed herself forward, and shrinks from publicity 5 but, without having anything to gain, at the sacrifice of time and health, she haa given him far more than a daughter’s loving care, and it is only just that colonials, who revere Sir George’s name, should realise who bore the brunt of the patient watching, and who was Sit George’s brain in the statesman’s clouded days. " When Lady Grey took up her abode at the Norfolk—a reconciliation that Misa Aston bad been largely instrumental in bringing about—Sir George’s relatives, who had dropped in at intervals to pay tbeii duty calls, gave her—so I believe—a hint that her services could be dispensed with, and from that time forward, although she saw Sir George occasionally, he could no longer feel that he could turn to her at any minute in his time of trouble. His relations had been but slightly in touch with him. Lady Grey and he had been so long estranged that their reconciliation could have been little more than a form, and those about him could not understand him

or • sympathise with him as his former secretary could. , Although ho often seemed, to wards the end in a liiove or less comatose condition, and'was unable t‘o express his thoughts, it is by no means certain that he did not possess a great deal more consciousness and intelligence than was generally imasrined. He often seemed away in the past, brooding over wrongs, the omission to make him a G.C.B. to which he sometimesreferred with bitterness, or the snubs and; slights to which he was subjected by the:.Colonial'Office. Bis actions, often incomprehensible to • one unaccustomed•. to exchange confidences with him, yet had a substratum of reason, when you cudgelled yolir brain for, an explanation.. Thus, once when, bis secretary came in he looked at: with something of a frown, and sqsaid(i;"disinclined to take her hand. "■ j&bnffe’.'.ybri ,<recognise mo ? ” she asked. “Eeicognise: you? - Of course I do,” he replied. Then, looking at her hands, she saw that she had black gloves on. Draw-ing-one off,-she exclaimed, “Oh, you don’t like blank, do you ? ” and the smile that illumined His face showed that she had fathomed'his thought. I fancy that he newer realised his wife’s death at all, but when he was told Bismarck was dead, he said;sibwly, “'ls Bismarck dead ? I thought he died; long ago.” Some of his delusions were very unhappy. He sometimes imagined,’that, people were trying to rob him, andvat the time of the inflammation of the brfiifi dast August became so violent and possessed of such strength that ho had to be moat carefully watched lest he should throw himself out of the window; but! at ether times he was happy in picturing’himself setting out for the scene of his former labours, and would cry, “Now I’m -itf tlje boat. Now I’m going back to Zealand,” and every now and again he wpUslplaintively exclaim, “I want to die ih r England ; I want to lie near mother.” To those who knew his past life there was iSauoh touching tragedy in the last year of liiM AviilfilißPA . - ARRANGEMENTS FOR THE FUNERAL.

' At' Srst there was'some talk of the dead statesman being buried at Kensal Green, a cemetery which, by the way, he detested; theh as for a couple of days there was no sign from those in authority of any movement I ..being i taken to secure - a public funeral, Mr Biddalph. made arrangements for a funeral service at noon on Friday at St Peter’s, Granleigh Gardens, and for the interment at Brompton cemetery, of which Sir George had more l than once remarked when driving past, “ I suppose I shall lie there.’’ / When, however, nothing seemed likely to be done the newspapers took action. - Remembering how courteous and obliging Sir George Grey always was to

the press, it is satisfactory to be able to record that the London papers, led ‘the “Chronicle” (whose representative, Mr Milne, by the way, was a great crony of Sir George’s, and often dropped-in for a yarn with him) and "Echo ” , promptly demanded, with no uncertain;, .voice, that a place should be found for-; the -distinguished statesman in the national Valhalla "by-the side of the great public servants whom the nation has honoured ;in their, death,” The burial of Sir .George . Grey in St Paul’s Cathedral with national honours was declared to he "a duty l we; ; .owo to our fellow-subjects under the Southern Cross, as well as to curse! vesand to posterity.” ■ The - Agents-General of New .Zealand, South' Australia, Western Australia and the Cape ; then communicated with one another, with a,view to approaching Lord Selboume, whc,ho waver, like most of her

