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THE POETRY OF TENNYSON 
 
BOOKS BY HENRY VAN DYKE 
 
 Published by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
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THE 
 
 POETRY OF TENNYSON 
 
 TENTH EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED 
 WITH A NEW PREFACE 
 
 BY 
 HENRY VAN DYKE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 1915 
 
Copyright, 1889, 1891, 1892, 1897, 1898, 
 By Charles Scribner's Sons. 
 
 Published, October, 1889. Revised and enlarged, September, 
 1891, November, 1892. Reprinted, October, 1893, August, 1894, 
 December, 1895, August, 1896. Revised and enlarged, October, 1898. 
 Reprinted, July, 1899, July, 1901, Apiil, 1902. 
 
 Cam bo Edition, reset and revised, September, 1897, August 
 1898, October, 1900. 
 

 To 
 
 A YOUNG WOMAN 
 OF AN OLD FASHION 
 
 WHO LOVES ART 
 
 NOT FOR ITS OWN SAKE 
 
 BUT BECAUSE IT ENNOBLES LIFE 
 
 WHO READS POETRY 
 
 NOT TO KILL TIME 
 
 BUT TO FILL IT WITH BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS 
 
 AND WHO STILL BELIEVES 
 
 IN GOD AND DUTY AND IMMORTAL LOVE 
 
 I DEDICATE 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 
 38057 
 
PREFACE 
 TO THE TENTH EDITION. 
 
 This book is a study of the growth of a 
 poet's mind and of the perfecting of his art. 
 Such a subject cannot be treated without 
 reference to personality and environment. 
 The man, if he be true, stands revealed in 
 his work ; and the work, if it be vital, re- 
 flects the age in which it is produced, and 
 the literature of other lands and times to 
 which it is related. 
 
 These pages, therefore, if they are to have 
 any value, must contain something about 
 Tennyson's life and character ; something 
 about the intellectual and spiritual tenden- 
 cies of the Victorian Age ; and something 
 about poetry in its broader aspects as the 
 inspirer and consoler of humanity in all 
 ages. But I have tried not to follow these 
 lines so far afield as to lose sight of my 
 
Vlll PREFACE TO THE TENTH EDITION. 
 
 definite purpose, which was to give as clear 
 and fair a view as possible of the poetry of 
 Tennyson in its real significance, its dis- 
 tinctive quality, and its permanent worth. 
 
 It must be confessed, however, that noth- 
 ing so large as this was contemplated or 
 proposed when the book was begun. In 
 fact, it was not planned at all, nor built 
 after a regular design. It grew out of a 
 personal experience. And perhaps this may 
 be as good a time and place as any, now 
 that the tenth edition is going to the press, 
 to tell how the book came to be written, and 
 thus to explain its form and its limitations. 
 
 It began with a birthday gift of a dollar 
 which a little boy received on his fourteenth 
 birthday, from a very pleasant old lady. His 
 fortune led him into a bookstore to spend 
 this money, which burned in his pocket; and 
 his guardian angel, I must suppose, directed 
 his unconscious choice to a book called 
 Enoch Arden. It was a pirated edition, and 
 therefore cheap, for this happened in the 
 days when the American publishers still 
 practised literary brigandage, and the 
 American people were still willing to be. 
 
PREFACE TO THE TENTH EDITION. IT 
 
 lieve that it was more desirable to get 
 books at a low price than to get them in 
 a fair way. But the boy was not far enough 
 out of the age of barbarism to feel any 
 moral scruple on a point like this, and the 
 guardian angel said nothing about it, — 
 probably intending to overrule the evil for 
 good. So the book was bought, and it be- 
 came the key which let that happy boy into 
 the garden and palace of poetry, there to 
 find a new beauty in the world, a new 
 meaning in life, and a new joy in living. 
 
 Not that this was his first book of poems. 
 He had lived in a library, and was already 
 the proprietor of a small bookcase of his 
 own. But hitherto poetry had seemed to 
 him like something foreign and remote, 
 much less interesting than fiction, and even 
 than some kinds of history. He had read 
 plenty of poems, of course, and had tried 
 his hand at making verses. But the formal 
 and artificial side of poetry was still the 
 most prominent to his mind. It was some- 
 thing to be translated and scanned and 
 parsed. It belonged to the tedious, profit- 
 able world of education and examination. 
 
X PREFACE TO TEE TENTH EDITION. 
 
 But Enoch, Arden evidently belonged to 
 life. It was a story about real people. And 
 then, it was so beautifully told. There was 
 such a glow in it, such splendid colour, sucb 
 a swing and sweep of musical words, such a 
 fine picture of a brave man, and at the end 
 such a sad touch to bring the tears into your 
 eyes, — all hy yourself, you understand, 
 when no one could see you and laugh at 
 you. Why, this was as good as any novel, 
 — yes, somehow it was better, for there 
 was a charm in the very movement of the 
 verse, the rise and fall, the ebb and flow, 
 the stately, measured cadence, that seemed 
 to stir the feelings and make them deeper 
 and fuller. 
 
 So the boy became a lover of poetry, 
 perceiving that it was a living thing ; and 
 he began to look around him for other 
 poems which should give him the same 
 kind of pleasure through the quickening of 
 his feelings, and the brightening of his 
 thoughts, and the interpreting of life and 
 nature in music. Of course, he found many 
 of them, ancient and modern. His capacity 
 of enjoyment increased, as his taste broad- 
 
PREFACE TO THE TENTH EDITION. x\ 
 
 ened. He passed along the lines of new 
 sympathies from one poet to another, dis- 
 covered the touch of life in books which he 
 had thought were dry and dead, and learned 
 to appreciate beauties of which he had not 
 suspected the existence. Even the poets of 
 Greece and Rome began to say something 
 to his heart which it was neither necessary 
 nor possible to translate. They were no 
 longer shadows of mighty names, but real 
 makers of real things in the enduring world 
 of poesy. 
 
 The boy came to understand, as he grew 
 into man's estate, that there were other, 
 and a few yet loftier, masters in the realm 
 of song ; but Tennyson still held the first 
 place in his affections. There was a singular 
 charm in the manner and accent of this 
 poet, so melodious, so fluent, so clear, and 
 yet so noble and powerful. Tennyson 
 seemed to be the one, among all the Eng- 
 lish poets, who was in closest sympathy 
 with the sentiments, the aspirations, the 
 conflicts, and the hopes of the modern 
 world. He not only led the boy for the first 
 time into the regions of poetry; he also 
 
Xli PREFACE TO THE TENTH EDITION. 
 
 kept company, through all the experiences 
 of life, with the young man. 
 
 When love began to speak in his heart, 
 it found an echo in Maud, and Locksley 
 Hall, and The Princess. When doubt be- 
 gan to trouble his mind, he turned to Two 
 Voices and In Memoriam, to learn that it 
 was no new thing for faith to have to fight 
 for her life. When the larger problems of 
 human duty and destiny began to press 
 upon him, he saw them nobly pictured in 
 the Idylls of the King and The Palace of 
 Art ; and he read a splendid answer to them 
 in such poems as Will, and Wages, and the 
 Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. 
 When he began to take that deeper, broader 
 interest in human character which only 
 comes with maturity, he found in Ulysses 
 and Lucretius and St. Simeon Stylites and 
 The Northern Farmer and Rizpah, convinc- 
 ing portraits of living souls. And when at 
 last, after many happy years, sorrow entered 
 his house and filled his heart, he turned 
 again to In Memoriam, and it brought him 
 more comfort than any book in the world 
 save One. 
 
PREFACE TO THE TENTH EDITION. Xlii 
 
 It was not unnatural, then, that this man 
 should be a Tennysonian, not as a matter of 
 theory, but as an affair of experience. And 
 the time came when he felt the wish to 
 make some acknowledgment of the debt 
 which he owed to this poet, to set in order 
 some more careful estimate of the influences 
 which have flowed from his poetry into the 
 life of the present age, and to give some 
 reasons for thinking that Tennyson stands 
 among the great poets, if not on a level 
 with the greatest. 
 
 So an essay was written comparing and 
 contrasting Tennyson and Milton, and enter- 
 ing, for the first time, a claim for Tennyson 
 as third in rank among the English poets. 
 This essay was printed in 1883. It was 
 followed by another which contained a 
 critical study of the successive changes in 
 The Palace of Art, as indicating the growth 
 of Tennyson's genius and the spirit of his 
 poetry. Then, after intervals of a year or 
 two, essays on The Idylls of the King, The 
 Bible in Tennyson, and Locksley Hall Sixty 
 Year 8 After, were written. At last it 
 seemed as if a book could be made out of 
 
XIV PREFACE TO THE TENTH EDITION. 
 
 these chapters, with the addition of others, 
 to complete the outline, which might give 
 some pleasure to a few readers among the 
 lovers of Tennyson, and perhaps make a few 
 converts among those who had not yet ap- 
 preciated the significance of his poetry. A 
 chronology of the poet's life and a bibli- 
 ography of the Tennyson literature were 
 prepared, imperfectly enough, to be sure, 
 but yet with far more fulness and accuracy 
 than had hitherto been attempted ; and 
 with these additions the volume was printed 
 and published in 1889. 
 
 This was the way in which I came to be 
 the author of this book ; and the story may 
 serve at once to make its spirit and purpose 
 clear to the reader, and to explain, if not to 
 excuse, the imperfections and defects of its 
 method. 
 
 The call for successive editions was equally 
 surprising and agreeable. It afforded the 
 opportunity of correcting some errors, revis- 
 ing some hasty judgments, and incorporat- 
 ing some new material. It also offered the 
 temptation, too strong to be resisted, to add 
 several prefaces and notes which did not 
 
PREFACE TO THE TENTH EDITION. XV 
 
 enhance the typographical beauty of the 
 volume. In 1897 these incumbrances were 
 removed and the book was brought out in 
 a smaller form, in the Cameo Series, with- 
 out the chronology, the bibliography, or 
 the list of Biblical references, but with a 
 new chapter on In Memoriam. 
 
 But there is still a demand for the book 
 in its original form by those who wish to 
 have the fuller materials for study. I have 
 therefore made this final revision and en- 
 largement. 
 
 The various prefaces to the former edi- 
 tions give place to this preface. The chap- 
 ter on In Memoriam from the Cameo edition 
 is inserted, and some of the other chapters 
 are slightly altered. The chronological and 
 bibliographical appendix is fully revised 
 and completed, so that it may serve as a 
 guide to those who wish to study the life 
 and works and critical estimates of Tenny- 
 son, more in detail. The list of Biblical 
 references is re-arranged and much enlarged. 
 
 With these changes I close my work 
 upon the book, and send it out for the last 
 time to take its chances in the world. If it 
 
xvi PREFACE TO THE TENTH EDITION. 
 
 shall still find readers who like it, or dislike 
 it, enough to turn from its pages to the 
 poems of Tennyson, it will do well. For I 
 am quite sure, however poorly I may have 
 succeeded in proving it, that poetry is the 
 noblest form of literature and a vital ele- 
 ment in human existence. The critic who 
 leads or drives men to read a great poet has 
 served his purpose in the order of the 
 universe. 
 
 Henry van Dyke. 
 
 New York, 
 
 October 1st, 1898. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Paoi 
 
 Preface v » 
 
 The First Flight 3 
 
 -The Palace of Art 21 
 
 Milton and Tennyson 49 
 
 -The Princess and Maud Ill 
 
 -In Memoriam 131 
 
 -The Idylls of the King 155 
 
 The Historic Trilogy 221 
 
 The Bible in Tennyson 245 
 
 Fruit from an Old Tree 279 
 
 On the Study of Tennyson 305 
 
 A Valediction 347 
 
 Appendix 
 
 Chronology and Bibliography .... 353 
 
 A List of Biblical References .... 391 
 
THE FIRST FLIGHT. 
 
THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 THE FIRST FLIGHT. 
 
 The first appearance of a true poet usu- 
 ally bears at least one mark of celestial 
 origin — he " cometh not with observa- 
 tion." A small volume is printed on some 
 obscure press. The friends to whom it is 
 sent, " with the compliments of the author," 
 return thanks for it in words which com- 
 promise truth with affection. The local 
 newspaper applauds it in a perfunctory 
 way ; some ogre of a critic, whose appetite 
 for young poets is insatiable, may happen 
 to make a hasty and savage meal of it ; or 
 some kindly reviewer, who is always look- 
 ing on the hopeful side of literature, may 
 discover in it the buds of promise. But 
 this is mainly a matter of chance ; the cer- 
 tainty is that there will be few to buy the 
 book with hard cash, and fewer still to 
 read it, except from curiosity or friendship, 
 and that the great world will roll on its 
 
4 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 way as serenely as if nothing of consequence 
 had occurred. 
 
 Somewhat after this fashion most of the 
 leading English poets have arrived. There 
 was no great stir made by the publication 
 of Descriptive Sketches, or Hours of Idle- 
 ness. The announcement of Original 
 Poems by Victor and Cazire did not pro- 
 duce any excitement. Even Venus and 
 Adonis failed to inform the public that 
 the creator of Hamlet and Othello had 
 appeared. The recognition of genius in a 
 first flight rarely takes place at the proper 
 time ; it is reserved for those prophets who 
 make their predictions after the event. 
 
 But surely there never was a poet of 
 rank who slipped into print more quietly 
 than the junior author of Poems by Two 
 Brothers. The book was published in 
 1827 for J. & J. Jackson, of Louth, and W. 
 Simpkin & B. Marshall, of London. The 
 title-page bore a modest motto from Mar- 
 tial : " Ha>c nos novimus esse nihil." The 
 preface repeated the same sentiment in 
 more diffuse language. 
 
 " The following Poems were written from 
 the ages of fifteen to eighteen, not con- 
 jointly, but individually, which may ac- 
 
THE FIRST FLIGHT. 5 
 
 count for their differences of style and 
 matter. To light upon any novel combi- 
 nation of images, or to open any vein of 
 sparkling thought, untouched before, were 
 no easy task; indeed, the remark itself is 
 as old as the truth is clear ; and no doubt, 
 if submitted to the microscopic eye of 
 periodical criticism, a long list of inaccu- 
 racies and imitations would result from 
 the investigation. But so it is; we have 
 passed the Rubicon, and we leave the 
 rest to fate, though its edict may create a 
 fruitless regret that we ever emerged from 
 ' the shade ' and courted notoriety." 
 
 That was surely a most gentle way of 
 passing the Rubicon. The only suggestion 
 of a flourish of trumpets was the capital 
 P in " Poems." Fate, who sat smiling on 
 the bank, must have been propitiated by a 
 bow so modest and so awkward. Not even 
 the names of the young aspirants for pub- 
 lic favor were given, and only the friends 
 of the family could have known that the 
 two brothers who thus stepped out, hand 
 in hand, from '« the shade " were Charles 
 and Alfred Tennyson, 
 
 It is difficult to conjecture — unless, in- 
 deed, we are prepared to adopt some wild 
 
6 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 theory of the disinterested benevolence of 
 publishers — what induced the Jacksons to 
 pay twenty pounds for the privilege of 
 printing this book. But if they were alive 
 to-day, and had kept a sufficient number 
 of the first edition on their shelves, their 
 virtue would have its reward ; for I must 
 confess to having paid half as much for a 
 single copy as they gave for the copyright, 
 and, as prices go, it was an excellent 
 bargain. 
 
 Here it is — a rather stout little volume 
 of two hundred and twenty-eight pages, 
 paper not of the finest, print not without 
 errors. It contains one hundred and two 
 pieces of verse, in all kinds of metres, and 
 imitated after an amazing variety of models. 
 There is nothing very bad and nothing 
 very inspiring. The Literary Chronicle 
 and Weekly Review came as near to the 
 truth as one can expect of a newspaper 
 when it said: "This volume exhibits a 
 pleasing union of kindred tastes, and con- 
 tains several little pieces of considerable 
 merit." That is the only contemporary 
 criticism which has been exhumed. And 
 it would be absurd, at this late day, to 
 urn the "microscopic eye," of which the 
 
THE FIRST FLIGHT. 7 
 
 brothers were so needlessly afraid, upon 
 their immature production. 
 
 And yet, to one who can find a pleasure 
 in tracing the river to its narrow source 
 among the hills, this book is precious 
 and well worth reading. For somewhere 
 between these covers, hardly to be distin- 
 guished from the spring of that twin 
 rivulet of verse which ran so brief a course 
 in the Sonnets and Small Tableaux of 
 Charles Tennyson, lies the fountain-head 
 of that deeper, clearer stream which has 
 flowed forth into In Memoriam and the 
 Idylh of the King, and refreshed the Eng- 
 lish-speaking world for more than sixty 
 years with the poetry of Alfred Tennyson. 
 Here, then, we may pause for a moment 
 and glance at some of the impulses which 
 led him to /•-r'tnmence poet, and the influ- 
 ences which directed his earliest efforts. 
 
 It seems to me that the most interesting 
 and significant thing about this little book 
 is the fact that the two brothers appear in 
 it together; for this tells us a great deal 
 in regard to the atmosphere of the home 
 in which Tennyson's boyhood was passed. 
 The seven sons and four daughters of the 
 rector of Somersby were not ordinary chil- 
 
8 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 dren; nor was their education conducted 
 in that dull, commonplace, Gradgrind spirit 
 which so often crushes all originality out 
 of a child. The doors of the ideal world 
 were opened to them very early ; they 
 were encouraged to imagine as well as to 
 think ; they peopled their playgrounds with 
 lofty visions of kings and knights, and 
 fought out the world-old battles of right 
 and wrong in their childish games, and 
 wove their thoughts of virtue and courage 
 and truth into long romances with which 
 they entertained each other in turn at the 
 dinner-table. The air of the house was 
 full of poetry. Charles, the second son. 
 was probably the leader in this life of 
 fancy. It was he, at all events, who first 
 directed his brother Alfred, his junior by 
 a year, into the poetic path. One Sunday 
 morning, when Alfred was to be left at 
 home alone, Charles gave him a slate and 
 bade him write some verses about the 
 flowers in the garden. The task was 
 eagerly accepted, and when the family had 
 returned from church, the little boy came 
 with his slate all written over with lines of 
 blank verse, to ask for his brother's ap- 
 proval. Charles read them over gravely 
 
THE FIRST FLIGHT. 9 
 
 and carefully, with the earnestness of a 
 childish critic. Then he gave the slate 
 back again, saying, '' Yes, you can write." 
 It was a very kindly welcome to the world 
 of poetry, and I doubt whether Alfred Ten- 
 nyson ever heard a word of praise that 
 filled him with more true delight than 
 this fraternal recognition. 
 
 Having found each other as kindred 
 spirits, the two boys held closely together. 
 They were intimate friends. They helped 
 and cheered and criticised each other in 
 their common studies and writings. It is 
 a good omen for genius when it is capable 
 of fraternity. It is the best possible safe- 
 guard against eccentricity and morbidness 
 and solitary pride. Charles Lamb was 
 right when he wrote to Coleridge : " O my 
 friend, cultivate the filial feelings 1 and let 
 no man think himself released from the 
 kind charities of relationship." Tennyson's 
 best work has never lost the insight of 
 the heart. And if there were no other 
 reason for valuing these Poems by Two 
 Brothers, we should still prize them as the 
 monument of a brotherly love to which the 
 poet has paid this exquisite tribute in In 
 Me mo ri am : 
 
10 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 But thou and I are one in kind, 
 As moulded like in Nature's mint; 
 And hill and wood and field did print 
 
 The same sweet forms on either mind. 
 
 For us the same cold streamlet curl'd 
 Thro' all his eddying coves ; the same 
 All winds that roam the twilight came 
 
 In whispers of the beauteous world. 
 
 At one dear knee we proffer'd vows; 
 One lesson from one book we learn'd, 
 Ere childhood's flaxen ringlet turn'd 
 
 To black and brown on kindred brows. 
 
 Another noticeable feature in this book 
 is the great number of quotations from 
 modern and classical authors. Almost all 
 of the poems have mottoes. I glance over 
 them at random, and find scraps from 
 Virgil, Addison, Gray, Clare, Cicero, Hor- 
 ace, Moore, Byron, Milton, Racine,Claudian, 
 Rousseau, Scott, Hume, Ossian, Lucretius, 
 Sallust, and The Mysteries of Udolpho. 
 These school-boys must have loved their 
 books well, if not wisely. 
 
 Moreover, there are foot-notes in which 
 they tell us that " pight is a word used by 
 Spenser and Shakespeare," and that "none 
 but the priests could interpret the Egyp- 
 tian hieroglyphics," and that " Ponce de 
 Leon discovered Florida when he was in 
 
THE FIRST FLIGHT. 11 
 
 search of the fabled fountain of youth," 
 and that " Apollonius Rhodius was not 
 born at Alexandria, but at Naucratis." 
 The display of learning is so immense that 
 it becomes amusing. But it is not without 
 significance, for it distinctly marks Tenny- 
 son as one of those who, like Milton, were 
 students before they were poets, and whose 
 genius did not develop in solitude, but in 
 
 Converse with all forma 
 Of the many-sided mind. 
 
 The volume abounds, as I have already 
 sai<l, in imitations ; indeed, there is hardly 
 a piece in it which does not sound like an 
 echo of some other poet. The influence 
 which is most clearly marked is that of 
 Byron. He is quoted six times. There is 
 a strong flavour of his dramatic melancholy 
 in such lines as, 
 
 I wander in darkness and sorrow, 
 Unfriended and cold and alone ; 
 
 or, 
 
 I stand like some lone tower 
 
 Of former days remaining, 
 Within whose place of power 
 
 The midnight owl is plaining. 
 
 It is evident that this grief could not 
 have been very real to a school-boy be- 
 
12 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 tween fifteen and eighteen. It was like 
 the gloom of Shakespeare's young gentle- 
 man of France who was " sad as night only 
 for wantonness." And the fashion of the 
 sadness was learned from the author of 
 Childe Harold. His metrical manner also 
 is copied with undisguised enthusiasm. The 
 lad who wrote, 
 
 Thou shalt come like a storm when the moonlight is dim, 
 And the lake's gloomy bosom is full to the brim ; 
 Thou shalt come like the flash in the darkness of night, 
 When the wolves of the forest shall howl with affright, 
 
 had certainly been captured by the As- 
 syrian who came down like the wolf on the 
 fold. 
 
 After reading all this it is interesting 
 to hear Tennyson tell in his own words, 
 spoken many years afterward, how the 
 news of Byron's death had affected him : 
 " Byron was dead. I thought the whole 
 world was at an end. I thought every- 
 thing was over and finished for every one 
 — that nothing else mattered. I remem- 
 ber, I walked out alone and carved ' Byron 
 is dead' into the sandstone." 
 
 The spell of this passionate devotion 
 soon passed away, but perhaps we can see 
 some lingering trace of its effects in poems 
 
THE FIRST FLIGHT. 18 
 
 as late as Locksley Hall and Maud. Indeed, 
 I think the influence of Byron upon Tenny- 
 son has been generally underrated, if not 
 completely ignored. 
 
 There are a few other points of interest 
 in this little volume. For instance, the 
 variety of metrical forms indicates an un- 
 usual freedom and catholicity of taste. The 
 result of such a miscellaneous admiration 
 of all styles, from the finish of Horace to 
 the formlessness of Ossian, might possibly 
 be nothing better than a facility in general 
 imitation, the fluency of a successful paro- 
 dist. But if a boy had real genius it would 
 lead him on to try experiments in many 
 metres until he mastered those which were 
 best fitted to express his thoughts, and 
 gave new life to obsolete forms of verse, 
 and finally, perhaps, created some original 
 form. And this, in fact, is what Alfred 
 Tennyson has done. He has attempted 
 almost every kind of measure. And though 
 his early efforts were so irregular that 
 Coleridge remarked that " Tennyson had 
 begun to write poetry without knowing 
 what metre was," yet in the end he made 
 himself one of the most musical of English 
 singers. 
 
14 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 In 1893, sixty-seven years after the orig- 
 inal publication, a new edition of Poems 
 by Two Brothers was brought out, with a 
 preface by Hallam, Lord Tennyson, the 
 poet's son. In this edition the poems were 
 attributed, as far as possible, to their re- 
 spective authors, on the evidence of the 
 differences in the handwriting of the 
 manuscript and the recollections of Mr. 
 Frederick Tennyson, who, it now appears, 
 contributed four or five poems to his 
 brothers' volume. 
 
 It is interesting to note that the pieces 
 which show the greatest freedom and ra- 
 pidity, and also, it must be admitted, the 
 greatest irregularity of metrical movement, 
 are those which bear the initials A. T. 
 The rule which is so painfully familiar 
 to those who are learning to skate seems 
 to hold good for those who are learning to 
 write verse. Success is impossible without 
 a good many tumbles. 
 
 Scattered through these early verses we 
 find a number of thoughts and phrases 
 which Tennyson used again in his more 
 mature poems. I will give a few illustra- 
 tions of these parallel passages. 
 
 In Remorse we find the lines : 
 
THE FIRST FLIGHT. 15 
 
 To life, whose every hour to me 
 Hath been increase of misery. 
 
 The Two Voices gives us the same thought: 
 
 Thou art so full of misery, 
 Were it not better not to be ? 
 
 In Midnight there is a reference to 
 
 the glutting ware 
 That saps eternally the cold gray steep ; 
 
 which reminds us of 
 
 Break, break, break, 
 
 On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! 
 
 In Switzerland the poet cries : 
 
 O ! when shall Time 
 Avenge the crime ? 
 
 and in The Vision of Sin he says again : 
 
 It was a crime 
 Of sense, avenged by sense that wore with time. 
 
 In the poem on Sublimity we find the 
 
 phrase " holds communion with the dead," 
 
 which occurs again in one of the most 
 
 beautiful passages of In Memoriam. 
 
 In Egypt we find : 
 
 The first glitter of his rising beams 
 Falls on the broad-bas'd pyramids sublime. 
 
 The epithet recurs in A Fragment, printed 
 
 in an annual in 1830 : 
 
 The great pyramids, 
 Broad-bas'd amid the fleeting sands. 
 
16 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Other passages might be quoted to show 
 the connection between Tennyson's earlier 
 and later work. It is one of his charac- 
 teristics that he uses the same image more 
 than once, and that the repetition is almost 
 always an improvement. But it will be 
 more profitable to close this brief intro- 
 ductory essay with a few lines which are 
 worthy to be remembered for their own 
 merits, and which belong to the first genu- 
 ine poetry of Alfred Tennyson. True and 
 broad descriptive power is shown in such 
 lines as these: 
 
 Like some far fire at night 
 Along the dun deep streaming. 
 
 A wan, dull, lengthen'd sheet of swimming light 
 Lies the broad lake — 
 
 The thunder of the brazen prows 
 O'er Actium's ocean rung. 
 
 But the passage which exhibits the most 
 sustained vigour of expression is found in 
 the poem entitled Persia. It is a descrip- 
 tion of the great king contemplating the 
 ruin of his empire. He spreads (lie dust 
 upon his laurelled head, as he is forced 
 
 To view the setting of that star 
 Which beain'd so gorgeously and far 
 O'er Anatolia, and the fane 
 Of Belu.s, and Caister's plain, 
 
TEE F1RBT FLIGJIT. 17 
 
 And Sardis, and the glittering sands 
 
 Of bright PaetoluA, and the lauds 
 Where Croesus held his rich domain; 
 And further east, where broadly roll'd 
 Old Indus pours his streams of gold ; 
 And southward to Cilicia's shore, 
 Whero Cyduus meets the billows' roar; 
 And northward far to Trebizonde, 
 
 Itenown'd for kings of chivalry, 
 Where Hyssus rolling from the strand 
 
 Disgorges in the Kuxino Sea — 
 The Euxiue, falsely named, which whelms 
 The mariner in the hoaviug tide — 
 To high Siuope's distant realms, 
 Where cynics rail'd at human pride. 
 
 This is not perfect poetry, but it is cer- 
 tainly strong verse. It is glorified nomen- 
 clature. Milton himself need not have 
 blushed to acknowledge it. The boy who 
 could write like this before he was eighteen 
 years old knew something, at least, of the 
 music and magic of names. If we may 
 read our history, like our Hebrew, back- 
 ward, we can detect the promise of a great 
 poet in the swing and sweep of these lines, 
 and recognize the wing-trial of genius in 
 Tennyson's first flight. 
 
THE PALACE OF ART. 
 
THE PALACE OF ART. 
 
 The year of our Lord eighteen hundred 
 and thirty-three was a period of waiting and 
 uncertainty in English literature. Twelve 
 years had passed since the brief, bright 
 light of Keats went out at Rome ; eleven 
 years, since the waters of Spezzia's treach- 
 erous bay closed over the head of Shelley ; 
 nine years, since the wild flame of Byron's 
 heart burned away at Missolonghi ; a few 
 months, since the weary hand of Scott had 
 at last let fall the wizard's wand. The 
 new leaders were dead; the old leaders were 
 silent. Wordsworth was reclining on the 
 dry laurels of his Ecclesiastical Sonnets at 
 Rydal Mount ; Coleridge was pacing up and 
 down the garden-path at Highgate talking 
 transcendental metaphysics ; Southey had 
 ceased writing what he called poetry ; 
 Thomas Moore was warbling his old songs 
 to an audience which had almost begun to 
 weary of them. The coming man had not 
 yet arrived. Dickens was a short-hand re- 
 
22 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON 
 
 porter in the House of Commons; Thack- 
 eray was running through his property in 
 the ruinous dissipation of newspaper-pub- 
 lishing ; Carlyle was wrestling with poverty 
 and the devil at Craigenputtock ; Robert 
 Browning, a youth of twenty, was travelling 
 in Italy; Matthew Arnold and Arthur 
 Clough were boys at Rugby ; William 
 Morris and Algernon Charles Swinburne 
 were yet unborn. In this somewhat barren 
 and unpromising interval, the poetical repu- 
 tation of Mr. Alfred Tennyson, late of the 
 University of Cambridge, was trembling in 
 the balance of Criticism. 
 
 Criticism with a large C, you will please 
 to observe; for the reign of their mighty 
 Highnesses, the Reviewers, was still un- 
 shaken. Seated upon their lofty thrones in 
 London and Edinburgh, they weighed the 
 pretensions of all new-comers into their 
 realms with severity if not with impartial- 
 ity, and meted out praise and blame with a 
 royal hand. In those rude days there was 
 no trifling with a book in little " notices " 
 of mild censure or tepid approbation, — 
 small touches which, if unfavourable, hardly 
 hurt more than pin-pricks, and if favoura- 
 ble, hardly help more than gentle pats upon 
 
THE PALACE OF ART. 23 
 
 the head. That is the suave, homoeopathic 
 method of modern times : but then — in 
 the days of Herod the king — it was either 
 the accolade or decapitation. Many an in- 
 nocent had the dreadful Gifford slaughtered, 
 and though he had done his last book, there 
 were other men, like Wilson and Croker 
 and Lockhart, who still understood and 
 practiced the art of speedy dispatch. Black- 
 wood and The Quarterly still clothed them- 
 selves with Olympian thunder, 
 
 11 And that two-handed engine at their door, 
 Stood ready to smite once and smite no more." 
 
 It was before this stern tribunal that 
 young Tennyson had made his appearance 
 in 1830 with a slim volume of Poems, 
 Chiefly Lyrical. They were fifty-three in 
 number, and covered only one hundred and 
 fifty-four pages ; yet within that narrow 
 compass at least a score of different metres 
 were attempted with amazing skill, and the 
 range of subjects extended from The Mer- 
 man to Supposed Confessions of a Second- 
 rate Sensitive Mind not in Unity with It- 
 self. One can easily imagine the confusion 
 and scorn which the latter title must have 
 excited in the first-rate unsensitive mind of 
 an orthodox Edinburgh Reviewer. Nor were 
 
24 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 the general style and quality of the poems 
 calculated to mollify these feelings. Dainty 
 in finish, pre-raphaelite in their minute 
 painting of mosses and flowers and in their 
 super-subtle shading of emotions, musical 
 yet irregular, modern in sentiment, yet 
 tinged with some archaic mannerisms, the 
 poems taken altogether concealed the real 
 strength of some of them (such as Mariana, 
 The Poet, Ode to Memory, and The De- 
 serted House,} under an appearance of 
 delicacy and superficiality. Arthur Henry 
 Hallam praised them, but that counted for 
 nothing, because he was Tennyson's friend. 
 The Westminster Review praised them, but 
 that counted for little, because it belonged 
 to the party of literary revolt. Leigh Hunt 
 praised them, but that counted f&r worse 
 than nothing, because he was the arch-here- 
 tic of poetry, the leader of the so-called 
 " Cockney school." The authoritative voice 
 of Criticism was not heard until " Christo- 
 pher North " took up the new poet in Black- 
 wood, and administered the castigation which 
 he thought most necessary and salutary. 
 Mingling a little condescending encourage- 
 ment with his condemnation, and holding 
 out tho hope that if " Alfred " would only 
 
THE PALACE OF ART. 25 
 
 reform his style and get rid of his cockney 
 admirers he might some day write something 
 worth reading, the stern magister set to work 
 in the meantime to demolish the dainty lyrics. 
 Drivel, and more dismal drivel, and even 
 more dismal drivel was what he called them ; 
 and in winding up his remarks upon the 
 song entitled The Owl, he said: "Alfred 
 himself is the greatest owl ; all he wants is 
 to be shot, stuffed, and stuck in a glass case, 
 to be made immortal in a museum." 
 
 Truly this was Criticism of the athletic 
 order; and the humour of it lies in the 
 unconscious absence of wit. Six months 
 after this article was printed, in Decem- 
 ber, 1832, Mr. Tennyson put out his sec- 
 ond volume. Its title-page ran as follows : 
 Poems by Alfred Tennyson. London : 
 Edward Moxon, 64, New Bond Street. 
 MDCCCXXXIII. It is, therefore, prop- 
 erly speaking, the edition of 1833. 
 
 It lies on my desk now, a slender vol- 
 ume of one hundred and sixty-three pages, 
 with Barry Cornwall's autograph on the fly- 
 leaf, and his pencil-marks running all along 
 the mai'gins. It contains only thirty poems, 
 but among them are The Lady of Shalott, 
 The Miller's Daughter, (Enone, The Palace 
 
i 
 
 26 THE POETRt OF TENNYSON. 
 
 of Art, The Lotos-Eaters, and A Dream of 
 Fair Women. 
 
 It was evident at once that the young 
 poet had not changed his style, though he 
 had enriched it. Fuller and stronger were 
 his notes, more manly and of a wider range ; 
 but his singing was still marked by the 
 same ly rical freedom, the same delicacy of 
 imagination, the same exquisite and uncon- 
 ventional choice of words, the same peculiar 
 blending of the classic with the romantic 
 spirit, — qualities which to us have become 
 so familiar that we can hardly realize how 
 fresh and strange they must have seemed to 
 the readers of half a century ago. It was 
 clear enough that this new writer was no 
 mere disciple of Leigh Hunt, or neophyte of 
 the Cockney school, to be frightened back 
 into the paths of propriety by brutal thun- 
 ders. He might be moving on the same 
 lines which Keats had begun to follow, but 
 he was going beyond his leader ; he was 
 introducing a new spirit and method into 
 English verse; he bid fair to become the 
 master of a new school of poetry. In the 
 opinion of the reviewers he needed to be 
 dealt with mildly, but firmly. And this 
 time it was not " crusty Christopher," but a 
 
THE PALACE OF ART. 2'c 
 
 more dangerous critic who undertook the 
 task. The review of Tennyson's poems 
 which appeared in the Quarterly for July, 
 1833, is one of the cleverest and bitterest 
 things ever written, and though unacknow- 
 ledged, it has always been attributed to the 
 editor, James Gibson Lockhart, sometimes 
 called " the scorpion," because of a certain 
 peculiarity in the latter end of his articles. 
 
 He begins in a tone of ironical compli- 
 ment, apologizing for never having seen Mr. 
 Tennyson's first volume, and proposing to 
 repair his unintentional neglect by now in- 
 troducing to the admiration of sequestered 
 readers " a new prodigy of genius, another 
 and a brighter star of that galaxy or milky 
 way of poetry of which the lamented Keats 
 was the harbinger." He proceeds to offer 
 what he calls " a tribute of unmingled ap- 
 probation," and selecting a few specimens 
 of Mr. Tennyson's singular genius, " to 
 point out now and then the peculiar bril- 
 liancy of some of the gems that irradiate 
 his poetical crown." This means, in plain 
 words, to hold up the whole performance to 
 ridicule by commending its weakest points 
 in extravagant mock-laudation, and passing 
 over its best points in silence. A method 
 
28 TEE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 more unfair and exasperating can hardly be 
 imagined. It is like applauding a musician 
 for- every false note. Lockbart's " unmin- 
 gled approbation" was a thousand times 
 more severe than old Christopher's blunt 
 and often clumsy abuse. It was as if one 
 had praised Pope for his amiable temper, or 
 Wordsworth for his keen sense of humour. 
 
 And yet, — after all, — in spite of the 
 malicious spirit and the unjust method of 
 the article, — we may as well be honest and 
 confess that on many points Lockhart was 
 right. His hard, formal, opinionated, Cale- 
 donian mind could not possibly appreciate 
 the merits of Tennyson, but it could and it 
 did detect the blemishes of his earlier work. 
 In almost every case the shaft of the re- 
 viewer's irony found the joint in the poet's 
 armour and touched some vulnerable spot. 
 
 The proof of this is furnished by Tenny- 
 son himself. For ten years he preserved an 
 almost unbroken silence. When at length 
 he published his Poems, in Two Volumes, 
 in 1842, he was recognized immediately as 
 the poet, not of a coterie, but of England. 
 The majestic blank-verse of Morte a" Arthur, 
 the passionate force of Locksley Hall, the 
 sweet English beauty of Dora, The Garden- 
 
THE PALACE OF ART. 29 
 
 er'.s Daughter, and The Talking Oak, the 
 metaphysical depth and human intensity of 
 The Two Voices and The Vision of Sin, — 
 and perhaps more than all the simple, magi- 
 cal pathos of that undying song, 
 
 Break, break, break 
 
 On thy cold gray stones, Sea ! 
 
 won the admiration of readers of every 
 class, and Tennyson was acknowledged, in 
 the language of Wordsworth, as decidedly 
 the first of our living poets. But no less 
 significant than these new poems, in the his- 
 tory of his genius, was the form in which 
 his earlier poems were reprinted. The edi- 
 tion of 1842 contained a selection from the 
 edition of 1 833 ; and it is most remarkable 
 that all of the weaker pieces which Lockhart 
 had criticised most severely were omitted, 
 while those which were retained had been 
 so carefully pruned and corrected as to seem 
 almost rewritten. There is an immense im- 
 portance, for example, in such a slight 
 change as the omission of the accent from 
 words like charmed and apparelled. It in- 
 dicates a desire to avoid even the appear- 
 ance of affectation. Or take this passage 
 from The Miller's Daughter in its first 
 form : — 
 
30 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Remember yon that pleasant day 
 
 When after roving in the woods, 
 ('Twas April then), I came and lay 
 
 Beneath the gummy chestnut-buds 
 That glistened in the April blue. 
 
 Upon the slope so smooth and cool 
 I lay and never thought of you 
 
 But angled in the deep mill-pooL 
 
 A water-rat from off the bank 
 
 Plunged in the stream. With idle car* 
 Dowulooking through the sedges rank 
 
 I saw your troubled image there. 
 Upon the dark and dimpled beck 
 
 It wandered like a floating light, 
 A full fair form, a warm white neck 
 
 And two white arms — how rosy white ! 
 
 These are very pretty lines, and doubtless 
 quite true to nature, for the buds of the 
 chestnut are very sticky in April, and the 
 water-rat has a habit of diving suddenly into 
 the water. But as Mr. Lockhart politely 
 observed, the accumulation of such tender 
 images as the gummy buds and the plun- 
 ging rat was somewhat unusual and disturb- 
 ing. Tennyson saw the justice of the crit- 
 icism. He recognized that the canon of 
 truth to nature must be supplemented by the 
 canon of symmetry in art, and that facts 
 which are incongruous and out of harmony 
 must not be recorded. The water-rat was 
 
THE PALACE OF ART. 31 
 
 not profoundly suggestive of love at first 
 sight. Moreover, one who was looking up 
 at the chestnut-buds would not have noticed 
 their stickiness, but only their shining as 
 they were moved by the wind. Here, then, 
 is the new version of the passage, quite as 
 true but far more poetical, and made sim- 
 pler by a more careful art : — 
 
 But, Alice, what an hour was that, 
 
 When after roving in the woods 
 ('Twas April then), I came and sat 
 
 Below the chestnuts, when their buds 
 Were glistening to the breezy blue ; 
 
 And on the slope, an absent fool 
 I cast me down, nor thought of you, 
 
 But angled in the higher pool. 
 
 Then leapt a trout. In lazy mood 
 
 I watch'd the little circles die ; 
 They past into the level flood, 
 
 And there a vision caught my eye ; 
 The reflex of a beauteous form, 
 
 A glowing arm, a gleaming neck, 
 As when a sunbeam wavers warm 
 
 Within the dark aud dimpled beck. 
 
 Now a poet who could take criticism in 
 this fashion and use it to such good purpose, 
 was certainly neither weak nor wayward. 
 Weighed in the balance, he was not found 
 wanting but steadily growing. He would 
 not abandon his art at the voice of censure, 
 
32 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 but correct and perfect it, until it stood com- 
 plete and sound beyond the reach of censure. 
 The method and the result of this process of 
 self-criticism — which Tennyson has prac- 
 ticed more patiently and successfully than 
 any other poet — may be traced most clearly 
 in the history of The Palace of Art, the long- 
 est and most important of the 1833 poems. 
 Nor can I think of any better way to study 
 the unfolding of his genius and the develop- 
 ment of his style, than to observe carefully 
 the number and nature and purpose of the 
 changes which he has made in this poem. 
 
 The poem is an allegory. Its meaning 
 is clearly defined in the dedication to an 
 unnamed friend. Its object is to exhibit a 
 gifted but selfish soul, in its endeavours to 
 live alone in its own enchanted world of re- 
 fined and consummate pleasures, without car- 
 ing for the interests or the sufferings of the 
 great world of mankind. The lesson which 
 the poet desires to teach is that such a life 
 must be a failure and carry its punishment 
 within itself. It is an aesthetic protest 
 against asstheticism. But it is worthy of 
 notice that, while the dedication in the first 
 edition was addressed to a member of the 
 aesthetic class, — 
 
THE PALACE OF ART. 33 
 
 You are an artist, and will understand 
 Its many lesser meanings, — 
 
 in the second edition these lines have disap- 
 peared. It is as if the poet desired to give 
 a wider range to his lesson ; as if he would 
 say, " You are a man, and no matter what 
 your occupation may be, you will feel the 
 truth of this allegory." 
 
 This first alteration is characteristic. It 
 shows us the transformation of Tennyson's 
 feelings and purposes during those eventful 
 ten years of silence. He had grown broader 
 and deeper. He was no longer content to 
 write for a small and select circle of readers. 
 His sympathies were larger and more hu- 
 mane. He began to feel that he had a coun- 
 try, and patriotism inspired him to write for 
 England. He began to feel that the lives 
 of common men and women were full of ma- 
 terials for poetry, and philanthropy inspired 
 him to speak as a man to his fellow-men. 
 This change was prophesied in the first 
 conception of The Palace of Art, but when 
 the fulfilment came, it was so thorough that 
 it had power to remould the form of the 
 prophecy itself. 
 
 The Palace which the poet built for his 
 soul is described as standing on a lofty table- 
 
34 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 land, secure and inaccessible, for his first 
 object was to dwell apart from the world. 
 Then follows, in the original edition, a de- 
 scription of its long-sounding corridors, 
 
 Roofed with thick plates of green and orange glass, 
 Ending in stately rooms. 
 
 In the second edition the architect's good 
 taste has discarded this conservatory effect 
 and these curiously assorted colors. He 
 describes instead the surroundings of the 
 Palace, with its four great courts and its 
 foaming fountains, its smooth lawns and 
 branching cloisters. He draws a gilded par- 
 apet around the roof, and shows the distant 
 landscape. In following this order he has 
 given reality and dignity to his structure, so 
 that it seems less like a picture-gallery and 
 more like a royal mansion. 
 
 Then he leads the soul through the differ- 
 ent rooms, and describes the tapestries on 
 the walls. As the poem stood at first these 
 included the Madonna, Venus Anadyomene, 
 St. Cecily, Arthur in the valley of Avilion, 
 Kriemhilt pouring the Nibelungen gold into 
 the Rhine, Europa, with her hand grasping 
 the golden horn of the bull, and Ganymede 
 borne upward by the eagle, together with 
 landscapes of forest and pasture, sea-coast, 
 
THE PALACE OF ART. 35 
 
 mountain-glen, and woodland, interspersed 
 with gardens and vineyards. When the 
 Palace was changed, Venus and Kriemhilt 
 disappeared, and Europa occupied a smaller 
 place. Pictures of Numa and his wise 
 wood-nymphs, Indian Cama seated on his 
 summer throne, and the porch of Moham- 
 med's Paradise thronged with houris, were 
 added. And among the landscapes there 
 were two new scenes, one of cattle feeding 
 by a river, and another of reapers at their 
 sultry toil. 
 
 The soul pauses here, in the first edition, 
 and indulges in a little rhapsody on the evo- 
 lution of the intellect. This disappears in 
 the second edition, and we pass directly from 
 the chambers hung with arras into the great 
 hall, the central apartment of the Palace. 
 Here the architect had gathered, at first, a 
 collection of portraits of great men which 
 was so catholic in its taste as to be almost 
 motley. Lockhart laughed derisively when 
 he saw the group. " Milton, Shakespeare, 
 Dante, Homer, Michael Angelo, Martin Lu- 
 ther, Francis Bacon, Cervantes, Calderon, 
 King David, the Halicarnassean (quaere, 
 which of them ?), Alfred himself (presum- 
 ably not the poet), 
 
36 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Isaiah with fierce Ezekiel, 
 
 Swarth Moses by the Coptic sea, 
 
 Plato, Petrarca, Livy, Raphael, 
 And eastern Confutzee." 
 
 This reminds the critic of a verse in that 
 Hibernian poem, The Groves of Blarney, 
 and he wonders whether Mr. Tennyson was 
 not thinking of the Blarney collection — 
 
 " Statues growing that noble place in 
 Of heathen goddesses most rare ; 
 Homer, Plutarch, and Nebuchadnezzar, 
 All standing naked in the open air." 
 
 But in the revised Palace all these have been 
 left out, except the first four, and the archi- 
 tect has added a great 
 
 mosaic choicely plann'd 
 With cycles of the human tale 
 Of this wide world, the times of every land 
 So wrought, they will not fail. 
 
 The people here, a beast of burden slow, 
 
 Toil'd onward, prick'd with goads and stings ; 
 
 Here play'd a tiger, rolling to and fro 
 The heads and crowns of kings ; 
 
 Here rose an athlete, strong to break or bind 
 All force in bonds that might endure, 
 
 And here once more like some sick man declin'd 
 And trusted any cure. 
 
 This mosaic covered the floor, and over these 
 symbols of struggling humanity the vainglo- 
 rious soul trod proudly as she went up to 
 
THE PALACE OF ART 37 
 
 take her throne between the shining win- 
 dows on which the faces of Plato and Veru- 
 lam were blazoned. In the first edition 
 there was a gorgeous description of the ban- 
 quet with which she regaled herself; piles 
 of flavorous fruits, musk - scented blooms, 
 ambrosial pulps and juices, graceful chalices 
 of curious wine, and a service of costly jars 
 and bossed salvers. Thus she feasted in 
 solitary state, and 
 
 ere young night divine 
 Crowned dying day with stars, 
 
 Making- sweet close of his delicious toils, 
 She lit white streams of dazzling gas, 
 
 And soft and fragrant flames of precious oils 
 In moons of purple glass- 
 
 This was written when the use of gas for 
 illuminating purposes was new, and not con- 
 sidered um-omantic. When the Palace was 
 remodelled the gas was turned off, and the 
 supper was omitted. The soul was lifted 
 above mere sensual pleasures, and sat listen- 
 ing to her own song and rejoicing in her 
 royal seclusion. 
 
 There are a great many minor alterations 
 scattered through the poem, which I have 
 not time to notice. Some of them are mere 
 changes of spelling, like Avilion, which be- 
 
38 TEE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 comes Avalon ; and Cecily, which is changed 
 to Cicely in 1842, and back again to Cecily 
 in later editions ; and sweet Europa's man- 
 tle, which at first " blew unclasped," and 
 then lost its motion and got a touch of colour, 
 becoming "blue, unclasped," and finally re- 
 turned to its original form. (Some one has 
 said that a painter would not have been 
 forced to choose between colour and motion, 
 for he could have made the mantle at once 
 blue and blowing.) Corrections and re-cor- 
 rections such as these show how carefully 
 Mr. Tennyson seeks the perfection of lan- 
 guage. 
 
 But the most interesting change yet to be 
 noted is directly due to Lockhart ; s sharp 
 criticism ; at least, it was he who first pointed 
 out the propriety of at, in his usual sarcastic 
 way. " In this poem," said he, "we first 
 observed a stroke of art which we think very 
 ingenious. No one who has ever written 
 verses but must have felt the pain of eras- 
 ing some happy line, some striking phrase, 
 which, however excellent in itself, did not 
 exactly suit the place for which it was des- 
 tined. How curiously does an author mould 
 and remould the plastic verse in order to fit 
 in the favorite thought ; and when he finds' 
 
THE PALACE OF ART. 39 
 
 that he cannot introduce it, as Corporal 
 Trim says, any how, with what reluctance 
 does he at last reject the intractable, but 
 still cherished, offspring of his brain. Mr. 
 Tennyson manages this delicate matter in a 
 new and better way. He says, with great 
 candour and simplicity, ' If this poem were 
 not already too long 1 should have added the 
 following stanzas? and then he adds them ; 
 or, ' I intended to have added something on 
 statuary, but I found it very difficult ; but 
 I have finished the statues of Elijah and 
 Olynopias ; judge whether I have succeeded ; ' 
 and then we have those two statues. This 
 is certainly the most ingenious device that 
 has ever come under our observation for 
 reconciling the rigour of criticism with the 
 indulgence of parental partiality." 
 
 The passages to which Mr. Lockhart al- 
 ludes in this delicious paragraph are the 
 notes appended to pages 73 and 83 of the 
 original edition. The former of these con- 
 tains four stanzas on sculptures ; the latter 
 gives a description of one of the favourite 
 occupations of the self-indulgent soul, which 
 is too fine to be left unquoted. Above the 
 Palace a massive tower was built : 
 
40 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Hither, when all the deep unsounded skies 
 Were shuddering with silent stars, she clomb, 
 
 And, as with optic glasses, her keen eyes 
 Pierced thro' the mystic dome, 
 
 Regions of lucid matter taking forms, 
 
 Brushes of fire, hazy gleams, 
 Clusters and beds of worlds, and bee-like swarms 
 
 Of suns, and starry streams- 
 She saw the snowy poles of moonless Mars, 
 
 That marvellous round of milky light 
 Below Orion, and those double stars 
 
 Whereof the one more bright 
 
 Is circled by the other. 
 
 Bat, however admirable these lines may 
 seem, and however much we may regret their 
 loss, there can be no doubt that the manner 
 of their introduction was incongruous and 
 absurd. It was like saying, " This Palace 
 is not to have a hall of statues, but I will 
 simply put on a small wing as a sample of 
 what is not to be done. And there is no 
 room for an observatory, but I will construct 
 one in order that you may see what it would 
 have been like." The poet himself seems 
 to have recognized that the device was too 
 " ingenious " to be dignified ; and in 1842 
 he restored the symmetry of the Palace by 
 omitting the annex-buildings entirely. 
 
THE PALACE OF ART. 41 
 
 And now let us sum up the changes which 
 have been made in the Palace since it was 
 first constructed. For this purpose it will 
 be better to take Macmillan's edition of 
 1884 (which probably represents the final 
 text) and lay it beside the edition of 1833. 
 
 In 1833 the poem, including the notes, 
 contained eighty-three stanzas ; in 1884 it 
 has only seventy-five. Of the original num 
 ber thirty-one have been entirely omitted — 
 in other words, more than a third of the 
 structure has been pulled down ; and, in 
 place of these, twenty-two new stanzas have 
 been added, making a change of fifty-three 
 stanzas. The fifty-two that remain have 
 almost all been retouched and altered, so 
 that very few stand to-day in the same shape 
 which they had at the beginning. I suppose 
 there is no other poem in the language, not 
 even among the writings of Tennyson, which 
 has been worked over so carefully as this. 
 
 But what is the significance of all this 
 toilsome correction and remodelling ? How 
 does the study of it help us to a better com- 
 prehension of the poet ? I think it shows us, 
 first of all, the difference between the intel- 
 lectual temper of Tennyson and that of a 
 man who is possessed by his theories, instead 
 
f 
 
 42 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 of possessing them, and whom they carry 
 away into eccentricity. Suppose, for exam- 
 ple, that such an article as Lockhart's had 
 been written about Wordsworth's early 
 work, what would he have done ? Or rather, 
 for the case is not adscititious but actual, 
 what did he do when the Philistines fell 
 upon him ? He replied to the attacks upon 
 Goody Blake by publishing Peter Bell; 
 he insisted upon using the language of 
 common life even when he had nothing to 
 say; he justified his poem upon an idiot 
 and his pony, by producing a much longer 
 one upon a pedlar and his ass. But with 
 Tennyson the effect of criticism was differ- 
 ent. He had the saving sense of humour, 
 and could see the point of a clever jest even 
 when it was directed against himself. He 
 was willing to learn even from an enemy, 
 and he counted no pains too great to take if 
 only he could succeed in cleansing his work 
 from blemishes and freeing it from " the de- 
 fects of its virtues." The result of this, 
 merely from a technical point of view, is 
 seen in the Palace of Art. It has gained 
 in rebuilding. The omission of unnecessary 
 decoration is a good rule for the architect. 
 And though we lose many rich and polished 
 
TEE PALACE OF ART. 43 
 
 details, beautiful as the capitals of Corin- 
 thian pillars, their absence leaves the Palace 
 standing more clear and noble before the 
 inward eye. 
 
 But when we look at the alterations from 
 a higher point, when we consider their ef- 
 fect upon the meaning of the poem, we see 
 how immense has been the gain. The new 
 lines and stanzas are framed, almost with- 
 out exception, with a wondrous skill to in- 
 tensify the allegory. Touch after touch 
 brings out the picture of the self-centred 
 soul : the indifference that hardens into 
 cruel contempt, the pride that verges on in- 
 sanity, the insatiate lust of pleasure that de- 
 vours all the world can give and then turns 
 to feed upon itself, the empty darkness' of 
 the life without love. It seems as if the poet 
 had felt more deeply, as he grew older, the 
 need of making this picture clear and strong. 
 Take for instance these two stanzas which he 
 has added to the poem, describing the exul- 
 tation of the soul in her exclusive joy : — 
 
 O God-like isolation which art mine, 
 
 I can but count thee perfect gain, 
 What time I watch the darkening droves of swine 
 
 That range on yonder plain. 
 
44 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 In filthy sloughs they roll a prurient skin, 
 They graze and wallow, breed and sleep ; 
 
 And oft some brainless devil enters in, 
 And drives them to the deep. 
 
 These lines are essential to the understand- 
 ing of the poem. They touch the very core 
 of the sin which defiled the Palace and de- 
 stroyed the soul's happiness. It was not 
 merely that she loved beauty and music and 
 fragrance ; but that in her love for these 
 she lost her moral sense, denied her human 
 duties, and scorned, instead of pitying and 
 helping, her brother-men who lived on the 
 plain below. This is the sin of selfishj>ride, 
 the sin which drives out the Christ because 
 He eats with publicans and sinners, the un- 
 pardonable sin which makes its own hell. 
 ~""T* And it is just this sin, the poet declares, that 
 transforms the Palace of Art into a prison 
 of despair. 
 
 Is not this a lesson of which the age has 
 need ? The chosen few are saying to their 
 disciples that the world is a failure, humanity 
 a mass of wretchedness, religion an outworn 
 dream, — the only refuge for the elect of 
 wealth and culture is in art. Retreat into 
 your gardens of pleasure. Let the plague 
 take the city. Delight your eyes with all 
 
THE PALACE OF ART. 45 
 
 things fair and sweet. So shall it be well 
 with you and your soul shall dwell at ease 
 while the swine perish. It is the new gospel 
 of pessimism which despairs of the common 
 people because it despises them, — nay, the 
 old gospel of pessimism which seeks to se- 
 crete a selfish happiness in " the worst of 
 all possible worlds." Nebuchadnezzar tried 
 it in Babylon; Hadrian tried it in Koine; 
 Solomon tried it in Jerusalem ; and from all 
 its palaces comes the same voice : vanitaa 
 vanitatum at omnia vanitas. 
 
 It is not until the soul has learned a better 
 wisdom, learned that the human race is one, 
 and that none can really rise by treading on \ 
 his brother-men, learned that true art is not | 
 the slave of luxury but the servant of hu- 
 manity, learned that happiness is born, not 
 of the lust to possess and enjoy, but of the 
 desire to give and to bless, — then, and 
 not until then, when she brings others with 
 her, can the soul find true rest in her Palace. 
 
 Tennyson has learned, as well as taught, 
 this consecration of art. He has always 
 been an artist, but not for art's sake ; a 
 lover of beauty, but also a lover of humanity ;-4- 
 a singer whose musie has brightened and 
 blessed thousands of homes wherever the 
 
 
46 THE POETRY OF TENNYBON. 
 
 English tongue is spoken, and led the feet 
 of young men and maidens, by some Or- 
 phean enchantment, into royal mansions and 
 gardens, full of all things pure and lovely 
 and of good report. 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON: 
 
 A COMPARISON AND A CONTRAST. 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 
 
 Comparison has long been recognized as 
 one of the fruitful methods of criticism. 
 But in using this method one needs to re- 
 member that it is the least obvious compar- 
 ison which is often the truest and the most 
 suggestive. The relationship of poets does 
 not lie upon the surface ; they receive their 
 spiritual inheritance from beyond the lines 
 of direct descent. Thus a poet may be 
 most closely connected with one whose name 
 we never join with his, and we may find his 
 deepest resemblance to a man not only of 
 another age, but of another school. 
 
 Tennyson has been compared most fre- 
 quently with Keats ; sometimes, but falsely, 
 with Shelley ; and sometimes, more wisely, 
 with Wordsworth. Our accomplished Amer- 
 ican critic, Mr. Edmund Clarence Stedman, 
 who touches nothing that he does not adorn, 
 has a chapter in his Victorian Poets on 
 Tennyson and Theocritus. But the best com- 
 parison, — one which runs far below the out- 
 
50 THE POETRY O'F TENNYSON. 
 
 ward appearance into the profound affini- 
 ties of genius — yet remains to be carefully 
 traced. Among all poets, — certainly among 
 all English poets, — it seems to me that 
 Tennyson's next of kin is Milton. 
 
