from King John to Henry VIII, another series of equal rank, from
Edward VI to the Landing of William of Orange. This is the only
historical development of Europe which unites in itself all vital
elements, and which we might look upon without overpowering pain.
The tragedy of St. Elizabeth shows that Kingsley can grapple, not
only with the novel, but with the more severe rules of dramatic art.
And Hypatia proves, on the largest scale, that he can discover in the
picture of the historical past, the truly human, the deep, the
permanent, and that he knows how to represent it. How, with all
this, he can hit the fresh tone of popular life, and draw humourous
characters and complications with Shakspearian energy, is proved by
all his works. And why should he not undertake this great task?
There is a time when the true poet, the prophet of the present, must
bid farewell to the questions of the day, which seem so great because
they are so near, but are, in truth, but small and unpoetical. He
must say to himself, "Let the dead bury their dead"--and the time has
come that Kingsley should do so.'

A great deal has been written on mistakes which Kingsley was supposed
to have made in these Lectures, but I doubt whether these criticisms
were always perfectly judicial and fair. For instance, Kingsley's
using the name of Dietrich, instead of Theodoric, was represented as
the very gem of a blunder, and some critics went so far as to hint
that he had taken Theodoric for a Greek word, as an adjective of
Theodorus. This, of course, was only meant as a joke, for on page
120 Kingsley had said, in a note, that the name of Theodoric,
Theuderic, Dietrich, signifies 'king of nations.' He therefore knew
perfectly well that Theodoric was simply a Greek adaptation of the
Gothic name Theode-reiks, theod meaning people, reiks, according to
Grimm, princeps {p1}. But even if he had called the king Theodorus,