Majesty’s r: Ministers, was out of town. The following joint "urgent” letter i from the . representatives of these * four colonies was sent on Wednesday morning to the Under-Secretary of State for the Colonies: —“ It has been euggested to us that the mortal remains of ad distinguished a man as the late Eight Hon Sir George Grey, K.C.B. * * * should find a resting place in St Paul’s Cathedral. Knowing that the Governments we here represent would heartily desire this suggestion to he carried out, we hasten, through you, to invite the assistance of her Majesty’s Government, .and to request you—if our proposal be approved—to take, as speedily as possible, such steps as- niay be necessary to secure her Majesty’s sanction and the consent of the . Cathedral authorities.” Her Majesty’s consent was at once given ■in ■ • gracious terms, and the Dean and Chapter of St Paul’s made arrangements for the funeral, which has been fixed for nopn next Monday. The - question of expense then cropped up, and although Sir George had done perhaps more for the Cape than for any other and thought about it constantly in his last days. Sir David Tennant, I am told on good authority, seemed at first to have some red tape scruples as to pledging his Government to its share of the sixty guineas or s 6, which burial in the national mausoleum would involve. Mr Reeves’s attitude left no ground for doubt. He said in effect, “ Without hesitation I will not only pledge my. Government to guarantee its shareof the funeral expenses, hut the whole of such' expenses, and if there he any trouble in the matter I will cheerfully pay the whole sum out of my own pocket rather than that there should he apy hitch in giving Sir George a national funeral,” -Several people have not unnaturally asked why it should be necessary for the Agents-General to guarantee the expenses. It seems somewhat ungracious for the nation to give one of its great men a national funeral and to grudge a paltry mxty guineas, for burying him when it is contemplating giving .£25,000 to the Sirdar for' his brilliant but somewhat limited exploits, ' I hear that the various colonies with which Sir George was associated will lay wreaths on the coffin, which will he di-aped 'l'wffh,. the flags of these colonies. Probably the Agents-General will act as pall-bearers.' . w , . HIS LAST RESTING PLACE.

' Sir - George will be buried next to the jgrave of Sir Barbie Frere, on the north side of the crypt. It is a place more imposing, by its associations than by its appicarance. Lite the Cathedral itself, the cryp t has not lost its suggestion of newness. ' The. columns and arches look brand new; , th.ere. qre, ho crumbling archways or picturesque, carvings ; the aisles are more like tunnels than cloisters; the dimness is that of a cellar rather than of a place of the mighty dead. Yet the tombs of Nelson i and Wellington are in the approach, and the grave of Captain Cook is hard by. The place of burial is a nook between two columns payed with red brick. In front of it is the grave of Sir Bartle , Frere, who also was once Governor of the Capo of Good Hope. The grave is covered with a marble slab, in the centre of which is a coloured marble cross, and in the wall above is an ornate design of tablets recounting che offices and honours of the dead- soldier and administrator. THE LAST DAYS OF SIE GEORGE f \ . GEEY. ' INTERESTING REMINISCENCES. ■ , , (By his Private Secretary.) The following narrative of the last days of Sir G.eOrge is 1 supplied by Miss Aston, who was hia private secretary:— . It wa6 in August, 1897, a little more than a year ago, soon after the great influx of colonial representatives to celebrate her Majesty’s, Jubilee, : that: the first serious , sigps/.pf .acute mental trouble began. Sir Georgehad been much interested in the artiyal ,o£ the' New Zealand Premier, Mr - Seddun.; He went down to the Hotel Cecil to -welcome him. to. England. For more thto* two, the inter view lasted, the conversation between thepairbeingprineipally of a political nature. Sir George most keenly discussing with vigorous intellect, recent .legislation in that colony, A few days i after he paid Mr Seddon another visit. On leaving it was necessary to go down a few steps j Sir George hesitated a little, to feel the way with his umbrella. In a moment the stalwart Premier took him up in his arms and carried him down to level ground, much to the consternation of the old man aiid the astonishment of everyone else. Sir George met Mr Seddon and his family on various occasions. On his'farewell visit • a photographer was brought and a portrait tMteßof. tlietwo togetherin the sitting-room it the Norfolk Hotel, South Kensington. Mr

Seddon repeatedly said that it was entirely owing to Sir George that ho was in his present position, as it was Sir George who first proposed that he should go into Parliament. This portrait, the last that was taken, has not been exhibited to the public. It was then that Sir George had the first attack which weakened his mental powers. Though not quite understood at the time, there is no doubt that it was inflammation of the brain from which he suffered. Still, for some time after that, and beyond Christmas he continued,to take an interest in current events, and had been much engrossed in everything connected with thd Parliamentary Commission on the Chartered Company. He listened with eagerness to every littlo detail produced in. evidence, expressing his opinions', with clearness and decision. Sometimes an intense desire toot possession of him that he must be up aud doing something for his fellow men; it was distressing to be so useless, so idle. He would go to the Cape; he would see Kruger and settle the Transvaal difficulty—if only ho were strong enough! Then, he would go back to .New Zealand, amongst the children whom he always thought of with affection. To be a useless log as he was becoming was unbearable. Gradually the power of expressing himself intelligibly became impaired. Ho used wrong words, and was vexed to find that ho was not understood. Then came periods of silence, when his'eyes wore intently fixed on some subject of : contemplation. ITeappeared .to .'be working out problems in his brain- which he could not - communicate to us. . Irritability . ensued, and from the brain excitement delusions followed, but all through, underlying the different phases which his weakened intellectual powers assumed, the inherent traits cf his character became apparent. His generous "hospitality and anxiety that his visitors should .be properly, regaled. His intense affection for children; his dominant love of mastery, his tender solicitude for the weak and suffering, his appreciation of the attractions of the fair sex, of . whom hie had ever been the stalwart champion. A bitter sense of wrongs sustained where rewards, which should, have been bis, were awarded to inferior men (one unaccountable slight, more especially,' the passing him over again and again in conferring the honour of G.C.8., he the oldest K.C.B. of all!) Gradually the flashes of mental vigour, alternating with lengthened periods of silence, became shorter and less frequent.. Slowly his interest in public affairs faded. The last book that soothed and pleased him was one written by some anonymous New Zealand poet—a. littlo volume of poems entitled “ The Huia’s Homeland.” He never seemed to tire of listening to selections read to him. They were simple and musical such as he liked, and their cadence seemed to soothe without exerting unduly the tired brain.