 By this I do not mean to say that they 
 are equally great or exactly alike. For so 
 far as perfect likeness is concerned, there is 
 no such thiug among the sons of men. 
 Every just comparison involves a contrast. 
 And when we speak of greatness, Milton's 
 place as the second poet of England is not 
 now to be called in question by any rival 
 claim. Yet even here, when we ask who is 
 to take the third place, I think there is no 
 one who has such a large and substantial 
 title as the author of In Memoriam and 
 The Idylls of the King. The conjunction 
 of the names of Milton and Tennyson will 
 be no unfamiliar event for the future ; and 
 for the present there is no better way of 
 studying these two great poets than to lay 
 their works side by side, and trace their 
 lives through the hidden parallel of a kin- 
 dred destiny. 
 
 I. 
 
 There are two direct references to Milton 
 in the works of Tennyson ; and these we 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 51 
 
 must examine first of all, in order that we 
 may understand the attitude of his mind to- 
 wards the elder master. The first is in The 
 Palace of Art. The royal dais on which 
 the soul set up her intellectual throne is 
 described as having above it four portraits of 
 wise men. 
 
 There deephaired Milton like an angel tall 
 Stood limned, Shakespeare bland and mild, 
 
 Grim Dante pressed his lips, and from the wall 
 The bald blind Homer smiled. 
 
 Thus ran the verse in the 1833 edition ; 
 and it tells us the rank which Tennyson, in 
 his twenty-fourth year, assigned to Milton. 
 But there is hardly an instance in which the 
 fineness of Tennyson's self - correction is 
 more happily illustrated than in the change 
 which he has made in this passage. In the 
 later editions it reads as follows : — 
 
 For there was Milton like a seraph strong, 
 Beside him, Shakespeare bland and mild ; 
 
 And there the world-worn Dante grasped his song 
 And somewhat grimly smiled. 
 
 And there the Ionian father of the rest ; 
 
 A million wrinkles carved his skin ; 
 A hundred winters snowed upon his breast, 
 
 From cheek and throat and chin. 
 
 Let those who think that poetic expression 
 
52 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 is a matter of chance ponder upon this pas- 
 sage. Every alteration is an improvement ; 
 and most of all the change in the first line. 
 For now the poet has formed a true picture of 
 Milton's genius, and shows a profound com- 
 prehension of its essential quality. Its sign 
 is strength, but strength seraphic; not the 
 rude, volcanic force of the Titan, but a power 
 serene, harmonious, beautiful ; a power of 
 sustained flight, of far-reaching vision, of 
 lofty eloquence, such as belongs to the sera- 
 phim alone. Mark you, the word is not 
 " angel," for the angels are lower beings, fol- 
 lowers in the heavenly host, some weak, and 
 some fallen ; nor is the word " cherub," for 
 the cherubim, in the ancient Hebrew doc- 
 trine, are silent and mysterious creatures, not 
 shaped like men, voiceless and inapproach- 
 able ; but the word is "seraph," for the ser- 
 aphim hover on mighty wings about the 
 throne of God, chanting His praise one to 
 another, and bearing His messages from 
 heaven to earth. This, then, is the figure 
 which Tennyson chooses, with the precision 
 of a great poet, to summon the spirit of Mil- 
 ton before us, — a seraph strong. That one 
 phrase is worth more than all of Dr. John- 
 eon's ponderous criticisms. 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 53 
 
 The second reference is found among 
 the Experiments in Quantity which were 
 printed in the Cornhill Magazine in 1863. 
 
 We have here the expression of Tenny- 
 son's mature opinion, carefully considered, 
 and uttered with the strength of a generous 
 and clear conviction; an utterance well 
 worth weighing, not only for the perfection 
 of its form, but also for the richness of its 
 contents and the revelation which it makes 
 of the poet's own nature. Hear with what 
 power and stateliness the tone-picture begins, 
 rising at once to the height of the noble 
 theme ; — 
 
 O, mighty-mouth' d inventor of harmonies, 
 O, skill' d to sing of Time or Eternity, 
 
 God-gifted organ-voice of England, 
 
 Milton, a name to resound for ages ; 
 Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel, 
 Starr' d from Jehovah's gorgeous armouries, 
 
 Tower, as the deep-domed empyrean 
 
 Rings to the roar of an angel onset, — 
 Me rather all that bowery loneliness 
 The brooks of Eden mazily murmuring 
 
 And bloom profuse and cedar arches 
 
 Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean, 
 Where some refulgent sunset of India 
 Streams o'er a rich ambrosial ocean isle, 
 
 And crimson-hued the stately palm-woods 
 
 Whisper in odorous heights of even. 
 
 Thus the brief ode finds its perfect close, 
 
54 TEE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 the rich, full tones dying away in the pro- 
 longed period, as the strains of some large 
 music are lost in the hush of twilight. But 
 one other hand could have swept these grand 
 chords and evoked these tones of majestic 
 sweetness, — the hand of Milton himself. 
 
 It was De Quincey, that most nearly in- 
 spired, but most nearly insane, of critics, who 
 first spoke of the Miltonic movement as 
 having the qualities of an organ voluntary. 
 But the comparison which with him was little 
 more than a fortunate and striking simile is 
 transformed by the poet into a perfect 
 metaphor. 
 
 The great organ, pouring forth its melo- 
 dious thunders, becomes a living thing, 
 divinely dowered and filled with music, — 
 an instrument no longer, but a voice, majes- 
 tic, potent, thrilling the heart, — the voice of 
 England pealing in the ears of all the world 
 and all time. Swept on the flood of those 
 great harmonies, the mighty hosts of angels 
 clash together in heaven-shaking conflict. 
 But it is the same full tide of music which 
 flows down in sweetest, lingering cadence 
 to wander through the cool groves and fra- 
 grant valleys of Paradise. Here the younger 
 poet will more gladly dwell, finding a deeper 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 55 
 
 delight in these solemn and tranquil melodies 
 than in the roar and clang of battles, even 
 though angelic. 
 
 Is it not true ? True, not only that the 
 organ voice has the twofold gift of beauty 
 and grandeur ; true, not only that Tenny- 
 son has more sympathy with the loveliness 
 of Eden than with the mingled splendours 
 and horrors of the celestial battlefields ; but 
 true, also, that there is a more potent and 
 lasting charm in Milton's description of the 
 beautiful than in his description of the sub- 
 lime. I do not think that Is' Allegro, 11 
 Penseroso, and Comus have any lower place 
 in the world, or any less enduring life, than 
 Paradise Lost. And even in that great 
 epic there are no passages more worthy to be 
 remembered, more fruitful of pure feelings 
 and lofty thoughts, than those like the Hymn 
 of Adam, or the description of the first even- 
 ing in Eden, which show us the fairness and 
 delightfulness of God's world. We have 
 forgotten this ; we have thought so much of 
 Milton's strength and sublimity that we 
 have ceased to recognize what is also true, 
 that he, of all English poets, is by nature 
 the supreme lover of beauty. 
 
56 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 II. 
 
 This, then, is the first point of vital sym- 
 pathy between Tennyson and Milton : their 
 common love of the beautiful, not only in 
 nature, but also in art. And this we see 
 most clearly in the youth and in the youth- 
 ful writings of the two poets. 
 
 There is a close resemblance in their early 
 life. Both were born and reared in homes 
 of modest comfort and refined leisure, under 
 the blended influences of culture and reli- 
 gion. Milton's father was a scrivener ; de- 
 prived of his heritage because he obeyed his 
 conscience to become a Protestant, but 
 amassing a competence by his professional 
 labor, he ordered his house well, softening 
 and beautifying the solemnity of Puritan 
 ways with the pursuit of music and litera- 
 ture. Tsnnyson was born in a country rec- 
 tory, one of those fair homes of peace and 
 settled order which are the pride and strength 
 of England, — homes where " plain living 
 and high thinking " produce the noblest 
 types of manhood. His father also, like 
 Milton's, was a musician, and surrounded 
 his seven sons with influences which gave 
 them poetic tastes and impulses. It is 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 57 
 
 strange to see how large a part music has 
 played in the development of these two 
 poets. Milton, even in his poverty, would 
 have an organ in his house to solace his dark 
 hours. Tennyson, it is said, often called one 
 of his sisters to play to him while he com- 
 posed ; and in his dedication of the Songs 
 of the Wrens to Sir Ivor Guest, he speaks 
 of himself as " wedded to music." 
 
 It is of course no more than a coiucidence 
 that both of the young poets should have 
 been students in the University of Cam- 
 bridge. But there is something deeper in 
 the similarity of their college lives and stud- 
 ies. A certain loftiness of spirit, an habitual 
 abstraction of thought, separated them from 
 the mass of their fellow-students. They were 
 absorbed in communion with the great minds 
 of Greece and Rome. They drank deep at 
 the springs of ancient poesy. Not alone the 
 form, but the spirit, of the classics became 
 familiar to them. They were enamoured of 
 the beauty of the old-world legends, the 
 bright mythologies of Hellas, and Latium's 
 wondrous histories of gods and men. For 
 neither of them was this love of the ancient 
 poets a transient delight, a passing mood. 
 It took strong hold upon them ; it became 
 
68 THE POETRY OF TENNY80N. 
 
 a moulding power in their life and work. 
 We can trace it in all their writings. Allu- 
 sions, themes, illustrations, similes, forms 
 of verse, echoes of thought, conscious or 
 unconscious imitations, — a thousand tokens 
 remind us that we are still beneath the in- 
 fluence of the old masters of a vanished 
 world, — 
 
 " The dead, but sceptered sovereigns, who still rule 
 Our spirits from their urns." 
 
 And here, again, we see a deep bond of 
 sympathy between Tennyson and Milton: 
 they are certainly the most learned, the most 
 classical, of England's poets. 
 
 Following their lives beyond the univer- 
 sity, we find that both of them came out into 
 a period of study, of seclusion, of leisure, of 
 poetical productiveness. Milton retired to 
 his father's house at Horton, in Bucking- 
 hamshire, where he lived for five years. 
 Tennyson's home at Somersby, in Lincoln- 
 shire, was broken up by his father's death in 
 1831 ; and after that, as Carlyle wrote to 
 Emerson, " he preferred clubbing with his 
 Mother and some Sisters, to live unpro- 
 moted and write Poems ; . . now here, now 
 there ; the family always within reach of 
 London, never in it ; he himself making rare 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 59 
 
 and brief visits, lodging in some old com- 
 rade's rooms." The position and circum- 
 stances of the two young poets were wonder- 
 fully alike. Both were withdrawn from the 
 whirl and conflict of active life into a world 
 of lovely forms, sweet sounds, and enchant- 
 ing dreams ; both fed their minds with the 
 beauty of nature and of ancient story, 
 charmed by the music of divine philosophy, 
 and by songs of birds filling the sweet Eng- 
 lish air at dawn or twilight ; both loved to 
 roam at will over hill and dale and by the 
 wandering sti'eams ; to watch the bee, with 
 honeyed thigh, singing from flower to flower, 
 and catch the scent of violets hidden in the 
 green ; to hear the sound of far-off bells 
 swinging over the wide-watered shore, and 
 listen to the sighing of the wind among the 
 trees, or the murmur of the waves on the 
 river-bank ; to pore and dream through long 
 night-watches over the legends of the past, 
 until the cold winds woke the gray-eyed 
 morn, and the lark's song startled the dull 
 night from her watch-tower in the skies. 
 They dwelt as idlers in the land, but it was 
 a glorious and fruitful idleness, for they 
 were reaping 
 
 The harvest of a quiet eye 
 
 That broods and sleeps on his own heart 
 
60 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 How few and brief, and yet how wonder- 
 ful, how precious, are the results of these 
 peaceful years. & Allegro, 11 Penseroso, 
 Arcades, Corm/s, Lycidas ; Isabel, Recol- 
 lections of the Arabian Nights, Ode to 
 Memory, The Dying Swan, The Palace of 
 Art, A Dream of Fair Women, Mariana, 
 The Lady of Shalott, The Lotos-Eaters, 
 (Enone, — these are poems to be remem- 
 bered, read, and re-read with ever fresh de- 
 light, the most perfect things of their kind 
 in all literature. Grander poems, more pas- 
 sionate, more powerful, are many ; but there 
 are none in which the pure love of beauty, 
 Greek in its healthy symmetry, Christian in 
 its reverent earnestness, has produced work 
 so complete and exquisite as the early poems 
 of Milton and Tennyson. 
 
 Their best qualities are the same. I am 
 more impressed with this the more I read 
 them. They are marked by the same exact 
 observation of Nature, the same sensitive 
 perception of her most speaking aspects, the 
 same charm of simple and musical descrip- 
 tion. Read the Ode to Memory, — for in- 
 stance, the description of the poet's home : — 
 
 Come from the woods that helt the gTay hillside, 
 The seven elms, the poplars four 
 That stand beside my father's door; 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 61 
 
 And chiefly from the brook that loves 
 To pari o'er matted cress and ribbed sand 
 Or dimple in the dark of rushy coves, 
 Drawing into his narrow earthen nrn, 
 
 In every elbow and turn, 
 The filtered tribute of the rough woodland. 
 
 ! hither lead my feet ! 
 Pour round my ears the livelong bleat 
 Of the thick-fleeced sheep from wattled folds 
 
 Upon the ridged wolds, 
 When the first matin-song hath waken'd loud, 
 Over the dark dewy earth forlorn, 
 What time the amber morn 
 Forth gushes from beneath a low-hung cloud. 
 
 Compare with this some lines from JjAII& 
 gro : — 
 
 To hear the lark begin his flight, 
 And singing startle the dull night 
 From his watch-tower in the skies, 
 Till the dappled dawn doth rise ! 
 
 Some time walking, not unseen, 
 
 By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green, 
 
 Right against the eastern gate 
 
 Where the great sun begins his state, 
 
 Rob'd in flames and amber light, 
 
 The clouds in thousand liveries dight; 
 
 While the ploughman, near at hand, 
 
 Whistles o'er the furrow' d land, 
 
 And the milkmaid singeth blithe, 
 
 And the mower whets his scythe, 
 
 And every shepherd tells his tale 
 
 Under the hawthorn in the dale. 
 
 Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures 
 
 While the landscape round it measures ; 
 
62 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Russet lawns and fallows gray, 
 Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; 
 Mountains on whose barren breast 
 The labouring clouds do often rest ; 
 Meadows trim with daisies pied, 
 Shallow brooks and rivers wide. 
 
 Here are the same breadth of vision, deli- 
 cacy of touch, atmospheric effect ; the same 
 sensitiveness to the simplest variations of 
 light and sound ; the same power to shed 
 over the quiet scenery of the English coun- 
 try the light of an ideal beauty. It is an 
 art far beyond that of the landscape painter,- 
 and all the more perfect because so well con- 
 cealed. 
 
 Another example will show us the simi- 
 larity of the two poets in their more purely 
 imaginative work, the description of that 
 which they have seen only with the dream- 
 ing eyes of fancy. Take the closing song, 
 or epilogue of the Attendant Spirit, in Co- 
 mus : — 
 
 To the ocean now I fly 
 
 And those happy climes that lie 
 
 Up in the broad fields of the sky. 
 
 There I suck the liquid air, 
 
 All amidst the gardens fair 
 
 Of Hesperus, and his daughters three, 
 
 That sing about the golden tree : 
 
 Along the crisped shades and bowers 
 
 Revels the spruce and jocuud Spring ; 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 63 
 
 The graces and the rosy-bosomed Hours 
 Thither all their bounties bring ; 
 There eternal summer dwells, 
 And west-winds, with musky wing, 
 About the cedarn alleys fling 
 Nard and cassia's balmy smells. 
 Iris there with humid bow 
 Waters the odourous banks, that blow 
 Flowers of more mingled hue 
 Than her purfled scarf can shew, 
 And drenches with Elysian dew 
 Beds of hyacinths and roses. 
 
 Compare this with Tennyson's Recollections 
 of the Arabian Nights : — 
 
 Thence thro' the garden I was drawn — 
 A realm of pleasance, many a mound, 
 And many a shadow-chequer' d lawn 
 Full of the city's stilly sound, 
 And deep myrrh-thickets blowing round 
 The stately cedar, tamarisks, 
 Thick rosaries of scented thorn, 
 Tall orient shrubs, and obelisks 
 
 Graven with emblems of the time, 
 
 In honour of the golden prime 
 Of good Haroun Alraschid. 
 
 With dazed vision unawares 
 From the long alley's latticed shade 
 Emerged, I came upon the great 
 Pavilion of the Caliphat. 
 Right to the carven cedarn doors 
 Flung inward over spangled floors, 
 Broad-based flights of marble stairs 
 Ran up with golden balustrade. 
 
64 THE POETRY OF TENNYBON. 
 
 After the fashion of the time, 
 And humour of the golden prime 
 Of good Haroun Alraschid. 
 
 Here is more than a mere resemblance of 
 words and themes, more than an admiring 
 imitation or echoing of phrases ; it is an 
 identity of taste, spirit, temperament. But 
 the resemblance of forms is also here. We 
 can trace it even in such a minor trait as the 
 skilful construction and use of double-words. 
 This has often been noticed as a distinguish- 
 ing feature of Tennyson's poetry. But Mil- 
 ton uses them almost as freely and quite 
 as magically. In Comus, which has a few 
 more than a thousand lines, there are fifty- 
 four double-epithets ; in L' Allegro there are 
 sixteen to a hundred and fifty lines ; in U 
 Penseroso there are eleven to one hundred 
 and seventy lines. Tennyson's Ode to Mem- 
 ory, with a hundred and twenty lines, has 
 fifteen double-words ; Mariana, with eighty 
 lines, has nine ; the Lotos-Eaters, with two 
 hundred lines, has thirty-two. And if I 
 should choose at random fifty such words 
 from the early poems, I do not think that 
 any one, not knowing them by heart, could 
 tell at first glance which were Milton's and 
 which Tennyson's. Let us try the experi- 
 ment with the following list : — 
 
/ 
 
 MILTON AND TENNYSON. 65 
 
 Low-thoughted, empty-vaulted, rosy-white, rosy-bo- 
 somed, violet-embroidered, dew-impearled, over-exquisite, 
 long-levelled, mild-eyed, white-banded, white-breasted, 
 pure-eyed, sin-worn, self-consumed, self-profit, close- 
 curtained, l ow-brow ed, ivy-crowned, gray-eyed, far- 
 beaming, pale -eyed, down - steering, flower -inwoven, 
 dewy-dark, moon-loved, smooth-swarded, quick-falling, 
 slow-dropping, coral-paven, lily-cradled, amber-dropping, 
 thrice-great, dewy-feathered, purple-spiked, foam-foun- 
 tains, sand-built, night-steeds, h U-flowing, sable-stoled, 
 sun-steeped, star-led, pilot-stars, full-juiced, dew-fed, 
 brazen-headed, wisdom-bred, star-strown, low-embowed, 
 iron-worded, globe-filled. 
 
 It will puzzle the reader to distinguish 
 with any degree of certainty the authorship 
 of these words. And this seems the more 
 remarkable when we remember that there 
 are two centuries of linguistic development 
 and changing fashions of poetic speech be- 
 tween Comus and (Enone. 
 
 Not less remarkable is the identity of 
 spirit in Tennyson and Milton in their deli- 
 cate yet wholesome sympathy with Nature, 
 their perception of the relation of her moods 
 and aspects to the human heart. This, in 
 fact, is the keynote of JW Allegro and H 
 Penseroso. The same world, seen under 
 different lights and filled with different 
 sounds, responds as deeply to the joyous, as 
 to the melancholy, spirit. There is a pro- 
 
66 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 found meaning, a potent influence, in the 
 outward shows of sky and earth. While 
 the Lady of Shalott dwells in her pure se- 
 clusion, the sun shines, the lily blossoms on 
 the river's breast, and the blue sky is un- 
 clouded ; but wheu she passes the fatal line, 
 and the curse has fallen on her, then 
 
 In the stormy eastwind straining, 
 The pale yellow woods are waning, 
 The broad stream in his banks complaining, 
 Heavily the low sky raining, 
 Over tower' d Camelot 
 
 Thus, also, when the guilty pair in Eden 
 had transgressed that sole command on which 
 their happiness depended, — 
 
 Sky lowered, and muttering thunder, some sad drops 
 Wept at completing of the mortal sin. 
 
 Mr. Ruskin says that this is " the pathetic 
 fallacy ; " for, as a matter of fact, the clouds 
 do not weep, nor do the rivers complain, 
 and he maintains that to speak of them as 
 if they did these things is to speak with a 
 certain degree of falsehood which is un- 
 worthy of the highest kind of art. But Mr. 
 Ruskin may say what he pleases about Mil- 
 ton and Tennyson without much likelihood 
 of persuading any sane person that their 
 poetry is not profoundly true to Nature, — 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 67 
 
 and most true precisely in its recognition of 
 her power to echo and reflect the feelings of 
 man. All her realities are but seemings ; 
 and she does seem to weep with them that 
 weep, and to rejoice with them that do re- 
 joice. Nothing cau be more real than that. 
 The chemistry of the sun is no more true 
 than its message of joy ; the specific gravity 
 of the rain is of no greater consequence than 
 its message of sadness. And for the poet 
 the first necessity is that he should be able 
 to feel and interpret the sentiment of nat- 
 ural objects. The art of landscape-poetry, 
 I take it, consists in this : the choice and 
 description of such actual images of external 
 nature as are capable of being grouped and 
 coloured by a dominant idea or feeling. Of 
 this art the most perfect masters are Tenny- 
 son and Milton. And here I have reversed 
 the order of the names, because I reckon 
 that on this point Tennyson stands first. 
 Take, for example, the little poem on Mari- 
 ana, — that wonderful variation on the 
 theme of loneliness suggested by a single 
 line in Measure for Measure. Here the 
 thought is the weariness of waiting for one 
 who does not come. The garden has grown 
 black with moss, the nails in the wall are 
 
68 THE POETRf OF TENNYSON. 
 
 rusted, the thatch is full of weeds on the 
 forsaken house ; the moat is crusted over 
 with creeping marsh - plants, the solitary- 
 poplar on the fen trembles eternally in the 
 wind ; slowly pass the night-hours, marked 
 by the distant sounds of crowing cocks and 
 lowing oxen ; slower still the hours of day, 
 while the fly buzzes on the window-pane, the 
 mouse shrieks in the wainscot, the sparrow 
 chirps on the roof ; everything in the pic- 
 ture belongs to a life sunken in monotony, 
 lost in monotony, forgotten as a dead man 
 out of mind. Even the light that falls into 
 the moated grange is full of dust. 
 
 But most she loathed the hour 
 When the thick-moted sunbeam lay 
 Athwart the chambers, and the day 
 Downsloped, was westering in his bower. 
 Then, said she, " I am very dreary, 
 He will not come," she said ; 
 
 She wept, " I am aweary, aweary, 
 Oh God, that I were dead.' ' 
 
 Now all this is perfect painting of the 
 things in nature which respond exactly to 
 the sense of depression and solitude and in- 
 tolerable, prolonged neglect, in a human 
 soul. For an illustration of the opposite 
 feeling turn to the description of the May 
 morning in The Gardener's Daughter. The 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 69 
 
 passage is too long to quote here ; but it is 
 beyond doubt one of the most rich and joy- 
 ous pictures in English verse. The world 
 seems to be overflowing with blossom and 
 song as the youth draws near to the maiden. 
 It is love set to landscape. And yet there 
 is not a single false touch ; all is true and 
 clear and precise, down to the lark's song 
 which grows more rapid as he sinks to- 
 wards his nest, and the passing cloud whose 
 moisture draws out the sweet smell of the 
 flowers. 
 
 Another trait common to the earlier 
 poems of Milton and Tennyson is their 
 purity of tone. They are sensrous, — indeed 
 Milton declared that all good poetry must 
 be sensuous, — but never for a moment, in a 
 single line, are they sensual 
 
 Look at the Lady in Comus. She is the 
 sweet embodiment of Milton's youthful ideal 
 of virtue, clothed with the fairness of open- 
 ing womanhood, armed with the sun-clad 
 power of chastity. Darkness and danger 
 cannot 
 
 Stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts. 
 
 Evil things have no power upon her, but 
 shrink abashed from her presence. 
 
70 THE POETRY OF TENNY80N. 
 
 So deax to heaven is saintly chastity 
 
 That when a soul is found sincerely so, 
 
 A thousand liveried angels lackey her, 
 
 Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt ; 
 
 And in clear dream and solemn vision, 
 
 Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, 
 
 Till oft converse with heavenly habitants 
 
 Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape, 
 
 The unpolluted temple of the mind, 
 
 And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, 
 
 Till all be made immortal. 
 
 And now, beside this loveliest Lady, bring 
 Isabel, with those 
 
 Eyes not down-dropt nor over-bright, but fed 
 With the clear-pointed flame of chastity, 
 Clear, without heat, undying, tended by 
 Pure vestal thoughts in the translucent fane 
 Of her still spirit. 
 
 Bring also her who, for her people's good, 
 passed naked on her palfrey through the 
 city streets, — Godiva, who 
 
 Rode forth, clothed on with chastity ; 
 The deep air listen'd round her as she rode, 
 And all the low wind hardly breathed for fear. 
 
 These are sisters, perfect in purity as in 
 beauty, and worthy to be enshrined forever 
 in the love of youth. They are ideals which 
 draw the heart, not downward, but upward 
 by the power of " das ewig Weibliche" 
 
 There are many other points of resem- 
 blance between the early poems of Milton 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 71 
 
 and Tennyson on which it would be pleasant 
 to dwell. Echoes of thought like that son- 
 net, beginning 
 
 Check every outflash, every ruder sally 
 
 Of thought and speech : speak low, and give up wholly 
 
 Thy spirit to mild-minded melancholy, — 
 
 which seems almost as if it might have been 
 written by II Penseroso. Coincidences of 
 taste and reading such as the fondness for 
 the poet to whom Milton alludes as 
 
 Him that left half told 
 The story of Camhuscan bold, 
 Of Camball and of Algarsife 
 And who had Canace to wife, — 
 
 and whom Tennyson calls 
 
 Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath 
 Preluded those melodious bursts that fill 
 
 The spacious times of great Elizabeth 
 With sounds that echo still. 
 
 Likenesses of manner such as the imitation 
 of the smooth elegiac poets in Lyddas and 
 CEnone. But a critic who wishes his con- 
 clusions to be accepted cheerfully and with 
 a sense of gratitude must leave his readers 
 to supply some illustrations for themselves. 
 And this I will be prudent enough to do ; 
 expressing only the opinion that those who 
 study the subject carefully will find that 
 there is no closer parallel in literature than 
 
72 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 that between the early poems of Milton and 
 Tennyson. 
 
 in. 
 
 There are two causes which have power 
 to change the natural or premeditated course 
 of a man's life, — the shock of a great out- 
 ward catastrophe, and the shock of a pro- 
 found inward grief. When the former 
 comes, it shatters all his cherished plans, 
 renders the execution of his favorite pro- 
 jects impossible, directs the current of his 
 energy into new channels, plunges him 
 into conflict with circumstances, turns his 
 strength against corporeal foes, and produces 
 a change of. manner, speech, life, which is 
 at once evident and tangible. With the 
 latter, it is different. The inward shock 
 brings with it no alteration of the visible 
 environment, leaves the man where he stood 
 before, to the outward eye unchanged, free 
 to tread the same paths and pursue the same 
 designs ; and yet, in truth, not free ; most 
 deeply, though most subtly, changed ; for 
 the soul, shaken from her serene repose, and 
 losing the self-confidence of youth, either 
 rises into a higher life or sinks into a 
 lower; meeting the tremendous questions 
 which haunt the shade of a supreme 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 73 
 
 personal bereavement, she finds an answer 
 either in the eternal Yes or in the eternal 
 No ; and though form and accent and mode 
 of speech remain the same, the thoughts and 
 intents of the heart are altered forever. 
 
 To Milton came the outward conflict ; to 
 Tennyson, the inward grief. And as we 
 follow them beyond the charmed circle of 
 their early years, we must trace the parallel 
 between them, if indeed we can find it at 
 all, far below the surface; although even 
 yet we shall see some external resemblances 
 amid many and strong contrasts. 
 
 Milton's catastrophe was the civil war, 
 sweeping over England like a flood. But 
 the fate which involved him in it was none 
 other than his own conscience. This it was 
 that drew him, by compulsion more strong 
 than sweet, from the florid literary hospital- 
 ity of Italian mutual laudation societies into 
 the vortex of tumultuous London, made him 
 " lay aside his singing robes " for the heavy 
 armour of the controversialist, and leave his 
 "calm and pleasant solitariness, fed with 
 cheerful and confident thoughts, to embark 
 on a troubled sea of noises and harsh dis- 
 putes." His conscience, I say, not his 
 tastes : all these led him the other way. 
 
74 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 But an irresistible sense of duty caught him, 
 and dragged him, as it were, by the neck to 
 the verge of the precipice, and flung him 
 down into the thick of the hottest conflict 
 that England has ever seen. 
 
 Once there, he does not retreat. He quits 
 himself like a man. He is not a Puritan. 
 He loves many things that the mad Puritans 
 hate, — art, music, fine literature, nature, 
 beauty. But one thing he loves more than 
 all, — liberty! For that he will fight, — 
 fight on the Puritan side, fight against 
 anybody, desperately, pertinaciously, with 
 grand unconsciousness of possible defeat. He 
 catches • the lust of combat, and " drinks 
 delight of battle with his peers." The 
 serene poet is transformed into a thunder- 
 ing pamphleteer. He launches deadly bolts 
 against tyranny in Church, in State, in so- 
 ciety. He strikes at the corrupt clergy, at 
 the false, cruel king, at the self-seeking 
 bigots disguised as friends of freedom. He 
 is absorbed in strife. Verse is forgotten. 
 But one brief strain of true poetry bursts 
 from him at the touch of personal grief. 
 The rest is all buried, choked down, con- 
 cealed. The full stream of his energy, un- 
 stinted, undivided, flows into the struggle 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 75 
 
 for freedom and truth ; and even when the 
 war is ended, the good cause betrayed by 
 secret enemies and foolish friends, the free- 
 dom of England sold back into the hands 
 of the treacherous Stuarts, Milton fights on, 
 like some guerilla captain in a far mountain 
 region, who has not heard, or will not be- 
 lieve, the news of surrender. 
 
 The blow which fell on Tennyson was 
 secret. The death of Arthur Henry Hal. 
 lam, in 1833, caused no great convulsion in 
 English politics, brought no visible disaster 
 to church or state, sent only the lightest 
 and most transient ripple of sorrow across 
 the surface of society ; but to the heart of 
 one man it was the shock of an inward 
 earthquake, upheaving the foundations of 
 life and making the very arch of heaven 
 tremble. Bound to Hallam by one of those 
 rare friendships passing the love of women, 
 Tennyson felt his loss in the inmost fibres 
 of his being. The world was changed, dark- 
 ened, filled with secret conflicts. The im- 
 portunate questions of human life and des- 
 tiny thronged upon his soul. The ideal 
 peace, the sweet, art-satisfied seclusion, the 
 dreams of undisturbed repose, became im- 
 possible for him. He must fight, not for a 
 
76 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 party cause, but for spiritual freedom and 
 immortal hopes, not against incorporate and 
 embattled enemies, but against unseen foes, 
 — thrones, principalities, and powers of 
 darkness. 
 
 I think we have some record of this strife 
 in poems like Two Voices, and The Vision 
 of Sin. The themes here treated are the 
 deepest and most awful that can engage the 
 mind. The worth of life, the significance of 
 suffering, the reality of virtue, the existence 
 of truth, the origin and end of evil, human 
 responsibility, Divine goodness, mysteries of 
 the now and the hereafter, — these are the 
 problems with which the poet is forced to 
 deal, and he dares to deal with them face to 
 face. I will not say that he finds, as yet, 
 the true solution ; there is a more profound 
 and successful treatment of the same prob- 
 lems to follow in In Memoriam. But I 
 think that, so far as they go, these poems are 
 right and true; and in them, enlightened by 
 grief, strengthened by inward combat, the 
 poet has struck a loftier note than can be 
 heard in the beautiful poems of his youth. 
 
 For this, mark you, is clear. The poet 
 has now become a man. The discipline of 
 sorrow has availed. Life is real and earnest 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 77 
 
 to him. He grapples with the everlasting 
 facts of humanity. Men and women are 
 closer to him. He can write poems like 
 Dora, Ulysses, St Simeon Stylites, as won- 
 derful for their difference in tone and sub- 
 ject as for their common virility and abso- 
 lute truth to nature. He has learned to feel 
 a wan a sympathy with 
 
 Men, my brothers, men, the workers : 
 
 to care for all that touches their welfare ; to 
 rejoice in the triumphs of true liberty ; to 
 thunder in scorn and wrath against the social 
 tyrannies that crush the souls of men, and 
 
 The social lies that warp us from the living truth. 
 
 It is true that there is no actual and visi- 
 ble conflict, no civil war raging to engulf 
 him. He is not called upon to choose be- 
 tween his love of poetry and his love of 
 country, nor to lay aside his singing-robes 
 even for a time. It is his fortune, or mis- 
 fortune, to have fallen upon an age of peace 
 and prosperity and settled government. But 
 in that great unseen warfare which is ever 
 waging between truth and error, right and 
 wrong, freedom and oppression, light and 
 darkness, he bears his part and bears it well, 
 by writing such poems as Lochsley Hall, 
 
78 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Sea Dreams, Enoch Arden, Aylmer's 
 Field ; and these entitle him to high rank 
 as a poet of humanity. 
 
 Are they then so far apart, Milton and 
 Tennyson, the Latin Secretary of Cromwell 
 and the Poet Laureate of Queen Victoria, — 
 are they so far apart in the spiritual activity 
 of their lives as their circumstances seem to 
 place them ? Are they as unlike in the fact, 
 as they are in the form, of their utterance 
 on the great practical questions of life ? I 
 think not. Even here, where the lines of 
 their work seem to diverge most widely, we 
 may trace some deep resemblances, under 
 apparent differences. 
 
 It is a noteworthy fact that a most impor- 
 tant place in the thought and writing of both 
 these men has been occupied by the subject 
 of marriage. How many of Tennyson's 
 poems are devoted to this theme ! The Mill- 
 er's Daughter, The Lord of Burleigh, 
 Lady Clare, Edwin Morris, The Brook, 
 
 The Gardener's Daughter, Love and Duty, 
 Locksley Hall, The Princess, Maud, Enoch 
 Arden, Aylmer's Field, The Golden Sup- 
 per, The Window, The First Quarrel, The 
 
 Wreck, The Flight, and The Idylls of the 
 King, all have the thought of union between 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 79 
 
 man and woman, and the questions which 
 arise in connection with it, at their root. 
 
 In The Coming of Arthur, Tennyson 
 makes his chosen hero rest all his power 
 upon a happy and true marriage : — 
 
 What happiness to reign a lonely king 
 
 Vext with waste dreams ? For saving I be join'd 
 
 To her that is the fairest under heaven, 
 
 I seem as nothing in the mighty world, 
 
 And cannot will my will nor work my work 
 
 Wholly, nor make myself in mine own realm 
 
 Victor and lord. But were I join'd with her, 
 
 Then might we live together as one life, 
 
 And reigning with one will in everything, 
 
 Have power on this dark land to lighten it, 
 
 And power on this dead world to make it live. 
 
 Compare with this Adam's complaint in 
 Paradise : — 
 
 In solitude 
 What happiness ? Who can enjoy alone ? 
 Or all enjoying what contentment find ? 
 
 his demand for a companion equal with him- 
 self, " fit to participate all rational delight ; " 
 and his description of his first sight of Eve : 
 
 She disappeared and left me dark. I wak'd 
 
 To find her, or forever to deplore 
 
 Her loss, and other pleasures all abjure. 
 
 Mark the fact that those four tremendous 
 pamphlets on Divorce with which Milton 
 
80 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 horrified his enemies and shocked his friends, 
 have underlying all their errors and extrava- 
 gances the great doctrine that a genuine 
 marriage must be a true companionship and 
 union of souls — a doctrine equally opposed 
 to the licentious, and to the conventional, 
 view of wedlock. This is precisely Tenny- 
 son's position. His bitterest invectives are 
 hurled against marriages of convenience ancl 
 avarice. He praises " that true marriage, 
 that healthful and holy family life, which 
 has its roots in mutual affection, in mutual 
 fitness, and which is guarded by a constancy 
 as strong as heaven's blue arch and yet as 
 spontaneous as the heart-beats of a happy 
 child." But in praising this, Tennyson 
 speaks of what he has possersed and known : 
 Milton could have spoken only of what he 
 had desired and missed. A world-wide dif- 
 ference, more than enough to account for 
 anything of incompleteness or harshness in 
 Milton's views of women. 
 
 What gross injustice the world has done 
 him on this point ! Married at an age when 
 a man who has preserved the lofty ideals and 
 personal purity of youth is peculiarly liable 
 to deception, to a woman far below him in 
 character and intellect, a pretty fool utterly 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 81 
 
 unfitted to take a sincere and earnest view 
 of life or to sympathize with him in his 
 studies ; deserted by her a few weeks after 
 the wedding-day; met by stubborn refusal 
 and unjust reproaches in every attempt to 
 reclaim and reconcile her ; accused by her 
 family of disloyalty in politics, and treated 
 as if he were unworthy of honourable consid- 
 eration ; what wonder that his heart experi- 
 enced a great revulsion, that he began to 
 doubt the reality of such womanhood as he 
 had described and immortalized in Comus, 
 that he sought relief in elaborating a doc- 
 trine of divorce which should free him from 
 the unworthy and irksome tie of a marriage 
 which was in truth but an empty mockery? 
 That divorce doctrine which he propounded 
 in the heat of personal indignation, dis- 
 guised even from himself beneath a mask of 
 professedly calm philosophy, was surely false, 
 and we cannot but condemn it. But can we 
 condemn his actual conduct, so nobly incon- 
 sistent with his own theory ? Can we con- 
 demn the man, as we see him forgiving and 
 welcoming his treacherous wife driven by 
 stress of poverty and danger to return to the 
 home which she had frivolously forsaken ; 
 welcoming also, and to the best of his ability 
 
82 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 sheltering, her whole family of Philistines, 
 who were glad enough, for all their pride, to 
 find a refuge from the perils of civil war in 
 the house of the despised schoolmaster and 
 Commonwealth-man ; bearing patiently, for 
 his wife's sake, with their weary presence 
 and shallow talk in his straitened dwelling- 
 place until the death of the father-in-law, 
 whose sense of honour was never strong 
 enough to make him pay one penny of his 
 daughter's promised marriage-portion, — can 
 we condemn Milton as we see him acting 
 thus ? And as we see him, after a few months 
 of happy union with a second wife, again 
 left a widower with three daughters, two of 
 whom, at least, never learned to love him ; 
 blind, poor, almost friendless ; disliked 
 and robbed by his undutiful children, who 
 did not scruple to cheat him in the market- 
 ings, sell his books to the rag-pickers, and 
 tell the servants that the best news they 
 could hear would be the news of their fa- 
 ther's death ; forced at length in very in- 
 stinct of self-protection to take as his third 
 wife a plain, honest woman who would be 
 faithful and kind in her care of him and 
 his house ; can we wonder if, after this ex- 
 perience of life, he thought somewhat doubt- 
 fully of women ? 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 83 
 
 But of woman, woman as God made her 
 and meant her to be, woman as she is in the 
 true purity and unspoiled beauty of her na- 
 ture, he never thought otherwise than nobly 
 and reverently. Read his sonnet to his sec- 
 ond wife, in whom for one fleeting year his 
 heart tasted the best of earthly joys, the joy 
 of a perfect companionship, but who was lost 
 to him in the birth of her first child : — 
 
 Methought I saw my late espoused saint 
 Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, 
 Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave, 
 
 Rescued from death by force though pale and faint. 
 
 Mine, as whom washed from spot of child-bed taint 
 Purification in the old Law did save, 
 And such as yet once more I trust to have 
 
 Pull sight of her in Heaven, without restraint, 
 
 Came vested all in white, pure as her mind ; 
 Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight 
 
 Love, sweetness, goodness in her person shined 
 So clear as in no face with more delight. 
 
 But O, as to embrace me she inclined, 
 
 I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night. 
 
 Surely there is no more beautiful and heart- 
 felt prajse of perfect womanhood in all liter- 
 ature than this ; and Tennyson has never 
 written with more unfeigned worship of 
 wedded love. 
 
 It is true, indeed, that Milton declares that 
 woman is inferior to man " in the mind and 
 
84 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 inward faculties," but he follows this decla- 
 ration with the most exquisite description 
 of her peculiar excellences : 
 
 When I approach 
 Her loveliness, so absolute she seems 
 And in herself complete, so well to know 
 Her own, that what she wills to do or say 
 Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best : 
 Authority and reason on her wait 
 As one intended first, not after made 
 Occasionally ; and to consummate all, 
 Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat 
 Build in her loveliest, and create an awe 
 About her as a guard angelic placed. 
 
 It. is true that he teaches, in accordance 
 with the explicit doctrine of the Bible, that 
 it is the wife's duty to obey her husband, to 
 lean upon, and follow, his larger strength 
 when it is exercised in wisdom. But he 
 never places the woman below the man, 
 always at his side ; the divinely - dowered 
 consort and counterpart, not the same, but 
 equal, supplying his deficiencies and solac- 
 ing his defects, 
 
 TTi« likeness, his fit help, his other self, 
 
 with whom he may enjoy 
 
 Union of mind or in us both one souL 
 
 And love like this 
 
 Leads up to heaven ; is both the way and guide. 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 85 
 
 Compare these teachings with those of 
 Tennyson in The Princess, where under a 
 veil of irony, jest mixed with earnest, he 
 shows the pernicious folly of the modern 
 attempt to change woman into a man in 
 petticoats, exhibits the female lecturer and 
 the sweet girl graduates in their most de- 
 lightfully absurd aspect, overthrows the vis- 
 ionary towers of the Female College with a 
 baby's touch, and closes the most good-hu- 
 moured of satires with a picture of the true 
 relationship of man and woman, so beautiful 
 and so wise that neither poetry nor philoso- 
 phy can add a word to it. 
 
 For woman is not undevelopt man, 
 
 But diverse : could we make her as the man, 
 
 Sweet Love were slain ; his dearest bond is this, 
 
 Not like to like, but like in difference. 
 
 Yet in the long years liker mast they grow ; 
 
 The man be more of woman, she of man ; 
 
 He gain in sweetness and in moral height, 
 
 Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world ; 
 
 She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, 
 
 Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind ; 
 
 Till at the last she set herself to man 
 
 Like perfect music unto noble words. 
 
 Then comes the statelier Eden back to men : 
 Then reign the world's great bridals, chaste and calm : 
 Then springs the crowning race of humankind. 
 May these things be ! 
 
86 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 A second point in which we may trace a 
 deep resemblance between Milton and Ten- 
 nyson is their intense love of country. 
 This is not always a prominent characteris- 
 tic of great poets. Indeed, we may ques- 
 tion whether there is not usually something 
 in the poetic temperament which unfits a 
 man for actual patriotism, makes him an 
 inhabitant of an ideal realm rather than a 
 citizen of a particular country ; inclines him 
 to be governed by disgusts more than he is 
 inspired by enthusiasms, and to withdraw 
 himself from a practical interest in the 
 national welfare into the vague dreams of 
 Utopian perfection. In Goethe we see the 
 cold indifference of the self-centred artistic 
 mind, careless of his country's degradation 
 and enslavement, provided only the ali-con- 
 quering Napoleon will leave him his poetic 
 leisure and freedom. In Byron we see the 
 wild rebelliousness of the poet of passion, 
 deserting, disowning, and reviling his native 
 land in the sullen fury of personal anger. 
 But Milton and Tennyson are true patriots 
 — Englishmen to the heart's core. They do 
 not say, " My country, right or wrong ! " 
 They protest in noble scorn against all 
 kinds of tyrannies and hypocrisies. They 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 87 
 
 are not bound in conscienceless servility 
 to any mere political party. They are 
 the partisans of England, and England to 
 them means freedom, justice, righteous- 
 ness, Christianity. Milton sees her " rous 
 ing herself like a strong man after sleep, 
 and shaking her invincible locks ; " or " as 
 an eagle, mewing her mighty youth, and 
 kindling her undazzled eyes at the full mid- 
 day beam ; purging and scaling her long- 
 abused sight at the fountain itself of heav- 
 enly radiance ; while the whole noise of 
 timorous and flocking birds, with those also 
 that love the twilight, flutter about amazed 
 at what she means, and in their envious 
 gabble would prognosticate a year of sects 
 and schisms." Tennyson sings her praise as 
 
 the land that freemen till, 
 That sober-suited Freedom chose, 
 The land where, girt with friends or foes, 
 A man may sneak the thing he will. 
 
 He honours and reveres the Queen, but it 
 is because her power is the foundation and 
 defense of liberty ; because of her it may 
 be said that 
 
 Statesmen at her council met 
 
 Who knew the season when to take 
 Occasion by the hand, and make 
 
 The bounds of freedom wider yet, 
 
88 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 By shaping some august decree, 
 
 Which kept her throne unshaken still, 
 Broad-bas'd npon the people's will, 
 
 And compass' d by the inviolate sea. 
 
 Think you he would have written thus if 
 Charles Stuart, bribe-taker, extortioner, 
 tyrant, dignified and weak betrayer of his 
 best friends, had been his sovereign? His 
 own words tell us on which side he would 
 have stood in that great revolt. In the 
 verses written on The Third of February, 
 1852, he reproaches the Parliament for their 
 seeming purpose to truckle to Napoleon, 
 after the coup d y etat, and cries : 
 
 Shall we fear him f Our own we never feared. 
 
 From our first Charles by force we wrung our claims. 
 Pricked by the Papal spur, we reared, 
 
 We flung the burthen of the second James. 
 
 And again, in the poem entitled England 
 and America in 1782, he justifies the Amer- 
 ican Revolution as a lesson taught by Eng- 
 land herself, and summons his country to 
 exult in the freedom of her children. 
 
 But thou, rejoice with liberal joy I 
 
 Lift up thy rocky face, 
 And shatter, when the storms are black, 
 In many a streaming torrent back, 
 
 The seas that shock thy base. 
 
 Whatever harmonies of law 
 The growing world assume, 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 89 
 
 The work is thine, — the single note 
 From the deep chord that Hampden smote 
 Will vibrate to the doom. 
 
 Here is the grand Miltonic ring, not now 
 disturbed and roughened by the harshness 
 of opposition, the bitterness of disappoint- 
 ment, the sadness of despair, but rounded 
 in the calm fulness of triumph. "The 
 whirligig of Time brings in his revenges." 
 The bars of oppression are powerless to stay 
 the tide of progress. 
 
 The old order changeth, giving place to new. 
 And God fulfils Himself in many ways. 
 
 If Milton were alive to-day he would find 
 his ideals largely realized ; freedom of wor- 
 ship, freedom of the press, freedom of edu- 
 cation, no longer things to be fought for, but 
 things to be enjoyed ; the principle of pop- 
 ular representation firmly ingrained in the 
 constitution of the British monarchy (which 
 Tennyson calls " a crowned Republic " ), and 
 the spirit of " the good old cause," the peo- 
 ple's cause which seemed lost when the sec- 
 ond Charles came back, now victorious and 
 peacefully guiding the destinies of the na- 
 tion into a yet wider and more glorious 
 liberty. 
 
 But what would be the effect of such an 
 
90 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 environment upon such a character as his ? 
 What would Milton have been in this nine- 
 teenth century ? If we can trust the prophe- 
 cies of his early years ; if we can regard the 
 hints of his own preferences and plans, from 
 whose fruition a stern sense of duty, like a 
 fiery-sworded angel, barred him out, we must 
 imagine the course of his life, the develop- 
 ment of his genius, as something very differ- 
 ent from what they actually were. An age 
 of peace and prosperity, tbe comfort and 
 quietude of a well-ordered home, freedom to 
 pursue his studious researches and cultivate 
 his artistic tastes to the full, an atmos- 
 phere of liberal approbation and encourage- 
 ment, — circumstances such as these would 
 have guided his life and work into a much 
 closer parallel with Tennyson, and yet they 
 never could have made him other than him- 
 self. For his was a seraphic spirit, strong, 
 indomitable, unalterable ; and even the most 
 subtile influence of surroundings could never 
 have destroyed or changed him fundamen- 
 tally. So it was true, as Macaulay has said, 
 that "from the Parliament and from the 
 court, from the conventicle and from the 
 Gothic cloister, from the gloomy and sepul- 
 chral rites of the Roundheads, and from 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 91 
 
 the Christmas revel of the hospitable cava- 
 lier, his nature selected and drew to itself 
 whatever was great and good, while it re- 
 jected all the base and pernicious ingre- 
 dients by which these finer elements were 
 defiled." And yet the very process of re- 
 jection had its effect upon him. The fierce 
 conflicts of theology and politics in which 
 for twenty years he was absorbed left their 
 marks upon him for good and for evil. They 
 tried him as by fire. They brought out all 
 his strength of action and endurance. They 
 made his will like steel. They gave him 
 the God-like power of one who has suffered 
 to the uttermost. But they also disturbed, 
 at least for a time, the serenity of his men- 
 tal processes. They made the flow of his 
 thought turbulent and uneven. They nar- 
 rowed, at the same time that they intensi- 
 fied, his emotions. They made him an in- 
 veterate controversialist, whose God must 
 argue and whose angels were debaters. 
 They crushed his humour and his tender- 
 ness. Himself, however, the living poet, the 
 supreme imagination, the seraphic utterance, 
 they did not crush, but rather strengthened. 
 And so it came to pass that in him we have 
 the miracle of literature, — the lost river of 
 
92 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 poetry springing suddenly, as at Divine com- 
 mand, from the bosom of the rock, no trick- 
 ling and diminished rill, but a sweeping 
 flood, laden with richest argosies of thought. 
 
 IV. 
 
 How to speak of Paradise Lost I know 
 not. To call it a master-work is superfluous. 
 To say that it stands absolutely alone and 
 supreme is both true and false. Farts of it 
 are like other poems, and yet there is no 
 poem in the world like it. The theme is 
 old ; had been treated by the author of 
 Genesis in brief, by Du Bartas and other 
 rhymers at length. The manner is old, in- 
 herited from Virgil and Dante. And yet, 
 beyond all question, Paradise Lost is one 
 of the most unique, individual, unmistaka- 
 ble poems in the world's literature. Imita- 
 tions of it have been attempted by Mont- 
 gomery, Pollok, Bickersteth, and other pious 
 versifiers, but they are no more like the 
 original than St. Peter's in Montreal is like 
 St. Peter's in Rome, or than the pile of 
 coarse-grained limestone on New York's 
 Fifth Avenue is like the Cathedral of 
 Milan, with its 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 93 
 
 Chanting quires, 
 The giant windows' blazoned fires, 
 The height, the space, the gloom, the glory, 
 A mount of marble, a hundred spires ! 
 
 Imitation may be the sincerest flattery, 
 but imitation never produces the deepest 
 resemblance. The man who imitates is con- 
 cerned with that which is outward, but 
 kinship of spirit is inward. He who is next 
 of kin to a master-mind will himself be too 
 great for the work of a copyist ; he will 
 be influenced, if at all, unconsciously ; and 
 though the intellectual relationship may be 
 expressed also in some external traits of 
 speech and manner, the true likeness will be 
 in the temper of the soul and the sameness 
 of the moral purpose. Such likeness, I 
 think, we can discern between Paradise 
 Lost and Tennyson's greatest works, The 
 Idylls of the King and In Memoriam. 
 
 I shall speak first and more briefly of the 
 Idylls, because I intend to make them the 
 subject of another study from a different 
 point of view. At present we have to con- 
 sider only their relations to the work of 
 Milton. And in this connection we ought 
 not to forget that he was the first to call at- 
 tention to the legend of King Arthur as a 
 
94 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 fit subject for a great poem. Having made 
 up his mind to write a national epic which 
 should do for England that which Tasso and 
 Ariosto had done for Italy, " that which the 
 greatest and choicest wits of Athens and 
 Rome, and those Hebrews of old did for 
 their country," Milton tells us that he enter- 
 tained for a long time a design to 
 
 Revoke into song the kings of our island, 
 
 Arthur yet from his underground hiding stirring to war- 
 fare, 
 
 Or to tell of those that sat round him as Knights of his 
 Table ; 
 
 Great-souled heroes unmatched, and (O might the spirit 
 but aid me), 
 
 Shiver the Saxon phalanxes under the shook of the Bri- 
 tons. 
 
 The design was abandoned : but it was a 
 fortunate fate that brought it at last into the 
 hands of the one man, since Milton died, 
 who was able to carry it to completion. 
 
 Compare the verse of the Idylls with that 
 of Paradise Lost. 
 
 Both Milton and Tennyson have been led 
 by their study of the classic poets to under- 
 stand that rhyme is the least important ele- 
 ment of good poetry ; the best music is made 
 by the concord rather than by the unison 
 of sounds, and the coincidence of final con- 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 95 
 
 sonants is but a slight matter compared with 
 the cadence of syllables and the accented 
 harmony of long vowels. Indeed it may be 
 questioned whether the inevitable recurrence 
 of the echo of rhyme does not disturb and 
 break the music more than it enhances it. 
 Certainly Milton thought so, and he frank- 
 ly took great credit to himself for setting 
 the example, "the first in English, of an- 
 cient liberty recovered to heroic poems from 
 the troublesome and modern bondage of 
 riming." 
 
 There were many to follow him in this 
 path, but for the most part with ignominious 
 and lamentable failure. They fell into the 
 mistake of thinking that because unrhymed 
 verse was more free it was less difficult, and, 
 making their liberty a cloak of poetic li- 
 cense, they poured forth floods of accurately 
 measured prose under the delusion that they 
 were writing blank-verse. The fact is that 
 this is the one form of verse which requires 
 the most delicate ear and the most patient 
 labour. In Cowper, Coleridge, Southey, 
 Wordsworth, Browning, these preconditions 
 are wanting. And with the possible excep- 
 tion of Matthew Arnold's Sohrab and Rus- 
 turn, the first English blank-verse worthy 
 
96 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 to compare with that of Paradise Lost is 
 found in Tennyson's Idylls of the King. 
 
 There is a shade of contrast in the move- 
 ment of the two poems. Each has its own 
 distinctive quality. In Milton we observe 
 a more stately and majestic march, more of 
 rhythm : in Tennyson a sweeter and more 
 perfect tone, more of melody. These quali- 
 ties correspond, in verse, to form and colour 
 in painting. We might say that Milton is 
 the greater draughtsman, as Michael An- 
 gelo; Tennyson the better colourist, as Ra- 
 phael. But the difference between the two 
 painters is always greater than that between 
 the two poets. For the methods by which 
 they produce their effects are substantially 
 the same ; and their results differ chiefly as 
 the work of a strong, but sometimes heavy, 
 hand differs from that of a hand less power- 
 ful, but better disciplined. 
 
 De Quincey has said, somewhere or other, 
 that finding fault with Milton's versification 
 is a dangerous pastime. The lines which you 
 select for criticism have a way of justifying 
 themselves at your expense. That which 
 you have condemned as a palpable blunder, 
 an unpardonable discord, is manifested in 
 the mouth of a better reader as majestically 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 97 
 
 right and harmonious. And so, when you 
 attempt to take liberties with any passage 
 of his, you are apt to feel as when coming 
 upon what appears to be a dead lion in a 
 forest. You have an uncomfortable sus- 
 picion that he may not be dead, but only 
 sleeping ; or perhaps not even sleeping, but 
 only shamming. Many an unwary critic has 
 been thus unpleasantly surprised. Notably 
 Drs. Johnson and Bentley, and in a small 
 way Walter Savage Landor, roaring over 
 Milton's mistakes, have proved themselves 
 distinctly asinine. 
 
 But for all that, there are mistakes in 
 Paradise Lost. I say it with due fear, 
 and not without a feeling of gratitude that 
 the purpose of this essay does not require 
 me to specify them. But a sense of literary 
 candour forces me to confess the opinion 
 that the great epic contains passages in 
 which the heaviness of the thought has in- 
 fected the verse, passages which can be read 
 only with tiresome effort, lines in which the 
 organ-player's foot seems to have slipped 
 upon the pedals and made a ponderous dis- 
 cord. This cannot be said of the Idylls. 
 Their music is not broken or jangled. It 
 may never rise to the loftiest heights, but it 
 
98 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 never falls to the lowest depths. Tennyson 
 has written nothing so strong as the flight 
 of Satan through Chaos, nothing so sublime 
 as the invocation to Light, nothing so rich 
 as the first description of Eden ; but taking 
 the blank-verse of the Idylls through and 
 through, as a work of art, it is more finished, 
 more expressive, more perfectly musical than 
 that of Paradise Lost. 
 
 The true relationship of these poems lies, 
 as I have said, beneath the surface. It con- 
 sists in their ideal unity of theme and 
 lesson. For what is it in fact with which 
 Milton and Tennyson concern themselves? 
 Not the mere story of Adam and Eve's 
 transgression; not the legendary wars of 
 Arthur and his knights ; but the everlasting 
 conflict of the human soul with the adver- 
 sary, the struggle against sin, the power of 
 the slightest taint of evil to infect, pollute, 
 destroy all that is fairest and best. Both poets 
 tell the story of a paradise lost, and lost 
 through sin ; first, the happy garden designed 
 by God to be the home of stainless inno- 
 cence and bliss, whose gates are closed for- 
 ever against the guilty race ; and then, the 
 glorious realm of peace and love and law 
 which the strong and noble king would 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 99 
 
 make and defend amid the world's warfares, 
 but which is secretly corrupted, undermined, 
 destroyed at ast in blackening gloom. 
 
 To Arthur, as to Adam, destruction comes 
 through that which seems, and indeed is, 
 the loveliest and the dearest. The beauteous 
 mother of mankind, fairer than all her daugh- 
 ters since, drawn by her own highest desire of 
 knowledge into disobedience, yields the first 
 entrance to the fatal sin ; and Guinevere, 
 the imperial-moulded queen, led by degrees 
 from a true friendship into a false love for 
 Lancelot, infects the court and the whole 
 realm with death. Vain are all safeguards 
 and defenses ; vain all high resolves and 
 noble purposes ; vain the instructions of 
 the archangel charging the possessors of 
 Eden to 
 
 Be strong, live happy, and love ! but first of all 
 Him whom to love is to obey ! 
 
 vain the strait vows and solemn oaths by 
 which the founder of the Table bound his 
 knights 
 
 To reverence the King as if he were 
 
 Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, 
 
 To break the heathen and uphold the Christ. 
 
 All in vain ! for sin comes creeping in ; and 
 sin, the slightest, the most seeming-venial, 
 
100 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 the most beautiful, is the seed of shame and 
 death. This is the profound truth to which 
 the Idylls of the King and Paradise Lost 
 alike bear witness. And to teach this, to 
 teach it in forms of highest art which should 
 live forever in the imagination of the race, 
 was the moral purpose of Milton and Ten- 
 nyson. 
 
 But there is another aspect of this theme, 
 which is hardly touched in the Idylls. Sin 
 has a relation to God as well as to man, 
 since it exists in His universe. Is it stronger 
 than the Almighty ? Is His will wrath ? Is 
 His purpose destruction ? Is darkness the 
 goal of all things, and is there no other sig- 
 nificance in death ; no deliverance from its 
 gloomy power ? In Paradise Lost, Milton 
 has dealt with this problem also. Side by 
 side with the record " of man's first disobe- 
 dience " he has constructed the great argu- 
 ment whereby he would 
 
 Assert eternal Providence 
 And justify the ways of God to men. 
 
 The poem has, therefore, parallel with its 
 human side, a divine side, for which we shall 
 look in vain among the Idylls of the King. 
 Tennyson has approached this problem from 
 another standpoint in a different manner. 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 101 
 
 And if we wish to know his solution of it, 
 his answer to the mystery of death, we must 
 look for it in In Memoriam. 
 
 This poem is an elegy for Arthur Hall am, 
 finished throughout its seven hundred and 
 twenty-four stanzas with all that delicate 
 care which the elegiac form requires, and 
 permeated with the tone of personal grie£ 
 not passionate, but profound and pure. But 
 it is such an elegy as the world has never 
 seen before, and never will see again. It is 
 the work of years, elaborated with such skill 
 and adorned with such richness of poetic 
 imagery as other men have thought too great 
 to bestow upon an epic. It is the most ex- 
 quisite structure ever reared above a human 
 grave, more wondrous and more immortal 
 than that world-famous tomb which widowed 
 Artemisia built for the Carian Mausolus. 
 But it is also something far grander and 
 better. Beyond the narrow range of per- 
 sonal loss and loneliness, it sweeps into the 
 presence of the eternal realities, faces the 
 great questions of our mysterious existence, 
 and reaches out to lay hold of that' hope 
 which is unseen but abiding, whereby alone 
 we are saved. Its motto might well be given 
 in the words of St. Paul: For ow light 
 
102 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 affliction which is but for a moment worheth 
 for us a far more exceeding and eternal 
 weight of glory ; while we look not at the 
 things which are seen, but at the things 
 which are not seen ; for the things which 
 are seen are temporal, but the things which 
 are not seen are eternal. 
 
 At first sight it may seem almost absurd 
 to compare the elegy with the epic, and im- 
 possible to discover any resemblance between 
 those long -rolling, thunderous periods of 
 blank-verse and these short swallow-flights 
 of song which " dip their wings in tears and 
 skim away." The comparison of In Memo- 
 nam with Lycidas would certainly appear 
 more easy and obvious ; so obvious, indeed, 
 that it has been made a thousand times, and 
 is fluently repeated by every critic who has 
 had occasion to speak of English elegies. 
 But this is just one of those cases in which 
 an external similarity conceals a fundamental 
 unlikeness. For, in the first place, Edward 
 King, to whose memory Lycidas was dedi- 
 cated, was far from being an intimate friend 
 of Milton, and his lament has no touch of 
 the deep heart-sorrow which throbs in In 
 Memoriam. And, in the second place, Ly- 
 cidas is in no sense a metaphysical poem, 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 103 
 
 does not descend into the depths or attempt 
 to answer the vexed questions. But In Me- 
 moriam is, in its very essence, profoundly 
 and thoroughly metaphysical ; and this brings 
 it at once into close relation with Paradise 
 Lost. They are the two most famous poems 
 — with the exception of Dante's Divine 
 Comedy — which deal directly with the mys- 
 teries of faith and reason, the doctrine of 
 God and immortality. 
 
 There is a point, however, in which we 
 must acknowledge an essential and absolute 
 difference between the great epic and the 
 great elegy, something deeper and more vital 
 than any contrast of form and metre. Par- 
 adise Lost is a theological poem, In Memo- 
 riam is a religious poem. The distinction is 
 narrow, but deep. For religion differs from 
 theology as life differs from biology. Milton 
 approaches the problem from the side of 
 reason, resting, it is true, upon a supernat- 
 ural revelation, but careful to reduce all 
 its contents to a logical form, demanding a 
 clearly-formulated and closely-linked expla- 
 nation of all things, and seeking to establish 
 his system of truth upon the basis of sound 
 argument. His method is distinctly rational ; 
 Tennyson's is emotional. He has no linked 
 
104 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 chain of deductive reasoning ; no sharp-cut 
 definition of objective truths. His faith is 
 subjective, intuitive. Where proof fails him, 
 he will still believe. When the processes 
 of reason are shaken, disturbed, frustrated ; 
 when absolute demonstration appears im- 
 possible, and doubt claims a gloomy empire 
 in the mind, then the deathless fire that God 
 has kindled in the breast burns toward that 
 heaven which is its source and home, and the 
 swift answer of immortal love leaps out to 
 solve the mystery of the grave. Thus Ten- 
 nyson feels after God, and leads us by the 
 paths of faith and emotion to the same goal 
 which Milton reaches by the road of reason 
 and logic. 
 
 Each of these methods is characteristic 
 not only of the poet who uses it," but also of 
 the age in^ which it is employed. Paradise 
 Lost does not echo more distinctly the age 
 of the Westminster divines than In Memo- 
 riam represents the age of Maurice and 
 Kingsley and Robertson. It is a mistake to 
 think that the tendency of our day is toward 
 rationalism. That was the drift of Milton's 
 time. Our modern movement is toward 
 emotionalism, a religion of feeling, a sub- 
 jective system in which the sentiments and 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 105 
 
 affections shall be acknowledged as lawful 
 tests of truth. This movement has undoubt- 
 edly an element of danger in it, as well as 
 an element of promise. It may be carried to 
 a false extreme. But this much is clear, — 
 it has been the strongest inspiration of the 
 men of our own time who have fought most 
 bravely against atheism and the cold nega- 
 tions of scientific despair. And the music 
 of it is voiced forever in In Memoriam. It 
 is the heart now, not the colder reason, which 
 rises to 
 
 Assert eternal Providence 
 And justify the ways of God to men. 
 
 But the answer is none other than that 
 which was given by the blind poet. The 
 larger meanings of In Memoriam and Par' 
 adise Lost — whatever we may say of their 
 lesser meanings — find their harmony in 
 the same 
 
 Strong Son of God. 
 
 Is Tennyson a Pantheist because he speaks 
 of 
 
 One God, one law, one element, 
 And one far-off divine event 
 To which the whole creation move* ? 
 
 Then so is Milton a Pantheist when he 
 makes the Son say to the Father,— 
 
106 TEE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Thou shalt be all in all, and I in thee 
 Forever, and in me all whom thou lovest. 
 
 Is Tennyson an Agnostic because he 
 speaks of the "truths that never can be 
 proved," and finds a final answer to the mys- 
 teries of life only in a hope which is hid- 
 den " behind the veil " ? Then so is Milton 
 an Agnostic, because he declares 
 
 Heaven is for thee too high 
 To know what passes there. Be lowly wise ; 
 Think only what concerns thee and thy being. 
 Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid ; 
 Leave them to God above- 
 
 Is Tennyson a Universalist because he says, 
 
 Oh, yet we trust that somehow good 
 Will be the final goal of ill 
 To pangs of nature, sins of will, 
 
 Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ? 
 
 Then so is Milton a Universalist when he 
 exclaims, — 
 
 O, goodness infinite, goodness immense, 
 That all this good of evil shall produce, 
 And evil turn to good ! 
 
 The faith of the two poets is one ; the 
 great lesson of In Memoriam and Paradise 
 Lost is the same. The hope of the universe 
 is in the Son of God, whom Milton and Ten- 
 nyson both call " Immortal Love." To Him 
 through mists and shadows we must look up, 
 
MILTON AND TENNYSON. 107 
 
 Gladly behold, though but his utmost skirts 
 Of glory, and far-off his steps adore. 
 
 Thus our cry out of the darkness shall be 
 answered. Knowledge shall grow from more 
 to more. 
 
 Light after light well-used we shall attain, 
 And to the end persisting safe arrive. 
 
 But this can come only through self -surren- 
 der and obedience, only through the conse- 
 cration of the free-will to God who gave it ; 
 and the highest prayer of the light-seeking, 
 upward-striving human soul is this : — 
 
 O, living will that shalt endure, 
 
 When all that seems shall suffer shock, 
 Rise in the spiritual Rock, 
 
 Flow through our deeds and make them pure, 
 
 That we may lift from out the dust 
 
 A voice as unto him that hears, 
 
 A cry above the conquered years, 
 To one that with us works and trust, 
 
 With faith that comes of self-control, 
 The truths that never can be proved 
 Until we close with all we love, 
 
 And all we flow from, soul in souL 
 
THE PRINCESS AND MAUD. 
 
THE PRINCESS AND MAUD. 
 
 It was somewhere in the forties of this 
 century that Edgar Allan Poe put forth a 
 new doctrine of poetry, which, if I remem- 
 ber rightly, ran somewhat on this wise : 
 'The greatest poems must be short. For 
 the poetic inspiration is of the nature of a 
 flash of lightning and endures only for a 
 moment. But what a man writes between 
 the flashes is worth comparatively little. 
 All long poems are therefore, of necessity, 
 poor in proportion to their length, — or at 
 best they are but a mass of pudding in which 
 the luscious plums of poetry are embedded 
 and partially concealed.' 
 
 This ingenious theory (which has a slight 
 air of special pleading) has never been gen- 
 erally accepted. Indeed, at the very time 
 when Mr. Poe was propounding it, and using 
 the early poems of Tennyson as an illus- 
 tration, the world at large was taking for 
 granted the truth of the opposite theory, and 
 demanding that the newly discovered poet 
 
112 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 should prove his claim to greatness by writ- 
 ing something long. " We want to see," 
 said one of the best of the critics in 1842, 
 " a poem of power and sustained energy. 
 Mr. Tennyson already enjoys a high posi- 
 tion ; let him aim at one still higher ; why 
 not the highest ? " 
 
 I believe that it was, at least partly, in 
 answer to demands of this kind that The 
 Princess appeared in 1847. Mr. Poe might 
 have claimed it as an illustration of his 
 theory. For it certainly adds more to the 
 bulk of Tennyson's poems than it con- 
 tributes to the lasting fame of his poetry. 
 Its length is greater than its merit. There 
 are. parts of it in which the style falls below 
 the level of poetry of the first rank ; and 
 these are the very parts where the verse 
 is most diffuse and the story moves most 
 slowly through thickets of overgrown de- 
 scription. The " flash of lightning theory " 
 of poetic inspiration, although it is very far 
 from being true and complete as a whole, 
 appears to fit this poem with peculiar nicety ; 
 for '"the finest things in it are quite dis- 
 tinct, and so much better than the rest that 
 they stand out as if illumined with sudden 
 light. 
 
THE PRINCESS AND MAUD. 113 
 
 I know that there are some ardent ad- 
 mirers of Tennyson who will dispute this 
 opinion. They will point out the admirable 
 moral lesson of The Princess, which is evi- 
 dent, and dwell upon its great influence in 
 advancing the higher education of women, 
 which is indisputable. They will insist upon 
 its manifest superiority to other contempo- 
 rary novels in verse, like Lucile or The 
 Angel in the House. Let us grant all this. 
 Still it does not touch the point of the criti- 
 cism. For it is Tennyson himself who gives 
 the standard of comparison. If Giulio Ro- 
 mano had painted the Madonna di Foligno, 
 we might call it a great success — for him. 
 But beside La* Sistina, or even beside the 
 little Madonna del Granduca, it suffers. 
 Enoch Arden, Dora, Aylmers Field, Locks- 
 ley Hall, are all shorter than The Princess, 
 but they are better. Their inspiration is 
 more sustained. The style fits the substance 
 more perfectly. The poetic life in them is 
 stronger and more enduring. One might 
 say of them that they have more soul and 
 less body. In brief, what I mean to say is 
 this : The Princess is one of the minor 
 poems of a major poet. 
 
 But there is poetry enough in it to make 
 
114 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 the reputation of a man of ordinary genius. 
 And what I want to do in this little essay is 
 to value this element of genuine poetry at 
 its true worth, and to distinguish it, if I 
 can, from the lower elements which seem to 
 me to mar the beauty and weaken the force 
 of the poem. 
 
 The Princess has for its theme the eman- 
 cipation of woman, — a great question, cer- 
 tainly, but also a vexed question, and one 
 which is better adapted to prose than to 
 poetry, at least in the present stage of its 
 discussion. It has so many sides, and such 
 humorous aspects, and such tedious compli- 
 cations in this Nineteenth Century, that it is 
 difficult to lift it up into the realm of the 
 ideal ; and yet I suppose the man does not 
 live, certainly the poet can hardly be found, 
 who would venture to treat it altogether as 
 a subject for realistic comedy. That would 
 be a dangerous, perhaps a fatal experiment. 
 Tennyson appears to have felt this difficulty. 
 He calls his story of the Princess Ida, who 
 set out to be the deliverer of her sex by 
 founding a Woman's University, and ended 
 by marrying the Prince who came to woo 
 her in female disguise, "a Medley." He 
 represents the imaginary poet, who appears 
 
THE PRINCESS AND MAUD. 115 
 
 in the Prologue, and who undertakes to 
 dress up the story in verse for the ladies 
 and gentlemen to whom it was told at a pic- 
 nic, as being in a strait betwixt two parties 
 in the audience : one party demanding a bur- 
 lesque; the other party wishing for some- 
 thing " true-heroic." And so he says, — 
 
 I moved as in a strange diagonal, 
 
 And maybe neither pleased myself nor them. 
 
 This diagonal movement may have been 
 necessary ; but it is unquestionably a little 
 confusing. One hardly knows how to take 
 the poet. At one moment he is very much in 
 earnest ; the next moment he seems to be 
 making fun of the woman's college. The 
 style is like a breeze which blows northwest 
 by southeast ; it may be a very lively breeze, 
 and full of sweet odours from every quarter ; 
 but the trouble is that we cannot tell which 
 way to trim our sails to catch the force of 
 it, and so our craft goes jibing to and fro, 
 without making progress in any direction. 
 
 I think we feel this uncertainty most of all 
 in the characters of the Princess and the 
 Prince, — and I name the Princess first be- 
 cause she is evidently the hero of the poem. 
 Sometimes she appears very admirable and 
 lovable, in a stately kind of beauty; but 
 
116 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 again she seems like a woman from whom a 
 man with ordinary prudence and a proper 
 regard for his own sense of humour would 
 promptly and carefully flee away, appreciat- 
 ing the truth of the description which her 
 father, King Gama, gives of her, — 
 
 Awful odes she wrote, 
 Too awful sure for what they treated of, 
 But all she says and does is awful. 
 
 There is a touch of her own style, it seems 
 to me, here and there in the poem. The 
 epithets are somewhat too numerous and too 
 stately. The art is decidedly arabesque ; 
 there is a surplus of ornament ; and here, 
 more than anywhere else, one finds it difficult 
 to defend Tennyson from the charge of over- 
 elaboration. For example, he says of the 
 eight " daughters of the plough," who worked 
 at the woman's college, that 
 
 Each was like a Druid rock; 
 Or like a spire of land that stands apart 
 Cleft from the main, and wail'd about with mews. 
 
 The image is grand, — just a little too 
 grand for a group of female servants, sum- 
 moned to eject the three masculine intruders 
 from the university. 
 
 The Princess was the first of Tennyson's 
 poems to become widely known in America, 
 and it is a curious fact that the most favour- 
 
THE PRINCESS AND MAUD. 117 
 
 able, as well as the most extensive, criticisms 
 of it have come from this side of the At- 
 lantic. First, there was Professor James 
 Hadley's thoughtful review in 1849; then 
 Mr. Edmund Clarence Stedman's eloquent 
 paragraphs in " Victorian Poets ;" then Mr. 
 S. E. Dawson's admirable monograph pub- 
 lished in Montreal ; and finally Mr. William 
 J. Rolfe's scholarly " variorum " edition of 
 The Princess, with notes. Mr. Dawson's 
 excellent little book was the occasion of 
 drawing from Tennyson a letter, which 
 seems to me one of the most valuable, as it 
 is certainly one of the longest, pieces of 
 prose that he has ever given to the public. 
 It describes his manner of observing nature 
 and his practice of making a rough mental 
 note in four or five words, like an artist's 
 sketch, of whatever strikes him as pictur- 
 esque, that is to say, fit to go into a picture. 
 The Princess is full of the results of this 
 kind of work, scattered here and there like 
 flowers in a tangle of " meadow-grass. For 
 example, take these two descriptions of 
 dawn : — 
 
 Notice of a change in the dark world 
 Was lispt about the acacias, and a bird 
 That early woke to feed ber little ones 
 Sent from her dewy breast a cry for light. — 
 
118 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Morn in the white wake of the morning star 
 Came f nrrowing all the orient into gold. — 
 
 These are as different in feeling as possible, 
 yet each is true, and each is fitted to the 
 place in which it stands ; for the one de- 
 scribes the beginning of a day among the 
 splendours of the royal college before it was 
 broken up ; the other describes the twilight 
 of the morning in which the Princess began 
 to yield her heart to the tender touch of love. 
 Or take again these two pictures of storm : — 
 
 And standing like a stately pine 
 Set in a cataract on an island-crag, 
 When storm is on the heights, and right and left 
 Suck'd from the dark heart of the long hiUa roll 
 The torrents, dash'd to the vale. — 
 
 As one that climbs a peak to gaze 
 O'er land and main, and sees a great black cloud 
 Drag inward from the deeps, a wall of night, 
 Blot out the slope of sea from verge to shore, 
 And suck the blinding splendour from the sand, 
 And quenching lake by lake and tarn by tarn, 
 Expunge the world. — 
 
 Tennyson says that the latter of these pas- 
 sages is a recollection of a coming tempest 
 watched from the summit of Snowdon. 
 Work like this, so clear, so powerful, so 
 exact, would go far to redeem any poem, 
 however tedious. 
 
TBE PRINCESS AND MAUD. 119 
 
 But better still is the love-scene in the 
 last canto, where the poet drops the tantal- 
 izing vein of mock-heroics, and tells us his 
 real thought of woman's place and work in 
 the world, in words which are as wise as 
 they are beautiful. I have quoted them in 
 another place and may not repeat them here. 
 But there is one passage which I cannot 
 forbear to give, because it seems to describe 
 something of Tennyson's own life. 
 
 Alone, from earlier than I know, 
 Immersed in rich foreshadowings of the world, 
 I loved the woman : he that doth not, lives 
 A drowning life, besotted in sweet self, 
 Or pines in sad experience worse than death, 
 Or keeps his wing'd affections clipt with crime : 
 Yet was there one thro' whom I loved her, one 
 Not learned, save in gracious household ways, 
 Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants, 
 No angel, but a dearer being, all dipt 
 In angel instincts, breathing Paradise, 
 Interpreter between the gods and men, 
 Who look'd all native to her place, and yet 
 On tiptoe seemed to touch upon a sphere 
 Too gross to tread, and all male minds perforce 
 Sway'd to her from their orbits as they moved, 
 And girded her with music. Happy he 
 With such a mother ! faith in womankind 
 Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high 
 Comes easy to him, and tho' he trip and fall 
 He shall not blind his soul with clay. 
 
 This is worthy to be put beside Words- 
 worth's — 
 
120 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 " A creature not too bright or good 
 For human nature's daily food." 
 
 But the very best things in the poem are, 
 " Tears, idle tears," the " small, sweet Idyl," 
 and the songs which divide the cantos. Ten- 
 nyson tells us in a letter that these songs 
 were not an after-thought ; that he had de- 
 signed them from the first, but doubted 
 whether they were necessary, and did not 
 overcome his laziness to insert them until the 
 third edition in 1850. It may be that he 
 came as near as this to leaving out the jew- 
 els which are to the poem what the stained- 
 glass windows are to the confused vastness 
 of York Minster, — the light and glory of 
 the structure. It would have been a fatal 
 loss. For he has never done anything more 
 pure and perfect than these songs, clear and 
 simple and musical as the chime of silver 
 bells, deep in their power of suggestion as 
 music itself. Not a word in them can be 
 omitted or altered, neither can they be trans- 
 lated. The words are the songs. " Sweet 
 and low," " Ask me no more," and " Blow, 
 bugle, blow " will be remembered and sung, 
 as long as English hearts move to the sweet 
 melody of love and utter its secret meanings 
 in the English tongue. 
 
THE PRINCESS AND MAUD. 121 
 
 I have put Maud and The Princess to- 
 gether, because it seems to me that they have 
 some things in common. They are both 
 intensely modern ; both deal with the nas- 
 sion of rom antic love ; in both, the story 
 is an important element of interest. But 
 these pointsTof resemblance only serve to 
 bring out more clearly the points of contrast. 
 The one is epic ; the other is dramatic. The 
 one is complicated ; the other is simple. The 
 style of the one is narrative, diffuse, deco- 
 rated ; the style of the other is personal, di- 
 rect, condensed. In the one you see rather 
 vague characters, whose development de- 
 pends largely upon the unfolding of the plot ; 
 in the other you see the unfolding of the plot 
 cont rolled oy the development of a single, 
 strongly-marked character. In fact, Tenny- 
 son himself has given us the only true start- 
 ing-point for the criticism of each of these 
 poems in a single word, by calling the Prin- 
 cess "a Medley," and Maud "a Mono- 
 drama." 
 
 I will confess frankly, although frank con- 
 fession is not precisely fashionable among 
 critics, that for a long time I misunderstood 
 Maud and underrated it. This came from 
 looking at it from the wrong point of view. 
 
122 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 I vvas enlightened by hearing the poet 
 read it aloud. 
 
 Tennyson's reading was extraordinary. 
 His voice was deep, strong, masculine, 
 limited in its range, with a tendency to 
 monotone, broadening and prolonging the 
 vowels and rolling the r's ; it was not flex- 
 ible, nor melodious in the common sense of 
 the word, but it was musical in a higher 
 sense, as the voice of the sea is musical. 
 When he read he forgot all the formal 
 rules of elocution, raised his voice a little 
 higher than his usual tone in speaking, and 
 poured out the poem in a sustained rhythmic 
 chant. He was carried away and lost in 
 it. In the passionate passages his voice 
 rose and swelled like the sound of the wind 
 in the pine-trees ; in the lines which ex- 
 press grief and loneliness it broke and fell 
 like the throbbing and murmuring of the 
 waves on the beach. I felt the profound 
 human sympathy of the man, the largeness 
 and force of his nature. I understood the 
 secret of the perfection of his lyrical poems. 
 Each one of them had been composed to a 
 distinct music of its own. He had heard 
 it in his mind before he had put it into 
 words. I saw also why his character-pieces 
 
THE PRINCESS AND MAUD. 123 
 
 were so strong. He bad been absorbed in 
 each one of them. The living personality 
 had been real to him, and he had entered 
 into its life. 
 
 All this came home to me as I sat in the 
 evening twilight in the study at Aldworth, 
 and listened to the poet, with his massive 
 head outlined against the pale glow of the 
 candles, his dark, dreamy eyes fixed closely 
 upon the book, lifted now and then to 
 mark the emphasis of a word or the close 
 of a forceful. line, and his old voice ringing I 
 with all the passion of youth, as he chanted j 
 the varying cantos of the lyrical drama of I 
 Maud. I understood why he loved it, and 
 what it meant. I felt that, although it may 
 not be ranked with his greatest works, like 
 In Memoriam and the Idylls of the King, it 
 is certainly one of his most original poems. 
 
 You must remember always, in leading 
 it, what it is meant to be — a lyrical drama, vl 
 It shows the unfolding of a lonely, morbid 
 soul, touched with inherited madness, under 
 the influence of a pure and passionate love. 
 Each lyric is meant to express a new -./ 
 moment in this process. The things which ' 
 seem like faults belong not so much to the 
 poem as to the character oi the hero. 
 
124 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 He is wrong, of course, in much that he 
 says. If he had been always wise and just 
 he would not have been himself. He be- 
 gins with a false comparison — u blood -red 
 heath." There is no such thing in nature ; 
 but he sees the heather tinged like blood 
 because his mind has been disordered and 
 his sight discoloured by the tragedy of hio 
 youth. He is wrong in thinking that war 
 will transform the cheating tradesman into 
 a great-souled hero, or that it will sweep 
 aw.vy the dishonesties and lessen the miser- 
 ies of humanity. The history of the Crimea 
 proves his error. But this very delusion is 
 natural to him : it is in keeping with his 
 morbid, melancholy, impulsive character to 
 seek a cure for the evils of peace in the 
 horrors of war. 
 
 He is wild and excessive, of course, in 
 his railings and complainings. He takes 
 offense at fancied slights, reviles those 
 whom he dislikes, magnifies trifles, is sub- 
 ject to hallucinations, hears his name 
 called in the corners of his lonely house, 
 fancies that all the world is against him. 
 He is not always noble even in the expres- 
 sion of his love at first. He, sometimes 
 strikes a false note and strains the tone of 
 
THE PRINCESS AND MAUD. 125 
 
 passion until it is almost hysterical. There 
 is at least one passage in which he sings 
 absurdly of trifles, and becomes, as he him- 
 self feared that he would, " fantastically 
 merry." But all this is just what such a 
 man would do in such a case. The psycho- 
 logical study is perfect, from the first out- 
 burst of moody rage in the opening canto, 
 through the unconscious struggle against 
 love and the exuberant joy which follows 
 its entrance into his heart and the blank' 
 despair which settles upon him when it is 
 lost, down to the wonderful picture of real 
 madness with which the second part closes. 
 It is as true as truth itself. But what is there 
 in the story to make it worth the telling? 
 What elements of beauty has the poet con- 
 ferred upon it ? What has he given to this 
 strange and wayward hero to redeem him ? 
 Three gifts. 
 
 (FirsE}\he has the gift of exquisite, deli- ( ij 
 cate, sensitive perception . He see s and f 
 hears the wonderful, beautiful things which 
 only the poet can see and hear. He knows 
 that the underside of the English daisy is 
 pink, and when Maud passes homeward 
 through the fields he can trace her path by 
 the upturned flowers, — 
 
i 
 
 126 TEE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 , For her feet have touch'd the meadows 
 V« Aud left the daisies rosy. 
 
 He sees how the tops of the trees on a 
 windy morning are first bowed by the wind 
 and then tossed from side to side, — 
 
 Caught and cuff'd by the gale. 
 
 He has noted the colour of the red buds on 
 the lime-tree in the spring, and how the 
 green leaves burst through them, — 
 
 A million emeralds break from the ruby-budded lime. 
 
 He has heard the " broad-flung shipwreck- 
 ing roar of the tide " and the sharp 
 " scream " of the pebbles on the beach 
 dragged down by the receding wave. He 
 has listened to the birds that seem to be 
 calling, "Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud," — 
 and he knows perfectly well that they are 
 not nightingales, but rooks, flying to their 
 nests in the tall trees around the Hall. 
 The poe m is r ich in observations of nature. 
 The second gift which is bestowed upon 
 the hero of Maud is the power of go fig j 
 And in bestowing this the poet has proved 
 the fineness and subtlety of his knowledge. 
 For it is precisely this gift of song which 
 sometimes descends upon a wayward, un- 
 
THE PRINCESS AND MAUD. 127 
 
 sound life, — as it did upon Shelley's, — and 
 draws from it tones of ravishing sweetness ; 
 not harmonies, for harmony belongs to the 
 broader, saner mind, but melodies, which 
 catch the heart and linger in the memory 
 forever. Strains of this music come to us 
 from Maud: the song of triumphant love, — 
 
 I have led her home, my love, my only friend. 
 There is none like her, none, — 
 
 the nocturne that rises like the breath of 
 passion from among the flowers, — 
 Come into the garden, Maud, — 
 
 and the lament, — 
 
 O that *t were possible. 
 
 These lyrics are magical, unforgetable ; 
 they_give aii immortal beauty to the poem. 
 
 The third gift, and the greatest, which 
 belongs to the hero of Maud, is the capacity 
 for intense, absorbing, ennobling love. It is 
 this that makes Maud love him, and saves 
 him from himself, and brings him out at 
 last from the wreck of his life, a man 
 who has awaked to the nobler mind and 
 knows — 
 
 It is better to fight for the good than rail at the ill. 
 
 How clearly this awakening is traced 
 through the poem I His love is tinged 
 
 t 
 
128 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 with selfishness at first. He thinks of the 
 smile of Maud as the charm which is to 
 make the world sweet to him ; he says : 
 
 Then let come what come may 
 To a life that has been so sad, 
 I shall have had my day. 
 
 But unconsciously it purifies itself. He 
 looks up at the stars and says : — 
 
 But now sh<ne on, and what care I, 
 
 Who in this stormy gulf have found a pearl 
 
 The countercharm of space and hollow sky, 
 
 And do accept my madness, and would die 
 
 To save from some slight shame one simple girl. 
 
 And at last, when his own fault has de- 
 stroyed his happiness and divided him from 
 her forever, his love does not perish, but 
 triumphs over the selfishness of grief. 
 
 Comfort her, comfort her, all things good, 
 
 While I am over the sea I 
 
 Let me and my passionate love go by, 
 
 But speak to her all things holy and high, 
 
 Whatever happen to me ! 
 
 Me and my harmful love go by ; 
 
 But come to her waking, find her asleep, 
 
 Powers of the height, Powers of the deep, 
 
 And comfort her tho' I die. 
 
 This is the meaning of Maud. Love is the 
 power that redeems from self. 
 
IN MEMORTAM. 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Many beautiful poems, and some so 
 noble that they are forever illustrious, have 
 blossomed in the valley of the shadow of 
 death. But among them all none is more 
 rich in significance, more perfect in beauty 
 of form and spirit, or more luminous with 
 the triumph of light and love over dark- 
 ness and mortality, than In Memoriam, the 
 greatest of English elegies. 
 
 How splendid is the poetic company in 
 which it stands ! Milton's stately and sol- 
 emn lament for Lycidas ; Gray's pure and 
 faultless Elegy in a Country Churchyard ; 
 Shelley's musical and mournful Adona'is ; 
 Matthew Arnold's pensive Thyrsis, and his 
 deeper Lines at Sunset in Rugby Chapel; 
 Emerson's profound, passionate, lovely 
 Threnody on the death of his little son, — 
 these all belong to the high order of poetry 
 which lives, and these all unfolded from the 
 heart of man at the touch of death. 
 
132 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 In Memoriam differs from the others in 
 two things: first, in the fulness and inti- 
 macy with which it discloses the personal 
 relations and the personal loss and sorrow 
 out of which it grew ; and, second, in the 
 breadth and thoroughness with which it 
 enters into the great questions of philoso- 
 phy and religion that rise out of the experi- 
 ence of bereavement. (- It has, therefore, a 
 twofold character; it is a glorious monu- 
 ment to the memory of a friend, and it is 
 the great English classic on the love of 
 immortality and the immortality of love. 
 
 It was published in 1850, and the title- 
 page bore no name, either of the author or 
 of the person to whom it was dedicated. 
 But every one knew that it was written by 
 Alfred Tennyson in memory of his friend 
 Arthur Henry Hallam. Their friendship 
 was formed at Trinity College, Cambridge, 
 where they had entered as students in Oc- 
 tober, 1828, Tennyson being then in his 
 twentieth year. Hallam, who was a year 
 and a half younger, was the son of Henry 
 Hallam, the historian, and had already dis- 
 tinguished himself among his contempora- 
 ries by the beauty and force of his character 
 and the brilliancy of his attainments, espe- 
 
in memortaM. 133 
 
 daily in the study of modern poetry and 
 art, in philosophy, and in argumentative 
 discussion. He did not incline strongly to 
 the study of the classics, and toward math- 
 ematics, the favourite discipline of Cam- 
 bridge, he was almost entirely indifferent. 
 These mental indispositions, together with 
 a lack of power or willingness to retain in 
 his memory the mass of uninteresting facts 
 and dates which are required for success 
 in examinations, and a delicacy of health 
 which at times made him subject to serious 
 depression of spirits, unfitted him to con- 
 tend for university honours. But he was 
 a natural leader among the high-spirited 
 youth who found in the reality of college 
 life and the freedom of intellectual inter- 
 course a deeper and broader education than 
 the routine of the class-room could give. 
 There was a debating society in Cam- 
 bridge at this time, familiarly called " The 
 Twelve Apostles," which included such men 
 of promise as Richard Monckton Milnes 
 (afterward Lord Houghton), W. H. Thomp- 
 son (afterward Master of Trinity), Richard 
 Chevenix Trench (afterward Archbishop of 
 Dublin), Henry Alford (afterward Dean of 
 Canterbury), Frederick Denison Maurice, 
 
134 THE POETRY Of TENNYSON. 
 
 W. H. Brookfield, James Spedding, Ed- 
 mund Lushington, and G. S. Venables. In 
 this society of kindling genius, Hallain 
 shone with a singular lustre, not only by 
 reason of the depth and clearness of his 
 thought and the masterful vigour of his 
 expression, but also because of the sweet- 
 ness and purity of his character and the 
 sincerity of his religious spirit, strengthened 
 and ennobled by conflict with honest doubt. 
 One of his friends wrote of him : " I have 
 met with no man his superior in metaphysi- 
 cal subtlety ; no man his equal as a philo- 
 sophical critic on works of taste ; no man 
 whose views on all subjects connected with 
 the duties and dignities of humanity were 
 more large, more generous and enlight- 
 ened." Mr. Gladstone, recalling his in- 
 timacy with Hallam at Eton, bears witness 
 to "his unparalleled endowments and his 
 deep, enthusiastic affections, both religious 
 and human." 
 
 It was by such qualities that Alfred Ten- 
 nyson was drawn to Arthur Hallam ; and 
 although, or perhaps because, they were 
 unlike in many things, their minds and 
 hearts were wedded in a friendship which 
 was closer than brotherhood, and in which 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 135 
 
 Hallam's influence was the stronger and 
 more masculine element, so that Tennyson 
 spoke of himself as " widowed " by his 
 loss. 
 
 The comradeship of the two men was of 
 the most intimate nature. They were to- 
 gether in study and in recreation, at home 
 and abroad. ' In 1829 they were friendly 
 rivals for the medal in English verse, which 
 Tennyson won with his poem Timbuctoo. 
 In 1830 they made an excursion together 
 to the Pyrenees, carrying money and letters 
 of encouragement to the Spanish revolu- 
 tionists. This visit is alluded to in the 
 poem called In the Valley of Cauteretz. 
 About this time they were planning to 
 bring out a volume of poems in company, 
 after the example of Wordsworth and Cole- 
 ridge ; but by the wise advice of Hallam's 
 father this project was abandoned, and Ten- 
 nyson's slender volume of Poems, Chiefly 
 Lyrical appeared alone. Hallam's review 
 of this book in The Englishman's Magazine 
 for August, 1831, was one of the very earli- 
 est recognitions that a new light had risen 
 in English poetry. He said : — 
 
 " Mr. Tennyson belongs decidedly to the 
 class we have already described as Poets of 
 
136 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Sensation. He sees all the forms of nature 
 with the eruditus oculus, and his ear has a 
 fairy fineness. There is a strange earnest- 
 ness in his worship of beauty, which throws 
 a charm over his impassioned song, more 
 easily felt than described, and not to be 
 escaped by those who have once felt it. . . . 
 We have remarked five distinctive excel- 
 lencies of his own manner. First, his lux- 
 uriance of imagination, and at the same 
 time his control over it. Secondly, his 
 power of embodying himself in ideal char- 
 acters, or rather moods of character, with 
 such extreme accuracy of adjustment that 
 the circumstances of the narrative seem to 
 have a natural correspondence with the 
 predominant feeling, and, as it were, to 
 be evolved from it by assimilative force. 
 Thirdly, his vivid, picturesque delineation 
 of objects, and the peculiar skill with which 
 he holds all of them fused, to borrow a 
 metaphor from science, in a medium of 
 strong emotion. Fourthly, the variety of his 
 lyrical measures, and exquisite modulation 
 of harmonious sounds and cadences to the 
 swell and fall of the feelings expressed. 
 Fifthly, the elevated habits of thought im- 
 plied in these compositions, and imparting 
 
IN MEMORfAM. 137 
 
 a mellow soberness of tone, more impressive 
 to our minds than if the author had drawn 
 up a set of opinions in verse, and sought 
 to instruct the understanding rather than 
 to communicate the love of beauty to the 
 heart." 
 
 This may still stand, among later and 
 more searching criticisms, as an intelli- 
 gent and suggestive appreciation of the 
 sources of Tennyson's poetical charm and 
 power. 
 
 M my allusions to incidents in Hallain's 
 brief life may be discovered in In Memo- 
 riam. He was a frequent visitor in the 
 home of the Tennysons at Somersby, in 
 Lincolnshire, coming in winter and summer 
 holidays. In 1832, the year of his grada- 
 tion at Cambridge, he was engaged to Miss 
 Emily Tennyson, the poet's sister. His 
 home was with his father in Wimpole 
 Street, called the longest street in London ; 
 and on leaving college he began the study 
 of law, looking forward to the higher life 
 of public service, in which so many of 
 England's best young men find their mis- 
 sion. In August, 1833, he went with his 
 father to Germany. On the way from 
 Pesth to Vienna he was exposed to in- 
 
138 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 clement weather and contracted an inter- 
 mittent fever. The symptoms were slight 
 and seemed to be abating, but the natural 
 frailty of his constitution involved unfore- 
 seen danger. There was a weakness of 
 the heart which the strength of the spirit 
 concealed. On the 15th of September, 
 while he seemed to be reposing quietly, 
 the silver cord was loosed and the golden 
 bowl was broken. 
 
 In Vienna's fatal walls 
 God's finger touch'd him, and he slept 
 
 The sharp and overwhelming shock of 
 losing such a friend suddenly, irretrieva- 
 bly, in absence, with no opportunity of 
 speaking a word of love and farewell, 
 brought Tennyson face to face with the 
 intense and inexorable reality of death — 
 the great mystery which must either 
 darken all life and quench the springs of 
 poesy, or open a new world of victory to 
 the spirit, and refresh it with deeper and 
 never-failing fountains of inspiration. 
 
 In Memoriam begins with the confession 
 of this dreadful sense of loss, and the firm 
 resolve to hold fast the memory of bis 
 grief, even though he doubts whether he 
 can 
 
1 
 
 > 
 
 IN ME MORI AM. 139 
 
 reach a hand through time to catch 
 The far-off interest of tears. 
 
 The arrangement of the poem does not 
 follow strictly the order of logic or the 
 order of time. It was not written con- 
 secutively, but at intervals, and the period 
 of its composition extends over at least 
 sixteen years. The Epithalamium with 
 which it closes was made in 1842, the 
 date of the marriage of Miss Cecilia Ten- 
 nyson to Edmund Law Lushington, the 
 friend addressed in the eighty-fifth canto. 
 The Proem, " Strong Son of God, immortal 
 Love," was added in 1849, to sum up and 
 express the final significance of the whole 
 lyrical epic of the inner life which had 
 grown so wonderfully through these long 
 years of spiritual experience. " The gen- 
 eral way of its being written," said Tenny- 
 son, " was so queer that if there were a 
 blank space I would put in a poem." And 
 yet there is a profound coherence in the 
 series of separate _l y rics ^ and a clear ad- 
 vance toward a definite goal of thought 
 and feeling can be traced through the 
 freedom of structure which characterizes 
 the poem. 
 
 The first division of the poem, from the 
 
140 THE POETRY OF T£NNYSOX. 
 
 first to the eighth canto (I follow here the 
 grouping of the sections which was made 
 by Tennyson himself), moves with the 
 natural uncertainty of a lonely and sor- 
 rowful heart ; questioning whether it is 
 possible or wise to hold fast to sorrow ; 
 questioning whether it be not half a sin 
 to try to put such a grief into words * 
 questioning whether the writing of a me- 
 morial poem can be anything more than a 
 
 sad, mechanic exercise, 
 Lik« dull narcotics, numbing pain. 
 
 But the conclusion is that, since the lost 
 friend loved the poet's verse, the poem 
 shall be written for his sake and conse- 
 crated to his memory, like a flower planted 
 on a tomb, to live or die. 
 
 The second division, beginning with the 
 I ninth canto and closing with the nine- 
 ' teenth, describes in lyrics of wondrous 
 beauty the home-bringing oT Arthur's body 
 in a ship from Italy, and the burial in 
 Clevedon Church, which stands on a soli- 
 tary hill overlooking the Bristol Channel. 
 This took place on January 3, 1834. A 
 calmer, stronger, steadier spirit now enters 
 into the poem, and from this point it 
 moves forward with ever deepening power 
 
IN ME MORI AM. 141 
 
 and beauty, to pay its rich tribute to the 
 immortal meaning of friendship, and to 
 pour its triumphant light through the 
 shadows of the grave. 
 
 The third division, beginning with the 
 twentieth canto, returns again to the sub- 
 ject of personal bereavement and the pos- 
 sibility of expressing it in poetry. It 
 speaks of the necessity in the poet's heart 
 for finding such an expression, which is 
 as natural as song is to the bird. He 
 turns back to trace the pathway of friend- 
 ship, and remembers how love made it fair 
 and sweet, doubling all joy and dividing 
 all pain. That companionship is now 
 broken and the way is dreary. The love 
 to which he longs to prove himself still 
 loyal is now the minister of lonely sorrow. 
 And yet the very capacity for such suffer- 
 ing is better than the selfish placidity of 
 the loveless life : 
 
 'T is better to have loved and lost 
 Than never to have loved at all. 
 
 The fourth division opens, in the twenty- 
 eighth canto, with a Christmas poem. The 
 poet wonders how it is possible to keep the 
 joyous household festival under the shadow 
 
142 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 of this great loss. But through the sad- 
 dened and half-hearted merry-making there 
 steals at last, in the silence, the sense that 
 those who have left the happy circle still 
 live and are unchanged in sympathy and 
 love. From the darkness of Christmas 
 eve rises the prayer for the dawning of 
 Christmas day and 
 
 The light that shone when Hope was horn. 
 
 Led by this thought, the poet turns to 
 the story of Lazarus, and to Mary's faith 
 in Him who was the Resurrection and the 
 Life. Such a faith is so pure and sacred 
 that it demands the reverence even of 
 those who do not share it. For what 
 would our existence be worth without 
 immortality? Effort and patience would 
 be vain. It would be better to drop at 
 once into darkness. Love itself would be 
 changed and degraded if we knew that 
 death was the end of everything. These 
 immortal instincts of our manhood came 
 to their perfect expression in the life 
 and teachings of Christ. And though the 
 poet's utterance of these divine things be 
 but earthly and imperfect, at least it is 
 a true tribute to the friend who spoke of 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 143 
 
 them so often. Thus he stands again be- 
 side the funereal yew-tree, of which he 
 wrote, in the second canto, that it never 
 blossomed, and sees that, after all, it has 
 a season of bloom, in which the dust of 
 tiny flowers rises from it in living smoke. 
 Even so his thoughts of death are now 
 blossoming in thoughts of a higher life 
 into which his friend has entered — 
 thoughts of larger powers and nobler 
 duties in the heavenly existence. But 
 may not this mysterious and sudden ad- 
 vancement divide their friendship? No; 
 for if the lost friend is moving onward so 
 swiftly now, he will be all the better fitted 
 to be a teacher and helper when their in- 
 tercourse is renewed ; but if death should 
 prove to be " an intervital trance," then 
 when he awakens the old love will awaken 
 with him. From this assurance the poet 
 passes to wondering thoughts of the man- 
 ner of life of " the happy dead," and rises 
 to the conviction that it must include an 
 unchanged personal identity and a certain 
 personal recognition and fellowship. This 
 is not uttered by way of argument, but 
 only with the brevity and simplicity of 
 songs which move like swallows over the 
 depth of grief, 
 
144 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Whose muffled motions blindly drown 
 The bases of my life in tears. 
 
 The fifth division of the poem, in the 
 fiftieth canto, begins with a prayer that 
 his unseen friend may be near him in the 
 hours of gloom and pain and doubt and 
 death. Such a presence would bring with it 
 a serene sympathy and allowance for mor- 
 tal ignorance and weakness and imperfec- 
 tion. For doubtless this lower life of ours 
 is a process of discipline and education for 
 something better. Good must be the final 
 goal of ill. We feel this but dimly and 
 blindly ; our expression of it is like the 
 cry of a child in the night ; but at least 
 the desire that it may be true comes from 
 that which is most God-like in our souls. 
 Can it be that God and Nature are at 
 strife? Is it possible that all the hopes 
 and prayers and aspirations of humanity 
 are vain dreams, and that the last and 
 highest work of creation must crumble 
 utterly into dust? This would be the 
 very mockery of reason. And yet the 
 sure answer is not found ; it lies behind 
 the veil. So the poet turns away, think- 
 ing to close his song with a last word of 
 farewell to the dead ; but the Muse calls 
 
IX ME MORI AM. 145 
 
 him to abide a little longer with his sor- 
 row, in order that he may " take a nobler 
 leave." 
 
 This is the theme with which the sixth 
 division opens, in the fifty-ninth canto. 
 The poet is to live with sorrow as a wife, 
 and to learn from her all that she has to 
 teach. He turns again to the thought of 
 the strange difference in wisdom and purity 
 between the blessed dead and the living, 
 and finds new comfort and security in the 
 thought that this difference cannot destroy 
 love. He thinks of the tablet to Hallam's 
 memory in Clevedon Church, silvered by 
 the moonlight or glimmering in the dawn. 
 He dreams of Hallam over and over again. 
 Night after night they seem to walk and 
 talk together, as they did on their tour 
 in the Pyrenees. 
 
 The seventy-second canto opens the 
 seventh division of the poem with the an- 
 niversary of Hallam's death — an autumnal 
 dirge, wild and dark, followed by sad 
 lyrics which ring the changes on the per- 
 ishableness of all earthly fame and beauty. 
 But now the Christmas-tide returns and 
 brings the tender household joys. This 
 is a brighter Christmas than the last. The 
 
146 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 thought of how faithfully and nobly Arthur 
 would have borne the sorrow, if he had 
 been the one to be left while his friend 
 was taken, calms and strengthens the poet's 
 heart. He reconciles himself more deeply 
 with death ; learns to believe that it has 
 ripened friendship even more than earthly 
 intercourse could have done ; assures him- 
 self that the transplanted life is still bloom- 
 ing and bearing richer fruit; and at last 
 complains only because death has 
 
 put oar lives so far apart 
 We cannot hear each other speak. 
 
 Now the spring comes, renewing the 
 face of the earth ; and with it comes a 
 new tenderness and sweetness into the 
 poet's song. There is a pathetic vision 
 of all the domestic joys that might have 
 been centred about Arthur's life if it had 
 been spared, and of the calm harmony of 
 death if the two friends could have arrived 
 together at the blessed goal, 
 
 And He that died in Holy Land 
 Would reach us out the shining hand, 
 And take us as a single soul. 
 
 This vision almost disturbs the new 
 peace that has begun in the poet's heart ; 
 
IN MEM OR I AM. 147 
 
 but he comes back again, in the eighty- 
 fifth canto (the longest in the poem, and 
 its turning-point), to the deep and unal- 
 terable feeling that love with loss is better 
 than life without love. Another friend, 
 the same who was afterward to be mar- 
 ried to Tennyson's sister, has asked him 
 whether his sorrow has darkened his faith 
 and made him incapable of friendship. 
 The answer comes from the inmost depths 
 of the soul ; recalling all the noble and 
 spiritual influences of the interrupted com- 
 radeship ; confessing that it still abides 
 and works as a potent, strengthening force 
 in his life ; and seeking for the coming 
 years a new friendship, not to rival the 
 old, nor ever to supplant it, but to teach 
 his heart still 
 
 to beat in time with one 
 That warms another living breast. 
 
 Now the glory of the summer earth 
 kindles the poetic fancy once more to 
 rapture ; now the old college haunts are 
 revisited and the joys of youth live again 
 in memory. The thought of Arthur's 
 spiritual presence lends a new and loftier 
 significance to these common delights, 
 brings more sweetness than sadness, makes 
 
148 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 his letters, read in the calm summer mid- 
 night, seem like a living voice. The 
 remembrance of his brave conflict with 
 his doubts gives encouragement to faith. 
 Now he is delivered from the struggle ; 
 he has attained unto knowledge and wis- 
 dom : but the poet, still lingering among 
 the shadows and often confused by them, 
 holds fast to the spiritual companionship : 
 
 I cannot understand : I love. 
 
 The eighth division, from the ninety- 
 ninth to the one hundred and third canto, 
 opens with another anniversary of Hallam's 
 death, which brings the consoling thought 
 that, since grief is common, sympathy 
 must be world-wide. The old home at 
 Somersby is now to be forsaken, and the 
 poet takes farewell of the familiar scenes 
 in lyrics of exquisite beauty. The division 
 endswifitr a mystical dream, in which he 
 is summoned to a voyage upon the sea of 
 eternity, and the human powers and tal- 
 ents, in the guise of maidens who have 
 served him in this life, accompany him 
 still, and the man he loved appears on the 
 ship as his comrade. 
 
 The ninth and last division begins, in 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 149 
 
 the one hundred and fourth canto, with 
 the return of another Christmas eve. The 
 Tennyson family had removed in 1837 to 
 Beech Hill House, and now, as the time 
 draws near the birth of Christ, they hear, 
 not the fourfold peal of bells from the four 
 hamlets lying around the rectory at Som- 
 ersby, but a single peal from the tower of 
 Waltham Abbey, dimly seen through the 
 mist below the distant hill. It is a strange, 
 solemn, silent holiday season ; but with 
 the ringing of the bells on the last night 
 of the old year there comes into it a new, 
 stirring melody of faith, of hope, of high 
 desire and victorious trust. This is a 
 stronger, loftier song than the poet could 
 ever have reached before grief ennobled 
 him ; and from this he rises into that 
 splendid series of l yrics with which the 
 poem closes. The harmony of knowledge 
 with reverence ; the power of the heart 
 of man to assert its rights against the 
 colder conclusions of mere intellectual 
 logic; the certainty that man was born 
 to enjoy a higher life than the physical, 
 and that though his body may have been 
 developed from the lower animals, his soul 
 may work itself out from the dominion of 
 
150 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 the passions to an imperishable liberty; 
 the supremacy of love; the sure progress 
 of all things toward a hidden goal of glory ; 
 the indomitable courage of the human will, 
 which is able to purify our deeds, and to 
 trust, 
 
 With faith that comes of self-control, 
 The truths that never can be proved 
 Until we close with all we loved, 
 
 And all we flow from, soul in soul, — 
 
 these are the mighty and exultant chords 
 with which the poet ends his music. 
 
 In Memoriam is a dead-march, but it is 
 a march into immortality. 
 
 The promise of Arthur Hallam's life 
 was not broken. Threescore years and 
 ten of earthly labour could hardly have 
 accomplished anything greater than the 
 work which was inspired by his early 
 death and consecrated to his sacred mem- 
 ory. The heart of man, which can win 
 such victory out of its darkest defeat and 
 reap such harvest from the furrows of the 
 grave, is neither sprung from dost nor 
 destined to return to it. A poem like In 
 Memoriam, more than all flowers of the 
 returning spring, more than all shining 
 wings that flutter above the ruins of the 
 
IN MEMORIaM. 151 
 
 chrysalis, more than all sculptured tombs 
 and monuments of the beloved dead, is 
 the living evidence and intimation of an 
 endless life. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 i. 
 
 The history of Tennyson's Idylls of the 
 King is one of the most curious and un- 
 likely things in all the annals of literature. 
 Famous novels have so often been written 
 piecemeal and produced in parts, that 
 readers of fiction have made a necessity of 
 virtue,- and learned to add to their faith, 
 patience. But that a great poet should be 
 engaged with his largest theme for more 
 
 V than half a century ; that he should touch 
 it first with a lyricj then with an epical 
 fragment and two more l yrics ; then with 
 
 'a poem which was suppressed as soon as 
 it was written ; then with four romantic 
 idylls, followed, ten years later, by four 
 others, and two years later by two others, 
 and thirteen years later by yet another 
 idyll, which is to bo placed, not before or 
 after the rest, but in the very centre of the 
 cycle ; that he should begin with the end, 
 
156 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 and continue with the beginning, and end 
 with the middle of the story, and produce 
 at last a poem which certainly has more 
 epical grandeur than anything that has been 
 made in English since Milton died, is a 
 tiling. so marvellous that no man would 
 credit it save at the sword's point of fact. 
 And yet this is the exact record of Tenny- 
 son's dealing with the Arthurian legend. 
 
 The Lady of Shalott, that dreamlike 
 foreshadowing of the story of Maine, was 
 published in 1832 ; Sir Galahad and Sir 
 Lancelot and Queen Guinevere in 1842. 
 Underneath their smooth music and dainty 
 form they hide the deeper conceptions of 
 character and life which the poet after- 
 wards worked out more clearly and fully. 
 They compare with the Idylls as a cameo 
 with a statue. But the germ of the whole 
 story of the fall of the Round Table lies in 
 this description of Guinevere : — 
 
 She looked so lovely, as she swayed 
 The rein with dainty finger-tipa, 
 A man had given all other bliss, 
 And all his worldly worth for this, 
 To waste his whole heart in one kiss 
 Upon her perfect lips. 
 
 Morte a" Arthur was printed in the same 
 volume and marks the beginning of a new 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 157 
 
 manner of treatment, not lyrical, but epical. 
 It is worth while to notice the peculiar 
 way in which it is introduced. A brief 
 prelude, in Tennyson's conversational style, 
 states the poem is a fragment of an Epic of 
 King Arthur, which had contained twelve 
 cantos, but which the poet, being discon- 
 tented with their antiquated style, and re- 
 garding them as 
 
 Faint Homeric echoes, nothing worth, 
 
 had determined to burn. This one book 
 had been picked from the hearth by a friend, 
 and was the sole relic of the conflagration. 
 I do not imagine that we are to interpret 
 this preface so literally as to conclude that 
 Tennyson had actually written and de- 
 stroyed eleven other books upon this sub- 
 ject ; for though he has exercised a larger 
 wisdom of suppression in regard to his imma- 
 ture work than almost any other poet, such 
 a wholesale consumption of his offspring 
 would have an almost Saturnine touch 
 about it. But we may certainly infer that 
 he had contemplated the idea of an Arthu- 
 rian epic, and had abandoned it after severe 
 labour as impracticable, and that he had 
 intended not to conclude the poem with 
 
158 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 the death of Arthur, but to follow it with 
 a sequel ; for we must observe the fact, 
 which has hitherto escaped the notice of 
 the critics, that this rescued fragment was 
 not the twelfth but the eleventh canto in 
 the original design. We cannot help won- 
 dering what the conclusion would have been 
 if this first plan had been carried out. Per- 
 haps some vision of the island valley of 
 Avilion ; perhaps some description of the 
 return of the King in modern guise as the 
 founder of a new order of chivalry ; but 
 whatever it might have been we can hardly 
 regret its loss, for it is evident now that 
 the Morte oT Arthur forms the true and in- 
 evitable close of the story. 
 
 How long the poet held to his decision 
 of abandoning the subject, we cannot tell. 
 The first sign that he had begun to work 
 at it again was in 1857, when he printed 
 a poem called Enid and Nimue ; or, The 
 True and the False. • This does not seem 
 to have satisfied his fastidious taste, for it 
 was never published, though a few copies 
 are said to be extant in private hands. 
 
 In June, 1858, Clough "heard Tenny- 
 son read a third Arthur poem, — the de- 
 tection of Guinevere and the last interview 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 159 
 
 with Arthur." In 1859 appeared the first 
 volume, entitled Idylh of the King, with 
 a motto from the old chronicle of Joseph 
 of Exeter, — " Flos regum Arthurus." The 
 book contained four idylls: Enid, Vivien, 
 Elaine, and Guinevere. Enid has since 
 been divided into The Marriage of Geraint; 
 and Greraint and Enid. This first volume, 
 therefore, contained the third, fourth, sixth, 
 seventh, and eleventh idylls. 
 
 In 1862 there was a new edition, dedi- 
 cated to the Prince Consort. In 1870, four 
 more idylls were published: The Coming 
 of Arthur, The Holy Grail, Pelleas and 
 Ettarre, and The Passing of Arthur, — re- 
 spectively the first, the eighth, the ninth, 
 and the twelfth, in the order as it stands 
 now. Of this volume, forty thousand copies 
 were ordered in advance. In 1872, Gareth 
 and Lynette and The Last Tournament were 
 produced, — the second and the tenth parts 
 of the cycle. In 1885, the volume entitled 
 Tiresias and Other Poems contained an 
 idyll with the name of Balin and Balan, 
 which was designated in a note as " an in- 
 troduction to Merlin and Vivien" and thus 
 takes the fifth place in the series. 
 
 I have been careful in tracing the order 
 
160 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 of these poems because it seems to mc that 
 the manner of their production throws 
 light upon several important points. Leav- 
 ing out of view the Arthurian lyrics, as 
 examples of a style of treatment which was 
 manifestly too light for the subject ; setting 
 aside also the first draught of the Morte 
 d' Arthur, as a fragment whose full mean- 
 ing and value the poet himself did not rec- 
 ognize until later ; we observe that the 
 significance of the story of Arthur and the 
 legends that clustered about it was clearly 
 seen by Tennyson somewhere about the 
 year 1857, and that he then began to work 
 upon it with a large and positive purpose. 
 For at least thirty years he was steadily 
 labouring to give it form and substance ; 
 but the results of his work were presented 
 to the world in a sequence of which he 
 alone held the clue : the third and fourth, 
 the sixth, seventh, and eleventh, the first, 
 the eighth, the ninth, the twelfth, the sec- 
 ond, the tenth, the fifth, — such was the 
 extraordinary order of parts in which this 
 work was published. 
 
 This fact will account, first of all, for the 
 failure of the public to estimate the poems 
 in their right relation and at their true 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 161 
 
 worth. Their beauty of imagery and ver- 
 sification was at once acknowledged ; but 
 so long as they were regarded as separate 
 pictures, so long as their succession and 
 the connection between them were con- 
 cealed, it was impossible to form any com- 
 plete judgment of their meaning or value. 
 As Wagner said of his Siegfried : " It can- 
 not make its right and unquestionable im- 
 pression as a single whole, until it is allotted 
 its necessary place in the complete whole. 
 Nothing must be left to be supplemented 
 by thought or reflection : every reader of 
 unprejudiced human feeling must be able 
 to comprehend the whole through his artis- 
 tic perceptions, because then only will he 
 be able rightly to understand the single 
 incidents." l 
 
 In the second place, this fact makes clear 
 to us the reason and justification of the gen- 
 eral title which Tennyson has given to these 
 poems. He has been criticised very fre- 
 quently for calling them Idylls. And if we 
 hold the word to its narrower meaning, — 
 " a short, highly wrought poem of a de- 
 scriptive and pastoral character," — it cer- 
 tainly seems inappropriate. But if we go 
 
 1 Wagner's letter to Liszt, November 20, 1851. 
 
162 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 back to the derivation of the word, and re- 
 member that it comes from elSos, which 
 means not merely the form, the figure, tin 
 appearance of anything, but more particu- 
 larly that form which is characteristic and 
 distinctive, the ideal element, correspond- 
 ing to the Latin species, we can see that 
 Tennyson was justified in adapting and 
 using it for his purpose. He intended to 
 make pictures, highly wrought, carefully 
 finished, full of elaborate and significant de 
 tails. But each one of these pictures was 
 to be animated with an idea, clear, definite, 
 unmistakable. It was to make a form ex- 
 press a soul. It was to present a type, not 
 separately, but in relation to other types. 
 This was the method which he had chosen. 
 His design was not purely classical, nor 
 purely romantic, but something between 
 the two, like the Italian Gothic in archi- 
 tecture. He did not propose to tell a sin- 
 gle straightforward story for the sake of 
 the story ; nor to bring together in one 
 book a mass of disconnected tales and le- 
 gends^ each of which might just as well have 
 stood alone. He proposed to group about 
 a central figure a number of other figures, 
 each one of which should be as finished, as 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 163 
 
 complete, as expressive, as he could make 
 it, and yet none of which could be clearly 
 understood except as it stood in its own 
 place in the circle. For this kind of work 
 he needed to find or invent a name. It 
 may be that the word " Idylls " does not 
 perfectly express the meaning. But at 
 least there is no other word in the language 
 which comes so near to it. 
 