It was difficult to tell what he did or did not understand, but it is certain that quite recently ho knew what was said, for when told of Bismarck’s death he slowly, and with difficulty, uttered the words “ I thought he was dead long ago.” Anything connected with the Queen or Royal Family would interest him. He often spoke of New Zealand, and sometimes imagined himself on the steamer, or would call for the boat to embark. He had a great desire to go out and see his old friends once more and settle his affairs, hut always added that he was not going to stay, as he wished to die in England. London was the best city in the world.

Like many old people he could not bear to he left alone. He liked to sit with your hand in his and grasp it firmly. as if .to keep you beside him. During the last few weeks of his life an increasing restlessness set in. As soon as he was settled in his chair he wanted to return to bed, directly he was in bed he would be up again. The way the end came you have already heard. There was no struggle, no pain, simply worn out, tho great pro-consul passed away from amongst us. A noble life’s work nobly accomplished, not faultlessly, hut with a single aim, and lofty resolve to carry out, at any sacrifice that which he believed to be right. Self-aggrandisement could not be laid to his charge. His • bitterest enemies were unable to bring that accusation against him, for his probity was universally acknowledged. He was a strong man, with strong feelings; but his resentment against individuals, when analysed, was found to bo grounded, not on personal feeling, but because he believed the offendeis had sacrificed the good of the public to further private ends, and made use of an elevated position to secure personal advantages. Nothing roused his indignation more than the belief that the poor and weak were deprived of their rights by the encroachments of those more powerful and wealthy. Wherever he scented oppression or injustice, he was wont to throw himself heart and soul on the weaker side, no matter what the rank or position of the would-be oppressor, or how humble or insignificant the oppressed, or how much he staked hiinself. Personal abuse never affected him, it was the suspicion of injustice that raised his ire. I was once reading aloud to him an article in which he was accused of underhand dealings, cruelty, deceit and other faults. It was nob pleasant for me, and I tried to get through it as rapidly as possible. Sir George’s attention was arrested in a moment. “ Read that again, more slowly and distinctly,” he said. It was unwillingly done. The only remark the veteran made was, “ Does he say that of me ? It is too bad; hut never mind, it does not matter!” and he never alluded to the subject again.

Far different was it when he thought an act of injustice had been done. Over and oyer again, as he spoke of the offender, his eyes would flash with indignation and a sternness come over the firm lines of his mouth, tolling of the determination with which he would expose the culprit, if ever it were in-his power to do so.

As I remarked.be/oro, Sir George Grey was essentially a .'strong man, and therefore more especially • inclined to protect the weak! He would have been an ideal knight had he lived a few hundred years ago. As it was, he was tho champion of woman’s rights—not of woman’s rights as understood by tlie Sarah Grand school. He thought women should have votes in Parliament and representation there, because he considered that they ought to have a voice in legislation which affected women, but he saw the difficulties in tho way of a mixed assembly in the Houses of Parliament, which he believed might be obviated in a third House of female representatives, who should have the.privilege of: voting oni all subjects that affected womanhood; -and; also the'education "of the young.- This; limitation will scarcely to appfovedby the pioneers of female' suffrage, but it' was his idea. Those who' were more intimately* acquainted' -.with the man; friends. ;aud : enemies alike, acknowledged the' power of tho -Wonderful personal influence he possessed in, fascinating all with whom ho came in contact, and wondered whence it rose. • It was from that subtle power of sympathy pervading his nature which entered into the joys and sorrows of others so freely. Though old in years, he was young in mind almost to the last, for he bad always kept in touch with young life and young people. You forgot how many years had' passed over his head when you saw his merry, mischievous eyes sparkling with fun, as he told some funny story or teased unmercifully when he discovered something he could tease you about. Anecdotes regarding tho natives with whom ho had come in contact, principally the muchloved Maoris, were frequently brought forth from his store.

But to turn to tho graver side c£ bis character! Sir George Grey was essentially a simple-minded man, as well as a strongly religious one, in the highest and best sense of the word. As long as he was able to read, ho perused a portion of the Scriptures in variotis languages daily. The Sermon on tho Mount was his ideal of the Christian life as it ought to be, a life of deeds not words.' Ho liked to read sacred books by himself. Anything else ho would listen to with pleasure, but ho preferred to ponder over tho Bible alone. Before that mental attack in August he would ask for Edwin Arnold’s poems, and “ Notes

of Thoughts,” by Charles Buxton (a friend of his) were frequently read and approved. Fiction did nob appeal to him on the whole, though he loved the myths and folk loro of the Native races, which he had made a special study.