 In the third place, now that we see the 
 Idylls all together, standing in their proper 
 order and relation, now that we perceive 
 that with all their diversity they do indeed 
 belong to the King, and revolve about him 
 as stars about a central sun, we are able to 
 appreciate the force and grandeur of the 
 poet's creative idea which could sustain and 
 guide him through such long and intricate 
 labour and produce at last, from an appar- 
 ent chaos of material, an harmonious work 
 of art of a new order. For this was the 
 defect, hitherto, of the romantic writers, 
 descending by ordinary generation from 
 Sir Walter Scott, — that their work had 
 lacked unity ; it was confused, fragmentary, 
 inorganic. And this was the defect, hith- 
 erto, of the classical writers, descending by 
 ordinary generation from Alexander Pope, 
 
164 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 — that their work had lacked life, interest, 
 colour, detail. But Tennyson has suc- 
 ceeded, at least better than any other Eng- 
 lish poet, in fulfilling the prophecy which 
 Victor Hugo made in his criticism of Quen- 
 tin Durward : — 
 
 " Aprds le roman pittoresque mais pro- 
 sa'fque de Walter Scott, il restera un autre 
 roman a cre*er, plus beau et plus complet 
 encore selon nous. C'est le roman a la fois 
 drame et e'pope'e, pittoresque mais poetique, 
 reel mais iddal, vrai mais grand, qui en- 
 chassera Walter Scott dans Homere." 
 
 V 
 
 II. 
 
 The material which Tennyson, has used 
 for his poem is the strange, complex, mys- 
 tical story of King Arthur and his Round 
 Table. To trace the origin of this story 
 would lead us far afield and entangle us 
 in the thickets of controversy which are 
 full of thorns. Whether Arthur was a 
 real king who ruled in Britain after the 
 departure of the Romans, and founded a 
 new order of chivalry, and defeated the 
 heathen in various more or less bloody 
 battles, as Nennius and other professed 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 165 
 
 historians have related ; or whether he 
 was merely " a solar myth," as the Vi- 
 comte de la V ill e marque has suggested ; 
 whether that extremely patriotic Welsh- 
 man, Geoffrey _of _ Monm outh, commonly 
 called " the veracious Geoffrey," who 
 wrote in 1138 a full account of Arthur's 
 glorious achievements, really deserved his 
 name ; or whether his chronicle was 
 merely, as an irreverent Dutch writer has 
 said, " a great, heavy, long, thick, pal- 
 pable, and most impudent lie ; " whether 
 the source of the story was among the 
 misty mountains of Wales or among the 
 castles of Brittany, — all these are ques- 
 tions which lead aside from the purpose of 
 this essay. This much is certain : in the 
 twelfth century the name of King Arthur 
 had come to stand for an ideal of royal 
 wisdom, chivalric virtue, and knightly 
 prowess which was recognized alike in 
 England and France and Germany. 
 
 His story was told again and again by 
 Trouv^re and Minnesinger and prose ro- 
 mancer. In camp and court and cloister, 
 on the banks of the Loire, the Rhine, the 
 Thames, men and women listened with 
 delight to the description of his character 
 
166 THE POETRY OF TENNTSOH. 
 
 and glorious exploits. A vast under- 
 growth of legends sprang up about him. 
 The older story of Merlin the Enchanter; 
 the tragic tale of Sir Lancelot and his 
 fatal love ; the adventures of Sir Tristram 
 and Sir Gawain; the mystical romance 
 of the Saint Graal, with its twin heroes 
 of purity, Percivale and Galahad, — these 
 and many other tales of wonder and of 
 woe, of amourous devotion and fierce con- 
 flict and celestial vision, were woven into 
 the Arthurian tapestry. It extended itself 
 in every direction, like a vast forest ; the 
 paths crossing and recrossing each other; 
 the same characters appearing and disap- 
 pearing in ever-changing disguises ; beau- 
 teous ladies and valiant knights and 
 wicked magicians and pious monks coming 
 and going as if there were no end of them ; 
 so that it is almost impossible for the 
 modern reader to trace his way through 
 the confusion, and he feels like the trav- 
 eller who complained that he "could not 
 see the wood for the trees." 
 
 It was at the close of the age of chiv- 
 alry, in the middle of the fifteenth cen- 
 tury, when the inventions of gunpowder 
 and printing had begun to create a new 
 
IDYLLS OF TEE KING. 167 
 
 order of things in Europe, that an English 
 knight, Sir Thomas Mallory by name, 
 conceived the idea of rewriting the Arthu- 
 rian story in his own language, and gather- 
 ing as many of these tangled legends as 
 he could find into one complete and con- 
 nected narrative. He must have been a 
 man of genius, for his book was more than 
 a mere compilation from the French. He 
 not only succeeded in bringing some kind 
 of order out of the confusion ; he infused 
 a new and vigorous life into the ancient 
 tales, and clothed them in fine, simple, 
 sonorous prose, so that his Morte d' 'Arthur 
 is entitled to rank among the best things 
 in English literature. 
 
 William Caxton, the printer, was one 
 of the first to recognize the merits of the 
 book, and issued it from his press at West- 
 minster, in 1485, with a delightful pref- 
 ace — in which he tells what he thought 
 of the story. After a naive and intrepid 
 defence of the historical reality of Arthur, 
 which he evidently thinks it would be as 
 sacrilegious to doubt as to question the 
 existence of Joshua, or King David, or 
 Judas Maccabeus, he goes on to say: 
 "Herein may be seen noble chivalry, 
 
168 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 courtesy, humanity, friendliness, hardiness, 
 love, friendship, cowardice, murder, hate, 
 virtue and sin. Do after the good and 
 leave the evil, and it shall bring you to 
 good fame and renommee. And for to 
 pass the time this book shall be pleasant 
 to read in, but for to give faith and belief 
 that all is true that is contained herein, 
 ye be at your liberty: but all is written 
 for our doctrine, and for to beware that 
 we fall not to vice nor sin, but to exercise 
 and follow virtue, by the which we may 
 come and attain to good fame and renown 
 in this life, and after this short and transi- 
 tory life to come into everlasting bliss in 
 heaven ; the which He grant us that 
 reign eth in heaven, the blessed Trinity. 
 Amen." 
 
 This pleasant and profitable book was 
 for several generations the favourite read- 
 ing of the gentlemen of England. After 
 falling into comparative obscurity for a 
 while, it was brought back into notice and 
 favour in the early part of the present 
 century. In 1816 two new editions of it 
 were published, the first since 1634; and 
 in the following year another edition was 
 brought out, with an introduction and 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 169 
 
 notes by Southey. It was doubtless 
 through the pages of Mallory that Tenny- 
 son made acquaintance with the story of 
 Arthur, and from these he has drawn most 
 of his materials for the Idylls. 
 
 •One other source must be mentioned : 
 In 1838 Lady Charlotte Guest published 
 The Mabinogion, a translation of the an- 
 cient Welsh legends contained in the " red 
 book of Hergest," which is in the library 
 of Jesus College at Oxford. From this 
 book Tennyson has taken the story of 
 Geraint and Enid. 
 
 When we turn now to look at the 
 manner in which the poet has used his 
 materials, we observe two things : first, 
 that he has taken such liberties with the 
 outline of the story as were necessary to 
 adapt it to his own purpose ; and second, 
 that he has thrown back into it the 
 thoughts and feelings of his own age. 
 
 In speaking of the changes which he 
 has made in the story I do not allude to 
 the omission of minor characters and 
 details, nor to the alterations in the order 
 of the narrative, but to changes of much 
 deeper significance. Take for example 
 the legend of Merlin: Mallory tells us 
 
170 THE POETRT OF TEtiNtSON. 
 
 that the great Mage " fell in a dotage on 
 a damsel that hight Niraue and would let 
 her have no rest, but always he would be 
 with her. And so he followed her over 
 land and sea. But she was passing weary 
 of him and would fain have been delivered 
 of him, for she was afraid of him because 
 he was a devil's son. And so on a time 
 it happed that Merlin shewed to her in a 
 rock, whereas was a great wonder, and 
 wrought by enchantment, that went under 
 a great stone. So by her subtle working 
 she made Merlin to go under that stone, 
 to let her into of the marvels there, but 
 she wrought so there for him that he came 
 never out for all the craft that he could 
 do. And so she departed and left 
 Merlin." 
 
 How bald and feeble is this narrative 
 compared with the version which Tenny- 
 son has given 1 He has created the char- 
 acter of Vivien, the woman without a 
 conscience, a brilliant, baleful star, a fem- 
 inine Iago. He has made her, not the 
 pursued, but the pursuer, — the huntress, 
 but of another train than Dian's. He 
 has painted those weird scenes in the 
 forest of Broceliande, where the earthly 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 171 
 
 wisdom of the magician proves powerless 
 to resist the wiles of a subtler magic than 
 his own. He has made Merlin yield at 
 last to an appeal for protection which 
 might have deceived a nobler nature than 
 his. He tells the ancient charm in a 
 moment of weakness ; and while he sleeps, 
 Vivien binds him fast with his own en- 
 chantment. He lies there, in the hollow 
 oak, as dead, 
 
 And lost to life and use and name and fame, 
 
 while she leaps down the forest crying 
 "Fool!" and exulting in her triumph. 
 It is not a pleasant story. In some re- 
 spects it is even repulsive: it was meant 
 to be so. But it has a power in it that 
 was utterly unknown to the old legend ; 
 it is the familiar tale of Sophocles' Ajax, 
 or of Samson and Delilah, told with un- 
 rivalled skill and beauty of language. 
 
 There is another change, of yet greater 
 importance, which affects not a single 
 idyll, but the entire cycle. Mallory has 
 made the downfall of the Round Table 
 and the death of Arthur follow, at least 
 in part, a great wrong which the King 
 himself had committed. Modred, the 
 
172 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 traitor, is represented as the son of Belli- 
 cent, whom Arthur had loved and be- 
 trayed in his youth, not knowing that she 
 was his own half-sister. Thus the story 
 becomes a tragedy of Nemesis. The King 
 is pursued and destroyed, like CEdipus in 
 the Greek drama, by the consequences of 
 his own sin. Tennyson has entirely elim- 
 inated this element. He makes the King 
 say of Modred, 
 
 I must strike against the man they call 
 My sister's son — no kin of mine. 
 
 He traces the ruin of the realm to other 
 causes, — the transgression of Lancelot 
 and Guinevere, the corruption of the court 
 through the influence of Vivien, and the 
 perversion of Arthur's ideals among his 
 own followers. 
 
 Mr. Swinburne — the most eloquent of 
 dogmatists — asserts that this change is 
 • a fatal error, that the old story was infi- 
 nitely nobler and more poetic, and that 
 Tennyson has ruined it in the telling. 
 Lavish in his praise of other portions of 
 the Laureate's work, he has been equally 
 lavish in his blame of the Idylls. He calls 
 them the " Morte d'Albert, or Idvlls of 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 173 
 
 the Prince Consort ; " he pours out the 
 vials of his contempt upon the character 
 of "the blameless king," and declares 
 that it presents the very poorest and most 
 pitiful standard of duty or of heroism. 
 And all this wrath, so far as I can under- 
 stand it, is caused chiefly by the fact that 
 Tennyson has chosen to free Arthur from 
 the taint of incest, and represent him, not 
 as the victim of an inevitable tragic des- 
 tiny, but rather as a pure, brave soul, who 
 fights in one sense vainly, but in another 
 and a higher sense successfully, against 
 the forces of evil in the world around him. 
 But when we come to look more closely 
 at Mr. Swinburne's criticism, we can see 
 that it is radically unjust because it is 
 based upon ignorance. He does not seem 
 to know that the element of Arthur's 
 spiritual glory belongs to the ancient 
 story just as much as the darker element 
 of blind sin, clinging shame, and remorse- 
 less fate. At one time, the King is de* 
 scribed as the very flower of humanity, 
 the most perfect man that God had made 
 since Adam ; at another time he is exhib- 
 ited as a slaver of innocents planning to 
 destroy all the " children born of lords and 
 
174 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 ladies, on May-day," because Merlin had 
 predicted that one of them would be his 
 own rival and destroyer. Mallory has 
 woven together these incongruous threads 
 after the strangest fashion. But no one 
 who has read his book can doubt which 
 of the two threads is the more important. 
 It is the glory of Arthur, his superiority 
 to his own knights, his noble purity and 
 strength, that really control the story ; 
 and the other, darker thread sinks gradu- 
 ally out of sight, becomes more and more 
 obscure, until finally it is lost, and Arthur's 
 name is inscribed upon his tomb as Rex 
 quondam, rexque futurus. 
 
 Now it was open to Tennyson to choose 
 which of the threads he would follow; 
 but it was impossible to follow both. He 
 would have had no hero for his poem, he 
 would have been unable to present any 
 consistent picture of the King unless he 
 had exercised a liberty of selection among 
 these incoherent and at bottom contradic- 
 tory elements which Mallory had vainly 
 tried to blend. 
 
 If he had intended to make a tragedy 
 after the old Greek fashion, in which Fate 
 should be the only real hero, that would 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KINO. . 175 
 
 have been another thing: then he must 
 have retained the unconscious sin of 
 Arthur, his weakness, his impotence to 
 escape from its consequences, as the cen- 
 tral and dominant motive of the story. 
 But his design was diametrically the op- 
 posite of this. He was writing in the 
 modern spirit, which lays the emphasis 
 not on Fate, but on Free-will. He meant 
 to show that the soul of man is not bound 
 in inextricable toils and foredoomed to 
 hopeless struggle, but free to choose be- 
 tween good and evil, and that the issues 
 of life, at least for the individual, depend 
 upon the nature of that choice. It was 
 for this reason that he made Arthur, as 
 ideal of the highest manhood, pure 
 from the stains of ineradicable corruption, 
 and showed him rising, moving onward, 
 and at last passing out of sight, like a 
 radiant star which accon?. [ ss course 
 
 in right and beauty. 
 
 Mr. Swinburne has a right to find fault 
 with Arthur's character as an ideal; he 
 has a right to say that there are serious 
 defects in it, that it lacks virility, that it 
 has a touch of insincerity about it, that 
 it comes perilously near to seif-compia- 
 
176 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 cency and moral priggishness. There may 
 be a grain of truth in some of these criti- 
 cisms. But to condemn the Idylls because 
 they are not built upon the lines of a 
 Greek Tragedy is as superfluous and un- 
 just as it would be to blame a pine-tree 
 for not resembling an oak, or to despise 
 a Gothic cathedral because it differs from 
 a Doric temple. 
 
 It was legitimate, then, for Tennyson to 
 select out of the mass of materials which 
 Mallory had collected such portions as 
 were adapted to form the outline of a 
 consistent story, and to omit the rest as 
 unnecessary and incapable of being brought 
 into harmony with the design. But was 
 it also legitimate for the poet to treat his 
 subject in a manner and spirit so dis- 
 tinctly modern, — to make his characters 
 discuss the problems and express the senti- 
 ments which belong to the nineteenth 
 century ? 
 
 It cannot be denied that he has done 
 this. Not only are many of the questions 
 of morality and philosophy which arise in 
 the course of the Idylls, questions which 
 were unknown to the Middle Ages, but 
 the tone of some of the most suggestive 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 177 
 
 and important speeches of Merlin, of 
 Arthur, of Lancelot, of Tristram, is mani- 
 festly the tone of these latter days. Take 
 for example Merlin's oracular triplets in 
 The Coming of Arthur : — 
 
 Rain, rain and sun! a rainbow on the lea! 
 And truth is this to me, and that to thee ; 
 And truth or clothed or naked let it be. 
 
 We recognize here the accents of the 
 modern philosopher who holds that all 
 knowledge is relative and deals only with 
 phenomena, the reality being unknowable. 
 Or listen to Tristram as he argues with 
 Isolt : — 
 
 The vows 1 
 ay — the wholesome madness of an hour. 
 . . . The wide world laughs at it. 
 And worldling of the world am I, and know 
 The ptarmigan that whitens ere his hour 
 Woos his own end ; we are not angels here, 
 Nor shall be : vows — I am woodman of the woods 
 And hear the garnet-headed yaffingale 
 Mock them : my soul, we love but while we may; 
 And therefore is my love so large for thee, 
 Seeing it is not bounded save by love. 
 
 That is the modern doctrine of free love, 
 not only in its conclusion, but in its argu- 
 ment drawn from the example of the birds, 
 — the untimely ptarmigan that invites de- 
 struction, and the red-crested woodpecker 
 
178 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 that pursues its amours in the liberty of 
 nature. 
 
 Or hear the speech which Arthur makes 
 to his knights when they return from the 
 quest of the Holy Grail : — 
 
 And some among yon held, that if the King 
 Had seen the sight he would have sworn the tow : 
 Not easily, seeing that the King must gnard 
 That which he rules, and is but as the hind, 
 To whom a space of land is given to plough, 
 Who may not wander from the allotted field 
 Before his work be done. 
 
 That is the modern conception of kingship, 
 the idea of responsibility as superior to 
 authority. Public office is a public trust. 
 The discharge of duty to one's fellow-men, 
 the work of resisting violence and main- 
 taining order and righting the wrongs of 
 the oppressed, is higher and holier than the 
 following of visions. The service of man 
 is the best worship of God. It was not 
 thus that kings thought, it was not thus 
 that warriors talked in the sixth century. 
 
 But has the poet any right to transfer the 
 ideas and feelings of his own age to men 
 and women who did not and could not en- 
 tertain them? The answer to this ques- 
 tion depends entirely upon the view which 
 we take of the nature and purpose of 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 179 
 
 poetry. If it is to give an exact historical 
 account of certain events, then of course 
 every modern touch in an ancient story, 
 every reflection of the present into the past, 
 is a blemish. But if the object of poetry 
 is to bring out the meaning of human life, 
 to quicken the dead bones of narrative with 
 a vital spirit, to show us character and ac- 
 tion in such a way that our hearts shall be 
 moved and purified by pity and fear, in- 
 dignation and love ; then certainly it is not 
 only lawful but inevitable that the poet 
 should throw into his work the thoughts 
 and emotions of his own age. For these 
 are the ouly ones that he can draw from 
 the life. 
 
 There is a certain kind of realism which 
 absolutely destroys reaKty in a work of art. 
 It is the shabby realism of the French 
 painter who took it for granted that the 
 only way to paint a sea-beach with accu- 
 racy was to sprinkle the canvas with actual 
 sand ; the shabby realism of M. Verest- 
 schagin, who gives us coloured photographs 
 of Palestinian Jews as a representation of 
 the life of Christ ; the shabby realism of the 
 writers who are satisfied with reproducing 
 the dialect, the dress, the manners of the 
 
180 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 time and country in which the scene of their 
 story is laid, without caring whether their 
 dramatis persona have any human nature 
 and life in them or not. Great pictures or 
 great poems have never been produced in 
 this way. They have always been full of 
 anachronisms, — intellectual and moral an- 
 achronisms, I mean, — and their want of 
 scientific accuracy is the very condition of 
 their poetic truth. 
 
 Every poet of the first rank has idealized 
 — or let us rather say, vitalized — his char- 
 acters by giving to them the thoughts and 
 feelings which he has himself experienced, 
 or known by living contact with men and 
 women of his own day. Homer did this 
 with Ulysses, Virgil with iEneas, Shake- 
 speare with Hamlet, Milton with Satan, 
 Goethe with Faust. From the very begin- 
 ning, the Arthurian legends have been 
 treated in the same way. Poets and prose 
 romancers have made them the mirror of 
 /their own chivalric ideals and aspirations. 
 Compared with the Rolands and the Alis- 
 cans of the chansons de geste, Lancelot and 
 Gawain and Percivale are modern gentle- 
 men. And why? Not because the supposed 
 age of Arthur was really better than the age 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 181 
 
 of Charlemagne, but simply because Chre- 
 tien de Troyes and Wolfram von Eschen- 
 bach had higher and finer conceptions of 
 knighthood and piety and courtesy and love, 
 which they embodied in their heroes of the 
 Round Table. 
 
 No one imagines that the Morte (T Arthur 
 in any of its forms is an exact reproduction 
 of life and character in Britain in the time 
 of the Saxon invasion. It is a reflection of 
 the later chivalry, — the chivalry of the 
 Norman and Angevin kings. If the story 
 could be used to convey the ideals of the 
 twelfth and thirteenth centuries, why not 
 also the ideals of the nineteenth century ? 
 If it be said that Arthur was not really f 
 modern gentleman, it may be answered, 
 that it is just as certain that he was not a 
 mediaeval gentleman ; perhaps he was not 
 a gentleman at all. There was no more 
 necessity that Tennyson should be true to 
 Mallory, than there was that Mallory should 
 be true to Walter Map or Robert de Borron. 
 Each of them was a poet, a maker, a creator 
 for his own age. The only condition upon 
 which it was possible for Tennyson to make 
 a poem about Arthur and his knights was 
 that he should cast his own thonqrhts into 
 
182 TSE POETRY OF TEmmOR 
 
 the moult legends, a 
 
 them reore ; sent living ideas and I . 
 character. This he has done so success 
 that the Idylh stand among the most repre- 
 sentative poems of the present age. 
 
 in. 
 
 Two things are to be considered 
 work of art : the style and the substfc 
 
 So far as the outward form of the Idylls 
 is concerned, they take a very high j 
 in English verse. In music of rhythm. in 
 beauty of diction, in richness of illustra- 
 tion, they are unsurpassed. They 
 bine in a rare way two qualities wl 
 3eem Irreconcilable, — delicacy and g 
 deur, the power of observing the 
 
 details and painting them wit T i 
 absolute truth of touch, and the power of 
 clofching large thoughts in simple, vigor- 
 sweeping words. 
 
 >vould be an easy matter to give ex- 
 J es of the first of these qualities 
 y page of the Idylh. They are 
 ittle pictures which show that Tenny- 
 has studied Nature at first hand, and 
 he understands how to catch and 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING 183 
 
 reproduce the most fleeting and delicate 
 expressions of her face. Take, for in- 
 stance, some of his studies of trees. He 
 has seen the ancient yew-tree tossed by 
 the gusts of April, — 
 
 That puff'd the swaying branches into smoke, — 
 
 little clouds of dust rising from it, as if it 
 were on fire. He has noted the resem- 
 blance between a crippled, shivering beg- 
 gar and 
 
 An old dwarf-elm 
 That turns its back on the salt blast; 
 
 and the line describes exactly the stunted, 
 suffering, patient aspect of a tree that 
 grows beside the sea and is bent landward 
 by the prevailing winds. He has felt the 
 hush that broods upon the forest when a 
 tempest is coming, — 
 
 And the dark wood grew darker toward the storm 
 In silence. 
 
 Not less exact is his knowledge of the 
 birds that haunt the forests and the fields. 
 He has seen the 
 
 Careful robins eye the delver's toil ; 
 
 and listened to 
 
 The great plover's human whistle, 
 
 and marked at sunset, in the marshes, how 
 
184 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 The lone hern forgets his melancholy, 
 Lets down his other leg, and, stretching, dreams 
 Of goodly supper in the distant pool. 
 
 He knows, also, how the waters flow 
 
 and fall ; how a wild brook 
 
 Slopes o'er a little stone, 
 Banning too vehemently to break upon it ; 
 
 how, in a sharper rapid, there is a place 
 
 Where the crisping white 
 Plays ever back upon the sloping wave ; 
 
 how one 
 
 That listens near a torrent mountain-brook 
 All thro' the crash of the near cataract, hears 
 The drumming thunder of the huger fall 
 At distance. 
 
 Most remarkable of all is his knowledge 
 
 of the sea, and his power to describe it. 
 
 He has looked at it from every standpoint 
 
 and caught every phase of its changing 
 
 aspect. Take these four pictures. First, 
 
 you stand upon the cliffs of Cornwall and 
 
 watch the huge Atlantic billows, blue as 
 
 sapphire and bright with sunlight, and 
 
 you understand how Isolt could say, 
 
 O sweeter than all memories of thee, 
 Deeper than any yearnings after thee, 
 Seem'd those far-rolling, westward-sviiling seas. 
 
 Then, you lie upon the smooth level of 
 some broad beach, on a summer afternoon, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 185 
 
 And watch the curled white of the coming wave 
 Glass'd in the slippery sand before it breaks. 
 
 Then, you go into a dark cavern like that 
 of Staffa, and see the dumb billows rolling 
 in, one after another, groping their way 
 into the farthest recesses as if they were 
 seeking to find something that they had 
 lost, and you know how it was with Merlin 
 when 
 
 So dark a forethought roll'd about his brain, 
 As on a dull day in an ocean cave 
 The blind wave feeling round his long sea-hall 
 In silence. 
 
 Then, you stand on the deck of a vessel 
 
 in a gale, — not on the blue Atlantic, but 
 
 on the turbid German Ocean, — and you 
 
 behold how 
 
 A wild wave in the wide North-sea, 
 Green-glimmering toward the summit, bears with all 
 Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies, 
 Down on a bark, and overbears the bark 
 And him that helms it. 
 
 I think it is safe to say that these four 
 wave-pictures have never been surpassed, 
 either in truth or in power, by any artist 
 in words or colours. 
 
 But if it should be asserted that lines like 
 these prove the fineness of Tennyson's art 
 rather than the greatness of his poetry, the 
 
186 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 assertion might be granted, and still we 
 should be able to support the larger claim 
 by pointing to passages in the Idylls which 
 are unquestionably magnificent, — great 
 not only in expression but great also in 
 thought. There are single lines which 
 have the felicity and force of epigrams: 
 
 Obedience is the courtesy due to kings. 
 He makes no friend who never made a foe. 
 Man dreams of fame while woman wakes to love. 
 A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas. 
 Mockery is the fume of little hearts. 
 
 There are longer passages in which the 
 
 highest truths are uttered without effort, 
 
 and in language so natural and inevitable 
 
 that we have to look twice before we 
 
 realize its grandeur. Take for example 
 
 the description of human error in Geraint 
 
 and Enid : 
 
 O purblind race of miserable men, 
 How many among us even at this hour 
 Do forge a lifelong trouble for ourselves 
 By taking true for false, or false for true ; 
 Here, thro' the feeble twilight of this world, 
 Groping, how many, until we pass and reach 
 That other, where we see as we are seen ! 
 
 Or take Arthur's speech to Lancelot in 
 the Holy Grail : — 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 187 
 
 Never yet 
 Could all of true and noble in knight and man 
 Twine round one sin, whatever it might be, 
 With such a closeness, but apart there grew 
 
 Some root of knighthood and pure nobleness : 
 Whereto see thou, that it may bear its flower. 
 
 Or, best of all, take that splendid de- 
 scription of Lancelot's disloyal loyalty to 
 Guinevere, in Maine: — 
 
 The shackles of an old love straitened him : 
 His honour rooted in dishonour stood, 
 And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true. 
 
 Shakespeare himself has nothing more 
 perfect than this. It is an admirable ex- 
 ample of what has been called " the grand 
 style," — terse yet spacious, vigorous yet 
 musical, clear yet suggestive ; not a word 
 too little or too much, and withal a sense 
 of something larger in the thought, which 
 words cannot fully reveal. 
 
 It would be superfluous to quote at 
 length such a familiar passage as the part- 
 ing of Arthur and Guinevere at Almes- 
 bury. But let any reader take this up 
 and study it carefully ; mark the fluency 
 and strength of the verse ; the absence of 
 all sensationalism, and yet the thrill in 
 the far-off sound of the solitary trumpet 
 
188 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 that blows while Guinevere lies in the 
 dark at Arthur's feet ; the purity and 
 dignity of the imagery, the steady onward 
 and upward movement of the thought, 
 the absolute simplicity of the language as 
 it is taken word by word, and yet the 
 richness and splendour of the effect which 
 it produces, — and if he is candid, I think 
 he must admit that there have been few 
 English poets masters of as grand a style 
 as this. 
 
 But of course the style alone does not 
 make a masterpiece, nor will any number 
 of eloquent fragments redeem a poem from 
 failure if it lacks the soul of greatness. 
 The subject of it must belong to poetry ; 
 that is to say, it must be adapted to move 
 the feelings as well as to arouse the intel- 
 lect, it must have the element of mystery 
 as well as the element of clearness. 
 Whether the form be lyric or epic, dra- 
 matic or idyllic, the poet must make us 
 feel that he has something to say that is 
 not only worth saying, but also fitted to 
 give us pleasure through the quickening 
 of the emotions. The central idea of the 
 poem must be vital and creative; it must 
 have power to sustain itself in our minds 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 189 
 
 while we read ; it must be worked out 
 coherently, and yet it must suggest that it 
 belongs to a larger truth whose depths are 
 unexplored and inaccessible. It seems to 
 me that these are the conditions of a great 
 poem. We have now to consider whether 
 or not they are fulfilled in the Idylh of 
 the King. 
 
 The meaning of the Idylh has been 
 distinctly stated by the poet himself, and 
 we are bound to take his words as the 
 clue to their interpretation. In the 
 " Dedication to the Queen " he says : — 
 
 Accept this old imperfect tale 
 New-old, and shadowing Sense at war with Soul, 
 Rather than that gray king, whose name, a ghost, 
 Streams like a cloud, man-shaped, from mountain-peak, 
 And cleaves to cairn and cromlech still : or him 
 Of Geoffrey's book, or him of Malleor's, one 
 Touched by the adulterous finger of a time 
 That hover'd between war and wantonness, 
 And crownings and dethronements. 
 
 This is a clear disavowal of an historical 
 purpose in the Idylh. But does it amount 
 to the confession that they are an allegory 
 pure and simple ? It is in this sense that 
 the critics have commonly taken the 
 statement. But I venture to think that 
 they are mistaken, and that the mistake 
 
190 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 has been a barrier to the thorough com- 
 prehension of the poem and a fertile source 
 of errors and absurdities in some of the 
 essays which have been written about it. 
 
 Let us understand precisely what an 
 allegory is. It is not merely a represen- 
 tation of one thing by another which 
 resembles it in its properties or circum- 
 stances, a picture where the outward form 
 conveys a hidden meaning, a story 
 
 " Where more is meant than meets the ear." 
 
 It is a work in which the figures and char- 
 acters are confessedly unreal, a masquer- 
 ade in which the actors are not men and 
 women, but virtues and vices dressed up 
 in human costume. The distinguishing 
 mark of allegory is personification. It 
 does not deal with actual persons, but with 
 abstract qualities which are treated as if 
 they were persons, and made to speak and 
 act as if they were alive. It moves, there- 
 fore, altogether in a dream-world: it is 
 not only improbable but impossible: at 
 a touch its figures dissolve into thin air. 
 
 I will illustrate my meaning by examples. 
 Diirer's picture of Death and the Knight 
 has allegorical features in it, but it is not 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 191 
 
 an allegory because the Knight is an actual 
 man of flesh and blood, — or perhaps one 
 ought to say (remembering that grim fig- 
 ure), of bone and nerve. Melancolia, on 
 the contrary, is an allegory of the purest 
 type. Goethe's Faust is not an allegory, 
 although it is full of symbolism and con- 
 tains a hidden meaning. Spenser's Fairy 
 Queen is an allegory, because its characters 
 are only attributes in disguise, and its plot 
 is altogether arbitrary and artificial. 
 
 The defect of strict allegory is that it 
 always disappoints us. A valiant knight 
 comes riding in, and we prepare to follow 
 his adventures with wonder and delight. 
 Then the poet informs us that it is not a 
 knight at all, but only Courage, or Temper- 
 ance, or Patience, in armour ; and straight- 
 way we lose our interest ; we know exactly 
 what he is going to do, and we care not 
 what becomes of him. A fair damsel ap- 
 pears upon the scene, and we are ready to 
 be moved to pity by her distress, and to 
 love by her surpassing beauty, until pres- 
 ently we are reminded that it is not a 
 damsel at all, but only Purity, or Faith, or 
 Moral Disinterestedness, running about in 
 woman's clothes; and forthwith we are 
 
192 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 disenchanted. There is no speculation in 
 her eyes. Her hand is like a stuffed glove. 
 She has no more power to stir our feelings 
 than a proposition in Euclid. We would 
 not shed a drop of blood to win her ghostly 
 favour, or to rescue her from all the giants 
 that ever lived. 
 
 But if the method were reversed ; if in- 
 stead of a virtue representing a person, the 
 poet gave us a person embodying and rep- 
 resenting a virtue ; if instead of the oppo- 
 sitions and attractions of abstract qualities, 
 we had the trials and conflicts and loves of 
 real men and women in whom these quali- 
 ties were living and working, — then the 
 poet might remind us as oft§n as he pleased 
 of the deeper significance of his story ; we 
 should still be able to follow it with interest. 
 
 This is the point which I desire to make 
 in regard to the Idylls of the King. It is 
 a distinction which, so far as I know, has 
 never been clearly drawn. The poem is 
 not an allegory, but a parable. 
 
 Of course there are a great many purely 
 allegorical figures and passages in it. The 
 Lady of the Lake, for example, is a personi- 
 fication of Religion. She dwells in a deep 
 calm, far below the surface of the waters, 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 193 
 
 and when they are tossed and troubled by 
 storms, 
 
 Hath power to walk the water like our Lord. 
 
 She gives to the King his sword Excalibur, 
 to represent either the spiritual weapon with 
 which the soul wars against its enemies, 
 or, as seems to me more probable, the tem- 
 poral power of the church. For it bears 
 the double inscription : — 
 
 On one side 
 Graven in the oldest tongue of all this world, 
 "Take me," but turn the blade and ye shall see, 
 And written in the speech ye speak yourselves, 
 "Cast me away." And sad was Arthur's face 
 Taking it, but old Merlin counsell'd him 
 " Take them and strike ! " the time to cast away 
 Is yet far-off. So this great brand the King 
 Took, and by this will beat his foemen down. 
 
 The necessity of actual flesh-and-blood war- 
 fare against the heathen is proclaimed in 
 the ancient language ; the uselessness of 
 such weapons under the new order, in the 
 modern conflict, is predicted in the lan- 
 guage of to-day. 
 
 The Lady of the Lake is described as 
 standing on the keystone of the gate of 
 Camelot : — 
 
 All her dress 
 Wept from her sides, as water flowing away : 
 But, like the cross, her great and goodly arms 
 
194 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Stretch'd under all the cornice, and upheld : 
 And drops of water fell from either hand : 
 And down from one a sword was hung, from one 
 A censer, either worn with wind and storm ; 
 And o'er her breast floated the sacred fish; 
 
 and over all, 
 
 High on the top, were those three Queens, the friends 
 Of Arthur, who should help him at his need. 
 
 This is an allegory of the power of religion 
 in sustaining the fabric of society. The 
 forms of the church are forever changing 
 and flowing like water, but her great arms 
 are stretched out immovable, like the cross. 
 The sword is the symbol of her justice, the 
 censer is the symbol of her adoration, and 
 both bear the marks of time and strife. 
 The drops that fall from her hands are the 
 water of baptism, and the fish is the aweient 
 sign of the name of Christ. 
 
 The three Queens who sit up aloft are 
 the theological virtues of Faith, Hope, and 
 Charity. 
 
 It is a fine piece of work from the 
 mystical standpoint ; elaborate, spiritual, 
 suggestive, aud full of true philosophy ; 
 Ambrogio Lorenzetti might have painted 
 it. But after all, it has little or nothing 
 to do with the substance of the poem. The 
 watery Lady stands like a painted figure 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 195 
 
 on the wall, and the three Queens play 
 no real part in the life of Arthur. Appar- 
 ently they continue to sit upon the cornice 
 in ornamental idleness while the King loves 
 and toils and fights and " drees his weird ; " 
 and we are almost surprised at their un- 
 wonted activity when they appear at last 
 in the black barge and carry him away to 
 the island-valley of Avilion. 
 
 There is another passage of the same char- 
 acter in The Holy Graif y which describes 
 the probations of Percivale. He is allured 
 from his quest, first by appetite under the 
 figure of an orchard full of pleasant fruits, 
 then by domestic love under the figure of 
 a fair woman spinning at a cottage door, 
 then by wealth under the figure of a knight 
 clad in gold and jewels, then by fame under 
 the figure of a mighty city filled with shouts 
 of welcome and applause ; but all these are 
 only visions, and when they vanish at Per- 
 civale's approach we cannot feel that there 
 was any reality in his trials, or that he de- 
 serves any great credit for resisting them. 
 
 The most distinct example of this kind 
 of work is found in Oareth and Lynette, 
 in the description of the carving on the 
 rock. There are five figures of armed 
 
196 TBE POET Jit OF TEXXTSOtf. 
 
 men, Phosphorous, Meridies, Hesperus, 
 Nox, and Mors, all chasing the human 
 soul, 
 
 A shape that fled 
 With broken wings, torn raiment and loose hair, 
 For help and shelter to the hermit's cave. 
 
 This is definitely called an allegory, and 
 
 its significance is explained as 
 
 The war of Time against the soul of man. 
 
 But there is all the difference in the world 
 between these graven images and the brave 
 boy Gareth riding through the forest with 
 the bright, petulant, audacious maiden 
 Lynette. If the former are properly called 
 allegorical, the latter must certainly be 
 described by some other adjective. Ga- 
 reth is alive, very much alive indeed, in 
 his ambition to become a knight, in his 
 quarrel with Sir Kay the crabbed senes- 
 chal, in his sturdy courtship of the damsel 
 with " the cheek t>f apple-blossom," in his 
 conflict with the four caitiffs who kept 
 Lyonors shut up in her castle. We follow 
 his adventures with such interest that we. 
 are fairly vexed with the poet for refusing 
 to tell us at the end whether this cheerful 
 companion and good fighter married Lyn- 
 ette or her elder sister. 
 
TDYLKS OF THE KING. 197 
 
 We must distinguish, then, between the 
 allegorical fragments which Tennyson has 
 woven into his work, and the substance of 
 the IdylU ; between the scenery and me- 
 chanical appliances, and the actors who 
 move upon the stage. The attempt to 
 interpret the poem as a strict allegory 
 breaks down at once and spoils the story. 
 Suppose you say that Arthur is the Con- 
 science, and Guinevere is the Flesh, and 
 Merlin is the Intellect ; then pray what 
 is Lancelot, and what is Geraint, and 
 what is Vivieu ? What business has the 
 Conscience to fall in love with the Flesh ? 
 What attraction has Vivian for the Intel- 
 lect without any passions? If Merlin is 
 not a man, " Que diable allait-il faire 
 dans cette galere?" The whole affair be- 
 comes absurd, unreal, incomprehensible, 
 uninteresting. 
 
 But when we take the King and his 
 people as actual men and women, when 
 we put ourselves into the story and let it 
 carry us along, then we understand that 
 it is a parable ; that is to say, it casts 
 beside itself an image, a reflection, of 
 something spiritual, just as a man walking 
 in the sunlight is followed by his shadow. 
 
198 THE POETRY OF TEN NY SOX. 
 
 It is a tale of human life, and therefore, 
 being told with a purpose, it 
 
 Shadows Sense at war with Soul 
 
 Let us take up this idea of the conflict 
 between sense and soul and carry it out 
 through the IdylU. 
 
 Arthur is intended to be a man in whom 
 the spirit has already conquered and reigns 
 supreme. It is upon this that his kingship 
 rests. His task is to bring his realm into 
 harmony with himself, to build up a spirit- 
 ual and social order upon which his own 
 character, as the best and highest, shall 
 be impressed. In other words, he works 
 for the uplifting and purification of hu- 
 manity. It is the problem of civilization. 
 His great* enemies in this task are not 
 outward and visible, — the heathen, — for 
 these he overcomes and expels. But the 
 real foes that oppose him to the end are 
 the evil passions in the hearts of men 
 and women about him. So long as these 
 exist and dominate human lives, the dream 
 of a perfected society must remain unreal- 
 ized ; and when they get the upper hand, 
 even its beginnings will be destroyed. But 
 the conflict is not an airy, abstract strife ; 
 
IDYLLS OF THE RING. 199 
 
 it lies in the opposition between those 
 in whom the sensual principle is regnant 
 and those in whom the spiritual principle 
 is regnant, and iu the inward struggle of 
 ohe noble heart against the evil, and of 
 the sinful heart against the good. 
 
 This contest may be traced through its 
 different phases in the successive stories 
 which make up the poem. 
 
 In The Coming of Arthur, doubt, which 
 ;udges by the senses, is matched against 
 faith, which follows the spirit. The ques- 
 tion is whether Arthur is a pretender and 
 the child of shamefulness, or the true King. 
 Against him, stand the base-minded lords 
 and barons who are ready to accept any 
 evil story of his origin rather than accept 
 him as their ruler. For him, stand such 
 knights as Bedivere, — 
 
 For bold in heart and act and word was he 
 Whenever slander breathed against the King. 
 
 Between the two classes stands Leodogran, 
 the father of Guinevere, uncertain whether 
 to believe or doubt. The arguments of 
 the clever Queen Bellicent do not con- 
 vince him. But at last he has a dream 
 in which he sees the King standing oat 
 
200 TEE POETRY OF TENXTSON. 
 
 in heaven, crowned, — and faith conquers. 
 Guinevere is given to Arthur as his wife. 
 His throne is securely established, and his 
 reign begins prosperously. 
 
 Then comes Q-areth and Lynette. Here 
 the conflict is between a true ambition and 
 a false pride. Gareth is an honest, ardent 
 fellow who longs for " good fame and re- 
 nommee." He wishes to rise in the world, 
 but he is willing to work and fight his 
 way upward ; even to serve as a kitchen- 
 knave if so he may win his spurs at last 
 and ride among the noble knights of the 
 Round Table. His conception of nobility 
 grasps the spirit of it without caring much 
 for the outward form. Lynette is a society 
 girl, a worshipper of rank and station; 
 brave, high-spirited, lovable, but narrow- 
 minded, and scornful of every one who 
 lacks the visible marks of distinction. She 
 judges by the senses. She cannot imagine 
 that a man who comes from among the 
 lower classes can possibly be a knight, and 
 despises Gareth's proferred services. But 
 his pride, being true, is stronger than hers, 
 being false. He will not be rebuffed; 
 follows her, fights her battles, wins first 
 her admiration, then her love, and brings 
 
IDYLLS OF 1 BE RING. 20l 
 
 her at last to see that true knighthood 
 lies not in the name but in the deed. 
 
 The atmosphere of this Idyll is alto- 
 gether pure and clear. There is as yet 
 no shadow of the storm that is coming to 
 disturb Arthur's realm. The chivalry of 
 the spirit overcomes the chivalry of the 
 sense in a natural, straightforward, joyous 
 way, and all goes well with the world. 
 
 But in Geraint and Enid there is a 
 cloud upon the sky, a trouble in the air. 
 The fatal love of Lancelot and Guinevere 
 has already begun to poison the court 
 with suspicions and scandals. It is in this 
 brooding and electrical atmosphere that 
 jealousy, in the person of Geraint, comes 
 into conflict with loyalty, in the person of 
 Enid. The story is the same that Boc- 
 caccio has told so exquisitely in the tale 
 of Griselda, and Shakespeare so tragically 
 in Othello, — the story of a woman, sweet 
 and true and steadfast down to the very 
 bottom of her heart, joined to a man 
 who is exacting and suspicious. Geraint 
 wakens in the morning to find his wife 
 weeping, and leaps at once to the conclu- 
 sion that she is false. He judges by the 
 sense and not by the soul. But Enid loves 
 
202 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 him too well even to defend herself against 
 him. She obeys his harsh commands and 
 submits to his heavy, stupid tests. Yet 
 even in her obedience she distinguishes 
 between the sense and the spirit. As long 
 as there is- no danger she rides before him 
 in silence as he told her to do ; but when 
 she sees the robbers waiting in ambush 
 she turns back to warn him: 
 
 I needs must disobey him for his good ; 
 How should I dare obey him to his harm? 
 Needs mast I speak, and tho' he kill me for it, 
 I save a life dearer to me than mine. 
 
 So they move onward through many 
 perils and adventures, she like a bright, 
 clear, steady star, he like a dull, smoulder- 
 ing, smoky fire, until at last her loyalty 
 conquers his jealousy, and he sees that it 
 is better to trust than to doubt, and that a 
 pure woman's love has the power to vindi- 
 cate its own honour against the world, and 
 the right to claim an absolute and un- 
 questioning confidence. The soul is once 
 more victorious over the sense. 
 
 In Bcdin and Balan the cloud has grown 
 larger and darker, the hostile influences 
 in the realm begin to make themselves 
 more deeply felt. The tributary court of 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KINO. 203 
 
 Pellam, in which the hypocritical old king 
 has taken to holy things in rivalry of 
 Arthur, 
 
 And finds himself descended from the Saint 
 Arimathean Joseph, 
 
 and collects sacred relics, and drives out 
 all women from his palace lest he should 
 be polluted, while his son and heir, Garlon, 
 is a secret libertine and murderer, — is a 
 picture of religion corrupted by asceticism. 
 Balin and Balan are two brothers, alike 
 in daring, in. strength, in simplicity, but 
 differing in this : Balin is called " the 
 savage," swift in impulse, fierce in anger, 
 unable to restrain or guide himself; Balan 
 is master of his passion, clear-hearted and 
 self-controlled, his brother's better angeL 
 Both men represent force ; but one is force 
 under dominion of soul, the other is force 
 under dominion of sense. By the false- 
 hood of Vivien, who now appears on the 
 scene, they are involved in conflict and 
 ignorantly give each other mortal wounds. 
 It would seem as if violence had con- 
 quered. And yet, in truth not ao. Balm's 
 last words are : — 
 
 Goodnight ! for we shall never bid again 
 Goodmorrow — Dark my doom was here, and dark 
 It will be there. 
 
204 THE POETRY OF TENSYSON. 
 
 But Balan replies with a diviner faith, 
 drawing his brother upward in death even 
 as he had done in life, — 
 
 Goodnight, trne brother here! goodmorrow there! 
 
 Thus far the higher principle has been 
 victorious, though in the last instance the 
 victory is won only in the moment of an 
 apparent defeat. But now, in Merlin and 
 Vivien, sense becomes the victor. The 
 old magician is a man in whom the intel- 
 lect appears to be supreme. One might 
 think him almost impregnable to tempta- 
 tion. But the lissome snake Vivien, also 
 a type of keen and subtle intelligence, 
 though without learning, finds the weak 
 point in his armour, overcomes him and 
 degrades him to her helpless thrall. 
 
 The conflict in Lancelot and Elaine is 
 between a pure, virgin love and a guilty 
 passion. The maid of Astolat is the lily 
 of womanhood. The Queen is the rose, 
 full-blown and heavy with fragrance. 
 Never has a sharper contrast been drawn 
 than this: Elaine in her innocent simpli- 
 city and singleness of heart; Guinevere 
 in her opulence of charms, her intensity, 
 her jealous devotion. Between the two 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 205 
 
 stands the great Sir Lancelot, a noble 
 heart though erring. If he were free he 
 would turn to the pure love. But he is 
 not free ; he is bound by ties which are 
 interwoven with all that seems most pre- 
 cious in his life. He could not break them 
 if he would. And so the guilty passion 
 conquers and he turns back to the fatal 
 sweetness of his old allegiance. 
 
 The Holy Grrail shows us the strife be- 
 tween superstition, which is a sensual relig- 
 ion, and true faith, which is spiritual. This 
 is in some respects the richest of the Idylls, 
 but it is also, by reason of its theme, the 
 most confused. Out of the mystical twi- 
 light which envelops the action this truth 
 emerges: that those .knights who thought 
 of the Grail only as an external wonder, a 
 miracle which they fain would see because 
 others had seen it, " followed wandering 
 fires ; " while those to whom it became 
 a symbol of inward purity and grace, like 
 Galahad and Percivale and even the dull, 
 honest, simple-minded Bors and the sin- 
 tormented Lancelot, finally attained unto 
 the vision. But the King, who remained 
 at home and kept the plain path of daily 
 duty, is the real hero of the Idyll, though 
 he bore no part in the quest. 
 
206 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 In Pelleas and Ettarre the victory falls 
 back to the side of sense. Pelleas is the 
 counterpart of Elaine, a fair soul who has 
 no thought of evil. Amid the increasing 
 darkness of the court he sees nothing but 
 light. He dreams that the old ideals o f 
 chivalry are still unbroken ; to him all ladies 
 are perfect, and all knights loyal. He is in 
 love with loving, amans amare, as St. Augus 
 tine put it, — and when Ettarre crosses his 
 track he worships her as a star. But she 
 — " of the earth, earthy " — despises him 
 as a child, mocks him, and casts him 06 
 Gawain, the flower of courtesy, betrays him 
 basely. Driven mad by scorn and treason, 
 he rushes away at last into the gloom, — a 
 gallant knight overthrown by the perfidy 
 of a wicked world. 
 
 The fool is the hero of The Last Tourna- 
 ment. He knows that Arthur's dream will 
 never be fulfilled, knows that the Queen is 
 false, and the Knights are plotting treason, 
 and the whole realm is on the verge of ruin ; 
 but still he holds fast to his master, and 
 believes in him, and will not break his alle- 
 giance to follow the downward path of the 
 court. Arthur has lifted him out of the 
 baseness of his old life and made him a 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 207 
 
 man. Maimed wits and crippled body, yet 
 he has. a soul, — this little, loyal jester, — 
 and he will not lose it. 
 
 I have had my day and my philosophies,— 
 And thank the Lord I am King Arthur's fool. 
 
 In contrast to him stands Sir Tristram, the 
 most brilliant and powerful of the new 
 knights who followed the King only for 
 glory, and despised him in their hearts, and 
 broke his vows as if they had never sworn 
 them. Poet, musician, huntsman, warrior, 
 perfect in face and form, victor in love and 
 war, Tristram is one to whom faith is fool- 
 ishness and the higher life an idle delusion. 
 He denies his soul, mocks at it, flings it 
 away from him. 
 
 New leaf, new life — the days of frost are o'er: 
 New life, new love, to suit the newer day ; 
 New loves are sweet as those that went before : 
 Free love — free field — we love but while we may. 
 
 In him the triumph of the senses is com- 
 plete. He wins the prize in the " Tourna- 
 ment of the Dead Innocence," ami the 
 shouts of the people hail him as their fav- 
 ourite. He clasps the jewels around the 
 neck of Isolt as she sits with him in her 
 tower of Tintagil by the sea, lightly glory- 
 ing in his conquests. But out of the dark- 
 
208 THE POETRY OF TENNYSOiV. 
 
 ness the battle-axe of the craven King 
 
 Mark strikes him dead. Meanwhile, at 
 
 Cainelot, Arthur comes home ; Guinevere 
 
 has fled ; — 
 
 And while he climb'd, 
 All in a death-dumb autumn-dripping gloom, 
 The stairway to the wall, and look'd and saw 
 The great Queen's bower was dark, — about his feet 
 A voice clung sobbing till lie questiou'd it, 
 " What art thou? " and the voice about his feet 
 Sent up an answer, sobbing, " I am thy fool, 
 And I shall never make thee smile again." 
 
 Yes, a fool, but also a soul, and faithful 
 even unto death, and therefore shining 
 steadfastly like a star in heaven when the 
 false meteor of sense has dropt into end- 
 less night. 
 
 The next Idyll should be called Arthur 
 and Guinevere. The conflict now draws 
 to its final issue. It lies between these 
 two: one the victim of a great sin, a crime 
 of sense which chose the lower rather than 
 the higher love ; the other the hero of a 
 great faith, which knows that pardon fol- 
 lows penitence, and seeks to find some 
 light of hope for the fallen. Is Guinevere 
 to be separated from Arthur forever? — 
 that is the question whose answer hangs 
 upon the close of this struggle. And the 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 209 
 
 Queen herself tells us the result, when 
 she says, — 
 
 Ah, great and gentle lord, 
 Who wast, as is the conscience of a saint 
 Among his warring senses, to thy knights — 
 . . . Now I see thee what thou art, 
 Thou art the highest and most human too, 
 Not Lancelot, nor another. Is there none 
 Will tell the King I love him tho' so late? 
 Now — ere he goes to that great Battle ? none: 
 Myself must tell him in that purer life, 
 But now it were too daring. 
 
 In The Passing of Arthur we have a 
 picture of the brave man facing death. 
 All the imagery of the poem is dark and 
 shadowy. The great battle has been 
 fought; the Round Table has been shat- 
 tered ; the bodies of the slain lie upon 
 the field, friends and foes mingled together, 
 and not a voice to stir the silence. 
 
 Only the wan wave 
 Brake in among dead faces, to and fro 
 Swaying the helpless hands, and up and down 
 Tumbling the hollow helmets of the fallen, 
 And shiver'd brands that once had fought with Rome, 
 And rolling far along the gloomy shores 
 The voice of days of old and days to be. 
 
 This is the tide of Time which engulfs all 
 things mortal. Arthur's hour has come : 
 he has lived his life and must pass away. 
 To Sir Bedivere, valiant, simple-hearted 
 
210 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 knight, but still unable to look beyond the 
 outward appearance of death, this seems 
 a fatal end of all his hopes. He cannot 
 bear to cast away his master's sword, but 
 would fain keep it as a relic. He cries : — 
 
 Ah ! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go ? 
 Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes * 
 For now I see the true old times are dead ; 
 
 But now the whole Round Table is dissolved 
 Which was an image of the mighty world, 
 And I, the last, go forth companionless, 
 And the days darken round me, and the years, 
 Among new men, strange faces, other minds. 
 
 But the soul of Arthur is stronger, clearer- 
 sighted. In this last conflict with the 
 senses he is victorious. He answers Bedi- 
 vere, with heroic confidence, that death 
 does not end all. 
 
 The old order changeth, yielding place to new, 
 
 And God fulfils himself in many ways 
 
 Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. 
 
 He believes that by prayer 
 
 the whole round earth is every way 
 Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 
 
 He enters fearlessly upon the mysterious 
 voyage into the future. And as the barge 
 floats with him out of sight, from beyond 
 the light of the horizon there come 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 211 
 
 Sounds as if some fair city were oue voice 
 Around a king returning from his wars. 
 
 Thus the conflict is ended, and the victo- 
 rious soul enters its rest. 
 
 What shall we say of this picture of 
 life which Tennyson has given us in his 
 greatest poena ? Is it true ? Does it grasp 
 the facts and draw from them their real 
 lesson ? 
 
 First of all, I think we must admit that 
 there is a serious defect in the very place 
 where it is most to be regretted, — in the 
 character of Arthur. He is too perfect- 
 for perfection. Tennyson either meant to 
 paint a man who never had any conflict 
 with himself, which is impossible ; or he 
 intended to exhibit a man in whom the 
 conflict had been fought out, in which 
 case Arthur surely would have borne some 
 of the scars of contest, shown some sense 
 of personal imperfection, manifested a 
 deeper feeling of comprehension and com- 
 passion for others in their temptations. 
 But he appears to regard his own char- 
 acter and conduct as absolutely flawless. 
 Even in that glorious parting interview 
 with Guinevere — one of the most superb 
 passages in all literature — his bearing 
 
V 212 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 ^ verges perilously on sublime self-compla- 
 cency. He shows no consciousness of any 
 fault on his own part. He acts and speaks 
 as if he were far above reproach. But 
 was that possible? Could such a catas- 
 trophe have come without blame on both 
 sides? Guinevere was but a girl when 
 she left her father's court It was nat- 
 ural — yes, and it was right — that she 
 should desire warmth and colour in her 
 life. She rode among the flowers in May 
 with Lancelot. Is it any wonder that she 
 found delight in the journey? She was 
 married to the solemn King before the 
 stateliest of Britain's altar-shrines with 
 pompous ceremonies. Is it any wonder 
 that she was oppressed and made her vows 
 with drooping eyes? And then, at once, 
 the King began his state-banquets and 
 negotiations with the Roman ambassadors. 
 He was absorbed in the affairs of his king- 
 dom. He left the young Queen to herself, 
 — and to Lancelot. He seemed to be 
 ' dreaming of fame while woman woke to 
 love.' Is it strange that she thought him 
 cold, neglectful, irresponsive, and said to 
 herself, " He cares not for me " ? Is it to 
 be marvelled at that she found an outlet 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 213 
 
 for ber glowing heart in her companion- 
 ship with Lancelot ? Perhaps Arthur's 
 conduct was inevitable for one immersed 
 as he was in the cares of state; perhaps 
 he was unconscious that he was exposing 
 his wife, defenceless and alone, to a peril 
 from which he only could have protected 
 her ; but when at last the consequence 
 was discovered, he was bound to confess 
 that he had a share in the transgression 
 and the guilt. It is the want of this note 
 that mars the harmony of his parting 
 speech. A little more humanity would 
 have compensated for a little less piety. 
 Had Arthur been a truer husband, Guin- 
 evere might have been a more faithful 
 wife. The excess of virtue is a vice. The 
 person who feels no consciousness of sin 
 must be either more or less than man. 
 This is the worst defect of the Idylls, — 
 that the central character comes so near to 
 being 
 
 Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null. 
 
 But this defect is outweighed and can- 
 celled by the fact that the poem, after all, 
 does recognize, and bring out in luminous 
 splendour, the great truths of human life. 
 
214 THE POETRY OF TEN NT SON. 
 
 The first of these truths is that sin ia 
 \ the cause of disorder and misery, and 
 until it is extirpated the perfect society 
 cannot be securely established. And by 
 sin Tennyson does not mean the desire 
 of existence, but the transgression of law. 
 The right to live — the right to desire to 
 live — is not denied for a moment. It is 
 in fact distinctly asserted, and the idea of 
 the immortality of the soul underlies the 
 whole poem. But life must be according 
 to righteousness, if it is to be harmonious 
 V and happy; and righteousness consists in 
 conformity to law. Love is the motive 
 force of the poem. The King himself 
 acknowledges its dominion, and says, — 
 
 For saving I be join'd 
 To her that is the fairest under heaven, 
 I seem as nothing in the mighty world, 
 And cannot will my will, nor work my work 
 Wholly, nor make myself, in mine own realm, 
 Victor and lord. 
 
 But love also must move within the 
 bounds of law, must be true to its vows. 
 Not even the strongest and most beautiful 
 soul may follow the guidance of passion 
 without restraint ; for the greater the 
 genius, the beauty, the power, of those 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 215 
 
 who transgress, the more fatal will be the 
 influence of thei. sin upon other lives. 
 
 This indeed is the lesson of the fall of 
 Lancelot and Guinevere. It was because 
 they stood so high, because they were so 
 glorious in their manhood and womanhood, 
 that their example had power to infect 
 the court. 
 
 Sin is the, principle of disintegration and 
 death. It is this that corrupts societies, 
 and brings about the decline and fall of 
 nations; and so long as sin dwells in the 
 heart of man all efforts to create a perfect 
 state, or even to establish an order like the 
 Round Table in self-perpetuating security, 
 must fail. The redemption and purifica- 
 tion of the earth is a long task, beyond 
 human strength $ as Tennyson has said in 
 Lockdey Hall, Sixty Years After, — 
 
 Ere she reach her heavenly-hest a God must mingle with 
 the game. 
 
 But side by side with this truth, and in 
 perfect harmony with it, Tennyson teaches 
 that the soul of man has power to resist 
 and conquer sin within its own domain, 
 to triumph over sense by steadfast loyalty 
 to the higher nature, and thus to achieve 
 
216 THE POETRY OF TENXYSON. 
 
 peace and final glory. When I say he 
 teaches this, I do not mean that he sets it 
 forth in any formal way as a doctrine. I 
 mean that he shows it in the life of Arthur 
 as a fact. The King chooses his ideal, 
 and follows it, and it lifts him up and sets 
 him on his course like a star. His life is 
 not a failure, as it has been called, but 
 a glorious success, for it demonstrates the 
 freedom of the will and the strength of 
 the soul against the powers of evil and 
 the fate of sin. Its motto might be taken 
 from that same poem from which we have 
 just quoted, — a poem which was foolishly 
 interpreted at first as an avowal of pes- 
 simism, but which is in fact a splendid 
 assertion of meliorism, — ■ 
 
 Follow you the star that lights a desert pathway yonrs 
 
 or mine, 
 Follow till you see the highest human nature is Divine ; 
 
 Follow light and do the right, — for man can half con- 
 trol his doom, — 
 
 Follow till you see the deathless angel seated in the 
 vacant tomb 1 
 
 Finally, the Idylls bring out the pro- 
 found truth that there is a vicarious ele- 
 ment in human life, and that no man lives 
 to himself alone. The characters are dis- 
 
IDYLLS OF THE KING. 217 
 
 tinct, but they are not isolated. They 
 are parts of a vast organism, all bound 
 together, all influencing one another. The 
 victory of sense over soul is not a solitary 
 triumph ; it has far-reaching results. The 
 evil lives of Modred, of Vivien, of Tris- 
 tram, spread like a poison through the 
 court. But no less fruitful, no less far- 
 reaching, is the victory of soul over sense. 
 Gareth, and Enid, and Balan, and Bors, 
 and Bedivere, and Galahad, have power to 
 help and to uplift others out of the lower 
 life. Their lives are not wasted : nor 
 does Arthur himself live in vain, though 
 his Round Table is dissolved: for he is 
 "joined to her that is the fairest under 
 heaven," not for a time only, but forever. 
 His faith triumphs over her sin. Guin- 
 evere is not lost ; she is redeemed by love. 
 From the darkness of the convent at 
 Almesbury, where she lies weeping in the 
 dust, we hear a voice like that which 
 thrills through the prison of Marguerite 
 in Faust. The fiend mutters, Sie ht 
 gerichtet! But the angel cries, Sie ist 
 gerettet J 
 
THE HISTORIC TRILOGY. 
 
THE HISTORIC TRILOGY. 
 
 The appearance of Tennyson, in 1875, as 
 a dramatic poet was a surprise. It is true 
 that he had already shown that his genius 
 was versatile and disposed to explore new 
 methods of expression. True, also, that 
 from the year 1842 a strong dramatic ten- 
 dency had been manifest in his works. 
 Ulysses, St. Simeon Stylites, Love and 
 Duty, Lochsley Hall, Lucretius,JThe North- 
 ern Farmer, The Grandmother, different 
 as they are in style, are all essentially 
 dramatic monologues. Maud is rightly en- 
 titled, in the late editions, a Monodrama. 
 The Princess has been put upon the ama- 
 teur stage in veiy pretty fashion ; and the 
 success of Mr. George Parsons Lathrop's 
 fine acting version of Elaine proved not 
 only his own ability, but also the high dra- 
 matic quality of that splendid Idyll. 
 
 But not even these hints that Tennyson 
 had a creative impulse not yet fully satisfied 
 were clear enough to prepare the world for 
 his attempt to conquer another form of art. 
 
222 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 He was acknowledged as a consummate mas- 
 ter of lyric and idyllic poetry. People were 
 not ready to see him come out in the seventh 
 decade of his life in a new character, and 
 take the stage as a dramatist. It seemed like 
 a rash attempt to become the rival of his 
 own fame. 
 
 The first feeling of the public at the pro- 
 duction of Queen Mary was undisguised 
 astonishment. And with this a good deal 
 of displeasure was mingled. For the public, 
 after all, is not fond of surprises. Having 
 formed its opinion of a great man, and 
 labelled him once for all as a sweet singer, 
 or a sound moralist, or a brilliant word- 
 painter, or an interesting story-teller, it 
 loves not to consider him in any other 
 light. It is confused and puzzled. The 
 commonplaces of easy criticism become un- 
 available for further use. People shrink 
 from the effort which is required for a new 
 and candid judgment ; and so they fall back 
 upon stale and unreasonable comparisons. 
 They say, " Why d«es the excellent cobbler 
 go beyond his last ? The old songs were 
 admirable. Why does not the poet give us 
 more of them, instead of trying us with a 
 new play ? " 
 
THE HISTORIC TRILOGY. 223 
 
 Thus it came to pass that Queen Mary 
 was received with general dissatisfaction; 
 respectful, of course, because it was the work 
 of a famous man ; but upon the whole the 
 public was largely indifferent, and said in a 
 tone of polite authority that it was not nearly 
 so powerful as Hamlet or Macbeth, nor so 
 melodious even as CEnone and The Lotos- 
 Eaters. A like fate befell Harold in 1877, 
 except that a few critics began to feel the 
 scruples of literary conscience, and made an 
 honest effort to judge the drama on its own 
 merits. 
 
 The Falcon, a play founded upon Boccac- 
 cio's well-known story, was produced in 
 1879, and the accomplished Mrs. Kendal, as 
 the heroine, made it at least a partial suc- 
 cess. In 1881 The Cap, a dramatization of 
 an incident narrated in Plutarch's treatise 
 He Mulierum Virtutibus, was brought out at 
 the Lyceum with Mr. Henry Irving and 
 Miss Ellen Terry in the principal roles. It 
 received hearty and general applause, and 
 was by far the most popular of Tennyson's 
 dramas. But its effect upon his fame as a 
 playwright was more than counterbalanced 
 by the grievous failure of The Promise of 
 May in 1882. This piece was intended to 
 
224 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 be an exposure of the pernicious influences 
 of modern secularism. It was upon the 
 whole a most dismal bit of work ; and not 
 even the eccentric conduct of the infidel 
 Marquis of Queensbury, who rose from his 
 seat at one of the performances and violently 
 protested against the play as a libel upon 
 the free-thinkers of England, availed to give 
 it more than a momentary notoriety. At 
 the close of the year 1884 Tennyson pub- 
 lished the longest and most ambitious of his 
 dramas, Becket, with a distinct avowal that 
 it was " not intended in its present form to 
 meet the exigencies of the modern stage." 
 
 The wisdom of this limitation is evident. 
 It contains also a shrewd hint of criticism 
 on the present taste of the average British 
 play-goer. There is a demand for pungent 
 realism, for startling effect, for exaggerated 
 action easy to be followed, and for a sharp 
 ciimax in a striking tableau, — in short, for 
 a play which stings the nerves without tax- 
 ing the mind. Even Shakspere has to be 
 revised to meet these exigencies. To win 
 success nowadays he must take the stage- 
 manager into partnership. I suppose, when 
 Becket is acted, it must submit to these con- 
 ditions. But meantime there is a higher 
 
THE HISTORIC TRILOGY. 225 
 
 standard. We may consider Queen Mary, 
 Harold, and Becket, from another point of 
 view, as dramas not for acting, but for reading. 
 
 It seems to me that this consideration is a 
 debt of honour which we owe to the poet. 
 These tragedies are not to be dismissed as 
 the mistakes and follies of an over-confident 
 and fatally fluent genius. A poet like Ten- 
 nyson does not make three such mistakes in 
 succession. They are not the idle recrea- 
 tions of one who has finished his life-work 
 and retired. They are not the feeble and 
 mechanical productions of a man in his 
 dotage. On the contrary, they are full of 
 fire and force ; and if they err at all it is 
 on the side of exuberance. Their intensity 
 of passion and overflow of feeling make 
 them sometimes turbulent and harsh and 
 incoherent. They would do more if they 
 attempted less. And yet in spite of their 
 occasional overloading and confusion they 
 have a clear and strong purpose which 
 makes them worthy of careful study. The 
 judgment of a critic so intelligent as George 
 Eliot is not to be disregarded, and she has 
 expressed her opinion that " Tennyson's 
 plays run Shakspere's close." 
 
 The point of view from which they must 
 
226 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 be regarded is that of historical tragedy. By 
 this I mean a tragedy which involves not 
 only individuals, but political parties and 
 warring classes of society. Its object is to 
 trace the fate of individuals as it affects the 
 fate of nations ; to exhibit the conflict of op- 
 posing characters not for themselves alone, 
 but as the exponents of those great popular 
 forces and movements which play beneath the 
 surface ; to throw the vivid colours of life 
 into the black and white outlines on the 
 screen of history and show that the figures 
 are not mere shadows but human beings of 
 like passions with ourselves. 
 
 Tennyson's dramatic trilogy is a picture 
 of the Making of England. The three 
 periods of action are chosen with the design 
 of touching the most critical points of the 
 long struggle. The three plots are so de- 
 veloped as to bring into prominence the 
 vital issues of the strife. And the different 
 characters, almost without exception, are ex- 
 hibited as the representatives of the different 
 races and classes and faiths which were con- 
 tending for supremacy. Let us take up the 
 plays in their historical order. 
 
 In Harold we see the close of that fierce 
 triangular duel between the Saxons, the 
 
TEE HISTORIC TRILOGY. 227 
 
 Danes, and the Normans, which resulted in 
 the Norman conquest and the binding of 
 England, still Saxon at heart, to the civili- 
 zation of the Continent. The crisis of the 
 drama is the second scene of the second act, 
 where Harold, a prisoner in the Palace of 
 Bayeux, is cajoled and threatened and de- 
 ceived by William to swear an oath to help 
 him to the crown of England. The fierce 
 subtlety of the Norman is matched against 
 the heroic simplicity and frankness of the 
 Saxon. Craft triumphs. Harold discovers 
 that he has sworn, not merely by the jewel 
 of St. Pancratius, on which his hand was laid, 
 but by the sacred bones of all the saints con- 
 cealed beneath it, — an oath which admits 
 of no evasion, the breaking of which after- 
 wards breaks his faith in himself and makes 
 him fight the battle of Senlac as a man fore- 
 doomed to death. Both William and Har- 
 old are superstitious. But William's super- 
 stition is of a kind which enables him to use 
 religion as his tool ; Harold's goes only far 
 enough to weaken his heart and make him 
 tremble before the monk even while he de- 
 fies him. Harold is the better man ; Wil- 
 liam is the wiser ruler. His words over the 
 body of his fallen rival on the battlefield 
 
228 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 are prophetic of the result of the Norman 
 conquest : — 
 
 Since I knew battle, 
 And that was from my boyhood, never yet — 
 No, by the splendour of God — have I fought men 
 Like Harold and his brethren and his guard 
 Of English. Every man about his king 4 
 Fell where he stood. They loved him : and pray God 
 My Normans may but move as true with me 
 To the door of death. Of one self -stock at first, 
 Make them again one people — Norman, English ; 
 And English, Norman ; — we should have a hand 
 To grasp the world with, and a foot to stamp it . . . 
 Flat. Praise the Saints. It is over. No more blood ! 
 I am king of England, so they thwart me not, 
 And I will rule according to their laws. 
 
 It is worth while to remember, in this con- 
 nection, that Tennyson himself is of Nor- 
 man descent. Yet surely there never was 
 a man more thoroughly English than he. 
 
 In Becket we are made spectators of a 
 conflict less familiar, but more interesting 
 and important, — the conflict between the 
 church and the crown, between the ecclesias- 
 tical and the royal prerogatives, which shook 
 England to the centre for many years, and 
 out of the issues of which her present consti- 
 tution has grown. 
 
 In this conflict the Papacy played a much 
 smaller part than we usually imagine ; and 
 
THE HISTORIC TRILOGY. 229 
 
 religion, until the closing scenes, played 
 practically no part at all. It was in fact a 
 struggle for supreme authority in temporal 
 affairs. First the king was contending 
 against the nobility, and the church took 
 sides with the king. Then the king at- 
 tempted to subjugate the people, and the 
 church, having become profoundly English, 
 took sides with the people. Then the nobles 
 combined against the king, and the church 
 took sides with the nobles. Then the king 
 revolted from the foreign domination of the 
 church, and the people took sides with the 
 king. Then the king endeavoured to use 
 the church to crush the people, and the peo- 
 ple under Cromwell rose against church and 
 king and broke the double yoke. Then the 
 people brought back the king, and he tried 
 to reinstate the church as an instrument of 
 royal absolutism. But the day for that was 
 past. After another struggle, prolonged and 
 bitter, but in the main bloodless, the Eng- 
 lish church lost almost the last vestige of 
 temporal authority, and the English king- 
 dom became simply " a crowned republic." 
 
 Now the point at which Becket touches 
 this long conflict is the second stage. King 
 Henry II., Count of Anjou, surnamed 
 
230 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 " Plantagenet," owed his throne to the 
 church. It was the influence of the English 
 bishops, especially of Theobald, Anselm's 
 great successor in the See of Canterbury, 
 which secured Henry's succession to the 
 crown of his uncle and enemy, King 
 Stephen. But the wild, wicked blood of 
 Anjou was too strong in Henry for him to 
 remain faithful to such an alliance. He 
 was a thoroughly irreligious man : not only 
 dissolute in life and cruel in temper, but 
 also destitute of the sense of reverence, 
 which sometimes exists even in immoral 
 men. He spent his time at church in look- 
 ing at picture-books and whispering with 
 his friends. He despised and neglected the 
 confessional. He broke out, in his pas- 
 sionate fits, with the wildest imprecations 
 against God. The fellowship of the church 
 was distasteful to him ; and even the bond 
 of gratitude to so good a man as Archbishop 
 Theobald was too irksome to be borne. 
 
 Moreover he had gotten from the church 
 all that he wanted. He was now the most 
 mighty monarch in Christendom. His foot 
 was on the neck of the nobles. The royal 
 power had broken down the feudal, and 
 stood face to face with the ecclesiastical, as 
 
THE HISTORIC TRILOGY. 231 
 
 its only rival. The English Church, whose 
 prerogative made her in effect the supreme 
 judge and ruler over all the educated classes 
 (that is to say over all who could read and 
 write and were thus entitled to claim " the 
 benefit of the clergy "), was the only barrier 
 in Henry's path to an unlimited monarchy. 
 He resolved that this obstacle must be re- 
 moved. He would brook no rivalry in Eng- 
 land, not even in the name of God. And 
 therefore he thrust his bosom-friend, his 
 boon - companion, his splendid chancellor, 
 Thomas Becket, into the Archbishopric of 
 Canterbury, hoping to find in him a willing 
 and skilful ally in the subjugation of the 
 church to the throne. Becket's rebellion 
 and Henry's wrath form the plot of Tenny- 
 son's longest and greatest drama. 
 
 The character of Becket is one of the 
 standing riddles of history. He compels our 
 admiration by his strength, his audacity, his 
 success in everything that he undertook. He 
 is one of those men who are so intensely 
 virile that they remain alive after they are 
 dead : we cannot be indifferent to him : we 
 are for him or agrainst him. At the same 
 time he perplexes us and stimulates our 
 wonder to the highest pitch by the consistent 
 
232 TEE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 inconsistencies and harmonious contradic- 
 tions of his character. The son of an ob- 
 scure London merchant ; the proudest and 
 most accomplished of England's chivalrous 
 youth ; a student of theology in the Univer- 
 sity of Paris ; the favourite pupil of the good 
 Archbishop Theobald ; the boon-companion 
 of the riotous King Henry ; a skilful diploma- 
 tist ; the best horseman and boldest knight 
 of the court ; the hatred of the nobles, and 
 the delight of the peasantry ; the most lavish 
 and luxurious, the most chaste and laborious, 
 of English grandees; the most devout and 
 ascetic, the most ambitious and the least self- 
 ish, of English bishops; as unwearied in 
 lashing his own back with the scourge as he 
 had been in smiting his country's enemies 
 with the sword ; as much at home in sack- 
 cloth as in purple and fine linen ; the prince 
 of dandies and of devotees ; the king's most 
 faithful servant and most daring rival, most 
 darling friend and most relentless foe, — 
 what was this Becket ? hero or villain ? 
 martyr or criminal? true man or traitor? 
 worldling or saint ? 
 
 Tennyson gives us the key to the riddle in 
 the opening scene of the drama. The King 
 and Becket are playing at chess. The King's 
 
THE HISTORIC TRILOGY. 233 
 
 fancy is wandering ; he is thinking and 
 talking of a hundred different things. But 
 Becket is intent upon the game ; he cannot 
 bear to do anything which he does not do 
 well ; he pushes steadily forward and wins. 
 
 I think this scene gives us the secret of 
 Becket's personality. An eager desire to be 
 perfect in whatever part he played, an im- 
 pulse to lead and conquer in every sphere 
 that he entered, — this was what Henry 
 failed to understand. He did not see that 
 in transforming this intense and absolute 
 man from a chancellor into an archbishop, 
 he was thrusting him into a new part in 
 which his passion for thoroughness would 
 make him live up to all its requirements 
 and become the most inflexible defender of 
 the church against the encroachment of the 
 throne. 
 
 But Becket understood himself and fore- 
 saw the conflict into which the King's plan 
 would plunge him. He knew that for him 
 a change of relations meant a change of 
 character. He resisted the promotion. Ten- 
 nyson depicts most graphically the struggle 
 in his mind. When Henry first broaches 
 the subject, Becket answers : 
 
234 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Mock me not. I am not even a monk. 
 
 Thy jest — no more ! Why, look, is this a sleeve 
 
 For an archbishop ? 
 
 But Henry lays his hand on the richly em- 
 broidered garment, and says : 
 
 But the arm within 
 Is Bucket's who hath beaten down my foes. 
 I lack a spiritual soldier, Thomas, 
 A man of this world and the next to boot. 
 
 Now this is just what Thomas can never be. 
 To either world he can belong, but not to 
 both. He can change, but he cannot com- 
 promise. While he is the defender of the 
 throne he is serviceable and devoted to the 
 King ; when he becomes the leader of the 
 Church he will be equally absorbed in her 
 service. 
 
 The drama exhibits this strange transfor- 
 mation and its consequences. Forced by the 
 urgency of the headstrong King, and per- 
 suaded by a message from the death-bed of 
 his former friend and master Theobald, 
 Becket yields at last and accepts the mitre. 
 From this moment he is another man. With 
 all his doubts as to his fitness for the sacred 
 office, he has now given himself up to it, 
 heart and soul. The tremendous mediaeval 
 idea of the Catholic Church as the visible 
 kingdom of God upon earth takes possession 
 
THE HISTORIC TRILOGY. 235 
 
 of him. He sees also that the issue of the 
 political conflict in England depends upon 
 the church, which is the people's " tower of 
 strength, their bulwark against Throne and 
 Baronage." He feels that he is called to be 
 the champion of the cause of God and the 
 people. 
 
 I am the man. 
 And yet I seem appall' d, — on such a sudden 
 At such an eagle height I stand, and see 
 The rift that runs between me and the king. 
 I serv'd our Theobald well when I was with him; 
 I serv'd King Henry well when I was Chancellor; 
 I am his no more, and I must serve the church. 
 And all my doubts I fling from me like dust, 
 Winnow and scatter all scruples to the wind, 
 And all the puissance of the warrior, 
 And all the wisdom of the Chancellor, 
 And all the heap'd experiences of life, 
 I cast upon the side of Canterbury, — 
 Our holy mother Canterbury, who sits 
 With tatter' d robes. 
 
 Here 
 I gash myself asunder from the king, 
 Though leaving each a wound : mine own, a grief 
 To show the scar forever — his, a hate 
 Not ever to be healed. 
 
 Both of these predictions are fulfilled : and 
 herein lies the interest of the drama. All 
 through the conflict between the monarch 
 and the prelate, Becket's inflexible resist- 
 
236 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 ance to the royal commands is maintained 
 only at the cost of a perpetual struggle 
 with his great personal love for Henry, 
 and Henry's resolve to conquer the stub- 
 born archbishop is inflamed and embittered 
 by the thought that Becket was once his 
 dearest comrade. It is a tragic situation. 
 Tennyson has never shown a deeper insight 
 into human nature, than by making this 
 single combat between divided friends the 
 turning-point of his drama. 
 
 The tragedy is enhanced by the introduc- 
 tion of Rosamund de Clifford — the King's 
 
 One sweet rose of the world. 
 
 Her beauty, her innocence, the childlike con- 
 fidence of her affection for the fierce mon- 
 arch, who is gentle only with her and whom 
 she loves as her true husband, her songs and 
 merry games with her little boy in the hid- 
 den bower, fall like gleams of summer sun- 
 light into the stormy gloom of the play. 
 
 Becket becomes her guardian and protec- 
 tor against the cruel, murderous jealousy of 
 Queen Eleanor. A most perilous position : 
 a priest charged by the King whom he is re- 
 sisting with the duty of defending and guard- 
 ing the loveliest of women, and keeping her 
 safe and secret for a master whom he cannot 
 
THE HISTORIC TRILOGY. 237 
 
 but condemn. What a conflict of duty and 
 desire, of conscience and loyalty, of passion 
 and friendship ! How did Becket meet it ? 
 Did he love Rosamund? Would he have 
 loved her if he had not been bound by 
 straiter vows ? Was there anything of dis- 
 loyalty in his persuading her to flee from 
 her bower and take refuge with the nuns at 
 Godstow ? Tennyson thinks not. He paints 
 his hero as a man true to his duty even in 
 this sharpest trial ; upright, steadfast, fear- 
 less, seeking only to save the woman whom 
 his former master loved, and to serve the 
 King even while seeming to disobey him. 
 But Henry cannot believe it. When he 
 hears of Rosamund's flight, his anger against 
 Becket is poisoned with the madness of jeal- 
 ousy. He breaks out with a cry of fierce 
 desire for his death. And at this hint, four 
 of the Barons, who have long hated Becket, 
 set out to assassinate him. 
 
 The final scene in the Cathedral is full of 
 strength and splendour. Even here a ray 
 of sweetness falls into the gloom, in the 
 presence of Rosamund, praying for Becket 
 in his perils : — 
 
 Save that dear head which now is Canterbury, 
 Save him, he saved my life, he saved my child, 
 
238 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Save him, his blood would darken Henry's name, 
 Save him, till all as saintly as thyself, 
 He miss the searching flame of Purgatory, 
 And pass at once to perfect Paradise. 
 
 But the end is inevitable. Becket meets it 
 as fearlessly as he has lived, crying as the 
 blows of the assassins fall upon him before 
 the altar, — 
 
 At the right hand of Power — 
 Power and great glory — for thy church, O Lord — 
 Into thy hands, O Lord — into thy hands — 
 
 Two years afterwards, he was canonized as 
 a saint. His tomb became the richest and 
 most popular of English shrines. King 
 Henry himself came to it as a pilgrim, and 
 submitted to public penance at the grave of 
 the man who was too strong for him, even in 
 death. The homage of the nation may not 
 prove that Becket was a holy martyr, but at 
 least it proves that he was one of the first 
 of those great Englishmen " who taught the 
 people to struggle for their liberties," and 
 that Tennyson was right in choosing this 
 man as the hero of his noblest historic 
 drama. 
 
 In Queen 3fary, we are called to watch 
 the third great conflict of England. Church 
 and people have triumphed. It has already 
 
THE HISTORIC TRILOGY. 239 
 
 become clear that the English throne muse 
 be 
 
 Broad-bas'd npon the people's will, 
 
 and that religion will be a controlling influ- 
 ence in the life of the nation. But what 
 type of religion? The Papacy and the 
 Reformation have crossed swords and are 
 struggling together for the possession of the 
 sea-girt island. How sharp was the contest, 
 how near the friends of Spain and Italy 
 came to winning the victory over the friends 
 of Germany and Holland and Switzerland, 
 Tennyson has shown in his vivid picture of 
 Mary's reign. 
 
 The characters are sharply drawn. .Philip, 
 with his icy sensuality and gigantic egotism ; 
 Gardiner with his coarse ferocity, 
 
 His big baldness, 
 That irritable forelock which he rubs, 
 His buzzard beak, and deep incavern'd eyes ; 
 
 Reginald Pole, the suave, timorous, selfish 
 ecclesiastic; Sir Thomas Wyatt and Sir 
 Ralph Bagenhall, brave, steadfast, honest 
 men, English to the core ; Cranmer with 
 his moments of weakness and faltering, well 
 atoned for by his deep faith and humble pen- 
 itence and heroic martyrdom ; all these stand 
 out before us like living figures against the 
 
240 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 background of diplomatic intrigue and popu- 
 lar tumult. And Mary herself, — never has 
 that unhappy queen, the victim of her own 
 intense, passionate delusions, had such jus- 
 tice done to her. She came near to wreck- 
 ing England. Tennyson does not let us 
 forget that ; but he softens our hatred and 
 our horror with a touch of human pity for 
 her own self-wreck as he shows her sitting 
 upon the ground, desolate and desperate, 
 moaning for the treacherous Philip in 
 
 A low voice 
 Lost in a -wilderness where none can hear ! 
 A voice of shipwreck on a shoreless sea ! 
 A low voice from the dust and from the grave. 
 
 The drama which most naturally invites 
 
 comparison with Queen Mary is Shak- 
 
 spere's Henry VIII. And it seems to me 
 
 that if we lay the two works side by side, 
 
 Tennyson's does not suffer even by this 
 
 hazardous propinquity. Take the song of 
 
 Queen Catherine: 
 
 Orpheus with his lute made trees 
 And the mountain-tops that freeze 
 
 Bow themselves when he did sing : 
 To his music plants and flowers 
 Ever sprang ; as Sun and showers 
 
 There had made a lasting spring. 
 
 Everything that heard him play 
 Even the billows of the sea 
 
 Hung their heads and then lay hy. 
 
THE HISTORIC TRILOGY. 241 
 
 In sweet music is such art, 
 Killing care and grief of heart 
 Fall asleep, or, hearing, die. 
 
 And then read Queen Mary's song : — 
 
 Hapless doom of woman happy in betrothing I 
 Beauty passes like a breath and love is lost iu loathing : 
 Low, my lute : speak low, my lute, but say the world 
 is nothing — 
 Low, lute, low! 
 
 Love will hover round the flowers when they first 
 
 awaken ; 
 Love will fly the fallen leaf and not be overtaken : 
 Low, my lute I oh low, my lute ! we fade and are 
 
 forsaken — 
 
 Low, dear lute, low ! 
 
 Surely it is not too much to say that this 
 is infinitely more pathetic as well as more 
 musical than Shakspere's stiff little lyric. 
 
 Or if this comparison seem unfair, then 
 try the two dramas by their strength of 
 character-painting. Is not Tennyson's Philip 
 as vivid and as consistent as Shakspere's 
 Henry? Does not the later Gardiner stand 
 out more clearly than the earlier, and the 
 younger Howard surpass the elder ? Is not 
 the legate Pole more lifelike than the legate 
 Campeius? Is not Cecil's description of 
 Elizabeth more true and sharp, thoug'; 1 
 high-flown, than Cranmer's ? We must ad- 
 mit that there are " purple patches " of elo- 
 
242 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 quence, like Wolsey's famous speech upon 
 ambition, in Shakspere's work, which are 
 unrivalled. But taken altogether, as an 
 historic drama, Queen Mary must rank not 
 below, perhaps even above, Henry VIII. 
 
 The systematic undervaluation of Tenny- 
 son's dramatic work is a reproach to the in- 
 telligence of our critics. J. R. Green, the 
 late historian of The English People, said 
 that " all his researches into the annals of the 
 twelfth century had not given him so vivid 
 a conception of the character of Henry II. 
 and his court as was embodied in Tenny- 
 son's Becket." Backed by an authority like 
 this it is not too daring to predict that the 
 day is coming when the study of Shak- 
 spere's historical plays will be reckoned no 
 more important to an understanding of Eng- 
 lish history than the study of Tennyson's 
 Trilogy. 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 
 
 It is safe to say that there is no other 
 book which has had so great an influence 
 upon the literature of the world as the Bible. 
 And it is almost as safe — at least with no 
 greater danger than that of starting an in- 
 structive discussion — to say that there is 
 no other literature which has felt this influ- 
 ence so deeply or shown it so clearly as the 
 English. 
 
 The cause of this latter fact is not far to 
 seek. It may be, as a discontented French 
 critic suggests, that it is partly due to the 
 inborn and incorrigible tendency of the An- 
 glo-Saxon mind to drag religion and morality 
 into everything. But certainly this tendency 
 would never have taken such a distinctly 
 Biblical form had it not been for the beauty 
 and vigour of our common English version 
 of the Scriptures. These qualities were felt 
 by the people even before they were praised 
 by the critics. Apart from all religious 
 prepossessions, men and women and children 
 
246 TBE POETRY OF TENNTBON. 
 
 were fascinated by the native power and 
 grace of the book. The English Bible was 
 popular, in the broadest sense, long before it 
 was recognized as one of our noblest English 
 classics. It has coloured the talk of the 
 household and the street, as well as moulded 
 the language of scholars. It has been some- 
 thing more than a " well of English unde- 
 nted ; " it has become a part of the spiritual 
 atmosphere. We hear the echoes of its 
 speech everywhere; and the music of its 
 familiar phrases haunts all the fields and 
 groves of our fine literature. 
 
 It is not only to the theologians and the 
 sermon-makers that we look for Biblical 
 allusions and quotations. "We often find the 
 very best and most vivid of them in writ- 
 ers professedly secular. Poets like Shak- 
 spere, Milton, and Wordsworth ; novelists 
 like Scott and romancers like Hawthorne; 
 essayists like Bacon, Steele, and Addison ; 
 critics of life, unsystematic philosophers, like 
 Carlyle and Ruskin, — all draw upon the 
 Bible as a treasury of illustrations, and use 
 it as a book equally familiar to themselves 
 and to their readers. It is impossible to 
 put too high a value upon such a universal 
 volume, even as a mere literary possession. 
 
TME BIBLE W TEtitNtBOIt. 247 
 
 It forms a bond of sympathy between the 
 most cultivated and the simplest of the peo- 
 ple. The same book lies upon the desk of 
 the scholar and in the cupboard of the peas- 
 ant. If you touch upon one of its narra- 
 tives, every one knows what you mean. If 
 you allude to one of its characters or scenes, 
 your reader's memory supplies an instant 
 picture to illuminate your point. And so 
 long as its words are studied by little chil- 
 dren at their mothers' knees and recognized 
 by high critics as the model of pure English, 
 we may be sure that neither the jargon of 
 science nor the slang of ignorance will be 
 able to create a Shibboleth to divide the 
 people of our common race. There will be 
 a medium of communication in the language 
 and imagery of the English Bible. 
 
 This much, by way of introduction, I have 
 felt it necessary to say, in order to mark the 
 spirit of this essay. For the poet whose 
 works we are to study is at once one of the 
 most scholarly and one of the most widely 
 popular of English writers. At least one 
 cause of his popularity is that there is so 
 much of the Bible in Tennyson. How much, 
 few even of his most ardent lovers begin 
 to understand. 
 
248 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 I do not know that the attempt has ever 
 been made before to collect and collate all 
 the Scriptural allusions and quotations in 
 his works, and to trace the golden threads 
 which he has woven from that source into 
 the woof of his poetry. The delight of 
 "fresh woods and pastures new" — so rare 
 in this over-explored age — has thus been 
 mine. I have found more than four hun- 
 dred direct references to the Bible in the 
 poems of Tennyson ; and have given a list 
 of them in the appendix to this book. This 
 may have some value for professed Tenny- 
 sonians, and for them alone it is given. The 
 general reader would find it rather dry pas- 
 turage. But there is an aspect of the sub- 
 ject which has a wider interest. And in 
 this essay I want to show how closely 
 Tennyson has read the Bible, how well he 
 understands it, how much he owes to it, 
 and how clearly he stands out as, in the 
 best sense, a defender of the faith. 
 
 I. 
 
 On my table lies the first publication 
 which bears the name of Alfred Tennyson ; 
 a thin pamphlet, in faded gray paper, con- 
 taining the Prolusiones Academicce, recited 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 249 
 
 at the University of Cambridge in 1829. 
 Among them is one with the title : Timbuc- 
 too ; A Poem which obtained the Chancel- 
 lor's Medal, etc., by A. Tennyson, of Trinity 
 College. 
 
 On the eleventh page, in a passage de- 
 scribing the spirit of poetry which fills the 
 branches of the " great vine of Fable," we 
 find these lines : — 
 
 There is no mightier Spirit than I to sway 
 The heart of man : and teach him to attain 
 By shadowing forth the Unattainable ; 
 And step hy step to scale the mighty stair 
 Whose landing place is wrapped about with clouds 
 Of glory of Heaven. 
 
 And at the bottom of the page stands this 
 foot-note : Be ye perfect even as your Father 
 in Heaven is perfect. 
 
 This is the earliest Biblical allusion that 
 we can identify in the writings of Tennyson. 
 Even the most superficial glance will detect 
 its beauty and power. There are few who 
 have not felt the lofty attraction of the 
 teachings of Christ, in which the ideal of 
 holiness shines so far above our reach, while 
 we are continually impelled to climb to- 
 wards it. Especially these very words about 
 perfection, which He spoke in the Sermon 
 
250 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 on the Mount, have often lifted us upward 
 just because they point our aspirations to a 
 goal so high that it seems inaccessible. The 
 young poet who sets a jewel like this in his 
 earliest work shows not only that he has 
 understood the moral sublimity of the doc- 
 trine of Christ, but also that he has rightly 
 conceived the mission of noble poetry, — to 
 idealize human life. Once and again in his 
 later writings we see the same picture of 
 the soul rising step by step 
 
 To higher things ; 
 
 and catch a glimpse of those vast altar-stairs 
 
 That slope through darkness up to. God. 
 
 In the poem entitled Isabel — one of the 
 best in the slender volume of 1830 — there 
 is a line which reminds us that Tennyson 
 must have known his New Testament in the 
 original language. He says that all the 
 fairest forms of nature are types of the 
 noble woman whom he is describing, — 
 
 And thou of God in thy great charity. 
 
 No one who was not familiar with the Greek 
 of St. Paid and St. John would have been 
 bold enough to speak of the "charity of 
 God." It is a phrase which throws a golden 
 light upon the thirteenth chapter of the 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 251 
 
 First Epistle to the Corinthians, and brings 
 the human love into harmony and union 
 with the divine. 
 
 The May Queen is a poem which has 
 sung itself into the hearts of the people 
 everywhere. .The tenderness of its senti- 
 ment and the exquisite cadence of its music 
 have made it beloved in spite of its many 
 faults. Yet I suppose that the majority of 
 readers have read it again and again, with- 
 out recognizing that one of its most melo- 
 dious verses is a direct quotation from the 
 third chapter of Job. 
 
 And the wicked cease from troubling and the weary art 
 at rest. 
 
 This is one of the instances — by no means 
 rare — in which the translators of our Eng- 
 lish Bible have fallen unconsciously into the 
 rhythm of the most perfect poetry ; and it is 
 perhaps the best illustration of Tennyson's 
 felicitous use of the very words of Scripture. 
 There are others, hardly less perfect, in 
 the wonderful seTmon which the Rector 
 in Aylmer's Field delivers after the death 
 of Edith and Leolin. It is a mosaic of 
 Bible language, most curiously wrought, and 
 fused into one living whole by the heat of 
 an intense sorrow. How like a heavy, dull 
 
252 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 refrain of prophetic grief and indignation 
 recurs the dreadful text, 
 
 Your house is left unto you desolate. 
 
 The solemn association of the words lends the 
 force of a superhuman and unimpassioned 
 wrath to the preacher's language, and the 
 passage stands as a monumental denuncia- 
 tion of 
 
 The social wants that sin against the strength of youth. 
 
 Enoch Arden's parting words to his wife 
 contain some beautiful fragments of Scrip- 
 ture embedded in the verse : 
 
 Cast all your cares on God ; that anchor holds. 
 Is He not yonder in the uttermost 
 Parts of the morning ? If I flee to these 
 Can I go from Him ? and the sea is His, 
 The sea is His : He made it. 
 
 The Idylls of the King are full of deli- 
 cate and suggestive allusions to the Bible. 
 Take for instance the lines from the Holy 
 Grail : — 
 
 When the Lord of all things made Himself 
 Naked of glory for His mortal change. 
 
 Here is a commentary most illuminative, on 
 the fifth and sixth verses of the second chap- 
 ter of Philippians. Or again, in the same 
 Idyll, where the hermit says to Sir Perci- 
 vale, after his unsuccessful quest, — 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. '253 
 
 Thou hast not lost thyself to find thyself, 
 
 we are reminded of the words of Christ and 
 the secret of all victory in spiritual things : 
 He that loseth his life shall find it. 
 
 In The Coming of Arthur, while the 
 trumpet blows and the city seems on fire 
 with sunlight dazzling on cloth of gold, the 
 long procession of knights pass before the 
 King, singing their great song of allegiance. 
 It is full of warrior's pride and delight 
 of battle, clanging battle-axe and flashing 
 brand, — a true song for the heavy fighters 
 of the days of chivalry. But it has also a 
 higher touch, a strain of spiritual grandeur, 
 which although it may have no justification 
 in an historical picture of the Round Table, 
 yet serves to lift these knights of the poet's 
 imagination up into an ideal realm and set 
 them marching as ghostly heroes of faith 
 and loyalty through all ages. 
 
 The King will follow Christ, and we the King. 
 
 Compare this line with the words of St. 
 Paul: Be ye followers of me even as I also 
 am of Christ. They teach us that the last- 
 ing devotion of men is rendered not to the 
 human, but to the divine, in their heroes. 
 He who would lead others must first learn 
 
254 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 to follow One who is higher than himself. 
 Without faith it is not only impossible to 
 please God, but also impossible to rule men. 
 King Arthur is the ideal of one who has 
 heard a secret word of promise and seen a 
 vision of more than earthly glory, by virtue 
 of which he becomes the leader and master 
 of his knights, able to inspire their hopes 
 and unite their aspirations and bind their 
 service to himself in the fellowship of the 
 Bound Table. 
 
 And now turn to one of the latest poemf 
 that Tennyson has given us : Loclcsley Hall, 
 Sixty Years After. Sad enough is its la- 
 ment for broken dreams, dark with the 
 gloom of declining years, when the grass- 
 hopper has become a burden and desire has 
 failed and the weary heart has grown afraid 
 of that which is high ; but at the close the 
 old man rises again to the sacred strain : — 
 
 Follow you the star that lights a desert pathway, yours 
 
 or mine, 
 Forward, till you see the highest Human Nature is 
 
 divine. 
 
 Follow Light and do the Right — for man can half con- 
 trol his doom — 
 Till you see the deathless angel seated in the vacant tomb. 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 255 
 
 n. 
 
 When we come to speak of the Biblical 
 scenes and characters to which Tennyson 
 refers, we find so many that the difficulty is 
 to choose. He has recognized the fact that 
 an allusion wins half its power from its con- 
 nection with the reader's memory and pre- 
 vious thought. In order to be forcible and 
 effective it must be at least so familiar as to 
 awaken a train of associations. An allusion 
 to something which is entirely strange and 
 unknown may make an author appear more 
 learned, but it does not make him seem more 
 delightful. Curiosity may be a good atmos- 
 phere for the man of science to speak in, but 
 the poet requires a sympathetic medium. 
 He should endeavour to touch the first notes 
 of well-known airs, and then memory will 
 supply the accompaniment to enrich his 
 music. This is what Tennyson has done, 
 with the instinct of genius, in his references 
 to the stories and personages of the Bible. 
 
 His favourite allusion is to Eden and the 
 mystical story of Adam and Eve. This 
 occurs again and again, in The Day-Dream, 
 Maud, In Memoriam, The Gardener's 
 Daughter, The Princess, Milton, Enid, 
 
256 TEE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 and Lady Clara Vere de Vere. The last 
 instance is perhaps the most interesting, on 
 account of a double change which has been 
 made in the form of the allusion. In the 
 edition of 1842 (the first in which the poem 
 appeared) the self-assertive peasant who re- 
 fuses to become a lover says to the lady of 
 high degree, — 
 
 Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere, 
 
 From yon blue heavens above us bent, 
 
 The gardener Adam and his wife 
 Smile at the claims of long descent. 
 
 In later editions this was altered to " the 
 grand old gardener and his wife." But in 
 this form the reference was open to misun- 
 derstanding. I remember a charming young 
 woman, who once told me she had always 
 thought the lines referred to some particu- 
 larly pious old man who had formerly taken 
 care of Lady Clara's flower-beds, and who 
 now smiled from heaven at the foolish pride 
 of his mistress. So perhaps it is just as 
 well that Tennyson restored the line, in 
 1875, to its original form, and gave us " the 
 gardener Adam " again, to remind us of the 
 quaint distich — 
 
 When Adam delved and Eve span, 
 Who was then the gentleman ? 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 257 
 
 The story of Jephtha's daughter is another 
 of the Old Testament narratives for which 
 the poet seems to have a predilection. It is 
 told with great beauty and freedom in the 
 Dream of Fair Women; Aylmer's Field 
 touches upon it; and it recurs in The 
 Flight. 
 
 In The Princess we find the Queen of 
 Sheba, Vashti, Miriam, Jael, Lot's wife, 
 Jonah's gourd, and the Tower of Babel. 
 And if your copy of the Bible has the Apoc- 
 rypha in it, you may add the story of Judith 
 and Holof ernes. 
 
 Esther appears in Enid, and Rahab in 
 Queen Mary. In Godiva we read of the 
 Earl's heart, — 
 
 As rough as Esau's hand ; 
 
 and in Locksley Hall we see the picture of 
 the earth standing 
 
 At gaze, like Joshua's moon in Ajalon. 
 
 The Sonnet to Buonaparte recalls to our 
 memory 
 
 Those whom Gideon school'd with briers. 
 
 In the Palace of Art we behold the hand- 
 writing on the wall at Belshazzar's Feast. 
 
 It would be impossible even to enumerate 
 Tennyson's allusions to the life of Christ, 
 
258 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 from fche visit of the Magi, which appears in 
 Morte <P Arthur and The Holy Grail, down 
 to the line in Balin and Balan which tells 
 of 
 
 That same spear 
 Wherewith the Roman pierced the aide of Christ 
 
 But to my mind the most beautiful of all 
 the references to the New Testament is the 
 passage in In Memoriam which describes the 
 reunion of Mary and Lazarus after his re- 
 turn from the grave. With what a human 
 interest does the poet clothe the familiar 
 story ! How reverently and yet with what 
 natural and simple pathos does he touch 
 upon the more intimate relations of the three 
 persons who are the chief actors ! The ques- 
 tion which has come a thousand times to 
 every one that has lost a dear friend, — the 
 question whether love survives in the other 
 world, whether those who have gone before 
 miss those who are left behind and have any 
 knowledge of their grief, — this is the sug- 
 gestion which brings the story home to us 
 and makes it seem real and living. 
 
 When Lazams left his charnel-cave, 
 And home to Mary's house retnrn'd, 
 Was this demanded, — if he yearn'd 
 
 To hear her weeping by his grave ? 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. .259 
 
 " Where wert thou brother those four days ? " 
 There lives no record of reply, 
 Which telling what it is to die, 
 Had surely added praise to praise. 
 
 From every house the neighbours met, 
 The streets were fill'd with joyful sound, 
 A solemn gladness even crown'd 
 
 The purple brows of Olivet. 
 
 Behold a man raised up by Christ ! 
 
 The rest remaineth unreveal'd ; 
 
 He told it not ; or something seal'd 
 The lips of that Evangelist. 
 
 Then follows that marvellous description 
 of Mary, — a passage which seems to me to 
 prove the superiority of poetry, as an art, 
 over painting and sculpture. For surely 
 neither marble nor canvas ever held such a 
 beautiful figure of devotion as that which 
 breathes in these verses : — 
 
 Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, 
 No other thought her mind admits 
 But, he was dead, and there he sits, 
 
 And He that brought him back is there. 
 
 Then one deep love doth supersede 
 All other, when her ardent gaze 
 Roves from the living brother's face 
 
 And rests upon the Life indeed. 
 
 All subtle thought, all curious fears, 
 Borne down by gladness so complete, 
 She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet 
 
 With costly spikenard and with tears. 
 
260 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers, 
 Whose loves in higher love endure ; 
 What souls possess themselves so pure, 
 
 Or is there blessedness like theirs ? 
 
 It does not seem possible that the chang- 
 ing fashions of poetic art should ever make 
 verses like these seem less exquisite, or that 
 Time should ever outwear the sweet and 
 simple power of this conception of religion. 
 
 There is no passage in the range of litera- 
 ture which expresses more grandly the mys- 
 tery of death, or shows more attractively the 
 happiness of an unquestioning personal faith 
 in Him who, alone of men, has solved it and 
 knows the answer. I cannot bear to add 
 anything to it by way of comment, except 
 perhaps these words of Emerson : " Of im- 
 mortality, the soul, when well employed, is 
 incurious. It is so well that it is sure it 
 will be well. It asks no questions of the 
 Supreme Being." 
 
 The poem of Hizpah, which was first pub- 
 lished in the volume of Ballads in 1880, is 
 an illustration of dramatic paraphrase from 
 the Bible. The story of the Hebrew mother 
 watching beside the dead bodies of her sons 
 whom the Gibeonites had hanged upon the 
 hill, and defending them night and day for 
 
TBE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 261 
 
 six months from the wild beasts and birds of 
 prey, is transformed into the story of an 
 English mother, whose son has been executed 
 for robbery and hung in chains upon the gib- 
 bet. She is driven wild by her grief ; hears 
 her boy's voice wailing through the wind, " O 
 mother, come out to me ; " creeps through the 
 rain and the darkness to the place where the 
 chains are creaking and groaning with their 
 burden ; gropes and gathers all that is left 
 of what was once her child and carries him 
 home to bury him beside the churchyard 
 wall. And then, when she is accused of 
 theft, she breaks out in a passion of defence. 
 It is a mother's love justifying itself against 
 a cruel law. Those poor fragments which 
 the wind and the rain had spared were hers, 
 by a right divine, — bone of her bone, — 
 she had nursed and cradled her baby, and all 
 that was left belonged to her ; justice had 
 no claim which could stand against hers. 
 
 Theirs ? O no ! they are mine, — not theirs, — they had 
 moved in my side ! 
 
 A famous writer has said of this passage, 
 " Nothing more piteous, more passionate, 
 more adorable for intensity of beauty was 
 ever before this wrought by human cunning 
 into the likeness of such words as words are 
 powerless to praise." 
 
£62- THE POETRY OF TENNTBON. 
 
 m. 
 In trying to estimate the general influ- 
 ence of the Bible upon the thought and feel- 
 ing of Tennyson we have a more delicate 
 and difficult task. For the teachings of 
 Christianity have become a part of the moral 
 atmosphere of the age ; and it is hard for 
 us to tell just what any man would have been 
 without them, or just how far they have 
 made him what he is, while we are looking 
 at him through the very same medium in 
 which we ourselves are breathing. If we 
 could get out of ourselves, if we could divest 
 ourselves of all those views of God and 
 duty and human life which we have learned 
 so early that they seem to us natural and in- 
 evitable, we might perhaps be able to arrive 
 at a more exact discrimination. But this 
 would be to sacrifice a position of vital sym- 
 pathy for one of critical judgment. The 
 loss would be greater than the gain. It is 
 just as well for the critic to recognize that 
 he is hardly able 
 
 To sit as God, holding no form of creed, 
 But contemplating all. 
 
 Tennyson himself has described the mental 
 paralysis, the spiritual distress, which follow 
 
TEE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 263 
 
 that attempt. A critic ought to be free from 
 prejudices, but surely not even for the sake 
 of liberty should he make himself naked of 
 convictions. To float on wings above the 
 earth will give one a bird's-eye view ; but 
 for a man's-eye view we must have a stand- 
 ing-place on the earth. And after all the 
 latter may be quite as true, even though it 
 is not absolutely colourless. 
 
 The effect of Christianity upon the poetry 
 of Tennyson may be felt, first of all, in its 
 general moral quality. By this it is not 
 meant that he is always or often preaching, 
 or drawing pictures 
 
 " To point a moral or adorn a tale." 
 
 Didactic art sometimes misses its own end 
 by being too instructive. We find in Ten- 
 nyson's poems many narratives of action and 
 descriptions of character which are simply 
 left to speak for themselves and teach their 
 own lessons. In this they are like the his- 
 tories in the Book of Judges or the Boohs 
 of the Kings. The writer takes it for granted 
 that the reader has a heart and a conscience. 
 Compare in this respect, the perfect sim- 
 plicity of the domestic idyll of Dora with 
 the Booh of Ruth. 
 
 But at the same time the poet can hardly 
 
264 TBE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 help revealing, more by tone and accent than 
 by definite words, his moral sympathies. 
 Tennyson always speaks from the side of 
 virtue ; and not of that new and strange vir- 
 tue which some of our later poets have ex- 
 alted, and which when it is stripped of its 
 fine garments turns out to be nothing else 
 than the unrestrained indulgence of every 
 natural impulse; but rather of that old- 
 fashioned virtue whose laws are "Self-rever- 
 ence, self-knowledge, self-control," and which 
 finds its highest embodiment in the morality 
 of the New Testament. Read, for example, 
 his poems which deal directly with the sub- 
 ject of marriage : The Miller's Daughter, 
 Isabel, Lady Clare, The Lord of Burleigh, 
 Locksley Hall, Love and Duty, The Wreck, 
 Aylmer's Field, Enoch Arde n, the latter 
 part of The Princess, and many different 
 passages of the Idylls. From whatever side 
 he approaches the subject, whether he is 
 painting with delicate, felicitous touches the 
 happiness of truly-wedded hearts, or de- 
 nouncing the sins of avarice and pride which 
 corrupt the modern marriage-mart of society, 
 or tracing the secret evil which poisoned the 
 court of Arthur and shamed the golden head 
 of Guinevere, his ideal is always the perfect 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 265 
 
 and deathless union of two lives in one, 
 " which is commended of St. Paul to be hon- 
 ourable among all men." To him woman 
 seems loveliest when she has 
 
 The laws of marriage character' d in gold 
 Upon the blanched tablets of her heart, 
 
 and man strongest when he has learned 
 
 To love one maiden only, cleave to her, 
 And worship her by years of noble deeds. 
 
 The theology of Tennyson has been ac- 
 cused of a pantheistic tendency ; and it can- 
 not be denied that there are expressions in 
 his poems which seem to look in that direc- 
 tion, or at least to look decidedly away from 
 the conception of the universe as a vast 
 machine and its Maker as a supernatural 
 machinist who has constructed the big watch 
 and left it to run on by itself until it wears 
 out. But surely this latter view, which 
 fairly puts God out of the world, is not the 
 view of the Bible. The New Testament 
 teaches us, undoubtedly, to distinguish be- 
 tween Him and His works; but it also 
 teaches that He is in His works, or rather 
 that all His works are in Him, — in Jlim, 
 says St. Faul, we live and move and have our 
 being. Light is His garment. Life is His 
 breath. 
 
266 THE POETRY OF TENNYBON. 
 
 God is law say the wise ; Soul, and let us rejoice, 
 For if He thunder by law, the thunder is yet His voice. 
 
 But if I wished to prove, against those 
 who doubted, Tennyson's belief in a living, 
 personal, spiritual God, immanent in the 
 universe, yet not confused with it, I should 
 turn to his doctrine of prayer. There are 
 many places in his poems where prayer is, 
 not explained, but simply justified, as the 
 highest activity of a human soul and a real 
 bond between God and man. In these very 
 lines on The Higher Pantheism, from which 
 I have just quoted, there is a verse which 
 can only be interpreted as the description of 
 a personal intercourse between the divine 
 and the human : — 
 
 Speak to Him. thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit 
 
 can meet, — 
 Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and 
 
 feet. 
 
 Of Enoch Arden in the dreadful loneliness 
 of that rich island where he was cast away 
 it is said that 
 
 Had not his poor heart 
 Spoken with That, which being everywhere 
 Lets none, who speaks with Him, seem all alone, 
 Surely the man had died of solitude. 
 
 When he conies back, after the weary years 
 of absence, to find his wife wedded to an- 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. QQl 
 
 other, and his home no longer his, it is by 
 prayer that he obtains strength to keep his 
 generous resolve 
 
 Not to tell her, never to let her know, 
 
 and to bear the burden of his secret to the 
 lonely end. Edith, in the drama of Harold, 
 when her last hope breaks and the shadow 
 of gloom begins to darken over her, cries, — 
 
 No help but prayer, 
 A breath that fleets beyond this iron world 
 And touches Him that made it. 
 
 King Arthur, bidding farewell to the last of 
 his faithful knights, says to him, — 
 
 Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayex 
 
 Than this world dreams of. Wherefore let thy voice 
 
 Rise like a fountain for me night and day. 
 
 For what are men better than sheep or goats 
 
 That nourish a blind life within the brain, 
 
 If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer 
 
 Both for themselves and those who call them friend ? 
 
 For so the whole round earth is every way 
 
 Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 
 
 But lest any one should say that these pas- 
 sages are merely dramatic, and do not ex- 
 press the personal faith of the poet, turn to 
 the solemn invocation in which he has struck 
 the keynote of his deepest and most personal 
 poem, — 
 
 Strong Son of God, immortal Love t 
 
268 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 It is the poet's own prayer. No man could 
 have written it save one who believed that 
 God is Love, and that Love is incarnate in 
 the person of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Next to the question of the reality of 
 God, comes the problem of human life and 
 destiny. And this has a twofold aspect. 
 First, in regard to the present world, is 
 man moving upward or downward ; is good 
 stronger than evil or evil stronger than good • 
 is life worth living, or is it a cheat and a 
 failure ? Second, in regard to the future, 
 is there any hope of personal continuance 
 beyond death ? To both of these inquiries 
 Tennyson gives an answer which is in har- 
 mony with the teachings of the Bible. 
 
 He finds the same difficulties and doubts 
 in the continual conflict between good and 
 evil which are expressed in Job and Eccle- 
 siastes. Indeed so high an authority as 
 Professor Plumptre has said that " the 
 most suggestive of all commentaries " on the 
 latter book are Tennyson's poems, The Vis- 
 ion of Sin, The Palace of Art, and Two 
 Voices. In the last of these he draws out 
 in the form of a dialogue the strife between 
 hope and despair in the breast of a man who 
 has grown weary of life and yet is not ready 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 269 
 
 to embrace death. For, after all, the sum 
 of the reasons which the first voice urges in 
 favour of suicide is that nothing is worth 
 very much, no man is of any real value to 
 the world, il rHy pas d'homme necessaire, no 
 effort produces any lasting result, all things 
 are moving round and round in a tedious 
 circle, — vanity of vanities, — if you are 
 tired why not depart from the play ? The 
 tempted man — tempted to yield to the 
 devil's own philosophy of pessimism — uses 
 all argument to combat the enemy, but in 
 vain, or at least with only half-success ; until 
 at last the night is worn away; he flings 
 open his window and looks out upon the 
 Sabbath morn. 
 
 The sweet church bells began to peaL 
 
 On to God's house the people prest ; 
 Passing the place where each must rest, 
 Each entered like a welcome guest. 
 
 One walked between his wife and child, 
 With measured footfall firm and mild, 
 And now and then he gravely smiled. 
 
 The prudent partner of his blood 
 Leaned on him, faithful, gentle, good, 
 Wearing the rose of womanhood. 
 
 And in their double love secure, 
 The little maiden walked demure, 
 Pacing with downward eyelids pure. 
 
270 THE POETRY OF TEN NT BON. 
 
 These three made unity bo sweet, 
 My frozen heart began to beat, 
 Remembering its ancient heat. 
 
 I blest them, and they wandered on: 
 I spoke, but answer came there none ; 
 The dull and bitter voiee was gone. 
 
 And then comes another voice whispering of 
 a secret hope, and bidding the soul "Re- 
 joice ! Rejoice ! " If we hear in the first 
 part of the poem the echo of the saddest 
 book of the Old Testament, we hear also in 
 the last part the tones of Him who said: 
 Let not your heart be troubled, in my 
 Father s house are many mansions ; if it 
 were not so I would have told you. 
 
 There are many places in the poems of 
 Tennyson where he speaks with bitterness of 
 the falsehood and evil that are in the world, 
 the corruptions of society, the downward 
 tendencies in human nature. He is in no 
 sense a rose-water optimist. But he is in 
 the truest sense a meliorist. He doubts not 
 that 
 
 Thro' the ages one increasing purpose runs, 
 And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of 
 the suns. 
 
 He believes that good 
 
 Shall be the final goal of ill. 
 
 He rests his faith upon the uplifting power 
 of Christianity; — 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 271 
 
 For I count the gray barbarian lower than the Christian 
 child. 
 
 He hears the bells at midnight tolling the 
 death of the old year, and he calls them to 
 
 Ring in the valiant man and free, 
 The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; 
 Ring out the darkness of the land, 
 
 Ring in the Christ that is to be ! 
 
 In regard to the life beyond the grave, 
 he asserts with new force and beauty the 
 old faith in a personal immortality. The 
 dim conception of an unconscious survival 
 through the influence of our thoughts and 
 deeds, which George Eliot has expressed in 
 her poem of "the choir invisible," Tenny- 
 son finds to be 
 
 A faith as vague as all unsweet- 
 Eternal form shall still divide 
 The eternal soul from all beside ; 
 
 And I shall know him when we meet. 
 
 The Christian doctrine of a personal recog- 
 nition of friends in the other world has 
 never been more distinctly uttered than in 
 these words. It is not, indeed, supported 
 by any metaphysical arguments ; nor are we 
 concerned thus to justify it. Our only 
 purpose now is to show — and after these 
 verses who can doubt it — that the poet 
 
272 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 has kept the faith which he learned in his 
 father's house and at his mother's knee. 
 
 On many other points I fain would touch, 
 but must forbear. There is one more, how- 
 ever, on which the orthodoxy of the poet 
 has been questioned, and by some critics 
 positively denied. It is said that he has 
 accepted the teachings of Universalism. A 
 phrase from In Memoriam^ 
 
 The larger hope, — 
 
 has been made a watchword by those who 
 defend the doctrine of a second probation, 
 and a sign to be spoken against by those 
 who reject it. Into this controversy I have 
 no desire to enter. Nor is it necessary ; for, 
 whatever the poet's expectation may be, 
 there is not a line in all his works that con- 
 tradicts or questions the teachings of Christ, 
 nor even a line that runs beyond the limit 
 of human thought into the mysteries of the 
 unknown and the unknowable. The wages 
 of sin is death ; the wages of virtue is to go 
 on and not to die. This is the truth which 
 he teaches on higher authority than his own. 
 " The rest," as Hamlet says, " is silence." 
 But what is the end of all these conflicts, 
 these struggles, these probations? What 
 the final result of this strife between sin and 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 273 
 
 virtue ? What the consummation of oppug- 
 nancies and interworkings ? The poet looks 
 onward through the mists and shadows and 
 sees only God ; — 
 
 That God, which ever lives and loves, 
 
 One God, one law, one element, 
 
 And one far-off divine event, 
 To which the whole creation moves. 
 
 And if any one shall ask what this far-off 
 divine event is, we may answer in the words 
 of St. Paul :— 
 
 For he must reign until he hath put all 
 enemies under his feet. The last enemy 
 that shall be abolished is death. For, he 
 put all things in subjection under his feet. 
 But when he saith, all things are put in 
 subjection, it is evident that he is excepted 
 who did subject all things unto him. And 
 when all things have been subjected unto 
 him, then shall the Son also himself be 
 subjected to him that did subject all things 
 unto him, that God may be all in all. 
 
 And now, as we bring to a close this brief 
 study of a subject which I trust has proved 
 larger than it promised at first to those who 
 had never looked into it, what are our con- 
 clusions ? Or if this word seem too exact 
 
274 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 and formal, what are our impressions in re- 
 gard to the relations between Tennyson and 
 the Bible ? 
 
 It seems to me that we cannot help seeing 
 that the poet owes a large debt to the Chris- 
 tian Scriptures, not only for their formative 
 influence upon his mind and for the purely 
 literary material in the way of illustrations 
 and allusions which they have given him, 
 but also, and more particularly, for the crea- 
 tion of a moral atmosphere, a medium of 
 thought and feeling, in which he can speak 
 freely and with assurance of sympathy to a 
 very wide circle of readers. He does not 
 need to be always explaining and defining. 
 There is much that is taken for granted, 
 much that goes without saying. What a 
 worl d^ of unspoken convictions lies beh ind 
 such poems as Dora and Enoch Arden. 
 Their beauty is not in themselves alone, but 
 in the air that breathes around them, in the 
 light that falls upon them from the faith 
 of the centuries. Christianity is something 
 more than a system of doctrines ; it is a life, 
 a tone, a spirit, a great current of memories, 
 beliefs and hopes flowing through millions 
 of hearts. And he who launches his words 
 upon this current finds that they are carried 
 
THE BIBLE IN TENNYSON. 275 
 
 with a strength beyond his own, and 
 freighted often with a meaning which he 
 himself has not fully understood as it flashed 
 through him. 
 
 But, on the other hand, we cannot help 
 seeing that the Bible gains a wider influence 
 and a new power over men as it flows 
 through the poet's mind upon the world. Its 
 narratives and its teachings clothe them- 
 selves in modern forms of speech, and find 
 entrance into many places which otherwise 
 were closed against them. I do not mean 
 by this that poetry is better than the Bible, 
 but only that poetry lends wings to Chris- 
 tian truth. People who would not read a 
 sermon will read a poem. And though its 
 moral and religious teachings may be indi- 
 rect, though they may proceed by silent 
 assumption rather than by formal assertion, 
 they exercise an influence which is perhaps 
 the more powerful because it is unconscious. 
 The Bible is in continual danger of being 
 desiccated by an exhaustive (and exhaust- 
 ing) scientific treatment. When it comes 
 to be regarded chiefly as a compendium of 
 exact statements of metaphysical doctrine, 
 the day of its life will be over, and it will 
 be ready for a place in the museum of anti- 
 
276 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 quities. It must be a power in literature if 
 it is to be a force in society. For literature, 
 as a wise critic has denned it, is just " the 
 best that has been thought and said in the 
 world." And if this be true, literature is 
 certain, not only to direct culture but also to 
 mould conduct. 
 
 Is it possible, then, for wise and earnest 
 men to look with indifference upon the course 
 of what is often called, with a slighting 
 accent, " mere belles lettres " ? We might 
 as well be careless about the air we breathe 
 or the water we drink. Malaria is no less 
 fatal than pestilence. The chief peril which 
 threatens the permanence of Christian faith 
 and morals is none other than the malaria of 
 modern letters, — an atmosphere of dull, 
 heavy, faithless materialism. Into this nar- 
 cotic air the poetry of Tennyson blows like 
 a pure wind from a loftier and serener 
 height, bringing life and joy. His face 
 looks out upon these darkening days, — 
 grave, strong, purified by conflict, lighted 
 by the inward glow of faith. He is become 
 as one of the prophets, — a witness for God 
 and for immortality. 
 
FRUIT FROM AN OLD TREE. 
 
FRUIT FROM AN OLD TREE. 
 
 In the secluded garden of Christ's Col- 
 lege, at Cambridge, there is a mulberr}'- 
 tree of which tradition says that it was 
 planted by John Milton in his student days. 
 I remember sitting on the green turf below 
 it, a few years ago, and looking up at the 
 branches, heavy with age and propped on 
 crutches, and wondering to see that the old 
 tree still brought forth fruit. It was not 
 the size nor the quality of the fruit that 
 impressed me. I hardly thought of that. 
 The strange thing, the beautiful thing, was 
 that, after so many years, the tree was yet 
 bearing. 
 
 It is this feeling that comes to us when 
 we see the productive power of a poet con- 
 tinued beyond the common term of human 
 life. The thing is so rare that it appears 
 almost miraculous. '* Whom the gods love 
 die young " seems to be the law for poets ; 
 or, at least, if they chance to live long, the 
 gods, and chiefly Apollo, cease to love them. 
 How few are the instances in which poetic 
 
280 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 fertility has lasted beyond the threescore 
 years ! Wordsworth, Landor, Victor Hugo, 
 Robert Browning, — among our American 
 singers, Bryant, Longfellow, Whittier, and 
 Lowell, — truly they are not many to whom 
 has been given the double portion of long 
 life and unfailing song. English literature 
 has no parallel, in this respect, to the 
 career of Tennyson. For sixty-six years 
 he was drawing refreshment from the wells 
 of poetry, and still the silver cord was not 
 loosed, nor the golden bowl broken. 
 
 I want to say a word or two in this essay 
 about the work of his later life. It has a 
 value of its own, apart from the wonder of 
 its production at such an advanced age. I 
 am quite sure that there is a great deal 
 which belongs to the real and enduring 
 poetry of Tennyson in the two volumes 
 which he gave to the world in 1886 and 
 1889, and in the posthumous volume 
 which appeared in the month of his death, 
 October, 1892. 
 
 I. 
 
 LocTcdey Hall Sixty Years After was not 
 received at first with notable applause. 
 The young critics reviled it as the work of 
 
FRUIT FROM AN OLD TREE. 281 
 
 an old man, and raised a chorus of " Go 
 up, thou baldhead," which made one regret 
 that since the days of Elisha the bears have 
 neglected one of their most beneficent 
 functions. 
 
 The first Locksley Hall was beyond a 
 doubt the strongest and most immediately 
 successful thing in the volumes of 1842, 
 which gave Tennyson his place as a popular 
 poet. The billowy rush of the verse, the 
 romantic interest of the story, the vigor- 
 ous spirit of hope and enthusiasm which 
 throbbed through the poem and made it 
 seem alive with the breath of a new age, 
 at once captivated all readers. It was this 
 poem, more than any other, which lifted 
 Tennyson beyond the admiration of a nar- 
 row circle and opened to him the heart of 
 the world. And it is worthy of notice that, 
 even in its outward form, this poem is one 
 of the few which his habit of self-correction 
 has left almost unchanged. There are but 
 four slight verbal variations between the 
 first and the last editions. 
 
 Forty-four years had passed when the 
 poet took up the thread of his youthful 
 dream once more and followed it to the 
 end. 
 
282 TJSE POETRY OF TENttYSON. 
 
 The dramatic nature of the poem must 
 not be forgotten, for it is this which gives 
 unity to the two parts. They are not dis- 
 connected strings of brilliant metaphors 
 and comparisons, or trochaic remarks upon 
 human life and progress. They are the 
 expression of a character, the lyric history 
 of a life ; they form a complete and rounded 
 whole. They are two acts in the same 
 play. The hero, the scene, remain the 
 same. Only the time is changed by half 
 a century. 
 
 It seems quite evident that Tennyson 
 was not willing to leave his hero as he 
 stood in the first act. For with all his 
 attractive, not to say " magnetic," quali- 
 ties, there was something about him that 
 was unlovely and repellent, almost absurd. 
 He made too much of himself, talked too 
 loudly and recklessly, was too much in- 
 clined to rave and exaggerate. Tennyson 
 doubtless wished to do for him what time 
 really does for every man whose heart 
 is of true metal — make him wiser and 
 kinder and more worthy to be loved. 
 The touches by which this change has 
 been accomplished are most delicate and 
 admirable. 
 
FRUIT FROM AN OLD TREE. 283 
 
 Compare the rejected lover's jealousy of 
 the baby rival whose lips should laugh him 
 down, and whose hands should push him 
 from the mother's heart, with the old 
 man's prayer beside the marble image of 
 Amy, 
 
 Looking still as if she smiled, 
 
 sleeping quietly with her little child upon 
 her breast. Or turn from the young 
 man's scornful and unjust description of 
 the richer suitor who had carried off his 
 sweetheart, to the generous tribute which 
 he lays at last upon the grave of him who 
 
 Strove for sixty widow'd years to help his homelier 
 brother man. 
 
 Or put his first wild complaint of the 
 worthlessness and desolation of his life 
 beside his later acknowledgment of the 
 joy and strength which had come to him 
 through the larger, deeper love of Edith. 
 Surely, if words have any meaning, the 
 poet means to teach us by these things 
 that not only youthful jealousy, but also 
 youthful despair, is false, and that, for 
 every one who will receive its moral dis- 
 cipline and hold fast to its eternal hopes, 
 life is worth the living. 
 
284 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 So far, then, as the story of the two 
 poems is concerned, so far as they present 
 to us a picture of human character and 
 trace its development through the experi- 
 ence of joy and sorrow, their lesson is 
 sweet and sound and full of encourage- 
 ment. It shows the frailty of exaggerated 
 feelings of passion, born in an atmosphere 
 of tropical heat, and unable to endure the 
 cooler air of reality. But it shows also 
 that the garden of life has better and more 
 lasting blossoms, affections which survive 
 all shock and change, a man's love which 
 is stronger than a boy's fancy, a man's 
 reverence for honest worth which can 
 overcome a boy's resentment for imagined 
 
 wrongs, 
 
 A sober certainty of waking bliss 
 
 which makes divine amends for the van- 
 ished dreams of boyhood. It reminds us 
 of the story of the " child-wife," Dora, and 
 the woman-wife, Agnes, which Dickens 
 has told in David Copperfield, or of 
 Thackeray's history of Henri/ Esmond. 
 
 But when we come to consider the 
 sequel of the poem in its other aspect, as 
 a commentary on modern England, as an 
 estimate of the result of those buoyant, 
 
FRUIT FROM AN OLD TREE. 285 
 
 bounding hopes which seemed to swing 
 the earlier verses onward in the full tide 
 of exultation toward a near millennium, 
 we shall find room for a difference of 
 opinion among critics. There were some 
 who regarded the second Lockrtey Hall as 
 a veritable palinode, a complete recanta- 
 tion of the poet's youthful creed, a shame- 
 ful desertion from the army of progress to 
 the army of reaction, a betrayal of the 
 standard of hope into the hands of despair. 
 There were others, among them Mr. Glad- 
 stone, who thought that, though the poet 
 had not really deserted the good cause, he 
 had at least yielded too far to despond- 
 ency, and that he was in danger of mar- 
 ring the semi-centennial jubilee of Queen 
 Victoria's reign with unnecessarily "tragic 
 tones." It seems to me that both of these 
 views were unjust, because they both failed 
 to go far enough beneath the surface. 
 They left out of sight several things which 
 were necessary to a fair judgment of the 
 poem. 
 
 First of all is the fact that the poet does 
 not speak for himself, but through the lips 
 of a persona^ a mask ; and what he says 
 must be iu character. Mr. Gladstone has, 
 
286 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 indeed, noted this fact; but he has failed 
 to take fully into account the peculiar and 
 distinctive qualities of the character which 
 the poet has chosen. The hero of Lockdey 
 Hall is a man in whom emotion is stronger 
 than thought ; impulsive, high-strung, su- 
 persensitive ; one to whom everything that 
 he sees must loom larger than life through 
 the mist of his own overwrought feelings. 
 This is his nature. And if in youth he 
 took too bright a view of the future, it is 
 quite as inevitable that in age he should 
 take too dark a view of the present. If 
 there be any exaggeration in his com- 
 plaints about the evils of our times, it is 
 but fair to set them down to the idiosyn- 
 crasy of the hero, and not to the opinions 
 of the poet. 
 
 But suppose we put this plea of dramatic 
 propriety aside, and make Tennyson an- 
 swerable for all that his hero says. We 
 shall find that there were some things in 
 the first rhapsody quite as hard and bitter 
 as any in the second. Take the vigourous 
 imprecations against the social wants, the 
 social lies, the sickly forms, by which the 
 young man is oppressed and infuriated. 
 Hear him cry : — 
 
FRUIT FROM AN OLD TREE. 287 
 
 What is that which I should turn to, lighting upon days 
 
 like these 1 
 Every door is barred with gold, and opens but to golden 
 
 keys. 
 
 See his picture of the hungry people, creep- 
 ing like a lion toward the slothful watcher 
 beside a dying fire. Here, at least, even 
 in the first outflow of hopeful music, are 
 the warning notes. And though there may 
 be more severity in the old man's condem- 
 nation of the iniquities and follies of so- 
 ciety, in one point at least he has grown 
 milder: he does not indulge in any more 
 " cursing." 
 
 Observe also, if we must hold Tennyson 
 responsible for a retraction in the second 
 poem of anything that he taught in the first, 
 just what is the point to which that retrac- 
 tion applies. He does not deny his early 
 hope for the future of England and the 
 world ; he denies only the two insufficient 
 grounds on which that hope was based. 
 
 One of these grounds was the swift and 
 wonderful march of what is called modern 
 improvement, meaning thereby the steam- 
 ship, the railway, the telegraph, and the 
 advance of all the industrial arts. Of these 
 he says now : — 
 
 f 
 
288 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Half the marvels of my morning, triumphs over time 
 
 and space, 
 Staled by frequence, shrunk by usaga into commonest 
 
 commonplace. 
 
 And is not this true? Have we not all 
 felt the shrinkage of the much-vaunted 
 miracles of science into the veriest kitchen 
 utensils of a comfort-worshipping society ? 
 Physical powers have been multiplied by 
 an unknown quantity, but it is a serious 
 question whether moral powers have not 
 had their square root extracted. A man 
 can go from New York to London now in 
 six days. But when he arrives he is no 
 better man than if it had taken him a 
 month. He can talk across three thousand 
 miles of ocean, but he has nothing more to 
 say than when he sent his letter by a 
 sailing-packet. All the inventions in the 
 world will not change man's heart, or 
 Lift him nearer God-like state. 
 
 The other ground of hope in the old 
 Lockzley Hall was the advance of modern 
 politics, through the freedom of speech and 
 the extension of suffrage, which seemed to 
 promise at no distant date a sort of uni- 
 versal " Parliament of Man," a " Federation 
 of the World." In the new Locksley Hall 
 
FRUIT FROM AN OLD TREE. 289 
 
 s^- 
 
 the poet confesses that this ground also has ^."^ J* 
 
 failed him. He no longer thinks so highly ^ V* %fofi 
 of Parliament that he desires to see it re- 
 produced on a larger scale. The virtues of 
 talk as a panacea for human ills appear to 
 him more than dubious. He hazards the 
 conjecture that 
 
 Old England may go down in babble at last. 
 
 And he breaks out in fierce indignation 
 against the " rivals of realm-ruining party," 
 who care more for votes than for truth, 
 and for the preservation of their own 
 power than for the preservation of the 
 Empire. 
 
 What is all this but the acknowledgment 
 of the truth which most sober men are 
 beginning to feel? Fifty years ago mate- 
 rial science and political theory promised 
 large things. The promise has been kept 
 
 to the ear and broken to the hope. The 
 
 world has gone forward — a little — but it 
 
 has not arrived at a complete millennium, 
 
 nor even swept at once into a brighter day; 
 
 far from it. There are heavy clouds upon 
 
 the sky. The moral condition of humanity 
 
 in general, and of England in particular, is 
 
 certainly not free from elements of degra- 
 
290 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 dation and threats of danger. Let me 
 quote two sentences from writers who de- 
 serve at least an attentive hearing : — 
 
 " British industrial existence seems fust 
 becoming one htjge poison-swamp of reek- 
 ing pestilence, physical and moral ; a living 
 Golgotha of souls and bodies buried alive ; 
 such a Curtius' gulf communicating with 
 the nether deeps as the sun never saw till 
 now." That was what Thomas Carlyle 
 thought. And, after the same fashion, 
 Ruskin wrote : " Remember, for the last 
 twenty years, England and all foreign 
 nations, either tempting her or following 
 her, have blasphemed the name of God 
 deliberately and openly ; and have done 
 iniquity by proclamation, every man doing 
 as much injustice to his brother as it is in 
 his power to do." 
 
 These utterances, like the darker verses in 
 Tennyson's poem, are not meant to be taken 
 as complete pictures of the present time. 
 They are only earnest and vigorous warn- 
 ings against the easy-going, self-complacent 
 optimism which talks as if the millennium 
 had already dawned. To reply to them 
 by an enumeration of the scientific discov- 
 eries which have been made, and the po- 
 
FRUIT FROM AN OLD TREE. 291 
 
 litical measures which have been passed, 
 during the last half-century, is quite beside 
 the point. The question remains, Is human 
 life really higher , holier, happier ? 
 
 The answer, if it is thoughtful as well as 
 hopeful, must be, A little. But still the 
 strife, the shame, the suffering, endure. 
 
 City children soak and blacken soul and sense in city 
 
 slime ; 
 There among the glooming alleys Progress halts on 
 
 palsied feet, 
 Crime and hunger cast our maidens by the thousand on 
 
 the street. 
 
 If we ask when and how these things 
 shall cease, the reply comes, not from the 
 fairy-tales of science nor from the blue- 
 books of politics, but from the heart of 
 Christian charity and from the promise of 
 Christian faith. And this is the reply 
 which Tennyson has given, in words as 
 pure and clear and musical as he has ever 
 uttered : — 
 
 Follow yon the Star that lights a desert pathway, yours 
 
 or mine, 
 Forward, till you learn the highest Human Nature is 
 
 divine. 
 
 Follow Light, and do the Right — for man can half con- 
 trol his doom — 
 
 Till yon see the deathless Angel seated in the vacant 
 Tomb. 
 
292 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Forward, let the stormy moment fly and mingle with the 
 Past. 
 
 I that loathed, have come to love him. Love will con- 
 quer at the last. 
 
 The last line recalls us once more to the 
 personal interest of the poem, which, after 
 all, is the strongest. The hero of Lockdey 
 Hall is bidding us farewell. He has played 
 his part through. The drama of life is 
 ended. In the first act we saw the youth 
 seeking to forget his private sorrow in the 
 largest public hopes ; turning from the lost 
 embraces of his "faithless Amy," to lay 
 his head upon the vast bosom of the age, 
 and listen to the deep throbbing of cosmic 
 hopes. In the second act we see the old 
 man seeking to forget his public disap- 
 pointments in his private affections ; turn- 
 ing back from that hard and unrestful 
 world-bosom, where he has heard nothing 
 better than the clank of machinery and 
 the words of windy oratory, to find rest in 
 the tender memories of Amy and Edith, 
 and the man whom time had changed from 
 his enemy into his friend; and looking 
 forward to the futurs for the fulfilment of 
 his hopes in an age not yet revealed. 
 
 Who that understands anything of a 
 
FRUIT FROM AN OLD TREE. 293 
 
 young man's, or an old man's, heart can 
 question the truth of these two pictures? 
 And who will venture to say that the true 
 philosophy of life does not lie somewhere 
 between optimism and pessimism, in that 
 steadfast and chastened meliorism to which 
 old-fashioned Christianity makes its appeal 
 and gives its promise ? 
 
 n. 
 
 The volume entitled Demeter, and Other 
 Poems, which appeared at the close of the 
 year 1889, does not contain any one poem 
 of equal interest with the second Locksley 
 Hall ; but it contains several of more per- 
 fect workmanship, and in its wide range of 
 subject and style it shows some of the finest 
 qualities of Tennyson's poetry. 
 
 Take, first, his sympathetic interpreta- 
 tion of Nature. Wordsworth was the leader 
 here ; he was the first to lift Nature to the 
 level of man, and utter in human language 
 her most intimate meanings; but Tenny- 
 son has added something to the scope and 
 beauty of this kind of poetry. He has 
 caught more of the throbbing and passion- 
 ate and joyous voices ot the world ; he has 
 not entered so deeply into the silence and 
 
294 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 solemnity of guardian mountains and sleep- 
 ing lakes and broad, bare skies ; but lie has 
 felt more keenly the thrills and flushes of 
 Nature — the strange, sudden, perplexed, 
 triumphant impulses of that eager seeking 
 and tremulous welcoming of love which 
 flows like life-blood through all animate 
 things. And so he is at his best with 
 Nature when he comes to the springtime. 
 The lines on The Oak are Words worthian 
 in their simplicity; the last stanza is a 
 model of austere expression : — 
 
 All his leaves 
 
 Fall'n at length, 
 Look, he stands, 
 Trunk and bough, 
 
 Naked strength. 
 
 But in The Throstle we have something 
 that none but Tennyson could have writ- 
 ten. Immortal youth throbs and pulses in 
 this old man's song. The simple music of 
 joy, so swift and free that its cadences 
 break through and through one another 
 and overflow the edges of the verse : — 
 
 Summer is coming, summer is coming, 
 
 I know it, I know it, I know it. 
 Light again, leaf again, life again, love again, 
 
 Yes, my wild little poet. 
 
 That sings itself. 
 
FRUIT FROM AN OLD TREE. 295 
 
 The poem of Demeter, which gives its 
 name to the volume, is valuable for .several 
 qualities. It is an example of that opulent, 
 stately, and musical blank verse in which 
 Tennyson was the greatest master after 
 Milton died. It shows also his power of 
 reanimating an old-world legend with the 
 vivid feeling of present life. The ancient 
 myth of the earth-goddess, whose daughter 
 has been snatched away into the shadowy 
 underworld, is quickened by the poet's 
 genius, into an impassioned utterance of 
 the sharp contrast between the spectral 
 existence of Hades and the sweet, homely 
 familiarities of the earth, the clinging of 
 the heart to simple mortal life, and the 
 preference, of its. joys and sorrows to all 
 the " hard eternities " of passionless gods. 
 But to my apprehension, the best quality 
 in this poem, and the most vital, is its rev- 
 elation of the depth and power of the poet's 
 human sympathy. 
 
 Somehow or other Demeter's divinity is 
 forgotten and lost in her motherhood. 
 Take that strong, sweet, simple passage 
 which begins : — 
 
 Child, when thoa wert gone 
 I envied human wives and nested birds. 
 
296 TBE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 It would be impossible to express more 
 directly and vividly the dependence of the 
 mother upon the babe who is dependent 
 upon her, the yearning of the maternal 
 breast toward the child who has been taken 
 from it. It is the same generous love 
 which is set to music in the song in Rom- 
 ney's Remorse ; but there the love is not 
 robbed and disappointed, but satisfied in 
 the outpouring of its riches : — 
 
 Beat, little heart, I give you this and this. 
 
 That is the fragrance, the melody, the 
 mystery of the passion of motherhood — 
 profound, simple, elemental. And when a 
 poet can feel and interpret that for us, and 
 at the same time express the rude and mas- 
 sive emotions of the stolid peasant in a 
 poem like Owd Rod, and the troubled, sen- 
 sitive penitence of a vain, weak artist in a 
 poem like Romney\ Remorse, he proves 
 that nothing human is foreign to him. 
 
 Tennyson's most distinctive trait — that 
 by which he is best known to those who 
 know him best — is the power of uttering 
 a delicate, vague, yet potent emotion, one 
 of those feelings which belong to the twi- 
 light of the heart, where the light of love 
 
FRUIT FROM AN OLD TREE. 297 
 
 and the shadow of regret are mingled, in 
 an exquisite lyric which defines nothing 
 and yet makes everything clear. To this 
 class belong such songs as " Tears, idle 
 tears," " Blow, bugle, blow," and " Break, 
 break, break." And this volume gives us 
 another lyric with the same mystical and 
 musical charm, " Far — far — away." This 
 is a melody that haunts youth and age ; the 
 attraction of distance, the strange magic of 
 the dim horizon, the enchantment of even- 
 ing bells ringing beyond the bounds of 
 sight; these are things so aerial and evan- 
 escent that they seem to elude words ; but 
 Tennyson has somehow caught them in his 
 song. 
 
 But there is something still nobler and 
 greater in his poetry. There is a spiritual 
 courage in his work, a force of faith which 
 conquers doubt and darkness, a light of 
 inward hope which burns dauntless under 
 the shadow of death. Tennyson is the 
 poet of faith ; faith, as distinguished from 
 cold dogmatism and the acceptance of 
 traditional creeds ; faith, which does not 
 ignore doubt and mystery, but triumphs 
 over them and faces the unknown with 
 fearless heart. The poem entitled Vast- 
 
298 TFtE POETHt OF TEttNYSOtt. 
 
 ness is an expression of this faith. But 
 there is even a finer quality,- a loftier, 
 because a serener, power in the poem with 
 which the book closes. Nothing that 
 Tenuyson has ever written is more beauti- 
 ful in body and soul than Crossing the 
 Bar. 
 
 Sunset and evening star, 
 
 And one clear call for me ! 
 And may there be no moaning pf the bar, 
 
 When I put out to sea, 
 
 But such a tide as moving seems asleep, 
 
 Too full for sound and foam, 
 When that which drew from out the boundless deep 
 
 Turns again home. 
 
 Twilight and evening bell, 
 
 And after that the dark ! 
 And may there be no sadness of farewell, 
 
 When I embark ; 
 
 For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place 
 
 The flood may bear me far, 
 I hope to see my Pilot face to face, 
 
 When I have crogt the bar. 
 
 That is perfect poetry — simple even 
 to the verge of austerity, yet rich with all 
 the suggestions of wide ocean and waning 
 light and vesper bells ; easy to understand 
 and full of music, yet opening inward to 
 a truth which has no words, and pointing 
 
FRUIT FROM .AN OLD TREE. 299 
 
 onward to a vision whisih transcends all 
 forms ; it is a delight and a consolation, 
 a song for mortal ears, and a prelude to 
 the larger music of immortality. 
 
 in. 
 
 The Death of (Enone, Ahbar's Dream, 
 and Other Poems, came out immediately 
 after Tennyson's death. He was at work 
 correcting the proofs, with the loving care 
 which he gave to all the details of his art, 
 when I was his guest at Aldworth in the 
 last week of August, 1892. 
 
 The volume, while it is in some respects 
 the slightest of all that Tennyson pub- 
 lished, containing no poem that can be 
 ranked with his best, and making no real 
 increment to his fame, is certainly an ex- 
 traordinary piece of work for a man of 
 eighty-three years, and does not fall below 
 the general level of his poetry. 
 
 In The Death of (Enone he returns to 
 one of the classical subjects which charmed 
 him in his youth. In St. Telemachus he 
 takes a familiar story from the ecclesias- 
 tical history of Theodoi et — the story of 
 
300 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 that first deed of monkish chivalry by 
 which the gladiatorial shows at Rome 
 were broken up — and turns it into verse. 
 In Akbar's Bream he touches the char- 
 acter of the famous Mogul emperor whose 
 name was the symbol of religious tolerance 
 and breadth of mind, and whose endeav- 
 our was to rule with fairness and an even 
 hand over all the people of different 
 creeds in his vast dominion. The subject 
 is one which had strong attractions for 
 Tennyson, and he has handled it with 
 warm sympathy. The poem closes with 
 a brief, splendid hymn to the Sun : — 
 
 Once again thou flamest heavenward, once again we see 
 
 thee rise. 
 Every morning is thy birthday, gladdening human hearts 
 and eyes. 
 
 Every morning here we greet it, bowing lowly 
 down before thee, 
 Thee the God-like, thee the changeless in thine ever- 
 changing skies. 
 
 Warble bird, and open flower, 
 the dome of azure 
 
 Kneel adoring Him the Timeless in the flame that 
 
 measures Time ! 
 Shadow-maker, shadow-slayer, arrowing light from clime 
 
 to clime, 
 Hear thy myriad laureates hail thee monarch in their 
 
 woodland rhyme. 
 
FRUIT FROM AN OLD TREE. 301 
 
 But of still greater interest are a few 
 short poems — The Making of Man, Doubt 
 and Prayer, Faith, The Silent Voices, God 
 and the Universe — in which the poet has 
 given utterance once more to the deepest 
 faith that was in him : — 
 
 Spirit, nearing yon dark portal at the limit of thy 
 
 human state, 
 Fear not thou the hidden purpose of that Power which 
 
 alone is great, 
 Nor the myriad world, His shadow, nor the silent 
 
 Opener of the Gate. 
 
 Men have assured us, in these latter 
 days, that faith and art have parted com- 
 pany ; that faith is dead, and art must 
 live for itself alone. But while they were 
 saying these things in melancholy essays 
 and trivial verses, which denied a spiritual 
 immortality and had small prospect of a 
 literary one, the two highest artists of the 
 century, Tennyson and Browning, were 
 setting their music to the keynote of an 
 endless lrfe, and prophesying with the 
 harp, according as it is written : I believe, 
 and therefore sing. 
 
A POSTSCRIPT 
 
 IN THE FORM OF A LETTER ON THE 
 STUDY OF TENNYSON. 
 
ON THE STUDY OF TENNYSON: 
 
 To Miss Grace Newlight, in Oldport, near 
 Boston. 
 
 My dear Miss Newlight, — It is very 
 good of you to begin your letter by saying 
 that you have read my book on The Poetry 
 of Tennyson. Almost every candid author 
 (except, perhaps, a few who have written, 
 but not published, in or near your native 
 place) will acknowledge that he has what 
 the precise French call a faible, for the per- 
 sons who have voluntarily become his read- 
 ers, and that he inclines to form a high esti- 
 mate of their wisdom, taste, and personal 
 character. In this weakness I share, and 
 take no shame in confessing it. Whether 
 the opening of your letter was dictated by the 
 natural goodness of your heart, or whether 
 you have added a gentle diplomacy to your 
 many other accomplishments, you have cer- 
 tainly put your request for " advice about 
 the best way to study Tennyson" in such "a 
 form as to make me sincerely desirous of 
 offering you my poor best. 
 
306 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 Candidly, then, and after serious reflec- 
 tion, upon my literary honour and con- 
 science I believe that the very best way to 
 study any poet is to read his poems. 
 
 There are other ways, of course, perhaps 
 easier, unquestionably more in vogue. You 
 remember those profound lectures which Pro- 
 fessor Boreham gave last Lent on " The Pes- 
 simism of Petrarch," and how many young 
 women were stimulated by them to wear the 
 Laura hat and enter a higher life. You 
 know also the charming Mrs. Lucy Liebig, 
 in whose " Class for General Information " 
 it is possible to get the extractum carnis of 
 several modern poets in an hour, so that one 
 can thereafter speak of all their principal 
 characters with familiarity, and even with 
 accuracy. You have been a member of the 
 " Society for the Elucidation of the Minor 
 Moral Problems in Sordello," and a sub- 
 scriber to The Literary Peptone, whose ac- 
 complished reviewers have made the task of 
 digesting a book for one's self seem like an 
 obsolete superfluity. With all of these de- 
 vices for poetical study, so entertaining and 
 in their way so useful, you are familiar. 
 But, after all, if you really care to know and 
 love a poet, I must commend you to the sim- 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 307 
 
 pie and old-fashioned plan of reading him. 
 Nothing can take the place of that. 
 
 And with Tennyson, believe me, you will 
 not find this plan difficult. It is not an 
 adventure for which you will need great 
 preparation or many confederates. You 
 may safely undertake it alone, and for plea- 
 sure. Here and there, especially in The 
 Princess, there are hard places where good 
 notes will help you. And perhaps with a 
 few poems, notably with In Memoriam, one 
 wants an analysis or commentary. But in 
 the main Tennyson is a clear poet, and there- 
 fore a delightful one. The only book which 
 is indispensable for understanding him is 
 that thick, green volume which bears on its 
 back the title The Works of Tennyson. 
 Get a copy of this book for your very own ; 
 
 — and if you are wise, you will get one that 
 is not too fine for you to mark on the mar- 
 gin, and if you have a tender conscience, 
 you will get one that has not been pirated ; 
 
 — take it with you into a quiet place, among 
 the mountains, or on the seashore, or by 
 your fireside, and read it with a free mind 
 and a fresh heart. Read, not as if you were 
 preparing for an examination or getting 
 ready to make an index, — but read for the 
 
308 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 sake of seeing what the poet has seen, and 
 feeling what he has felt, and knowing what 
 he has thought, — read the book not for idle 
 pastime, but for noble pleasure ; not for dry 
 T^knowledge, but for living wisdom ; and if 
 * you read thus, I am sure it will do for you 
 what Dr. Johnson said that every good, 
 great book ought to do, — it will help you 
 to enjoy life and teach you to endure it. 
 
 Now I am perfectly sure that you are not 
 a member of the tribe of the Philistines, and 
 therefore you will not think of reading such 
 a book as you would read a treatise on logic, 
 straight through, from the first page to the 
 last. You will want a plan, a principle of 
 order to direct your reading. The first 
 question you will ask is, Where to begin 
 among the poems, and how to continue ? Is 
 it possible to classify them ? Can we "get a 
 line through Tennyson," which may help us 
 to understand the meaning of his works, and 
 their relation to each other ? 
 
 Well, as to classification, I am not inclined 
 to set a very high value upon it in the study 
 of poetry. There are certain broad divisions 
 which can be made, — none better, after all, 
 than the old Greek trichoinetry of epic, lyric, 
 and dramatic, corresponding to the intellect, 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 309 
 
 the emotions, and the will. But unless you 
 use this division in a strictly formal and me- 
 chanical fashion, it will not be possible to 
 make the works of Tennyson, or of any other 
 modern poet, fit into it exactly. You will 
 find that some of the poems do not belong 
 to any one of the three divisions, and others 
 plainly belong to several. You will not 
 know at all what to do with Maud, orjjocks- 
 ley Hall, or The Palace of Art, or Ulysses, 
 unless you put them into a border land. 
 And when it comes to more minute classifi- 
 cation, on the lines of psychology, — Poems 
 of Reflection, Poems of Imagination, Poems 
 of Fancy, Poems of Sentiment, and the like, 
 — I doubt whether even a great poet can 
 accomplish such a thing with his own works 
 successfully. Wordsworth tried it, you know ; 
 and Matthew Arnold, an avowed Words- 
 worthian, confessed that it was not worth 
 much. The first of Browning's commenta- 
 tors, Mr. Nettleship, made an even more 
 elaborate analysis of that master's poems in 
 the first edition of JZssays and Thoughts. 
 Here is a specimen of it : — 
 
 " II. A. Poems not strictly dramatic in form, 
 but which deal with the history, or some incident 
 in the history, of the souls of two or more individ- 
 
310 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 uals mutually acting on each other towards (1) 
 progress, or (2) arrest, in development." 
 
 But in his second edition Mr. Nettleship, 
 with amiable frankness, makes fun of his 
 own analysis. I would rather not attempt 
 anything of the kind with Tennyson's poems, 
 even for the pleasure of ridiculing my own 
 failure afterwards. 
 
 But though an exact classification may be 
 useless or impossible, a general order, a 
 broad grouping of the poems for the purpose 
 of comprehending them as a whole, might 
 be helpful, and not too difficult to make it 
 worth trying. It would serve, at least, as a 
 guide to your reading, and bring together 
 the poems which are most closely related in 
 spirit and manner. I beg you, then, to 
 accept what follows, not as a classification, 
 but simply as 
 
 AN ARRANGEMENT OF TENNYSON'S POEMS. 
 
 I. MELODIES AND PICTURES. 
 
 Claribel. 
 
 Leonine Elegiacs. 
 Nothing will Die. v * 3 ' 
 All Things will Die. : «" 
 is " The winds as at their hour of birth." 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 311 
 
 The Owl. r 
 
 The Dying Swan. V 
 
 The Blackbird. " 1 1 
 u The Throstle. 
 u The Snowdrop, 
 u Early Spring. 
 
 Far — Far — Away. 
 I "Move eastward, happy Earth." ,u 
 i- " A Spirit haunts the year's last hours.' 1 *"* % 
 i The Death of the Old Year. if<g 
 
 A Farewell, /ol 
 ^ A Dirge. ^ 
 
 The Merman.^ 
 
 The Mermaid. 
 
 The Sea-Fairies. K 
 
 The Lotos-Eaters. ^H 
 
 Child-Songs. 
 
 The Song of the Wrens. 
 
 TheKraken. +* r 
 The Eagle. *"o 
 The Oak. 
 
 Recollections of the Arabian Nights. "" 
 Ode to Memory. K 
 The Progress of Spring. 
 L The Daisy. >3*V 
 Mariana. V 
 
 Mariana in the South. ^ 
 A Dream of Fair Women. W** 
 The Day-Dream. 
 
312 THE POETRY OF TENNYSOA. 
 
 The Beggar-Maid, v I *1 
 
 Isabel. »/ 
 
 Lilian. 1/ 
 
 Madeline. / 
 
 Adeline. 1/ q 
 
 Margaret. * .^ 
 
 Rosalind. ^^ 
 
 Eleanore. u 
 
 Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere. tf i° 1 
 
 The Lady of Shalott. * 
 
 II. STORIES AND PORTRAITS. 
 
 Ballads. 
 
 1. Oriana. ^** 
 
 The Sisters. Hf\ 
 
 The May-Queen. 1 U 
 
 In the Children's Hospital „s" 1 
 
 Edward Gray. 1 ** 
 
 The Letters. I ^ 
 
 Lady Clare. ^'°^ 
 
 The Lord of Burleigh, t ° *" 
 
 The Captain.** L* 
 
 The Victim. \ "A 
 
 The Revenge, t e T 
 
 The Defence of Lucknow. ^ * D 
 
 The Voyage of Maeldune. C l> "* 
 
 The First Quarrel (, Wo 
 
 Forlorn. 
 
 Happy. 
 
 The Bandit's Death, 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. Si 3 
 
 Idytts. 
 
 2. Audley Court. * L 
 Walking to the Mail. 1 1 
 Edwin Morris. ^ ^ 
 The Golden Year. i>0 
 The Brook. 2_vi" 
 Sea Dreams, i 4 ^ 
 The Lover's Tale. <p ' ^ 
 The Sisters. 3 
 The Ring. 
 
 The Miller's Daughter. f-^ 
 The Talking Oak. 7 $"" 
 The Gardener's Daughter, i 1 
 Godiva.3^ 
 CEnone.^ 
 
 The Death of QEnone. 
 Dora. L 3 
 
 Enoch Arden. 3 \ i 
 Aylmer's Field. ^^ 
 
 Cha racter-Pieces. 
 3. A Character, f 
 Love and Duty. 7 ^ 
 Tithonus. ]3^'° 
 Teiresias. L Classical. 
 Demeter. J 
 Lucretius. ^ u 
 Ulysses.3 v I Historical, 
 Columbus. (Jto 
 
£14 THE POETRY OF TF.NNtSOtf. 
 
 Akbar's Dream. 
 St Telemachus. 
 St. Simeon Styliteslij- Historical 
 Sir John Oldcastle. 
 Romney's Remorse. 
 Fatima.^^ 1 
 
 St. Agnes' Eve. V Mystical. 
 Sir Galahad A A I 
 Amphion.<\^ 
 Will Waterproofs •» 
 ,/ The Northern Farmer. Old Style. 
 \7 The Northern Farmer. New Style. 
 " The Churchwarden and the Curate. 
 The Northern Cobbler>+t 
 The Village Wife. I» b * 
 The Spinster's Sweet-Arts. 
 Owd Roa. 
 To-morrow. 
 The Grandmother.^ 
 Rizpah.>> 
 Despair. 
 The Wreck. 
 The Flight. 
 Charity. 
 
 Locksley Hall.' b* 
 
 Locksley HalL Sixty Years After. 
 Lady Clara Vere de Vere. V> 
 
 Maud. v>^ 
 
 ui. EPICS. 
 
 The Princess. 
 Idylls of the King. 
 
 ,rl. 
 
 Humorous 
 
 and 
 Dialect. 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 315 
 
 IV. DRAMAS. 
 
 Queen Mary. ] 
 
 Harold. V The Trilogy. 
 
 Becket. 
 
 The Cup. 
 
 The Falcon. 
 
 The Promise of May. 
 
 The Foresters. 
 
 V. PATRIOTIC AND PERSONAL. 
 
 " You ask me why, tho' ill at ease." 
 '/ * Love thou thy land." 
 *£ Of old sat Freedom on the heights." 
 
 Freedom. 
 
 England and America in 1782. 
 
 The Third of February, 1852. 
 
 Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. 
 
 Hands all Round. 
 
 The Charge of the Light Brigade. 
 
 Prologue to General Hamley. 
 
 The Charge of the Heavy Brigade. 
 
 Epilogue. 
 
 To the Queen. " Revered, beloved." 
 
 To the Queen. " O loyal to the royal in thy- 
 self." 
 
 Dedication to Prince Albert. 
 
 A Welcome to Alexandra. 
 
 A Welcome to Alexandrovua. 
 
316 THE FOETKY OF TENNYSON". 
 
 Dedication to the Princess Alice. 
 To the Marquis of Dufferin. 
 To the Duke of Argyll. 
 To the Princess Beatrice. 
 To the Princess Fiederica of Hanover. 
 Politics. 
 Beautiful City. 
 
 To one who ran down the English. 
 Ode for the International Exhibition. 
 Opening of the Indian and Colonial Exhibi- 
 tion. 
 On the Jubilee of Queen Victoria. 
 The Fleet. 
 On the Death of the Duke of Clarence. 
 
 To " Clear-headed friend." 
 
 To J. S. (James Spedding.) 
 
 To E. L., on his Travels in Greece. (Ed- 
 mund Lear.) 
 
 To the Rev. F. D. Maurice. 
 
 A Dedication. (To his wife.) 
 
 In the Garden of Swainston. (Sir John 
 Simeon.) 
 
 To E. Fitzgerald. 
 
 To Alfred Tennyson, my Grandson. 
 
 Prefatory to my Brother's Sonnets. 
 
 Sir John Franklin, 
 Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, 
 ] General Gordon. 
 [ Caxton. 
 To Ulysses. (W. G. Palgrave.) 
 
 Epitaphs on 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 317 
 
 The Roses on the Terrace. 
 
 To Mary Boyle. 
 
 To Professor Jebb. 
 
 In Memoriam — William George Ward. 
 
 VI. POEMS OF THE INNER LIFE. 
 
 Of Art. 
 
 1. The Poet. 
 
 The Poet's Mind. 
 The Poet's Song. 
 ?*- The Palace of Art. 
 Merlin and the Gleam. 
 The Flower. 
 The Spiteful Letter. 
 Literary Squabbles. 
 
 " You might have won the Poet's name. 
 The Dead Prophet. 
 Poets and their Bibliographies. 
 Frater Ave atque Vale. 
 Parnassus. 
 To Virgil. 
 To Milton. 
 To Dante. 
 To Victor Hugo. 
 
 Of Life, Love, and Death. 
 
 2. The Deserted House. 
 Love and Death. 
 Circumstance. 
 
 The Voyage. 
 
318 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 The Islet. 
 
 The Sailor-Boy. 
 
 The Vision of Sin. 
 
 The Voice and the Peak. 
 
 Will. 
 
 Wages. 
 
 " Flower in the crannied wall." 
 
 " My life is full of weary days." 
 
 " Come not, when I am dead." 
 
 Requiescat. 
 
 On a Mourner. 
 
 " Break, break, break." 
 
 In the Valley of Cauteretz. 
 
 Of Doubt and Faith. 
 
 3. Supposed Confessions. 
 The Two Voices. 
 The Ancient Sage. 
 By an Evolutionist. 
 In Memoriam. 
 The Higher Pantheism. 
 De Profundis. 
 Vastness. 
 Crossing the Bar. 
 Faith. 
 
 The Silent Voices. 
 God and the Universe. 
 Doubt and Prayer. 
 
 This arrangement may be imperfect, but I 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 319 
 
 think, at least, that it omits nothing of 
 importance, that it is constructed on the 
 lines of poetic development, and that it will 
 be easy to discover the inward relationship 
 and coherence of the principal groups, so 
 that you can follow a clue from poem to 
 poem. 
 
 You will do well to begin with the Melo- 
 dies and Pictures, because Tennyson began 
 with them, and because they belong to the 
 lowest form of his art, although it is the form 
 in which he has done some of his most ex- 
 quisite work. There are many people — and 
 not altogether illiterate people — who still 
 think of him chiefly as a " maker of musical 
 phrases." Well, he is that ; and he meant 
 to be that, in order that he might be some- 
 thing more. At the very outset, he sought 
 to win the power of expressing sensuous 
 beauty in melodious language. The things 
 seen and heard, the rhythm, the colour, the 
 harmony of the outward world, — these were 
 the things that haunted him, and these, first 
 of all, he desired to convey into his verse. 
 He threw himself with all the passion of 
 youth upon the task of rendering them per- 
 fectly. 
 
-t 
 
 320 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 I call it a task, because no man has ever 
 done this kind of work by chance. Even 
 to the painting of a simple flower, or the 
 making of a little song, perfectly, there goes 
 an infinite deal of preparation, of learning, 
 of effort; sometimes it is conscious, some- 
 times unconscious ; sometimes it is direct, 
 sometimes it is indirect; but always it is 
 there, behind the music, behind the picture ; 
 for no one can do anything good in any art 
 without labour for the mastery of its little 
 secrets which are so hard to learn. 
 
 If, then, you find some traces of effort in 
 Tennyson's first melodies and pictures, like 
 Ele'dnore, The Mermaid, Recollections of the 
 Arabian Nights, you will say that this is be- 
 cause he has not yet learned to conceal the ef- 
 fort; and if you find that in the best of them, 
 like The Lotos-Eaters and The Lady of Sha- 
 lott, the chief interest still lies in the sound, 
 the form, the colour, you will say that it is be- 
 cause he has set himself to conquer the tech- 
 nique of his art, and to render the music and 
 the vision beautifully, for the sake of their 
 beauty. Mr. R. H. Hutton, who does not 
 always see the bearing of his own criticisms, 
 has said, " Tennyson was an artist even be- 
 fore he was a poet." That is true, but it does 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 321 
 
 not take anything away from his greatness 
 to admit such an obvious fact. Giotto was 
 a draughtsman before he was a painter. Mo- 
 zart was a pianist before he was a musician. 
 If you are wise, then, you will look chiefly 
 for the charm of perfect expression in these 
 melodies and pictures. Take a little piece 
 which has stood on the first page of Ten- 
 nyson's poems for sixty years, Chirlbel. It 
 does not mean much. Indeed, its charm 
 might be less if its meaning were greater. It 
 is mere music, — every word like a soft, clear 
 note, — each with its own precise value, and 
 yet all blending in a simple effect. The 
 difference between the sound of the quiet 
 wave "outwelling" from the spring, and 
 the swift runlet "crisping" over the pebbles, 
 is distinct ; the " beetle boometh " in another 
 tone from that in which the "wild bee 
 hummeth ; " but all the sounds come together 
 in a sad, gentle cadence with the ending 
 
 eth : — 
 
 Where Claribel low-lieth. 
 
 In the picture poems you will find a great 
 deal of pre-Raphaelite work. It is exact and 
 vivid, even to the point of seeming often too 
 minute. It is worth while to notice the colour 
 words; hb^ewthey are, and yet how per- 
 
A 
 
 322 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 fectly they do their work! Here are two 
 lines from the Ode to Memory : — 
 
 What time the amber morn 
 
 Forth gushes from beneath a low-hong cloud. 
 
 That "amber" sheds all the splendour of 
 daybreak over the landscape. 
 
 And here, again, is a stanza from The 
 Lady of Shalott : — 
 
 Willows whiten, aspens quiver, 
 Little breezes dusk and shiver 
 Thro' the wave that runs for ever 
 By the island in the river 
 
 Flowing down to Camelot. 
 Four gray walls, and four gray towera, 
 Overlook a space of flowers, 
 And the silent isle imbowers 
 
 The Lady of Shalott. 
 
 How exquisite is the word "whiten" to 
 describe the turning of the long willow-leaves 
 in the wind, and how well it suggests the 
 cool colouring of the whole picture, all in low 
 tones, except the little spot of flowers below 
 the square, gray castle. 
 
 I do not think that this is the greatest 
 kind of poetry, but certainly it has its own 
 value, and we ought to be grateful for 
 it. The perfection to which Tennyson has 
 brought it has added a new sweetness and 
 fluency to our language. Just as a violin 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 323 
 
 gains a richer and mellower tone by the long 
 and loving touch of a master, so the English 
 language has been enriched and softened by 
 the use that Tennyson has made of it in his 
 beauty-poems. 
 
 But already we can see that something 
 deeper and stronger is coming into these 
 beauty-poems. The melodies begin to have 
 a meaning, the pictures begin to have a soul. 
 Of many of the young women in his gallery 
 of female figures, — Lilian, Adeline, Made- 
 line, and the rest, — it may be said in Tenny- 
 son's own words : — 
 
 The form, the form alone is eloquent, 
 
 but in Isabel we see a character behind the 
 form, and the beauty of her nature makes 
 her sisters seem vague and unreal beside her. 
 The Lady of Shalott, which I have placed 
 last among the Melodies and Pictures, is in 
 effect a mystical ballad, foreshadowing the 
 transition from the dream-world of fancy to 
 the real world of* human joy and sorrow. 
 And so we come to the second group of 
 poems, the Stories and Portraits. 
 
 The interest here centres in life and per- 
 sonality. It is some tale of human love, or 
 heroism, or suffering, that the poet tells ; and 
 
324 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 then we have a Ballad. Or it is some pic- 
 ture that he paints, not for its own sake alone, 
 but to make it the vehicle of human feeling ; 
 and then we have an Idyll, — that is, a scene 
 coloured and interpreted by an emotion. Or 
 it is some character that he depicts, some liv- 
 ing personality that he clothes with language, 
 either in a meditative soliloquy which shows 
 it in all its breadth of sentiment and thought, 
 or in a lyrical outburst from some intense 
 mood ; and then we have what I have ven- 
 tured to call a Character-Piece. The lines 
 between these three divisions cannot be very 
 clearly drawn. I have been much in doubt 
 as to the best place for some of the poems. 
 But there is a real difference among them, 
 after all, in the predominance of the narra- 
 tive, the descriptive, or the dramatic spirit ; 
 and you will feel the difference as you read 
 them. 
 
 In the Ballads I think you will feel that 
 the secret of their charm lies quite as much 
 in their human sympathy as in the perfection 
 of their art. The clearer, simpler, more 
 pathetic the story, the more absolutely does 
 it control and clarify the music. The best 
 of them are those in which the beauty comes 
 from delicate notes, so slight that one hardly 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 325 
 
 hears them, though their effect is magical. 
 How much the pathos of The May Queen 
 is enhanced by the naive touch in these 
 verses : — 
 
 O look ! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in a glow ; 
 lie shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them I know. 
 And there I move no longer now, and there his light ruay 
 
 shine — 
 Wild flowers in the valley for other hands than mine. 
 
 Or listen to the last lines of The Lord of 
 Burleigh: — 
 
 Then her people, softly treading, 
 
 Bore to earth her body, drest 
 In the dress that she was wed in, 
 
 That her spirit might hava rest. 
 
 This is perfect simplicity, — words of com- 
 mon life, charged with the richest and ten- 
 derest poetic meaning. No less simple in 
 its way — which is utterly different — is the 
 glorious fighting ballad of The Revenge. 
 It is the passion of daring, now, that carries 
 the poem onward in its strong, heroic move- 
 ment. There is not a redundant ornament / 
 in the whole ballad. Every simile that it 
 contains is full of swift motion. 
 
 At Flores in the Azores, Sir Richard Grenville lay, 
 And a pinnace, like a flutter'' d bird, came flying from far 
 away. 
 
-£ 
 
 326 ri^E POETRY OF TENNY80K. 
 
 So Lord Howard past away with fire ships of war that 
 
 day, 
 Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven. 
 
 Sir Richard spoke, and he langh'd, and we roar'd a 
 
 hurrah, and so 
 The little " Revenge " ran on sheer into the heart of the foe. 
 
 Among the Idylls you will find a great 
 difference. In some of them the pictorial 
 element seems to count for more than the 
 human feeling, — and these I think are the 
 poorest. Of such slight sketches as Audley 
 Court and Edwin Morris, all that can be 
 said is that they have pretty passages in 
 them. Tennyson was right in caring little 
 for The Lover's Tale. Aylmer's Field is 
 weaker than Enoch Arden just in so far as 
 it is more ornate and complicated. Dora is 
 the best of all, and I doubt whether you can 
 discover one metaphor, or figure of speech, 
 or decorative adjective in the whole poem. 
 It moves like the Book of Ruth, in beauty 
 unadorned. 
 
 In the character-pieces you will be im- 
 pressed, first of all, by the breadth of their 
 range. They touch the whole circle of 
 humanity, from the Roman philosopher to 
 the English peasant ; they even go beyond 
 it, and breathe into the ancient myths, like 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON 327 
 
 Tithonus and Demeter, human life and pas- 
 sion. Some of them are humorous, as Will 
 Waterproof and The Northern Farmer; 
 and others are mystical, as St. Agnes' Eve 
 and Sir Galahad; and others are passion- 
 ate, springing out of the depths of life's 
 tragedy, as The Wreck and Despair. But 
 almost without exception they are true and 
 distinct portraits of persons. 
 
 And then you will observe that (with one 
 early exception, A Character) they are all 
 dramatic. The characters are not described ; 
 they speak for themselves, either in blank- 
 verse monologues, or in dramatic lyrics. 
 The first is the form that is used chiefly when 
 the mental quality is to be expressed. The 
 second is the form chosen to reveal the emo- 
 tional quality. In all of them, the thing 
 that you will look for, and the test by which 
 you will value the poems, is the truth of the 
 thought and the utterance to the character 
 from which they come. And I think that 
 most of them will stand the test. If Mr. 
 Swinburne had written them he might have 
 made Ulysses and Columbus and Sir Gala- 
 had and the Northern Cobbler all speak the 
 Swinburnian dialect. Mr. Browning might 
 have set them all to analyzing their own 
 
328 THE POETRY OF TEXXYSOX. 
 
 souls, and talking metaphysics. But with 
 Tennyson each character speaks in a native 
 voice, and thinks the thoughts which belong 
 to him. Take the subject of Love, and hear 
 what the Northern Farmer has to say of 
 it: — 
 
 Luw ? What 's luw ? thou can luw thy lass an' 'er 
 
 munny too, 
 Maakin' 'em goa togither, as they 've good right to do. 
 Could n' I luw thy muther by cause o' 'er munny laaid 
 
 by? 
 Naay — for I luw'd 'er a vast sight moor fur it: reason 
 
 why. 
 
 And then listen to the hero of Lock&ley 
 Hall: — 
 
 Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords 
 
 with might; 
 Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, passed in music 
 
 out of sight. 
 
 Or take the passion of exploration, the 
 strong desire to push out across new seas 
 into new worlds, and mark how differently it 
 is felt and expressed by Ulysses and Colum- 
 bus. Ulysses is the " much-experienced 
 man," with a thirst for seeing and knowing 
 which cannot be satiated : — 
 
 I cannot rest from travel : I will drink 
 Life to the lees : all times I have enjoy'd 
 Greatly, have suffer' d greatly . . . 
 
THE STUDY OF TEtiNYSON 329 
 
 . . . I am become a name ; 
 
 For always roaming with a hungry heart 
 
 Much have I seen and known ; cities of men, 
 
 And manners, climates, councils, governments, 
 
 Myself not least, but honour'd of them all ; 
 
 And drunk delight of battle with my peers, 
 
 Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. 
 
 I am a part of all that I have met ; 
 
 Yet all experience is as an arch wherethro' 
 
 Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades 
 
 For ever and for ever when I move. 
 
 This is the deep impulse of motion without a 
 goal, the mere JReis e-lust of a restless heart. 
 But Columbus is a man with a mission. It 
 is the glory of Spain and the spread of the 
 Catholic faith that drives him to seek an 
 undiscovered continent : — 
 
 I pray you tell 
 King Ferdinand, who plays with me, that one, 
 Whose life has been no play with him and his 
 Hidalgos — shipwrecks, famines, fevers, fights, 
 Mutinies, treacheries — wink'd at, and condoned — 
 That I am loyal to him till the death, 
 And ready — tho' our Holy Catholic Queen, 
 Who fain had pledged her jewels on my first voyage, 
 Whose hope was mine to spread the Catholic faith, 
 Who wept with me when I return' d in chains, 
 Who sits beside the blessed Virgin now, 
 To whom I send my prayer by night and day — 
 She is gone — but you will tell the King, that I, 
 Rack'd as I am with gout, and wrench'd with pains 
 Gain' J in the service of His Highness, yet 
 Am ready to sail forth on one last voyage, 
 And readier, if the King would hear, to lead 
 
330 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 One last crusade against the Saracen, 
 And save the Holy Sepulchre from thrall. 
 
 Or take the subject of death. To the 
 weary philosopher Lucretius, resolved on 
 suicide, it means simply absorption into 
 Nature : — 
 
 O Thou, 
 Passionless bride, divine Tranquillity, 
 Yearn'd after by the wisest of the wise, 
 Who fail to find thee, being as thou art 
 Without one pleasure and without one pain, 
 Howbeit I know thou surely must be mine 
 Or soon or late, yet out of season, thus 
 I woo thee roughly,, for thou carest not 
 How roughly men may woo thee so they win — 
 Thus — thus : the soul flies out and dies in the air. 
 
 But to the peasant mother in Rizpah it means 
 the fulfilment and recompense of her intense, 
 unquestioning passion of maternity : — ■ 
 
 Election, Election and Reprobation — it 's all very welL 
 But I go to-night to my boy, and I shall not find him in 
 
 Hell 
 For I cared so much for my boy that the Lord has look'd 
 
 into my care, 
 And He means me I 'm sure to be happy with Willy, I 
 
 know not where. 
 
 Nothing could be sharper than the con- 
 trasts among these six poems ; nothing more 
 perfect than the consistency of thought and 
 feeling and utterance, with the character in 
 each. 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 331 
 
 Maud) the largest of the character-pieces, 
 differs from the others in its method. It is 
 lyrical in form; but instead of being a 
 dramatic lyric, it is a lyrical drama. It has 
 all the elements of interest which belong to 
 the drama, — change of scene, development 
 of plot, sudden catastrophe ; and, although 
 only one of the characters appears upon the 
 stage, the others are felt in the story. It is 
 a wonderfully consistent and searching study 
 of the action of romantic love and tragic 
 error upon a mind with a taint of hereditary 
 insanity. There is but one speaker in the 
 poem ; but a marvellous effect of variety is 
 given to it by the changes in rhythm and 
 style in the different cantos. Tennyson has" 
 never written anything which is richer in 
 music or more alive with passionate feeling. 
 The metre sometimes seems irregular, but 
 there is always an air, a movement, a rhyth- 
 mic beat which underlies it ; and when you 
 have found that, you understand how per- 
 fectly melodious it is. The chief beauty of 
 the poem lies in the clearness with which 
 it shows the redeeming, healing, purifying 
 power of love. It transforms the hero from 
 a selfish misanthrope to a true man. 
 
 Of Tennyson's complete dramas, I have 
 
332 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 said elsewhere that which seemed to me 
 needful and fitting. Let me only beg you 
 to study them for yourself, — at least the 
 historic trilogy, — and not to be satisfied 
 with taking the judgment of other people. 
 
 The finished epics, also, I have tried to 
 criticise in another place. The Princess is 
 the one of Tennyson's poems which stands 
 most in need of notes. It is fortunate that 
 they have been supplied by such an accom- 
 plished scholar as Dr. W. J. Rolfe, in his 
 annotated edition. For my own part, I am 
 inclined to think that this very need, which 
 must arise from obscurity in the allusions 
 and complexity in the diction, marks the 
 poem as belonging to a lower order than 
 Tennyson's best. 
 
 The epic entitled Idylls of the King, be- 
 sides its interest as the broadest and noblest 
 piece of imaginative work that Tennyson has 
 done, is the poem in which you may most 
 wisely make a careful study of his poetic 
 manner. It is common to speak of the 
 Idylls as a gorgeous mediaeval tapestry, full 
 of rich colour and crowded with elaborately 
 wrought figures. But I should like you to 
 discover whether there is not something: 
 more precious in them ; whether the very 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 333 
 
 style has not rarer and finer qualities than 
 mere ornament. Take some of the best 
 passages, in which the so-called " Tenny- 
 sonian manner" is quite distinct, and ex- 
 amine them thoroughly. For example, here 
 is Arthur's description of his Round Table, 
 from the Idyll of Guinevere : — 
 
 But I was first of all the kings who drew 
 
 The knighthood errant of this realm and all 
 
 The realms together under me, their Head, 
 
 In that fair Order of my Table Round, 
 
 A glorious company, the flower of men, 
 
 To serve as model for the mighty world, 
 
 And be the fair beginning of a time. 
 
 I made them lay their hands in mine and swear 
 
 To reverence the King, as if he were 
 
 Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, 
 
 To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, 
 
 To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, 
 
 To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, 
 
 To honour his own word as if his God's, 
 
 To lead sweet lives in purest chastity, 
 
 To love one maiden only, cleave to her, 
 
 And worship her by years of noble deeds, 
 
 Until they won her ; for indeed I knew 
 
 Of no more subtle master under heaven 
 
 Than is the maiden passion for a maid, 
 
 Not only to keep down the base in man, 
 
 But teach high thought, and amiable words, 
 
 And courtliness, and the desire of fame, 
 
 And love of truth, and all that makes a man. 
 
 Now there is no mistaking this for the 
 
f 
 
 334 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 work of any other poet of our century. It 
 belongs to Tennyson as obviously as if he 
 had signed his name to every line. But 
 what is it that gives the style its personal 
 flavour, what constitutes the " Tennysonian- 
 ism," as Mr. Howells calls it? Certainly it 
 is not any redundancy of ornament, or opu- 
 lence of epithet. This is not elaborate, dec- 
 orative verse. The words are familiar and 
 simple ; mpst of them are monosyllables. 
 There is but a single instance of alliteration. 
 I think the peculiar effect, the sense of rich 
 and perfect art, comes from the flow of the 
 words. It is the movement that makes the 
 style. And this movement has three quali- 
 ties. First, sweetness ; not a word is harsh, 
 abrupt, strange ; the melody flows without a 
 break. Then, certainty; this comes from 
 the sense of order and proportion; every 
 word fits into its place. Then, strength; 
 the strength which consists in fulness of 
 thought and fewness of words. 
 
 Keflect on the ideal of a true aristocracy 
 which is expressed in this brief passage. It 
 must begin with reverence and obedience; 
 for only they are fit to command who have 
 learned to obey. It must be brave and 
 helpful, daring to resist the heathen invad- 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 335 
 
 ers and devoted to the redress of human 
 wrongs. It must be pure in thought and 
 word and deed ; for the thinking and speak- 
 ing evil of others is one of the besetting sins 
 of an aristocracy, and the spirit of slander is 
 twin-sister to the spirit of lust. It must not 
 banish the passion of love, nor brutalize it, 
 but lift it up, and idealize it as the transfig- 
 uration of life, and make it a true worship 
 with a ritual of noble deeds. And out of all 
 this will come the right manhood, in thought, 
 in speech, in manners, in ambition, in sin- 
 cerity, " in all that makes a man." Now the 
 art which can put this broad and strong con- 
 ception of a class worthy to rule and to 
 lead society, into a score of lines, so clear 
 that they can be read without effort, and so 
 melodious that they fill the ear with plea- 
 sure, is exquisite. I think more than any- 
 thing else, it is this presence of a pure ideal 
 shining through a refined and balanced verse, 
 this union of moral and metrical harmony, 
 that marks the consummation of the Tenny- 
 sonian manner in the Idylls of the King. 
 
 I have no time to speak of the " Patriotic 
 Poems," except to say that they ought to be 
 studied together, because there is something 
 in almost every one of them which is essen- 
 
336 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 tial to the full understanding of the poet's 
 conception of loyalty and liberty and order, 
 as the three elements of a perfect state. 
 
 The last division in the arrangement which 
 I have made is " Poems of the Inner Life." 
 You can probably conjecture why it is last. 
 Partly because it is more difficult, and partly 
 because it is higher, in the sense that it 
 gives a more direct revelation of the person- 
 ality of the poet. It is for this reason that 
 we should not be in haste to enter it. For 
 it is always best to look first at the fact, and 
 then at the explanation ; first at a man's 
 objective work, and then at the account 
 which he gives of himself and the spirit in 
 which he has laboured. 
 
 The group of poems in which Tennyson 
 deals with art is important, not only for the 
 poems themselves, but also for the light 
 which they throw upon his artistic principles 
 and tastes. It is not altogether by chance 
 that the poets to whom he gives greeting are 
 Milton, Virgil, Dante, and Victor Hugo. In 
 Tlie Poet you will find his early concep- 
 tion of the power of poetry ; in Hie Poet's 
 3find, his thought of its purity; in Tlie 
 Poet's Song, his avowal that its charm 
 depends upon faith in the immortal future. 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 337 
 
 The Palace of Art is an allegory of the i 
 impotence of art when separated from human 
 love. The Flower tells, in a symbolic man- 
 ner, his experience with unreasoning critics. 
 The Spiteful Letter and Literary Squab- 
 bles are reminiscences of the critical warfare 
 which raged around him in his youth, and 
 made him sometimes forget his own princi- 
 ple of doing his work " as quietly and as well 
 as possible without much heeding the praise 
 or the dispraise." 
 
 But to my mind the most important, and 
 in some respects the most beautiful, of these 
 art-poems, is Merlin and The Gleam. The 
 wonder is that none of the critics seem to 
 have recognized it for what it really is, — 
 the poet's own description of his life-work, 
 and his clear confession of faith as an 
 idealist. 
 
 The light that never was on sea or land, 
 The consecration, and the Poet's dream," — 
 
 this is the " Gleam " that Tennyson has fol- 
 lowed. It glanced first on the world of 
 fancy with its melodies and pictures, dancing- 
 fairies, and falling torrents. Then it touched 
 the world of humanity; and the stories of 
 man's toil and conflict, the faces of human 
 love and heroism, were revealed. Then it 
 
338 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 illuminated the world of imagination; and 
 the great epic of Arthur was disclosed to the 
 poet's vision in its spiritual meaning, the 
 crowning of the blameless king. Then it 
 passed through the valley of the shadow of 
 death, and clothed it with light : — 
 
 And broader and brighter 
 
 The Gleam flying onward, 
 
 Wed to the melody, 
 
 Sang thro' the world ; 
 
 And slower and fainter, 
 
 Old and weary, 
 
 But eager to follow, 
 
 I saw, whenever 
 
 In passing it glanced upon 
 
 Hamlet or city, 
 
 That under the Crosses 
 
 The dead man's garden, 
 
 The mortal hillock 
 
 Would break into blossom : 
 
 And so to the land's 
 
 Last limit I came — 
 
 And can no longer, 
 
 But die rejoicing, 
 
 For thro' the Magic 
 
 Of Him the Mighty, 
 
 Who taught me in childhood, 
 
 There on the border 
 
 Of boundless Ocean, 
 
 And all but in Heaven 
 
 Hovers The Gleam. 
 
 Not of the sunlight, 
 Not of the moonlight, 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 339 
 
 Not of the starlight ! 
 O young Mariner, 
 Down to the haven, 
 Call your companions, 
 Launch your vessel, 
 And crowd your canvas, 
 And, ere it vanishes 
 Over the margin, 
 After it, follow it, 
 Follow The Gleam. 
 
 That is the confession of a poet's faith in / 
 the Ideal. It is the cry of a prophet to the 
 younger singers of a faithless and irresolute 
 generation. 
 
 Among the poems which touch more 
 broadly upon the common experience of 
 mankind in love and sorrow and death, you 
 will find, first, a group which are alike only 
 in their manner of treatment. It is allegor- 
 ical, mystical, emblematic, — find a name for 
 it if you will. I mean that these poems 
 convey their meaning under a mask; they 
 use a symbolic language, just as Merlin and 
 The Flower do in the preceding group. 
 You must read The Deserted House, The 
 Voyage, The Sailor Boy, The Islet, The 
 Vision of Sin, The Voice and the Peak, for 
 their secret significance. Then come three 
 precious fragments of philosophy more di- 
 rectly uttered. Willi Wages, and Flower 
 
340 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 in the Crannied Wall go down to the very 
 roots of human action, and aspiration, and 
 thought. Then follows a group of poems 
 more personal, varied in manner, and deal- 
 ing in different moods with the sorrow of 
 death. Their deepest and sweetest note is 
 reached in the two lyrics which sprang out 
 of the poet's grief for the death of Arthur 
 Hallam. The world has long since accepted 
 the first of these as the perfect song of mourn- 
 ing love. " Break, break, break" once heard, 
 is never to be forgotten. It is the melody of 
 tears. But the fragment called In the Val- 
 ley of Cauteretz seems to me no less perfect 
 in its way. And surely a new beauty comes 
 into both of the poems when we read them 
 side by side. For the early cry of longing, — 
 
 Bat for the touch of a vanish'd hand 
 And the sound of a voice that is still I 
 
 finds an answer in the later assurance of 
 consolation, — 
 
 And all along the valley, by rock and cave and tree, 
 The voice of the dead was a living voice to me. 
 
 Of the final group of poems I shall sa^ 
 nothing, because it will not be possible to 
 say enough. In Memoriam alone would 
 require a volume, if one attempted to speak 
 of it adequately. Indeed, no less than six 
 
TI1E STUDY OF TENNYSON. 341 
 
 such volumes have been written, four in Eng- 
 land by F. W. Robertson, Alfred Gatty, 
 Elizabeth R. Chapman, and Joseph Jacobs, 
 two in America by Profs. Thomas Davidson 
 and John F. Genung. If you need an anal- 
 ysis or commentary on the poem you can 
 find it easily. The one thing that I hope 
 you will feel in reading this great poem and 
 the others which are grouped with it, is that 
 they are real records of the inward conflict 4- 
 between doubt and faith, and that in this 
 conflict faith has the victory. And you may 
 well ask yourself whether this very victory 
 has not meant the winning, and unsealing, 
 and guarding, of the fountain-head of Ten- 
 nyson's poetic power. How many of his 
 noblest poems, Locksley Hall, The May 
 Queen, The Leper's Bride, Rizjyah, Guine- 
 vere, Enoch Arden, find their uplifting in- 
 spiration, and reach their climax, in " the 
 evidence of things not seen, the substance of 
 things hoped for." Could he have written 
 anything of his best without that high faith 
 in an immortal life which he has expressed 
 in the rolling lines of Vastness, and in that 
 last supreme, faultless lyric Crossing the 
 Bar t Can any man be a poet without 
 faith in God and his own soul ? 
 
842 TBE POETRY OF TENtiYSON. 
 
 An answer to this question, clear and 
 solemn as a voice from beyond the grave, 
 comes in the posthumous volume entitled 
 The Death of CEnone, Akhar's Dream, and 
 Other Poems. Among the longer pieces 
 there are three short poems, profoundly and 
 unmistakably personal, which are like ma- 
 jestic chords preluding the large and perfect 
 music of immortality. 
 
 The first is Doubt and Prayer, closing 
 with the splendid lines : — 
 
 Let blow the trumpet strongly when I pray, 
 Till thia embattled wall of unbelief, 
 My prison, not my fortress, fall away ! 
 Then, if Thou wiliest, let my day be brief, 
 So Thou wilt strike Thy glory through the day. 
 
 The second is God and the Universe, in 
 which the courage of the soul to believe in 
 God is asserted against the belittling and 
 overwhelming immensity of " the myriad 
 worlds, His shadow." 
 
 The third is that swan-song of the dying 
 poet, Tlie Silent Voices, reechoed and pro- 
 longed by the choral music that flowed 
 around him as he was carried to his last 
 repose in the Abbey of Westminster, — 
 
 Gall me not so often back, 
 Silent voices of the dead ! 
 
THE STUDY OF TENNYSON. 343 
 
 Call me rather, silent voices, 
 Forward to the starry track 
 Glimmering up the heights beyond me, 
 On, and always on 1 
 
 And now when you turn to look back on 
 your study of Tennyson, what are you to 
 think of him ? Is he a great poet ? Your 
 reply to that will depend on whether you 
 think the Nineteenth Century is a great cen- 
 tury. For there can be no doubt that he 
 represents the century better than any other 
 man. The thoughts, the feelings, the desires, 
 the conflicts, the aspirations of our age are 
 mirrored in his verse. And if you say that 
 this alone prevents him from being great, 
 because greatness must be solitary and inde- 
 pendent, I answer, No ; for the great poet 
 does not anticipate the conceptions of his 
 age, he only anticipates their expression. 
 He says what is in the heart of the people, 
 and says it so beautifully, so lucidly, so 
 strongly, that he becomes their voice. Now 
 if this age of ours, with its renaissance of art 
 and its catholic admiration of the beautiful 
 in all forms, classical and romantic ; with its 
 love of science and its joy in mastering the 
 secrets of Nature ; with its deep passion of 
 humanity protesting against social wrongs 
 
344 THE POETRY OF TENNYSON. 
 
 and dreaming of social regeneration ; with 
 its introspective spirit searching the springs 
 of character and action ; with its profound 
 interest in the problems of the unseen, and 
 its reaction from the theology of the head to 
 the religion of the heart, — if this age of 
 ours is a great age, then Tennyson is a great 
 poet, for he is the clearest, sweetest, strong- 
 est voice of the century. 
 
A VALEDICTION. 
 
TENNYSON 
 
 IN LUCEM TRANSITUS. 
 October 6, 1892. 
 
 I uom the misty shores of midnight, touched with splen- 
 dours of the moon, 
 
 To the singing tides of heaven, and the light more clear 
 than noon, 
 
 Passed a soul that grew to music till it was with God in 
 tone. 
 
 Brother of the greatest poets, true to nature, true to art ; 
 Lover of Immortal Love, nplifter of the human heart, 
 Who shall cheer us with high music, who shall sing, if 
 thou depart ? 
 
 Silence here, — for love is silent, gazing on the lessening 
 
 sail; 
 Silence here, — for grief is voiceless when the mighty 
 
 poets fail ; 
 Silence here, — but far beyond us, many voices crying, 
 
 Hail! 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
A CHRONOLOGY OF TENNYSON'S 
 LIFE AND WORKS. 
 
This Chronology has been greatly enlarged since the first 
 edition, and is now revised by reference to the admirable Memoir 
 of Tennyson, by his son, Hallam, Lord Tennyson. It contains an 
 outline of the principal events in the poet's life, a complete list of 
 his publications, and a catalogue of the most important articles and 
 books about him. It thus presents to the reader the materials for 
 a careful study of the development of Tennyson's poetical art and 
 the growth of his fame. 
 
 July, 1898. 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 1809. Alfred, the fourth son of the Rev. George Clay- 
 — ton, and Elizabeth Fytche, Tennyson, was born at 
 Somersby in Lincolnshire, August 6. 
 
 • # * In regard to the accuracy of this date there need be 
 no further doubt. Lord Tennyson has been kind enough to 
 write me that ' he thinks that he was probably born in the 
 early morning of the 6th, just after midnight. His mother 
 used to keep his birthday on August 6th.' Since then Mr. 
 C. J. Caswell has made a careful examination of the date 
 in the Baptismal Register at Somersby, and writes that the 
 figure is a 6, which has been mistaken for a 6 on account of 
 the fading of the ink on the left side of the loop. 
 
 181 6. Alfred Tennyson entered Louth Grammar School. 
 
 1820. Alfred Tennyson left Louth Grammar School at 
 Christmas. Charles left at Midsummer, 1821. 
 
 1827. Poems by Two Brothers. London : Printed 
 for W. Simpkin and R. Marshall, and J. & J. Jack- 
 son, Louth. mdcccxxvu., pp. xii, 228. Charles 
 and Alfred Tennyson published this book anony- 
 mously. 
 
 *»* For the copyright Jackson paid £20 ; but one half of 
 this sum was to be taken out in books from Jackson's shop. 
 The volume of poems was printed in two forms, one on large, 
 the other on small paper. 
 
 1828. Alfred Tennyson entered Trinity College, Cam- 
 bridge, in October. 
 
 Among his intimate friends were Arthur Henry Hallam, 
 Richard Monckton Milne^, John Mitchell Kemble, William 
 
354 APPENDIX. 
 
 Henry Brookfield, Henry Alford, James Spedding, and Rich- 
 ard Chevenix Trench. 
 
 1829. Timbuctoo: A Poem which obtained the Chan- 
 cellor's Medal at the Cambridge Commencement, 
 M.DCCC.xxrx. By A. Tennyson, of Trinity College. 
 Printed in " Prolusiones Academic* ; mdcccxxix. 
 Cantabrigise : typis academicis excudit Joannes 
 Smith." pp. 41. 
 
 *** This was burlesqued by William Makepeace Thackeray 
 in The Snob, an undergraduate periodical ; and highly praised 
 in The Athenmum (July 22, 1829), of which Frederick Deni- 
 son Maurice and John Sterling were the editors. 
 
 1830. Poems, chiefly Lyrical, by Alfred Tennyson. 
 London : Effingham Wilson, Royal Exchange, 
 Cornhill, 1830. pp. 154, and leaf of Errata. 
 
 Tennyson and Hallam visited the Pyrenees to- 
 gether. 
 
 Charles Tennyson published Sonnets and Fugitive Pieces, 
 by Charles Tennyson, Trin. Coll. Cambridge : published by 
 R. Bridges, Market Hill, and sold by John Richardson, 91, 
 Royal Exchange, London, pp. 83. 
 
 *#* William Wordsworth wrote from Cambridge : " We 
 have also a respectable show of blossom in poetry — two 
 brothers of the name of Tennyson ; one in particular not a 
 little promising." 
 
 1831. Contributed "Anacreontics," "No More," and 
 "A Fragment" to The Gem: A Literary Annual. 
 London : W. Marshall ; also a Sonnet, " Check 
 every outflash, every ruder sally," to The English- 
 man's Magazine, August. 
 
 Tennyson's father died at Someraby, March 16, 
 aged 52. 
 
 * # * The Poems, chiefly Lyrical, were reviewed with fa- 
 vour in The Westminster Review, January ; in The Tattler, 
 February 24 — March 3, by Leigh Hunt ; and in The Eng- 
 lishman's Magazine, August, by A. H. Hallam. 
 
 1832. Poems by Alfred Tennyson. London : Edward 
 Moxon, 64, New Bond Street. MDCCCXXXHI. pp. 
 163. (This is properly called the edition of 1833.) 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 855 
 
 Contributed a Sonnet, " Me ray own fate to last- 
 ing sorrow doometh," to Friendship's Offering: 
 A Literary Album. London : Smith, Elder & Co. ; 
 and a Sonnet, " There are three things which fill 
 my heart with sighs," to The Yorkshire Literary 
 Annual. London : Longmans & Co. 
 
 %• Professor John Wilson (" Christopher North ") at- 
 tacked Tennyson as "the pet of a Cockney coterie," in 
 Blackwood's Magazine for May. 
 
 The Athenaum, for December 1st, had a notice of the 1833 
 poems. 
 
 1833. Reprinted the Sonnet, "Check every outflash, 
 every ruder sally," in Friendship's Offering. 
 
 Printed The Lover's Tale. By Alfred Tenny- 
 son. London: Edward Moxon, 64, New Bond 
 Street, mdcccxxxiii. pp. 60. This was immedi- 
 ately suppressed and withdrawn from the press, 
 because the author felt " the imperfection of the 
 poem." 
 
 %* A very severe criticism of the 1833 poems appeared in 
 The Quarterly Review for July, and was attributed to the 
 editor, John Gibson Lockhar^. 
 
 A review of Poems, chiefly Lyrical, by W. J. Fox, in The 
 Monthly Repository for January. 
 
 Samuel Taylor Coleridge said in his " Table Talk : " "I 
 have not read through all Mr. Tennyson's poems, which have 
 been sent to me, but I think there are some things of a good 
 deal of beauty in what I have seen. The misfortune is, that 
 he has begun to write verses without very well understand- 
 ing what metre is." 
 
 On September 15, Arthur Henry Hallam died 
 suddenly at Vienna. 
 
 J 834- *•* Remains in Verse and Prose of Arthur Henry Hallam. 
 Printed by W. Nicol, 51 Pall Mall, mdcccxxxtv. pp. xl, 363. 
 
 I°35- *•* John Stuart Mill reviewed Tennyson's poems with 
 great fairness and appreciation in The Westminster Review 
 for July. 
 
356 APPENDIX. 
 
 1837. Contributed Stanzas, " 0, that 't were possible " 
 (the germ of " Maud"), to The Tribute: edited by 
 Lord Northampton. London : John Murray. "St. 
 Agnes " to The Keepsake : edited by Lady Emme- 
 line Stuart Wortley. London : Longmans & Co. 
 
 The Tennyson family left Somersby, and moved 
 to High Beach in Eppiug Forest. 
 
 **• The Edinburgh Review for October noticed Tennyson 
 for the first time, and said that his stanzas in The Tribute 
 " showed the hand of a true poet." 
 
 Walter Savage Laiidor wrote to a friend on December 9 : 
 " Yesterday a Mr. Moreton, a young man of rare judgment, 
 read to me a manuscript by Mr. Tennyson very different in 
 style from his printed poems. The subject is the death of 
 Arthur. It is more Homeric than any poem of our time, 
 and rivals some of the noblest parts of the Odyssea." 
 
 1841. The Tennyson family moved to Boxley, near 
 Maidstone. Tennyson spent much time in Lou- 
 don with Fitzgerald, Sterling, Milnes, Thackeray, 
 Landor, Carlyle, etc. 
 
 1842. Morte d'Arthub, Dora, and Other Idyls. 
 By Alfred Tennyson. London: Edward Moxon, 
 Dover Street, mdcccxlii. pp. 67. 
 
 (A trial book, printed but never published, con- 
 taining eight blank verse poems, subsequently in- 
 cluded in the following publication.) 
 
 Poems by Alfred Tennyson. In Two Volumes. 
 London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street. 
 mdcccxlii. pp. vii, 233; vii, 231. 
 
 * # * These volumes were reviewed by Richard Monckton 
 Milnes (Lord Houghton) in The Westminster Review, Octo- 
 ber; by John Sterling in The Quarterly Review: and 
 anonymously in The Examiner, May 28 ; Tail's Edinburgh 
 Magazine, August; The London University Magazine, De- 
 cember; and The Christian Examiner, Boston, U. S. A., 
 November. All of the criticisms were respectful, and most 
 of thorn highly laudatory. 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 357 
 
 Within a year Carlyle, Dickens, Miss Mitford, Margaret 
 Fuller, Emerson, and Poe were speaking ot Tennyson with 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 Five hundred copies had been sold by September 8th. 
 
 1843. Second edition of Poems in Two Volumes. 
 
 •»* Several malicious parodies of Tennyson appeared in the 
 " Bon Gaultier Ballads," in TaxCs and Eraser's magazines. 
 
 Tennyson's Poems reviewed by James Spedding in Edin- 
 burgh Review, April. 
 
 1844. About this time Tennyson passed through serious 
 money troubles, losing nearly all his small prop- 
 erty. His health failed, and he was obliged to 
 spend some time at a water-cure establishment to 
 obtain relief from severe hypochondria. 
 
 *,» Tennyson's portrait and a sketch of his character in 
 Richard Hengist Home's A New Spirit of the Age. Lon- 
 don : Smith, Elder & Co. 
 
 %* In The Democratic Review, New York, January, Mrs. 
 Kemble reviewed Tennyson's poems, and Edgar Allan Poe 
 wrote in the December number, " I am not sure that Tenny- 
 son is not the greatest of poets." 
 
 1845. Received a pension of £200, through Sir Robert 
 Peel; and published a third edition of Poems in 
 Two Volumes. 
 
 •«* Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton attacked Tennyson in The 
 New Timon: a Romance of London. Henry Colburn. 
 
 Wordsworth wrote in a letter to Professor Henry Reed of 
 Philadelphia : " Tennyson is decidedly the first of our living 
 poets, and I hope will live to give the world still better 
 things. " 
 
 Living Poets ; and their services to the causes of Political 
 Freedom and Human Progress. By W. J. Fox. Published 
 from the Reporter's notes. London : 1845. Notice of Ten- 
 nyson in Vol. i. pp. 248-265. 
 
 1846. Fourth edition of the Poems (and last in two vol- 
 umes). Contributed "The New Timon and the 
 Poets" (a bitter reply to Bulwer) to Punch, Feb- 
 ruary 28 ; and " Afterthought " (a repentance for 
 that reply) to Punch, March 7. 
 
358 APPENDIX. 
 
 Tennyson visited Switzerland with Edward 
 Moxon, his publisher. 
 
 The Tennyson family were living at Cheltenham, 
 %* James Russell Lowell on Keats and Tennyson in Con- 
 versations on the Poets. Cambridge (U. S. A.), 1846. 
 1847. The Princess; A Medley. By Alfred Tenny- 
 son. London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street. 
 mdcccxlvii. pp. 164. 
 
 V* A sketch of Tennyson in William Howitt's Homes and 
 Haunts of the Most Eminent British Poets. 
 1348. Second edition of the Princess ; with a dedication 
 to Henry Lushington. Fifth edition of the Poems, 
 in one volume. 
 
 1849. Contributed lines, " To , You might have won 
 
 the poet's fame," to The Examiner, March 24. 
 
 V* A review of the Princess, by Professor James Hadley 
 of Tale College, in The New Englander, May : another in The 
 Edinburgh Review, October, by Aubrey de Vere. 
 
 An extended criticism of the Fifth edition of Tennyson's 
 Poems in The Westminster Review, July.. 
 
 1850. In Memobiam. London : Edward Moxon, Dover 
 Street, mdcccl. pp. vii, 210. 
 
 The second and third editions (with no change 
 hut the correction of two typographical errors) 
 appeared in the same year. 
 
 Third edition of the Princess, very much altered, 
 and with the Songs added. 
 
 Sixth edition of the Poems. 
 
 Contributed lines, " Here often, when a child, I 
 lay reclin'd," to The Manchester.AthencBum Album. 
 
 On June 13, Alfred Tennyson and Emily Sell- 
 wood were married at Shiplake Church, Oxford- 
 shire. 
 
 On November 19, Alfred Tennyson was ap- 
 pointed to succeed^ William Wordsworth (died 
 April 23) as Poet Laureate. 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 359 
 
 %* Charles Kingsley published an essay on Tennyson in 
 Prater's Magazine, September. 
 
 In Memoriam was reviewed in The Westminster Review, 
 October. 
 
 1851. Contributed Stanzas, " What time I wasted youth- 
 ful hours," and " Come not when I am dead," to 
 The Keepsake: edited by Miss Power. London: 
 David Bogue. 
 
 Sonnet to W. C. Macready, read at the valedic- 
 tory dinner to the actor, and printed in The House- 
 hold Narrative of Current Events, February-March. 
 Seventh edition of the Poems, containing three 
 new pieces, and the dedication " To the Queen." 
 
 Fourth edition of the Princess, with additions. 
 Fourth edition of In Memoriam, adding section 
 lix, " O sorrow, wilt thou live with me ? " Pre- 
 sented, as Poet Laureate, to the Queen, at Buck- 
 ingham Palace, March 6. 
 
 Lived at Twickenham. Travelled in France and 
 Italy. 
 
 1852. Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wel. 
 lington. By Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate. 
 London: Edward Moxon. 1852. pp. 16. (No- 
 vemher.) 
 
 Contributed " Britons, guard your own," to The 
 Examiner, January 31 ; "The Third of February," 
 and " Hands all roond," to the same paper, Febru- 
 ary 7. These poems were called forth by the gen- 
 eral excitement consequent on the coup d'e'tat of 
 Louis Napoleon. 
 
 Tennyson's oldest son, Hallam, was born at 
 Twickenham, August 11. 
 X853. Eighth edition of the Poems, with additions. 
 Fifth edition of the Princess, with additions. 
 
 Rented the estate of Farringford in the parish 
 of Freshwater, Isle of Wight. 
 
360 APPENDIX. 
 
 Second edition of the Ode on the Death of Wel- 
 lington, containing additions. 
 
 1854. The Charge of the Light Brigade. First 
 printed in The Examiner, December 9, afterwards 
 on a quarto sheet for distribution among the 
 soldiers before Sebastopol. (August, 1855.) 
 
 Tennyson's second son, Lionel, was born at Far- 
 ringford, March 16. 
 
 *** Days and Hours. By Frederick Tennyson. London : 
 John W. Parker & Son, West Strand. 1854. pp. viii, 346. 
 
 P. D. Maurice dedicated his Theological Essays to 
 Tennyson. 
 
 E. K. Kane, the Arctic explorer, named a cliff in Green- 
 land, "Tennyson's Monument." 
 
 1855. Maud, and Other Poems. By Alfred Tenny- 
 son, D. C. L., Poet Laureate. London : Edward 
 Moxon. 1855. pp. 154. 
 
 The University of Oxford had conferred the de- 
 gree of D. C. L. upon him in May. 
 
 *** Maud was reviewed in Blackwood's Magazine, Sep- 
 tember; The Edinburgh Review, October; The National 
 Review, October ; and in The North American Revitw, Octo- 
 ber, by Rev. E. E. Hale. 
 
 Oeorge Brimley's essay on Tennyson was published in 
 Cambridge Essays. 
 
 1856. Second edition of Maud, with many additions, 
 pp. 164. 
 
 Purchased the estate of Farringford. 
 Dr. R. J, Mann published Tennyson's ' Maud ' Vindicated, 
 an Explanatory Essay. London : Jarrold & Sons. 
 
 1857. Enid and Nimde : the Trde and the False. 
 By Alfred Tennyson, D. C. L., Poet Laureate. 
 London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street. 1857. 
 pp. 139. 
 
 (A trial book, containing two Arthurian idylls, 
 afterwards called Enid and Vivien.) 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 861 
 
 An edition of the Poems, illustrated by Millais, 
 Holman Hunt, Rossetti, and others, published by 
 Moxon, and afterwards transferred to Routledge. 
 
 *„* Bayard Taylor visited Tennyson at Farringford, and 
 walked with him along the cliffs. " I was struck with tht 
 variety of his knowledge. Not a little flower on the downs 
 escaped his notice, and the geology of the coast, both terres- 
 trial and submarine, was perfectly familiar to him. I thought 
 of a remark I once heard from a distinguished English author 
 (Thackeray), that Tennyson was the wisest man he knew." 
 
 1858. Added two stanzas to the National Anthem, on 
 the marriage of the Princess Royal. Printed in 
 The Times, January 26. 
 
 *#* Rev. F. W. Robertson gave an estimate of Tennyson 
 In his Lectures and Addresses. London : Smith, Elder & Co. 
 pp. 124-141. 
 
 1859. The Trce and the False : Four Idylls of the 
 ~~ King. By Alfred Tennyson, P. L., D. C. L. Lon- 
 don: Edward Moxon & Co , Dover Street. 1859. 
 pp. 261. 
 
 (A trial book, with practically the same contents 
 as the following, except that the name Nimue 
 stands in place of Vivien.) 
 
 Idylls of the King. By Alfred Tennyson, 
 D. C. L., Poet Laureate. London : Edward Moxon 
 & Co., Dover Street. 1859. pp. 261. 
 
 Ten thousand copies were sold in the first week. 
 
 Contributed verses entitled "The Grandmother's 
 Apology" to Once a Week, July 16. Visited Por- 
 tugal with Francis Turner Palgrave. 
 
 The verses entitled " The War," signed " T," 
 and printed in The London Times, May 9, were ac- 
 knowledged by Lord Tennyson in 1891. 
 
 *** Peter Bayne published Tennyson and his Teachert. 
 James Hogg & Sons : Edinburgh and London. 
 
 The Idylls of the King were reviewed in Blackwood's 
 
362 APPENDIX. 
 
 Magazine, November, and Edinburgh Review, July, by Cor- 
 entry Patmore. 
 
 Rev. Alfred Gatty published The Poetical Character : illus- 
 trated from the Work* of Alfred Tennyson, D. C. L., Poet 
 Laureate. London : Bell & Daldy. pp. '29. 
 
 Tennyson's Poems reviewed in The London Quarterly, Octo- 
 ber, and in The Westminster Review, by John Nichol. 
 
 Henry Wads worth Longfellow wrote in his diary : " Fin- 
 ished the four Idylls. The first and third could have come 
 only from a great poet. The second and fourth do not seem 
 to me so good." July 20, 1859. (The first and third were 
 Enid and Elaine ; the second and fourth were Vivien and 
 Quinevere.) 
 
 i860. Contributed " Sea Dreams : An Idyll," to Mac- 
 millan's Magazine, January ; and " Tithonus " to 
 The Cornhill Magazine, February. 
 
 Tennyson made a tour to Cornwall and the 
 Scilly Isles with Woolner, Palgrave, Holman Hunt, 
 and Val Prinsep, — an Arthurian Pilgrimage. 
 
 * # * Poems and Essays by the late William Caldwell Ros- 
 coe. London : Chapman & Hall. pp. 1-37 on Tennyson. 
 
 " Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson " reviewed by C. C. 
 Everett in The North American Review, January. 
 
 1861. The Sailor Boy. London : Emily Faithfull & 
 Co. Victoria Press, 1861. (25 copies for the 
 author's use.) 
 
 This poem was contributed to The Victoria 
 Pvegia : a volume of original contributions in 
 Poetry and Prose. Edited by Adelaide A. Proc- 
 ter. London, 1861. 
 
 Revisited the Pyrenees, where he had travelled 
 with Arthur Hallam. 
 
 Wrote " Helen's Tower," privately printed by 
 Lord Dufferin. 
 
 1862. A new edition of the Idylls, with a dedication to 
 the memory of Prince Albert. 
 
 Wrote an " Ode : May the First, 1862 ; " sung at 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 363 
 
 the opening of the International Exhibition ; and 
 printed in Fraser's Magazine, June. 
 
 A Pirated Edition of the Poems of 1830 and 
 
 1833 was printed in this year. It was suppressed 
 
 by law, and has no bibliographical value whatever. 
 
 *»* An Index to In Memoriam. London : Edward Moxon 
 
 & Co. pp. 40. 
 
 An Analysis of In Memoriam by the late Rev. Frederick 
 W. Robertson of Brighton. London > Smith, Elder & Co. 
 
 Remains in Verse and Prose of Arthur Henry Hallam. 
 With a Preface and Memoir. London : John Murray, Albe- 
 marle Street. 1862. pp. Ix, 305. 
 
 X863. Published on the arrival of the Princess Alexan- 
 dra, March 7, A Wblcomb. London: Edward 
 Moxon & Co. pp. 4. 
 
 A Welcome to her Royal Highness, the 
 Princess op Wales. From the Poet Laureate. 
 Owen Jones, Illuminator. Day & Sons, Litho- 
 graphers to the Queen. 1863. 
 
 Contributed " Attempts at Classic Metres in 
 Quantity " to The Cornhill Magazine, December. 
 1864. Enoch Arden, etc. By Alfred Tennyson, 
 D. C. L., Poet Laureate. London : Edward Moxon 
 & Co., Dover Street. 1864. pp.178. 
 
 The title of this volume in the proof sheets was 
 Idylls of the Hearth. A few copies were 
 printed with this title-page. 
 
 Contributed an " Epitaph on the late Duchess of 
 Kent " to The Court Journal, March 19. 
 
 •** "Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning; or, Pure, 
 Ornate, and Grotesque Art," by Walter Bagehot in The 
 National Review, November. 
 
 Enoch Arden was reviewed in Blackwood's Magazine, 
 November ; in the Notivelle Revue de Paris, September, by 
 A. Vermore ; in The Westminster Review, October ; in The 
 North British Review, August; in The North American 
 Review, October, by James Russell Lowell ; in Harper's 
 Magazine, October, by George William Curtis. 
 
364 APPENDIX. 
 
 Hippolyte Adolphe Taine compared Tennyson unfavour- 
 ably with De Musset, in his Histoire de la Litterature 
 Anglaise. Paris : 1864. 
 
 Garibaldi visited Tennyson at Farringford. 
 
 Sonnet*. By the Eev. Charles Turner, Vicar of Orasby, 
 Lincoln. London and Cambridge : Macmillan & Co. pp. viii, 
 102. 
 
 This was the brother of Tennyson who had joined with him 
 in writing the Poems by Two Brothers. He had dropped the 
 name of Tennyson in 1835 in order to assume an inheritance. 
 
 1865. A Selection from the Works of Alfred 
 Tennyson. London : Edward Moxon & Co., 
 Dover Street. This volume contains six new 
 poems: "The Captain," "On a Mourner," " Home 
 they brought him slain with spears," and three 
 " Sonnets to a Coquette." pp. 256. 
 
 Tennyson was elected a member or " The Club " 
 (Dr. Samuel Johnson's), and made a tour in franco 
 and Germany. 
 
 Tennyson's mother died February 21, aged 84. 
 
 *#* J. Leicester Warren contributed " The Bibliography of 
 Tennyson " to The Fortnightly Review, October L 
 
 Three Great Teachers i Carlyle, Tennyson, and Buskin. 
 By Alexander H. Japp, LL. D. London : Smith, Elder & Co. 
 
 1866. %* Enoch Arden (continued), by C. H. P. Not by the 
 "Laurkate," but a timid hand that grasped the Poet's 
 golden lyre, " and back recoil'd — e'en at the sound herself 
 had made." 1866. [No printer's or publisher's name. A 
 pamphlet of 12 pp. Blank verse. Exact transcript of title- 
 page from " Enoch " to " 1866."] 
 
 Tennys oniana : Notes Bibliographical and Critical on Early 
 Poems o/ Alfred <k C. Tennyson, etc., etc. Basil Montague 
 Pickering : 196, Piccadilly, London, W. : mdccclxvi. pp. 170. 
 (Pages 30-41 were omitted while the work was passing through 
 the press. In this edition, therefore, the verso of page 29 is 
 page 42.) The author's name is not on the title-page; but 
 the book is known to be the work of Richard Heme Shep- 
 herd. 
 
 Enoch Arden reviewed in The London Quarterly Review 
 for January, 1866. 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 365 
 
 Mr. George Grove printed a commentary on " Tears, idle 
 Tears," in Macmillan's Magazine for November ; and one 
 "On a Song in the Princess," in The Shilling Magazine for 
 February. 
 
 1867. The Window : or the Loves of the "Wrens. 
 Printed at the private press of Sir Ivor Bertie 
 Guest of Canford Mauor, now Lord Wimborne. 
 
 These songs were set to music by Mr. Arthur 
 Sullivan, and so published in December, 1870. 
 
 The Victim. By Alfred Tennyson, D. C. L., 
 Poet Laureate. Printed at the same place and in 
 the same manner. 
 
 Tennyson purchased the Greenhill estate on the 
 top of Blackdown on the northern border of Sussex, 
 three miles from the village of Haslemere, in Sur- 
 rey. In 1868 he began the erection of a house 
 from designs by Mr. J. T. Knowles. The place 
 was called Aldworth, and was the poet's summer 
 home. 
 
 *#* John K. Ingram, LL. D., reviewed Tennyson's Works 
 in Afternoon Lectures on Literature and Art. Fourth Series. 
 London : Bell & Daldy. pp. 47-94. 
 
 "Studies in Tennyson," by W. S., in Belgravia. 
 
 1868. Contributed " The Victim " to Good Words, Janu- 
 ary ; " On a Spiteful Letter," to Once a Week, 
 January ; " Wages" to Macmillan's Magazine, Feb- 
 ruary; " 1865-1866 " to Good Words, March; and 
 " Lucretius " to Macmillan's Magazine, May. 
 
 "Lucretius" was also printed in an American 
 magazine called Every Saturday, with some lines 
 not contained in the English version. It appeared 
 also as a small book with the following title-page : 
 
 Lucretius. By Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate. 
 Cambridge, Mass. Printed for private circulation. 
 1868. pp. 27. 
 
 \* Professor R. C. Jebb praised the historical accuracy of 
 "Lucretius " in Macmillan , s Magazine, June. 
 
366 APPENDIX. 
 
 S. Cheethani printed a scholarly review of the Arthurian 
 Legends in The Contemporary, April. 
 
 A Study of the Works of Alfred Tennyson. By Edward 
 Campbell Tainsh. London : Chapman & Hall. Second edi- 
 tion, 1869. pp. 268. 
 
 Jerrold, Tennyson, and Maeaulay. By Jamea Hutchison 
 Stirling, LL. D. Edinburgh : Edmunston & Douglas. 
 pp. 243. 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow visited Farringf ord. 
 
 Small Tableaux. By the Rev. Charles Turner, Vicar of 
 Grasby, Lincoln. London : Macmillan & Co. pp. viii, 114. 
 
 i86g. The Holt Grail and Other Poems. By Al- 
 fred Tennyson, D. C. L., Poet Laureate. Strahan 
 & Co., Publishers, 56, Ludgate Hill, London. 1870. 
 pp. 222. Of this volume 40,000 copies were ordered 
 in advance. It was published late in the year, and 
 made two announcements: The collection of the 
 eight Idylls of the Kino in proper order " to- 
 day published ; " and the Pocket Volume Edi- 
 tion of Mr. Tennyson's Works, in ten volumes, 
 price, £2 5s., " now ready." 
 
 Tennyson was one of the founders of " The Meta- 
 physical Society " in this year. 
 
 \* D. Barron Brightwell published his Concordance to the 
 Entire Works of Alfred Tennyson. London: E. Moxon 
 & Co. 
 
 An article on " The Poetry of the Period," in Temple Bar, 
 for May, declared that " Mr. Tennyson has no sound preten- 
 sions to be called a great poet." This review was probably 
 by Mr. Alfred Austin, his successor in the Poet Laureatesbip. 
 
 Mr. Tennyson and Mr. Browning. By Edward Dowden, 
 in Afternoon Lectures in Literature and Arts, published in 
 1869, reprinted in Studies in Literature. London : Kegan 
 Paul, Trench & Co. Fifth Edition. 1889. 
 
 1870. The Window : or, The Songs of the Wrens. 
 Words written for music by Alfred Tennyson. 
 The music by Arthur Sullivan. London : Strahan 
 & Co. 1871. (Published in December, 1870.) 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 367 
 
 V Henry Alford printed a review of The Idylls of the 
 King in The Contemporary, January. 
 
 " The Epic of Arthur " in The Edinburgh Review, April, 
 1870. 
 
 " Alfred Tennyson," critical article by E. Camerinl, in the 
 Nuova Antologia. Florence, February. 
 
 Mr. J. Hain Friswell had a chapter on Alfred Tennyson in 
 Modern Men of Letters Honestly Criticized. London I H od- 
 der & Stoughtou. 1870. pp. 145-146. 
 
 A letter on the game subject was printed by J. T. Knowles 
 In The Spectator. 
 
 1871. The Last Tournament. By Alfred Tennyson, 
 D. C. L., Poet Laureate. Strahan & Co. 56, Lud- 
 gate Hill, London. 1871. [All rights reserved.] 
 This was a trial book, not published. 
 
 Contributed " The Last Tournament " to The 
 Contemporary, December. 
 
 V* R« v - H - B - Haweis had an article on •• The Songs of 
 the Wrens " in The Saint Paul's Magazine, February. 
 
 187a. Gareth and Lynette, etc. By Alfred Tenny- 
 son, D.C.L., Poet Laureate. Strahan & Co. 56, 
 Ludgate Hill, London. 1852. pp. 136. 
 
 The Library Edition of Tennyson's Works, in 
 seven volumes, was published by Strahan & Co. 
 18Y2-1873. It contained important additions, viz., 
 " Alexander," " The Bridesmaid," " The Third of 
 February, 1852," "Literary Squabbles," "On a 
 Spiteful Letter," and " Epilogue " to the Idylls of 
 the King. The Idylls were now printed in their 
 sequence of time, ten in number. 
 
 Contributed " England and America in 1782" to 
 The New York Ledger ; for this poem one thousand 
 pounds were paid. 
 
 V* Richard HoltHutton contributed a review of Tennyson 
 to Maemillan''s Magazine, December. 
 
 Robert Buchanan printed an article entitled " Tennyson's 
 Charm " in St. PauVs Magazine, March. 
 
368 APPENDIX. 
 
 1873. Tennyson was offered a baronetcy, but declined. 
 %* J. Hutchinson printed an article on " Tennyson as a 
 
 Botanist " in St. Paul's Magazine, October. 
 
 Tennyson. By Walter Irving. Edinburgh : Haclachlan 
 & Stewart, pp. 28. 
 
 A burlesque of the Idylls of the King was printed in Black- 
 wood's Magazine, January, under the title of " Sir Tray : an 
 Arthurian Idyll." 
 
 The Rev. Drummond Rawnsley published an article on 
 " Lincolnshire Scenery and Character as illustrated by Mr. 
 Tennyson " in Macmillan's Magazine, December, 1873. 
 
 Master-SpirUs. By Robert Buchanan. London: Henry 
 S. King & Co. 1873. pp. 349. Essay on " Tennyson, Heine, 
 and De Musset." pp. 54-88. 
 
 1874. A Welcome to Mabie Alexandbovna, Duch- 
 ess of Edinbubgh. This was first printed in The 
 Times, and afterwards issued on a separate sheet. 
 
 The Cabinet Edition of Tennyson's Works, in 
 12 volumes, published by H. S. King & Co., 1874, 
 contained important additions. 
 
 Tennyson was offered a baronetcy, but decb'ned. 
 The second offer came through Disraeli. 
 
 1875. Qceen Mast. A Drama. By Alfred Tenny- 
 son. London: Henry S. King & Co. 1875. pp. 
 viii, 278. 
 
 Prefixed a Sonnet to Lord Lyttelton's Memoir of 
 William Henry Brookfield. 
 
 The author's Edition of Tennyson's Works was 
 published by Henry S. King & Co., in six volumes, 
 crown 8vo, 1875-1877. Important changes were 
 made in this edition, and Maud was entitled " a 
 monodrama." 
 
 %• Edmund Clarence Stedman published a review of 
 Tennyson in Victorian Poets. Boston : Houghton, Mifflin 
 & Co. This was supplemented by an additional chapter in 
 the edition of 1887. 
 
 The Religion of our Literature. By George McCrie. Lon* 
 don : Hodder & Stoughton. pp. 110-180. 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 3G9 
 
 " Virgil and Tennyson," in Blackwood's Magazine, Novem- 
 ber. By "a Lincolnshire Rector" [Rev. DrumnionU 
 Rawnsley]. 
 
 In this year a pirated edition of The Lover's Tale was 
 brought out by R. H. Shepherd, and suppressed by law, 
 Tennyson paying the costs because he had heard tliat 
 Shepherd was poor. 
 
 1876. Harold. A Drama. By Alfred Tennyson. 
 London: Henry S. King & Co. 1877. pp. viii, 161. 
 
 *»* Queen Mary was produced at the Lyceum Theatre by 
 Miss Batemen and Henry Irving, in April. 
 
 Harold was reviewed in The London Times, October 18, 
 by Professor Jebb. 
 
 Robert Browning dedicated the two volumes of his 
 " Selections " " to Alfred Tennyson : in Poetry illustrious 
 and consummate : in Friendship noble and sincere. " 
 
 1877. Contributed a prefatory Sonnet to the first num- 
 ber of The Nineteeenth Century, March ; also " Mon- 
 tenegro," a Sonnet, to the May number ; a " Son- 
 net to Victor Hugo " to The Nineteenth Century, 
 June ; " Achilles over the Trench " to The Nine- 
 teenth Century, August. 
 
 Lines on Sir John Franklin in Westminster 
 Abbey. 
 
 *»* Bayard Taylor printed a criticism of Tennyson in The 
 International Review, New York, May. 
 
 Longfellow's Sonnet entitled Wapentake published in The 
 Atlantic Monthly, December. 
 
 1878. Contributed " Sir Richard Greuville : A Ballad of 
 the Fleet," to The Nineteenth Century, March. 
 
 Made a tour in Ireland. 
 
 *»* Studies in the Idylls. By Henry Elsdale. London : 
 H. S. King & Co. 1678. pp. vii, 197. 
 
 1879. The Lover's Tale. By Alfred Tenm son. Lon- 
 don : C. Kegan Paul & Co., 1, Paternoster Square. 
 1879. pp. 95. (Includes The Golden Supper, first 
 published iu The Holy Grail volume in 186'J). 
 
870 APPENDIX. 
 
 This was a revision of the poem suppressed in 
 1833, and the publication was made necessary by 
 the fact that it had been pirated. 
 
 Tennyson's play of The Falcon was produced 
 at the St. James Theatre with Mrs. Kendal as the 
 heroine, December, and ran sixty-seven nights. 
 
 Contributed " Dedicatory Poem to the Princess 
 Alice " and " The Defence of Lucknow " to The 
 Nineteenth Century for April. 
 
 * # * Tennysoniana. Second edition, revised and enlarged. 
 London : Pickering & Co., 196, Piccadilly, mdcccixxtx. 
 pp. viii, 208. (By Richard Herne Shepherd.) 
 
 Lesson* from My Masters. By Peter Bayne. London : 
 John Clarke & Co., 13 and 14 Fleet St. 1879. pp. viii, 437. 
 
 Tennyson's brother, the Rev. Charles Tennyson 
 Turner, died at Cheltenham, April 25. 
 
 1880. Ballads and Other Poems. By Alfred Ten- 
 nyson. London : C. Kegan Paul & Co., 1 , Paternos- 
 ter Square. 1880. pp. vi, 184. 
 
 The Cabinet Edition of Tennyson's Works, in 
 twelve volumes, published by C. Kegan Paul & Co., 
 was completed in this year. 
 
 Contributed two poems to St. Nicholas, an Amer- 
 ican magazine for children, and ■* De Profundis " 
 to The Nineteenth Century, May. 
 
 Prefixed lines entitled " Midnight, June 30,1 879," 
 to Charles Tennyson Turner's Collected Sonnets, Old 
 and New. London: C. Kegan Paul & Co. 1880. 
 pp. xxii, 390. 
 
 Tennyson declined the nomination for Lord Rec- 
 torship of Glasgow University, on the ground that 
 he was unwilling to be " a party candidate for the 
 conservative club." 
 
 •»* " A New Study of Tennyson," by J. Churton Collins. 
 
 in The Cornhill Magazine, January and July, and July, 1881. 
 
 Theodore Watts wrote a sonnet " to Alfred Tennyson, on 
 
CBRONOLOGY. 371 
 
 his publishing, in his seventy-first year, the most richly vari- 
 ous volume of English verse that has appeared in his own 
 century." 
 
 "Tennyson's Poems," in The British Quarterly Review, 
 reprinted in LitteWs Living Age for December 26. 
 
 1881. The play of The Cup was produced at the Ly- 
 ceum Theatre, with Henry Irving and Ellen Terry 
 in the leading parts, January 3. It ran for more 
 than one hundred nights and was a decided success. 
 
 Contributed " Despair " to The Nineteenth Cen- 
 tury ; and " The Charge of the Heavy Brigade " to 
 Macmillan's Magazine. 
 
 Sat to Millais for his portrait. 
 
 * # * Mr. Walter E. Wace published Alfred Tennyson, His 
 Life and Work*. Edinburgh : Macniven A Wallace, pp. vii, 
 203. 
 
 A Key to Tennyson' t In Memoriam. By Alfred Oatty, 
 D. D. London : D. Bogue. pp. xi, 144. 
 
 "Mr. Tennyson'a New Volume," by Sidney Colvin, in 
 Macmillan's Magazine, January. 
 
 Mr. A. C. Swinburne published an article on "Tennyson 
 and Musset," in The Fortnightly Review, February 1, 1881. 
 Reprinted in Miscellanies. London : Chatto & Windus, 1886. 
 
 " Alfred Tennyson and His New Poems," by Enrico Nen- 
 cioni, in Fanfulla della Domenica, Rome, April 10. 
 
 "A Study of Tennyson," by R. H. Stoddard, in The 
 North American Review, July. 
 
 1882. The play of The Promise of Mat was produced 
 at the Globe Theatre, under the direction of Mrs. 
 Bernard-Beere, in November : a failure. 
 
 Hands all Round was recast as a patriotic song 
 and printed with music by Mrs. Tennyson. 
 
 •»* A Study of the Princess. By S. E. Dawson. Montreal : 
 Dawson Brothers, Publishers, pp. 120. 
 
 "Maud," a critical article by Enrico Nencioni, in Dome- 
 nica Letteraria. Rome : March 19. 
 
 1883. Tennyson accompanied Mr. Gladstone on a sea 
 trip to Copenhagen, where they were received by 
 
372 APPENDIX. 
 
 the King and Queen of Denmark, the Czar and 
 Czarina, the King and Queen of Greece, and the 
 Princesa of Wales. 
 
 Later in the year it was announced that Queen 
 Victoria had offered a peerage to Tennyson, and he 
 had accepted it. 
 
 Tennyson wrote the epitaph on Caxton, for the 
 memorial window in St. Margaret's, Westminster. 
 
 Contributed " Frater Ave atque Vale " to The 
 Nineteenth Century, March. 
 
 • # * " Alfred Tennyson," by Mrs. Anne Thackeray Ritchie, 
 in Harper's Magazine for December. 
 
 "Milton and Tennyson," in The Presbyterian Review. 
 New York. By Henry van Dyke. 
 
 The Earlier and Less-Known Poems of Tennyson. By 
 C. E. Mathews. Birmingham : 1883. pp. 34. " In Memo- 
 riam," and "The Idylls of the King," critical articles by 
 Enrico Neniconi, in Fan/ulla delta Domenica. Rome : May 
 6, and September 9. 
 
 1884. The Cup and the Falcon. By Alfred, Lord 
 Tennyson, Poet Laureate. London : Macmillan & 
 Co. 1884. pp. 146. 
 
 Becket. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Poet Lau- 
 reate. London: Macmillan & Co. 1884. pp.213. 
 
 Also a New and Revised Edition of his complete 
 Works, in seven volumes; and in one volume, 
 pp. v, 640, revised text. 
 
 Tennyson was gazetted Baron of Aldworth and 
 Faxringford, January 18, and took his seat in the 
 House of Lords, March 11. 
 
 Contributed " Freedom " to Macmillan 's Maga- 
 zine for December; introductory verses to lios 
 Rosarum, by E. V. B. ; a verse to a small pamphlet 
 printed for the benefit of the Chelsea Hospital for 
 Women, and " Early Spring " to The Youth's Com- 
 panion, Boston. 
 
CHRONOLOGY 373 
 
 Elected President of the Incorporated Society of 
 Authors. 
 
 • # »Mr. Henry J. Jennings published Lord Tennyson. A 
 Biographical Sketch. London : Chatto & Windus. pp. vii, 
 270. 
 
 Teiinyton't In Memoriam. It* Purpose and Structure. 
 By John F. Qenung. Boston : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1884. 
 pp. vi, 199. 
 
 " The Genesis of Tennyson's ' Maud,' " by Richard Heme 
 Shepherd, in The North American Review for October. 
 
 1885. Tiresias *a#:d Othek Poems. By Alfred, Lord 
 Tennyson, D. C. L., P. L. London : Macmillan 
 & Co. 1885. pp. viii, 204. Dedicated " To my 
 good friend, Robert Browning." 
 
 Lyrical Poems : selected and annotated by F. 
 T. Palgrave. London: Macmillan & Co. 1885. 
 pp. vii, 270. 
 
 Contributed " The Fleet " to The Times, April 
 23; "To H. R. H. Princess Beatrice" to The 
 Times, July 23 ; " Vastness " to MacmiUan't Maga- 
 zine, November. 
 
 %* Hon. Roden Noel reviewed " The Poetry of Tennyson " 
 in The Contemporary Review, February. 
 
 Mr. Conde B. Pallen published a criticism of the " Idylls 
 of the King," in The Catholic World, April. 
 
 August in Filon published an extended critique of Tenny- 
 son in the Revue des Deux Monde*, September. 
 
 Urbana Scripta. By Arthur Galton. London : Elliot 
 Stock, 62, Paternoster Row. 1885. pp. t, 237. Essay on 
 " Lord Tennyson," pp. 36-68. 
 
 •Review of Tiresku, by T. H. Caine, in The Academy, voL 
 ixviii, p. 403. 
 
 1886. Lockslev Hall Sixty Years After, etc. By 
 Alfred, Lord Tennyson, P. L., D. C. L. London : 
 Macmillan & Co., and New York. 1886. pp. 201. 
 
 The " Ode to India and the Colonies " was writ- 
 ten for the opening of the Colonial Exhibition in 
 Loudon, May 4. 
 
-374 APPENDIX. 
 
 A new complete edition in ten volumes (revised 
 text), and in one volume (slight alterations). 
 
 %* " Locksley Hall, etc.," was reviewed by Richard Holt 
 Button (?) in The Spectator, December 18 ; by the Rt. Hon. 
 W. E. Gladstone in The Nineteenth Century, January, 1887 ; 
 and by Walt Whitman in The Critic, New York, January 
 1,1887. 
 
 Jack and the Bean-Stalk, by Hallam Tennyson, published 
 by Macmillan & Co. The illustrations are from unfinished 
 sketches by Randolph Caldecott. 
 
 Lionel Tennyson died on the homeward voyage 
 from India, April 20. 
 
 1887. Contributed " Carmen Saecula " to Macmillan's 
 Magazine, April. 
 
 * # * " Th® Genesis of ' In Memoriam,' " published by 
 Richard Heme Shepherd, in Watford's Antiquarian. 
 
 Article on "The Palace of Art" in The New Princeton 
 Review, vol. iv., by Henry van Dyke. 
 
 X888. A new edition of Tennyson's complete works 
 published by Macmillan & Co., 1888-1889, in eight 
 volumes. In this edition the idyll of Geraint was 
 divided into The Marriage of Geraint and Geraint 
 and Enid, and Balin and Balan was put into its 
 proper place, thus completing the Epic as it now 
 stands. 
 
 Tennyson had a severe illness in the autumn and 
 winter of this year. 
 
 %* Studies on the Legend of the Holy Grail. By Alfred 
 Nutt. London : David Nutt. 
 
 A Companion to In Memoriam. By Elizabeth Rachel 
 Chapman. London : Macmillan & Co., and New York. 1888. 
 pp. 72. 
 
 The Tennyson Flora. Three Lectures by Leo H. Grfndon. 
 Published as an Appendix to the Report of the Manchester 
 Field Naturalists and Archaeological Society for the year 
 1887. 
 
 " Tennysonian Trees," an article in The Gardener's Maga> 
 tine for December 29. 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 375 
 
 "Dethroning Tennyson," by A. C. Swinburne, in The 
 Nineteenth Century, January. 
 
 "Tennyson's Idylls," by Anna Vernon Dorsey, in The 
 American Magazine, May ; and by R. W. Boodle, in The 
 Canadian Monthly, April. 
 
 An article iu the Pall Mall Gnsetlc, December 20, entitled 
 ** la Tennyson a Spiritualist 1 " 
 
 1889. Demeter and Other Poems. By Alfred, Lord 
 Tennyson, P. L., D. C. L. London : Macmillan & 
 Co., and New York. 1889. pp. vi, 175. 
 
 This volume was published on December 13, 
 1889, and it is said that 20,000 copies were sold 
 within a week. 
 
 Contributed " The Throstle " to The New Review 
 for October. 
 
 An edition of the complete poems in one volume 
 (without "Demeter"), pp v. 807, was published 
 early in the year. In this edition we have for the 
 first time the title, " Idylls of the King, In Twelve 
 Books," and an Index of First Lines. 
 
 %* The Poetry of Tennyson. By Henry van Dyke. New 
 York : Charles Scribner's Sons. London : Elkin Mathews. 
 Vigo St. 1889. pp. xiii, 296. 
 
 Prolegomena to In Memoriam. By Thomas Davidson. 
 Boston and New York : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1889. pp. 
 vi, 177. 
 
 The Idylls of the Ki-ng. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 
 Dlustrated. In shorthand by Arthur G. Doughty, M. A. 
 The Dominion Illustrated Press, Montreal. 1889. 
 
 A volume containing three of Tennyson's poems : "To K. 
 L." (Edmund Lear), " The Daisy," and " The Palace of Art," 
 illustrated with drawings by Edmund Lear, the artist's por- 
 trait and Watts' portrait of Tenny. on, was published by 
 Boussod, Valadon & Co., London. One hundred copies 
 signed by Lord Tennyson. 
 
 In the Magazines, among others, the following articles ap- 
 peared : In The Nineteenth Century, March, " Tennyson as 
 Prophet," by Frederic W. H. Myers ; in Scribner's Magazine, 
 August, "The Two Locksley Halls," by T. B. Lounsbury, 
 and " Tennyson's First Flight," by Henry van Dyke ; in The 
 
m 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Century Magazine, " The Bible in Tennyson," by Henry yan 
 Dyke. In The Baptist Review (U. S. A.), January, an article 
 on "Tennyson's Art and Genius," by Eugene Parsons. 
 
 In The Methodist Recorder, February 28 to March 21, four 
 articles on " The Poets Laureate of England," by Rev. George 
 Lester. 
 
 In The Spectator, February 2, an article on " Tennyson's 
 Undertones" discussed the question of spiritualism in his 
 poetry. 
 
 Mr. Napier printed in Glasgow, for private circulation, one 
 hundred copies of a volume entitled, " Homes and Haunts 
 of Alfred Lord Tennyson." 
 
 Tennyson's eightieth birthday, on August 6, called out a 
 great number of articles. Editorials in the New York Times, 
 Tribune, and Herald ; in The Mail and Express, by Mr. 
 Edmund Gosse ; in The Hartford Daily Times, by Mr. Frank 
 L. Burr ; in The Athenceum, a sonnet by Mr. Theodore Watts ; 
 in Macmillan'* Magazine, a sonnet by Rev. H. D. Rawnsley, 
 and lines "To Lord Tennyson," by Lewis Morris. 
 1890. A portrait of Lord Tennyson, in his robes as 
 D. C. L., was completed by Mr. G. F. Watts, and 
 given to Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 
 A new edition of the Poetical Works (without 
 the Dramas), in one volume, 18mo, pp. viii, 535, 
 issued by Macmillan & Co. Also a new edition 
 with the Dramas, in one volume, 8vo. pp. v, 842. 
 The same as the edition of 1889, with Demeter and 
 Other Poems added. 
 
 %* In Tennyson Land. By John Cuming Walters. Illus- 
 trated. London : George Redway. 1890. pp. 108. 
 
 The Isles 0/ Greece. Sappho and Al emus. By Frederick 
 Tennyson, author of "Days and Hours." London and New 
 York ! Macmillan & Co. 1890. pp. xiv, 443. 
 
 Alfred Austin reviewed " Lord Tennyson's New Volume " 
 in The National Review, January. Mr. C. J. Caswell printed 
 an article on "Tennyson's Schooldays" in The Pall Mall 
 Gazette, June 19. Mr. Eugene Parsons had an essay on Ten- 
 nyson in The Examiner (New York), February, and another 
 in The Chautauquan, June. An article was published on 
 "Tennyson and Browning" in The Edinburgh Review. 
 "Tennyson: and After?" in The Fortnightly Review for 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 377 
 
 May. " 111 King Arthur's Capital," by J. Cuming Walters, 
 in November number of Igdraril (the Journal of the Ruskin 
 Reading Guild). " Christmas with Lord Tennyson," by Rev. 
 George Lester, in The Fireside "Magazine, December. " An 
 Arthurian Journey " in The Atlantic Monthly, June. 
 
 In The Atlantic Monthly for March, 1890, Thomas Bailey 
 Aldrich published a poem on "Tennyson." 
 
 1891. Contributed "A Song" to The New Review for 
 March. 
 
 Other verses by Lord Tennyson have since ap- 
 peared in print, viz., a stanza written in a volume 
 of his poems presented to Princess Louise of 
 Schleswig-Holstein, by representatives of the nurses 
 of England ; lines on the christening of the infant 
 daughter of the Duchess of Fife ; a tribute to the 
 memory of James Russell Lowell ; and a prefatory 
 verse to Pearl. 
 
 A new Popular Edition of Tennyson in one 
 volume, revised throughout by the Author. 1891 
 Macmillau & Co. pp. 842. With a new steel 
 portrait. 
 
 %» The Poetry 0/ Tennyson. By Henry van Dyke. Sec- 
 ond edition. Revised and enlarged. New York and London. 
 
 The Laureate's Country. A Description of Places con- 
 nected with the Life of Alfred, Lord Tennyson. By Alfred 
 J. Church, M. A. With many illustrations from Drawings 
 by Edward Hull. London: Seeley and Co., Limited, Essex 
 Street, Strand. 1891. pp. 111. 
 
 Daphne and Other Poems. By Frederick Tennyson, 
 Author of "Days and Hours." London and New York: 
 Macmillan & Co. 1891. pp. 522. 
 
 Illustrations of Tennyson. By John Churton Collins. 
 London : Chatto & Windus. 1891. pp. xii, 186. 
 
 In The Art Journal for January and February, two arti- 
 cles, by P. Anderson Graham, on " Lord Tennyson's Child- 
 hood," illustrated by H. E. Tidemarsh. 
 
 In The CornhUl Magazine, for February, " Illustrations 
 of Animal Life In Tennyson's Poems." 
 
 Mr. C. J. Caswell printed an article on "Lord Tennyson's 
 
S78 APPENDIX. 
 
 Birthday " in Notes and Queries, March 14 ; and another on 
 "A Comitia of Errors" in The Birmingham Weekly Mer- 
 cury, April 11. 
 
 Prof. Albert S. Cook had an article on " St. Agnes' Eve," 
 in "Poet-Lore," January 15. 
 
 1892. Lord Tennyson published verses on "The Death 
 of the Duke of Clarence and Avondale " in The 
 Nineteenth Century, February. 
 
 The play of The Foresters, a romantic pastoral 
 drama, was produced at Daly's Theatre in New 
 York, on Thursday Night, March 19. Miss Ada 
 Rehan played the leading part of Marian Lee. Mr. 
 Drew appeared as Robin Hood. A purely formal 
 production of the play was made in London, on the 
 same day, at the Lyceum, for the purpose of secur- 
 ing the copyright. 
 
 The Foresters : Robin Hood and Maid 
 Marian. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Poet Lau- 
 reate. New York : Macmillan & Co., and London. 
 1892. pp. 155. (Issued in New York in April.) 
 Also a large-paper edition. 
 
 Lord Tennyson died at Aldworth, October 
 6, between one and two in the morning. 
 
 Silent Voices (ten lines printed for copyright 
 purposes, on a single sheet, October 12). Macmil- 
 lan & Co. 1892. 
 
 The Death of 03none, Akbar's Dream, and 
 Other Poems. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Poet 
 Laureate. New York : Macmillan & Co., and Lon- 
 don. 1892. pp. vi, 113. (Issued in New York, 
 October 29.) Printed also on large paper. 200 
 copies. 
 
 The English large-paper edition contained five 
 portraits, but omitted the song " The Bee and the 
 Flower." 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 379 
 
 * # * The Poetry of Tennyson. Third edition. By Henry 
 ran Dyke. New York : Charles Scribner's Son*. 1802. 
 London : Elkin Mathews, Vigo St. pp. xiii, 376. 
 
 The Golden Guess. A Series of Essays, by John Vance 
 Cheney. Boston : Lee & Shepard. 1892. (Essay on Ten- 
 nyson and his Critics.) 
 
 Homes and Haunts of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Poet Lau- 
 reate. By George G. Napier, M. A. Glasgow : James Macle- 
 hose & Sons, Publishers to the University. 1892. pp. xvi, 
 204. 
 
 Records of Tennyson, Ruskin, and Browning. By Anne 
 Thackeray Ritchie. New York : Harper & Brothers. 1892. 
 pp. 190. 
 
 Tennyson's Life and Poetry : and Mistakes concerning 
 Tennyson. By Eugene Parsons. Chicago : 1892. (Second 
 edition, revised and enlarged, 1893. Printed for the author, 
 43 Bryant Ave.) 
 
 Alfred, Lord Tennyson. By A. Waugh, B. A. Ozon. 
 London: 1892. (Second edition, United States Book Com- 
 pany, New York, 1893.) 
 
 Tennyson and " In Memoriam " .• An Appreciation and 
 a Study. By Joseph Jacobs. London : David Nutt, in the 
 Strand. 1892. lCmo, pp. x, 108. 
 
 "Tennyson's Foresters," in The Athenaeum, vol. 
 ii. pp. 461, 493. By Theodore Watts. "The 
 Study of Tennyson," in The Century Magazine, by 
 Henry van Dyke. 
 
 1893. Lord Tennyson's Works. Globe 8vo edition, 
 in ten volumes. Vols, viii., ix., x. New York: 
 Macmillan & Co., and London. 1893. (Vol. viii. 
 contains " Becket " and " The Cup ; " vol. ix., "The 
 Foresters," "The Falcon," "The Promise of 
 May;" vol. x., "Teiresias, and Other Poems," 
 "Demeter, and Other Poems," "The Death of 
 CEnone and Other Poems." 
 
 Maud: A Monodrama. London: Macmillan 
 & Co. Printed by William Morris, at the Kelm- 
 scott Press. 1893. 
 
 Poems by Two Brothers. Second edition. 
 Edited by Hallam, Lord Tennyson. New York: 
 
380 APPENDIX. 
 
 Macraillan & Co., and London. 1893. Crown 8vo, 
 pp. xx, 251. (The first reprint of the volume pub- 
 lished in 1827, in which the late Poet Laureate 
 made his earliest appearance before the public. 
 As far as possible the poems have been attributed 
 to their respective authors Four new poems have 
 been added from the original MS., and the Cam 
 bridge prize poem on Timbuctoo has also been 
 included in the volume. There is also a large- 
 paper edition, with facsimiles of the MS., limited 
 to 300 copies.) 
 
 Becket: A Tkagedt. In a Prologue and 
 four Acts. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson. As ar- 
 ranged for the stage by Henry Irving, and pre- 
 sented at the Lyceum Theatre on February 6, 1 893. 
 New York: Macmillan & Co , and London. 1893. 
 pp. 62. 
 
 BOOKS ON TENNYSON PUBLISHED SINCE 1892. PAR- 
 TIAL LIST. 
 
 A Study of the Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson. By 
 Edward Campbell Tainsh. New edition. Macmillan & Co. 
 1893. 
 
 Lord Tennyson. A Biographical Sketch. By Henry J. 
 Jennings. Second Edition. London : Chatto & Windus. 
 1893. 
 
 Essays on Lord Tennyson's Idylls of the King. By H. 
 Littledale. Macmillan & Co. 1893. 
 
 The Poems of Arthur Henry Hallam Together with His 
 Essay in the Lyrical Poems of Alfred Tennyson. Edited 
 with an introduction by Richard le Gallienne. London : 
 Elkin Mathews & John Lane. New York : Macmillan & 
 
 CO. MDCCCXCIH. 
 
 Tennyson's Heroes and Heroines. Illustrated by Marcus 
 Stone. London : Tuck & Sons. 1893. 
 
 The Scenery of Tennyson's Poems. Etchings after draw- 
 ings by various authors. Letterpress by B. Francis. 
 London : J. & E. Bumpus. 1893. 
 
 Alfred, Lord Tennyson, and His Friends. A series of 
 25 portraits and frontispiece in photogravure from the nega- 
 tives of Mrs. Julia Margaret Cameron and H. H. H. Cameron. 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 381 
 
 Reminiscences by Anne Thackeray Ritchie, with an Intro- 
 duction by H. H. Hay Cameron. London : T. Fisher Unwin, 
 1893. 
 
 New Studies in Tennyson. By Morton Lnoe. Second 
 Edition. Clifton : J. Barker & Son. 1893. 
 
 A Handbook to the Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 
 By Morton Luce. London : George Bell & Sons. 1896. 
 
 Tennyson : his Art and Relation to Modern Life. By 
 Stopford A. Brooke. London : Isblster & Co. 1894. 
 
 Tennyson's Idylls of the King, and Arthurian Story from 
 the XVIth Century. By M. W. Maccallum. Glasgow: 
 Maclehose & Sons. 1894. 
 
 A Primer of Tennyson with a Critical Essay. By William 
 Macneile Dixon. Litt. D., A. M, LL. B. (Mason College.) 
 London. Methuen & Co. 1896. 
 
 The Growth of the Idylls of the King. By Richard Jones. 
 Philadelphia : Lippincott Co. 1895. 
 
 Literary Anecdotes of the Nineteenth Century. Edited 
 by W. R. Nicoll and T. J. Wise. (Contains " The Building 
 of the Idylls," and "Tennysoniana.") New York: Dodd, 
 Mead & Co. 1896. 
 
 The Poetry of Tennyson. By Henry Van Dyke. Eighth 
 Edition (in the Cameo Series, with new essay on In Memor- 
 riam.) New York : Bcribners. 1897. 
 
 Alfred Lord Tennyson. A Memoir by his Son. 2 Tola. 
 London : Macmillan & Co. New York : The Macmillan Co. 
 1897. 
 
 ANNOTATED EDITIONS OP TENNYSON'S WORKS. 
 
 By Dr. William J. Rolfe. Published by Houghton, Mifflin 
 & Co., Boston and New York : — 
 
 The Princess. 
 
 Select Poems of Tennyson. 
 
 The Young People's Tennyson. 
 
 Enoch Arden, and Other Poems. 
 L^Idylls of the King. (2 vols. ) In Memoriam. 
 Published by Macmillan & Co., Loudon and New York : — 
 
 Lyrical Poems. Selected and Annotated by Francis 
 Turner Palgrave. 
 
 Selections from Tennyson. With Introduction and 
 Notes by F. J. Rowe, M. A., and W. T. Webb, M A. 
 
 Tennyson for the Young. Selections from Lord Tenny- 
 son's Poems. Edited, with Notes, by the Rev. Alfred 
 Ainger, M. A., LL. D., Canon of Bristol. 
 
 The Coming of Arthur, and the Passing of Arthur 
 
k: 
 
 382 APPENDIX. 
 
 Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by Prof. F. J. Rowe 
 of Calcutta. 
 ■« Enoch Arden. With Introduction and Notes, by W. T. 
 
 K/Webb, M. A. 
 ' Aylmer's Field. By W. T. Webb, M. A 
 
 The Princess. By P. M. Wallace, M. A 
 Garelh and Lynelte. By G. C. Macauley, M. A. 
 Geraint and Enid. By the same editor. 
 The Holy Grail. By the same editor. 
 Published by Effingham Maynard & Co., New York : — 
 Enoch Arden. With Introduction and Notes by Dr. 
 Albert F. Blaisdell. 
 
 The Two Voices, etc. With Introduction and Notes by 
 Prof. Hiram Corson of Cornell University. 
 Elaine. 
 In Memoriam. 
 The Holy Grail. 
 
 THE PUBLISHED WORKS OP ALFRED TENNYSON: 
 WITH DATES, TITLES, AND NUMBER OF PAGB8. 
 
 1827. Poems by Two Brothers. London : Printed for W. Simp- 
 kin and R. Marshall, Stationers'-Hall-Court ; and J. & J. 
 Jackson, Louth. HDCccxxvn. Crown 8vo, pp. xii, 228. 
 
 1829. Timbt/ctoo. A poem which obtained the chancellor's medal 
 at the Cambridge Commencement, mdcccxxtx. By A. 
 Tennyson, of Trinity College. (Printed in " Prolusionet 
 Academical : mdcccxxix. Cantabrigiae : typis academicis 
 excudit Joannes Smith." pp. 41.) 
 
 1830. Poems, Chiefly Lyrical. By Alfred Tennyson. London : 
 Effingham Wilson, Royal Exchange, Comhill. 1830. 12mo, 
 pp. 154, and leaf of errata. 
 
 1832. Poems. By Alfred Tennyson. London : Edward Moxon, 
 
 64 New Bond Street, mdcccxxxhl 12mo, pp. 163. 
 1842. Poems. By Alfred Tennyson. In two volumes. London: 
 
 Edward Moxon, Dover Street, mdcccxlh. 2 vols. 12mo, 
 
 pp. vii, 233 ; vii, 231. 
 1847. The Process : A Medley. By Alfred Tennyson. London : 
 
 Edward Moxon, Dover Street, mdcccxlvh. 12mo, pp. 164. 
 1850. In Memoriam. London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street 
 
 mdcccl. 12mo, pp. vii, 210. 
 1852. Ode on the Death of the Dttm of Wellington. By 
 
 Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate. London : Edward Moxon, 
 
 Dover Street. 1852. 8vo, pamphlet, pp. 16. 
 1855. Maud, and Other Poems. By Alfred Tennyson, D. C L,, 
 
 Poet Laureate. London: Edward Moxon. 1855. 12mo, 
 
 pp. IH 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 383 
 
 1855. Idtixs of the Kino. By Alfred Tennyson, D. 0. L., 
 Poet Laureate. London: Edward Moxon & Co., Dover 
 Street 1869. 12mo, pp. 261. 
 
 1864. Enoch Akdbn, etc. By Alfred Tennyson, D. C. L., Poet 
 Laureate. London : Edward Moxon & Co., Dover Street. 
 1864. 12nio, pp. 178. 
 
 1869. The Holy Grail, and Otheb Poems. By Alfred Tenny- 
 son, D. C. L., Poet Laureate. Strahan & Co., Publishers, 
 56, Ludgate Hill, London. 1870. 12mo, pp. 222. 
 
 1872. Gareth and Lynette, etc. By Alfred Tennyson, D. C. L., 
 Poet Laureate. Strahan & Co., 56, Ludgate Hill, London. 
 1872. 12mo, pp. 136. 
 
 1875. Queen Mabt. A Drama. By Alfred Tennyson. London : 
 Henry 8. King & Co. 1875. 12mo, pp. viii, 278. 
 
 1876. Harold. A Drama. By Alfred Tennyson. London : Henry 
 S. King & Co. 1877. 12mo, pp. viii, 161. 
 
 1879. The Lover's Tale. By Alfred Tennyson. London : 
 C. Kegan Paul & Co., 1 Paternoster Square. 1879. 12mo, 
 pp. 95. 
 
 1880. Ballads, and Other Poems. By Alfred Tennyson. 
 London : C. Kegan Paul & Co., 1 Paternoster Square. 1880. 
 12mo, pp. vi, 184. 
 
 1884. The Cup and the Falcon. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 
 Poet Laureate. London : Macmillan & Co. 1884. 12mo, 
 pp. 146. 
 
 Bucket. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Poet Laureate. 
 London : Macmillan & Co. 1884. Crown 8vo, pp. 213. 
 
 1885. Tibesias, and Other Poems. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 
 D C. L. Poet Laureate. London : Macmillan & Co. 1885. 
 12mo, pp. viii, 204. .... 
 
 Looislet Hall Sixty Years After, etc. By Alfred, 
 Lord Tennyson, D. C. L., Poet Laureate. London and New 
 York : Macmillan & Co. 1886. 12mo, pp. 201. 
 
 Demeter, and Other Poems. By Alfred Lord Tennyson, 
 P. L., D. C. L. London and New York: Macmillan & Co. 
 1889. 12mo, pp. vi. 175. „.«.._ ti„ 
 
 1892. The Foresters: Robin Hood and Maid Marxan^ J* 
 Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Poet Laureate. New York and 
 London : Macmillan & Co. 1892. 12mo, pp. 1&&- 
 
 The Death of C3none, Akbar's Dream, and Other 
 Poems. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Poet La« re f*«- New 
 York and London : Macmillan & Co. 1892. 12mo, pp. 
 
 vU13. ... ;M 
 
 1893. Poems by Two Brothers. " Hmc vo* norimus esse nihil. 
 — Martial. New York and London : Macmillan & Co. 1893 
 pp. xx, 251. (Preface by Hallam, Lord Tennyson.) 
 
 1886. 
 
 1889. 
 
384 APPENDIX. 
 
 A PARTIAL LIST 
 
 OF TRANSLATIONS OF TENNYSON'S WORKS. 
 Latin and Greek. 
 
 In Memoriam, translated into Latin elegiac Terse by Oswald A. 
 Smith ; for private circulation only. Noticed in Edinburgh Be- 
 view, April, 1866. 
 
 Enoch Arden, translated into Latin by Gulielmua Belwyn. Loud. 
 Edv. Moxon et Soc. A. d. MoccoLxrn. 
 
 Horce Tennytoniana, aive Eclog® e Tennysono, Latine Eeddita;. 
 Cora A. J. Church. Lond. et Cantab. Macmillan et Soc mdocolxx. 
 pp. viii, 139. 
 
 Crotring the Bar, and a Few Other Translations. By H. M. B. (Not 
 published.) 1890. Cambridge, printed by C. J. Clay, M. A. , & 
 Sons, at the University Press, pp. 67. (By Dr. Butler, Master of 
 Trinity College, Cambridge. Twelve Latin translations and seven 
 Greek translations of " Crossing the Bar," in various metres.) 
 
 Vertet and Translation* by O. S. C. 1862. (C. S. Calverley.) Con- 
 tains a Latin version of Section 106 of In Memoriam. 
 Ctautur, 
 
 Qedichle : ubers. von W. Hertsberg. Dessau, 1853. pp. viii, 369. 
 
 In Memoriam: aus dem EngL naoh der 5"& Auflage. Braun- 
 schweig, 1864. 
 
 ETonigi-Idyllen : Ubers. von H. A. Feldmann. 2* AufL Hamburg, 
 1872. pp. viii, 277. 
 
 Konigs-Idyllen : ubers. von W. Scholz. Berlin, 1867. pp. 223. 
 
 Enoch Arden : ubers. von Schellwien. Quedlinburg, 1867. pp. 47. 
 
 Enoch Arden: Ubers. von Robert WaldmUller. (Ed. Duboc.) 
 2"-4" Aufl. Hamburg, 1868-1870. pp. 42. 33** Aufl. Hamburg, 
 1890. 
 
 Aylmer* Feld: ubers. von F. W. Weber. Leipzig, 1869. 
 
 Enoch Arden : libers, von F. W. Weber. Leipzig, 186a pp. 42. 
 
 Aylmers Feld : ubers. von H. A. Feldmann. Hamburg, 1870. pp. 44. 
 
 Enoch Arden : ubers. von H. A. Feldmann. Hamburg, 1870. pp. 46. 
 
 AtugewahUe Dichtungen : Ubers. von H. A. Feldmann. Hamburg, 
 1870. pp.89. 
 
 Freundet-Klage, nach " In Memoriam : " frel ttbertr. von Robert 
 WaldmUUer. Hamburg, 1870. pp. 160. 
 
 Autgewdhlte Gedichte : Ubers. von M. Rugard. Elbing, 1872. pp. 
 v. 126. 
 
 In Memoriam — "Zum Oedachtniu: " Ubers. von Agnes von Boh- 
 len. Berlin, 1874. pp. 184. 
 
 Harold, eln Drama: deutsch von Alb. Oraf Wickeaburg. Ham- 
 burg, 1879-1880. pp. iv. 137. 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 385 
 
 Enoch Arden: deutach Ton A. Strodtmann. Berlin, 1876. 2* 
 
 verbess. Aufiage, 1881. pp. 71. 
 Enoch Arden : deutsch von Carl Eichholz. 2»« Aufiage. Hamburg, 
 
 1881. pp. 56. 
 Eonigs-Idyllen : In Metrum des Orig. fibers. von Carl Welaer. 
 
 Universal BibUothek, nrs. 1817, 1818. Leipzig, 1883-1886. pp. 
 
 176. 
 Enoch Arden : Students Tauchnitz Aufl. mit WOrterbuch, bearb. 
 
 von Dr. A. Hamann. Leipzig, 1886. pp. 24. 
 (BibUothek der Gesammt-Llteratur.) 
 Ausgewdhlte Dichtungen: fibers, von A. Strodtmann. Hildburg- 
 
 hausen, 1867. Leipzig, 1887-1890/ Meyer's Volksbficher, nrs. 
 
 371-373. pp. 164. 
 Enoch Arden : frei bearb. fur die Jugend. HausbibUothek. Leip- 
 zig, 1888. pp. 29. 
 Lockiley Hall: aus dem Engl, von Ferd. Freiligrath. Locksley 
 
 Hall tcchzig Jahre sp'dter: Ubers. von Jakob Pels. Hamburg, 
 
 1888. pp.59. 
 hocktley Hall sechzig Jahre sp'dter : fibers, von Karl B. Esmarch. 
 
 Gotha, 1888. pp. 32. 
 Enoch Arden : aus dem Engl, von Oriebenow. Halle, 1889. pp. 35. 
 Maud : fibers, von F. W. Weber. 3" Aufiage. Paderbom, 1891. 
 
 pp. 109. 
 
 DtrrcH. 
 
 Pe molenaars-dochter: Vrlj bewerkt door A. J. de Bull. Utrecht, 
 
 1859. 
 Henoch Arden : Naar het EngL door 8, J. van den Bergh. 's Hage, 
 
 1869. 
 Henoch Arden : door J. L. Werthelm. Amsterdam, 1882. 
 Vier Idyllen van Koning Arthur: Amsterdam, 1883. 
 
 iTi 
 
 Dora : Traduzione dl Giacomo Zanella : tu Versi di Giacomo Za* 
 
 nella, vol. i. Firenxe, 1868, G. Barber*, pp. 350-359. 
 (Another translation of the same poem by the same author 
 
 appeared in Varie Versione Poctiche di Giacomo Zanella. Firenze, 
 
 1887. Successori Le Mourner, pp. 215-223.) 
 La Cena d' Oro di Alfredo Tennyson : Trad, dl Lodovico Biagi In 
 
 Firenze. Coi Tipi di M. Cellini e 0. 1871. pp. 22. 
 Appendice di Alcune Poesie Varie. pp. 23-30. (D Premio della 
 
 Virtu. Un Isoletta. La Ciocca dei Cape Hi. D Flore.) 
 Dora: Traduzione in versi di Giuseppe Chiarini. Poesie, Storie, 
 
 Canli, Traduzioni. Livorno, 1874. F. Vigo. pp. 407-418. 
 
386 APPENDIX. 
 
 " The May Queen : " Traduzione dei Marches! Luigi e Raniero da 
 Calboli. Roma, 1875. 
 
 Idttli, Uriche, MM, e Legende, Enoc Arden, Quadri Dramatici : 
 Traduzioni di Carlo Faccioli (Verona). [1st Ed. 1876, 2d Ed. 
 1879.] 3d Ed. 1887. Firenze, Successori Le Monnier. pp. xii, 441. 
 
 Enoch Arden di Alfredo Tennyson : Recato in Vers! Italian! di An- 
 gelo Saggioni. Padova, 1876. Stabilimento ProiperinL pp. 51. 
 Nozze Scopoli-Naccari.* 
 
 (This translation was reprinted in Letture di Famiglia. Fi- 
 renze, 1885. pp. 109.) 
 
 II Primo Divorbio (NelV Isola di Wight) : Trad, di Enrico Castel- 
 nuovo. Venezia, 1886. Stab. Tipografico Fratelli Viaentini. 
 pp. 19. Nozze Bordica-Selvalico. 
 
 La Prima Lite: Est rat to dal Giornale "La Battaglia Bizantina: 
 TraditzionediP. T. Pavolini. Bologna, 1888. Soc. Tip. Azzoguidi. 
 pp. 12. 
 
 La Carica della Brigata Lyght. Le Due Sorelle. In Fiori del 
 Nord : Versions di Moderne Poesie Tedesche e Inglese di Pietru 
 Turati. MUano, 1881. Natale-Batteazatti. pp. 133-137. 
 
 Lyrical Poem* by Alfred Lord Tennyson, Poet Laureate : with co- 
 pious prefatory and explanatory notes for the use of Italians 
 by Theophilus C. Cann. Florence, 1887. F. Paggi. pp. 31-68. 
 (Locksley Hall, Lady Clare, Lady Clara Vere de Vere, St. Agnes' 
 Eve.) 
 
 Italian translations, in verse and prose, from Tennyson's poems 
 are to be found in the following articles : — 
 
 " Poeti Stranieri Modern! — Alfredo Tennyson : " di Eugenio Came- 
 rini. Nella Nuova Antologia. Firenze, Febbralo, 1870. Vol. xiii. 
 pp. 229-249. Frammenti di traduzione in prosa. 
 
 " Alfredo Tennyson e le sue nuove poesie." (Ballads and other 
 Poems, 1881.) Articolo critico di Eurico Nencioni, nel Fanfulla 
 della Domenica, Roma, 10 Aprile, 1881. Traduzione in prosa della 
 poesia Rizpah. 
 
 " Maud." Articolo critico di Enrico Nencioni nella Domenica Let- 
 teraria, Roma, 19 Marzo, 1882. Frammenti di traduzione in prosa. 
 
 * It la an Italian custom at a wedding to have some little book 
 printed, containing an original poem, a new translation, or some- 
 thing of literary novelty and appropriateness, to be presented to the 
 bride and groom and their friends as a memorial of the marriage. 
 The note indicates that Signore Saggioni had his translation of 
 Enoch Arden printed as a gift for the wedding of hia friends of the 
 families of Bcopoli and Naccari 
 
CHRONOLOGY. 387 
 
 u Gil Idilli del Re." Art. crit. di Enrico Nencionl, nel Fanfulla 
 deUa Domenica, Roma, 9 Settembre, 1883. Traduzione in prosa 
 di on frammento della Ginevra. 
 
 "Lord Tennyson: Alcuni suoi acritti minori." Art. crit. di F. 
 Rodriguez, nella Nuova Antologia, Roma, 16 Luglio, 1890, Serie 
 m, vol. xxviii, pp. 318-340. Traduzionl in versi dell' idillio II 
 Ruscello, della ballata Rizpah, e La Diga Estrema. 
 
 French. 
 Elaine, Genievre, Viviane, Enide. Trad, par Francuque MicheL 
 
 111. par Gustave Dor<5. Paris. Hachette et Cie. 18C7-1869. 
 Enoch Arden. Trad, par M. de la Rive. 1870. 
 Enoch Arden. Trad, par X. Marmier. 1887. 
 Idylles el Poemes: Enoch Arden: Locktley Ball. Trad, par A. 
 
 Buisson du Berger. 1888. 
 Enoch Arden. Trad, par M. r Abbe R. Courtoia. 1890. 
 Enoch Arden. Trad, par E. Ihiglin. 1890. 
 
 Swedish. 
 Konung Arthur och turns Rid ire : Upsala, 1876. 
 Elaine: A. Hjelmstjerna. 1877. 
 
 NuEVTEGIiLN AND DANISH. 
 
 Enoch Arden : overeat af A. Munch. Copenhagen. 1866. 
 " The M ay Queen :" overeat af A. Falck. Christiania. 1875. (1855?) 
 Idyller om Kong Arthur : overeat af A. Munch. Copenhagen. 1876. 
 Anna og Locktley Slot : overeat af A. Hansen. 1872. 
 "Sea Dreams:" " Aylmer's Field:" overeat af F. L. Mynster. 
 1877. 
 
 Spanish. 
 
 Enid and Elaine : translated by Lope Giabert. 1875. 
 
 Poemes de Alfredo Tennyson : Enoch Arden, Gareth y Lynette, Mer- 
 lin y Bibiana, etc. Tr. by D. Vicente de Arana. Barcelona. 
 1883. 
 
 Not*. — The difficulty of making this list perfect in the present 
 state of bibliography ie immense. It is only in the German and the 
 Italian that it approaches completeness and accuracy. 
 
A LIST OP 
 
 BIBLICAL REFERENCES AND ALLUSIONS 
 
 FOUND IN THE 
 
 WORKS OF TENNYSON. 
 
*** The author wishes to thank the many correspond- 
 ents, in Canada, in England, and in the United States, 
 who have kindly sent him additions to this list since it 
 was first printed, in 1889. It might be enlarged almost 
 indefinitely. On the other hand, perhaps it includes 
 already some references in which the connection with 
 Scripture is purely fanciful. The line is hard to draw. 
 But at least the list may serve to show beyond a doubt 
 how deeply the poetry of Tennyson is saturated with 
 the influence of the Book which is at once " a well of 
 English undefiled " and " a well of water springing up 
 into everlasting life." 
 
A LIST OF BIBLICAL REFERENCES AND 
 ALLUSIONS FOUND IN THE WORKS OF 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 TlMBTJCTOO. 
 
 "And teach him to attain 
 By shadowing forth the Unattainable."* 
 
 Matt. 5 : 48. 
 
 Supposed Confessions. 
 
 " My sin was as a thorn 
 Among the thorns that girt Thy brow." 
 
 Matt. 27 : 29. 
 " In this extremest misery 
 Of ignorance I should require 
 
 A sign." 
 
 6 1 Cor. 1 : 22. 
 
 " That happy morn 
 When angels spake to men aloud, 
 And thou and peace to earth were born." 
 
 Luke 2 : 10. 
 " Brothers in Christ." 
 
 Matt. 12: 50; Col. 1:2. 
 " To reconcile me with thy God." 
 
 2 Cor. 5 : 20. 
 ** Bring back this lamb into thy fold." 
 
 Luke 15 : 4. 
 
 " Pride, the sin of Devils." 
 
 1 Tim. 3 : 6. 
 
 *' These little motes and grains shall be 
 
 Clothed on with immortality." 
 
 1 Cor. 15 : 53. 
 
 • Be ye perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect. 
 
392 APPENDIX. 
 
 " As manna on my wilderness." 
 
 Ex. 16 : 16. 
 "That God would move 
 And strike the hard, hard rock, and thence, 
 Sweet in their utmost bitterness, 
 Would issue tears of penitence." 
 
 Num. 20 : 1L 
 The Kraken. 
 
 " Until the latter fire shall heat the deep." 
 
 Rev. 8 : 8 ; 2 Pet. 3 : 10. 
 Isabel. 
 
 " The laws of marriage charactered in gold 
 Upon the blanched tablets of her heart." 
 
 Ps. 37 : 31 ; 2 Cor. 3 : 3. 
 " And thou of God in thy great charity." 
 
 1 John 4 : 11. 
 
 To . 
 
 " Like that strange angel which of old 
 Until the breaking of the light 
 Wrestled with wandering Israel." 
 
 Gen. 32 : 24. 
 The Deserted House. 
 
 " A mansion incorruptible." 
 
 2 Cor. 6 : 1. 
 
 "The house was builded of the earth " 
 
 1 Cor. 16 : 47. 
 Adeline. 
 
 " Sabeean spice." 
 
 Is. 45 : 11. 
 
 To J. M. Kehble. 
 
 "Arrows of lightnings." 
 
 Zech. 9 : 14. 
 Buonaparte. 
 
 " Late he learned humility 
 Perforce, like those whom Gideon schooled with briers." 
 
 Judges 8 : 16. 
 Early Sonnets — Poland. 
 
 " Lord, how long." 
 
 6 Ps. 94 : 3. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 393 
 
 Sonnet X. 
 
 "The deluge." 
 
 Gen. 7 : 11. 
 
 Two Voices. 
 
 " A still small voice." 
 
 1 Kings 19 : 12. 
 
 " Wonderfully made." 
 
 J Ps. 139 : 14. 
 
 " When first the world began 
 Young Nature through five cycles ran 
 And in the sixth she moulded man." 
 
 Gen. 1 : 26. 
 " A little lower than angels." 
 
 Ps. 8 : 5. 
 
 "Like Stephen." 
 
 Acts 7 : 65. 
 
 " I toil beneath the curse." 
 
 Gen. 3 : 17-19. 
 
 "Naked I go." 
 
 Eccl. 5 : 15. 
 
 " Though one should smite him on the cheek." 
 
 Luke 6 : 29. 
 " His sons grow up that bear his name, 
 Some grow to honour, some to Bhame." 
 
 Job 14 : 26. 
 " The place he knew forgetteth him." 
 
 Ps. 103 : 16. 
 " ' Omega ! Thou art Lord/ they said." 
 
 Rev. 1 : 8. 
 " He may not do the thing he would." 
 
 Gal. 5 : 17. 
 
 " Rejoice ! Rejoice 1 " 
 
 J J Phil. 4 : L 
 
 Will Waterproof (1842). 
 
 " Like Hezekiah's, backward runs 
 
 The shadow of my days." 
 
 J Is. 38 : 8. 
 
 " If old things, there are new." 
 
 Matt. 13 : 52. 
 
394 APPENDIX. 
 
 " Who shall say me nay 1 " 
 
 1 Kings 2 : 20. 
 " All in all." 
 
 1 Cor. 16 : 28. 
 The Palace of Abt. 
 
 " I built myself a lordly pleasure-house, 
 • Wherein at ease for aye to dwell. 
 I said, ' O Soul, make merry and carouse, 
 
 Dear Soul, for all is well.' " 
 
 Luke 12 : 18, 19. 
 
 " Howling in outer darkness." 
 
 6 Matt. 8 : 12. 
 
 " Common clay taken from the common earth 
 
 Moulded by God." 
 
 J Gen. 2 : 7. 
 
 " Angels rising and descending." 
 
 Gen. 28 : 12. 
 " And oft some brainless devil enters in 
 
 And drives them to the deep." 
 
 Luke 8 : 33. 
 
 "Like Herod when the shout was in his ears, 
 Struck through with pangs of hell." 
 
 Acts 12 : 21-23. 
 
 " God, before whom ever lie bare 
 The abysmal deeps of Personality." 
 
 Heb. 4 : 13. 
 " Wrote ' Mene, mene,' and divided quite 
 
 The kingdom of her thought." 
 
 6 Dan. 5 : 25. 
 
 The Palace of Art (Edition of 1833: note, p. 73). 
 
 " One was the Tishbite whom the raven fed, 
 
 As when he stood on Carmel-steeps, 
 
 With one arm stretched out bare, and mocked and said, 
 
 ' Come cry aloud — he sleeps.' 
 
 "Tall, eager, lean, and strong, his cloak windborne 
 
 Behind, his forehead heavenly-bright 
 
 From the clear marble pouring glorious scorn, 
 
 Lit as with inner light." 
 
 1 Kings 18 : 27. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 395 
 
 "Robed David touching holy strings." 
 
 2 Sam. 6 : 5. 
 "Isaiah with fierce Ezekiel, 
 Swarth Moses by the Coptic sea." 
 
 " As power andmight 
 
 Abode in Samson's hair." 
 
 Judges 16 : 17. 
 
 " Far off she seem'd to hear the dully sound 
 Of human footsteps fall, 
 As in strange lands a traveller walking slow, 
 
 In doubt and great perplexity, 
 A little before moonrise hears the low 
 
 Moan of an unknown sea, 
 And knows not if it be thunder, or a sound 
 Of rocks thrown down, or one deep cry 
 Of great wild beasts." 
 Wisdom of Solovwn, 17 : 19 et seq, Apocrypha. 
 Lady Clara Vere de Vere. 
 
 " The gardener Adam and his wife." 
 
 Gen. 2 : 15. 
 The Mat Qoeen. Conclusion. 
 
 " His will be done." 
 
 Matt. 6 : 10. 
 " He taught me all the mercy, for he showed me all the 
 sin. 
 Now, tho' my lamp was lighted late, there 's One will 
 let me in." 
 
 Malt. 25 : 1. 
 " And the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are 
 at rest." 
 
 Job 3 : 17. 
 The Talking Oak. 
 
 "Thy leaf shall never fail." 
 
 P$. 1 : 3. 
 The Lotus Eaters. 
 
 " The flower ripens in its place, 
 Ripens and fades and falls, and hath no toil" 
 
 Matt. 6 : 28- 
 
396 APPENDIX. 
 
 A Dream of Fair Women. 
 
 "The end of Time." 
 
 Rev. 10 : 6. 
 
 " The daughter of the warrior Gileadite, 
 
 A maiden pure ; as when she went along 
 
 From Mizpeh's towered gate with welcome light, 
 
 With timbrel and with song." 
 
 Judges 11 : 34. 
 
 " A threefold cord." 
 
 Eccl. 4 : 12. 
 
 "The everlasting hills." 
 
 Gen. 49 : 20. 
 
 " Gross darkness." 
 
 Is. 60 : 2. 
 
 " Moreover it is written that my race 
 
 Hewed Ammon hip and thigh from Aroer 
 
 On Arnon unto Miuneth." 
 
 Judges 11 : 33. 
 
 " Love can vanquish death." 
 
 Cant. 8 : 6. 
 
 MORTE D'ARTHUB. 
 
 "Chaff . . . much better burnt." (In "The Epic") 
 
 Luke 3 : 17. 
 
 "Such time9 have not been since the light that led 
 The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh." 
 
 Matt. 2 : 2, 3. 
 
 " War shall be no more." 
 
 Is. 2 : 4. 
 
 The Gardener's Daughter. 
 
 " Eden." 
 
 Gen. 2 : 8. 
 
 " Like the covenant of a God, to hold 
 
 From thence thro' all the wjrlds." 
 
 Is. 55 : 3. 
 
 Edwin Morris. 
 
 " Built . . . upon a rock." 
 
 Matt. 7 : 24. 
 
 "God made the woman for the man." 
 
 1 Cor. H : 9; Gen. 2 : 18. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 397 
 
 St. Simeon Stvlites. 
 
 " The meed of saints, the white rohe and the palm." 
 
 Rev. 7 : 9. 
 
 " This home 
 
 Of sin, my flesh." 
 
 2 Cor. 5 : 6. 
 
 " Cover all my sin." 
 
 Ps. 32 : 1 ; 85 : 2. 
 
 * O mercy, mercy ! Wash away my sin." 
 
 Ps. 51 : 1, 2. 
 
 "They think that I am somewhat." 
 
 Gal. 2 : 6. 
 
 " Can I work miracles and not be saved ? " 
 
 1 Cor. 13 : 2. 
 
 " Pontius and Iscariot." 
 
 Matt. 26 : 14. 
 
 "A sinful man, conceived and born in sin." 
 
 Ps. 51 : 5. 
 "Abaddon and Asmodeus." 
 
 Rev. 9 : 11 ; Tobit 3 : 8. 
 
 " Mortify your flesh." 
 
 Col. 3 : 5. 
 " Yield not me the praise, 
 God only." 
 
 Ps. 115 : 1. 
 "A man of God." 
 
 2 Tim. 3 : 17. 
 The Golden Year. 
 
 " Cry like the daughters of the horse-leech, Give ! " 
 
 Prov. 30 : 15. 
 Lockblet Hall. 
 
 " Joshua's moon in Ajalon." 
 
 Josh. 10 : 12. 
 
 " But I count the gray barbarian lower than the Chris- 
 tian child." 
 
 Matt. 11 : 11. 
 " Summer isles of Eden." 
 
 Gen. 2 : 8. 
 
398 APPENDIX. 
 
 GODIVA. 
 
 " A heart as rough as Esau's hand." 
 
 Gen. 27 : 23. 
 
 " An everlasting name." 
 
 Is. 56 : 5. 
 
 The Day Dream. L'Envoi. 
 
 " For since the time when Adam first 
 Embraced his Eve in happy hour, 
 And every bird of Eden burst 
 In carol, every bud to flower." 
 
 Gen. 2 : 23. 
 
 St. Agnes' Eve. 
 
 " So shows my soul before the Lamb." 
 
 Rev. 7 : 9 ; 5 : 8. 
 
 " So in my earthly house I am 
 
 To that I hope to be." 
 
 2 Cor. 5 : 1. 
 
 Draw me, thy bride, . . . 
 
 In raiment white and clean." 
 
 Rev. 3 : 5. 
 
 " The Heavenly bridegroom waits 
 
 To make me pure of sin." 
 
 Is. 62 : 5. 
 
 " The Sabbaths of Eternity, 
 
 One Sabbath deep and wide." 
 
 Heb. 4 : 9. 
 
 " The shining sea." 
 
 Rev. 15 : 2. 
 
 The Vision of Sin. 
 
 " Thou shalt not be saved by works." 
 
 Gal. 2 : 16. 
 
 " God's likeness." 
 
 Gen. 1 : 26. 
 
 "Far too naked to be shamed." 
 
 Gen. 2 : 25. 
 
 To 
 
 " The many-headed beast." 
 
 Rev. 13 : 1. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 399 
 
 EnochArden. 
 
 " Cast all your cares on God." 
 
 1 Pet 5 : 7. 
 
 " That anchor holds." 
 
 Heb. 6 : 19. 
 
 44 The uttermost parts of the morning." 
 
 Ps. 139 : 9. 
 
 " The sea is His : He made it." 
 
 Ps. 95 : 5. 
 
 " Under the palm-tree." 
 
 Judges 4 : 5. 
 
 •' The Sun of Righteousness." 
 
 Mai. 4 : 2. 
 " These be palms 
 Whereof the happy people strowing cried, 
 
 • Hosanna in the highest.' " 
 
 John 12 : 13. 
 
 "Set in this Eden of all plenteousness." 
 
 Gen. 2 : 9. 
 " The blast of doomi' 
 ^v^ -- ^ *~o^LT hess. 4 : 16. 
 
 Atlmkr's Field. ^ 
 
 " Dust are our frames." 
 
 Gen. 3 : 19. 
 
 " Sons of men, daughters of God." 
 
 Gen. 6 : 2. 
 " Pale as the Jephtha's daughter." 
 
 Judges 11 : 34. 
 
 " Stumbling blocks." 
 
 1 Cor. 1 : 23. 
 
 "Almost all that is, hurting the hurt, 
 Save Christ as we believe him." 
 
 Matt. 12 : 20. 
 " Behold 
 Your house is left unto you desolate." 
 
 Luke 13 : 35. 
 
 " Never since our bad earth became one sea." 
 
 Gen. 7. 
 
 " Gash thyself, priest, and honour thy brute Baal." 
 
 1 Kings 18 : 28 
 
400 APPENDIX. 
 
 "The babe shall lead the lion." 
 
 It. 11 : «. 
 
 " The wilderness shall blossom as the rose." 
 
 1$. 35 : 1. 
 " Fares richly in fine linen." 
 
 Luke 16 : 19. 
 
 "Leave all and follow me." 
 
 Luke 18 : 22. 
 
 " His light about thy feet." 
 
 Pt. 119 : 105. 
 
 " Carpenter's son." 
 
 Matt. 13 : 55. 
 
 « Wonderful, Prince of Peace, the Mighty God." 
 
 Is. 9 : 6. 
 
 " As not passing thro' the fire 
 Bodies, but souls — thy children's — thro' the smoke." 
 
 Lev. 18 : 21. 
 
 " The more base idolater." 
 
 Col. 3 : 5. 
 
 " Rachel by the palmy well." 
 
 J Gen. 29:10. 
 
 " Ruth amid the fields of corn." 
 
 Ruth 2. 
 
 " Fair as the angel that said ' Hail.' " 
 
 Luke 1 : 28. 
 " She walked, 
 Wearing the light yoke of that Lord of love 
 Who stilled the rolling wave of Galilee." 
 
 Matt. 8 : 26 ; 11 : 30. 
 
 '« O thou that killest, hadst thou known, 
 O tnou that stonest, hadst thou understood 
 The things belonging to thy peace and ours. 
 
 Luke 13 : 34: 19 : 32. 
 
 " Is there no prophet but the voice that calls 
 Doom upon kings, or in the waste ' Repent '? " 
 
 Mark 1 : 3, 4. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 401 
 
 " Is not onr own child on the narrow way, 
 Who down to those that saunter in the broad 
 Cries ' Come up hither,' as a prophet to us." 
 
 Matt. 7 : 13. 
 " Poor in spirit." 
 
 Matt. 5 : 3. 
 " A rushing tempest of the wrath of God." 
 
 P$. 11 : 6. 
 " Sent like the twelve-divided concubine 
 
 To inflame the tribes." 
 
 Judges 19 : 29. 
 
 " Pharaoh's darkness." 
 
 Ex. 10 : 21. 
 
 " Folds as dense as those 
 Which hid the Holiest from the people's eyes." 
 
 Matt. 27 : 46. 
 " Their own gray hairs with sorrow to the grave." 
 
 Gen. 42 : 38. 
 
 " Knew not what they did." 
 
 Luke 23 : 34. 
 
 " Will not another take their heritage." 
 
 Acts 1 : 20. 
 " Or one stone 
 Left on another." 
 
 Matt. 24 : 2; Marl 13 : 2. 
 
 "Is it a light thing?" 
 
 6 * h. 7 : 13. 
 
 " Those that swore 
 Not by the Temple, but by the gold." 
 
 Matt. 23 : 16. 
 " And made 
 Their own traditions God, and slew the Lord." 
 
 Matt. 15 : 3; Acts 5 : 30. 
 Sea Dreams. 
 
 " Simple Christ." 
 
 1 Cor. 2 : 2; 2 Cor. 11 1 8. 
 
 " The scarlet woman." 
 
 Jitc. 17 : 3-6 
 
402 APPENDIX. 
 
 "The Apocalyptic millstone." 
 
 * Rev. 18:21. 
 
 " That great Angel : ' Thus with violence 
 
 Shall Babylon be cast into the sea. 
 
 Then comes the close.' " 
 
 Rev. 18 : 21. 
 
 "Let not the sun go down upon your wrath." 
 
 Eph. 4 : 26. 
 
 " Dear Lord, who died for all." 
 
 2 Cor. 5:15. 
 
 " When the great Books (see Daniel seven and ten) 
 
 Were opened." 
 
 v Dan. 7 : 10. 
 
 " We live by faith." 
 
 Gal. 2 : 20. 
 
 " All things work together for the good 
 
 Of those." 
 
 Rom. 8 : 28. 
 
 " Never took that useful name in vain." 
 
 Ex. 20 : 7. 
 " The Cross . . . 
 And Christ." 
 
 " Boanerges." 
 
 Thi Pkincess. 
 
 " Huge Ammonites." 
 
 " A fountain sealed." 
 
 " A land of promise." 
 
 " A wolf Within the fold. 
 
 John 19 : 17. 
 Mark 3 : 17. 
 
 Num. 21 : 24. 
 Cant. 4 : 12. 
 Heb. il : 9. 
 Acts 20 : 29. 
 
 " All those hard things 
 That Sheba came to ask of Solomon." 
 
 1 Kings 10 : 1. 
 
 " He. the wisest man." 
 
 1 Kings 4 : 31. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 403 
 
 " Feasted the woman wisest then, in halls 
 Of Lebanonian ced ir." 
 
 1 Kings 10 : 4, 5. 
 
 " O Vashti, noble Vashti ! Summon'd out, 
 She kept her state and left the drunken king 
 To brawl at Shushan underneath the palms." 
 
 Esther 1. 
 " Let there be light and there was light." 
 
 Gen. 1:3. 
 " But we that are not all 
 As parts, can see but parts." 
 
 1 Cor. 13 : 12. 
 
 u Their cancell'd Babels." 
 
 "A new-world Babel, woman-built 
 
 And worse-confounded." 
 
 Gen. 11 : 9. 
 
 " They mind us of the time 
 When we made bricks in Egypt." 
 
 Ex. 1 : 14. 
 
 (Judith and Holofernes ) 
 
 Apoc, Book of Judith. 
 " A Jonah's gourd 
 Up in one night and due to sudden sun." 
 
 Jonah 4 : 6. 
 "Touch not a hair of his head." 
 
 Luke 21 : 18. 
 " The old leaven leaven'd all." 
 
 1 Cor. 6 : 6, 7. 
 " This Egypt plagne." 
 
 Ex. 7-12. 
 "The fires of Hell." 
 
 Matt. 5 : 22. 
 
 " Between a cymball'd Miriam and a Jael." 
 
 Ex. 15 :20; Judges i. 
 
 " Like that great dame of Lapidoth she sang." 
 
 Judges 5 : 1. 
 
404 APPENDIX. 
 
 " Stiff as Lot's wife." 
 
 Gen. 19 : 26. 
 " Bond or free." 
 
 1 Cor. 12 : 18. 
 * Into the Heaven of Heavens." 
 
 Neh. 9 : 6. 
 The Grandmother. 
 
 "The tongue is a fire." 
 
 Jamet 3 : 6. 
 " God, not man, is the judge of us all." 
 
 Pom. 14 : 4. 
 To the Rbv. F. D. Maurice. 
 
 " Anathema." 
 
 1 Cor. 16 : 22. 
 
 The Flower. 
 
 " He that runs may read." 
 
 Eab. 2 : 2. 
 
 The Islet. 
 
 " To a sweet little Eden on earth." 
 
 Gen. 2 : 8. 
 
 The Spiteful Letter. 
 
 " This faded leaf, our names are as brief." 
 
 /«.1:30. 
 Literary Squabbles. 
 
 " When one small touch of charity 
 
 Could lift them nearer God like state 
 Than if the crowded Orb should cry 
 Like those who cried Diana great." 
 
 Acts 19 : 34. 
 Northern Farmer. 
 
 "I weant saay men be loiars thaw sum man said it in 
 'aaste." 
 
 Pt. 116:11. 
 
 Ode oh the Duke of Wellington. 
 " The shining table lands 
 To which our God Himself is moon and sun." 
 
 Rev. 21 : 23. 
 "Dust to dust." 
 
 6m. 3:9; Eccl. 3 : 20 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 405 
 
 Wages. 
 
 " The wages of sin is death." 
 
 Rom. 6 : S3. 
 
 The Higher Pantheism. 
 
 " The son, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and the 
 plains — 
 Are not these, Soul, the Vision of Him who reigns 1 " 
 
 Rom. 1 : 20. 
 
 " Is not the vision He 1 tho' He be not that which He 
 seems ? 
 Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in 
 dreams? 
 
 ' Speak to Him for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can 
 meet — 
 Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and 
 feet." 
 
 Pi. 65 : 2; Rom. 8 : 16; Acts 17 : 27. 
 
 " God is law, say the wise ; O Soul, and let us rejoice, 
 For if He thunder by law the thunder is yet His voice." 
 
 Ps. 77 : 18. 
 
 " Law is God, say some : no God at all, says the fool ; 
 For all we have power to see is a straight staff bent in 
 a pool." 
 
 Pi. 14 : 1. 
 
 " And the ear of man cannot hear, and the eye of man 
 cannot see , 
 But if we could see and hear, this Vision — were it not 
 He?" 
 
 It. 64 : 4; 1 Cor. 3 : 9 (Rev. Vernon). 
 Boadicea. 
 
 " Thou shalt wax and he shall dwindle." 
 
 John 3 : 30. 
 Milton. 
 
 "Angel . . . Gabriel" 
 
 Luke 2 : 1-19. 
 
 •The brooks of Eden. 
 
 Gen. 2 : 10. 
 
406 APPENDIX. 
 
 In Memori am. Proem. 
 
 " Strong Son of God, immortal Love, 
 
 Whom we, that have not seen thy face, 
 By faith and faith alone embrace, 
 Believing where we cannot prove." 
 
 1 Pet. 1 : & 
 
 " Thou madeet life in man and brute." 
 
 John 1 : 3. 
 
 " For knowledge is of things we see." 
 
 Rom. 8 : 24. 
 
 u For merit lives from man to man, 
 And not from man, O Lord, to thee." 
 
 Pt. 143 : 2. 
 xv. 
 " And but for fancies which aver 
 That all thy motions gently pass 
 Athwart a plane of molten glass." 
 
 Job 37 : 18 ; Rev. 4 : 6. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 u The shadow fear'd of man." 
 
 Pt. 23 : 4. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " Since Adam left his garden." 
 
 Gen. 8 : 23. 
 xxvni. 
 u Peace and goodwill to all mankind." 
 
 Lull 2 : 14. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 ' They rest,' we said ; ' their sleep is sweet.' " 
 
 1 Then. 4 : 14. 
 xxxi. 
 H When Lazarus left his charnel-cave, 
 And home to Mary's house returned, 
 Was this demanded — if he yearned 
 To hear her weeping by his grave ? " 
 
 JohntL 
 
BTBLICAL REFERENCES. 407 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 * She bows, she bathe* the Saviour's feet 
 With costly spikenard and with tears." 
 
 John 12 : J. 
 ■ The life indeed." 
 
 John 11 : 25 
 
 xxxn. 
 
 "And bo the Word had breath." 
 
 John 1 : 14. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 ■ Sacred wine." 
 
 1 Cor. 10 : 16. 
 
 LYI. 
 
 " Who trusted God was love Indeed." 
 
 1 John 4 i 8. 
 
 LXXXIY. 
 
 " What reed was that on which I leant ? " 
 
 h. 36 : 6. 
 Lxxxvn. 
 "The God within him light his face." 
 
 8 Cor. 6 : 16. 
 Lxxxvm. 
 "Rings Eden." 
 
 Gem. S : 8. 
 xov. 
 •Word by word, and line by Una." 
 
 ft. «8 1 18. 
 xon. 
 * Bnt in the darkness and the clond. 
 As over Sinai's peaks of old, 
 While Israel made their gods of gold, 
 Altho' the trumpet blew so loud." 
 
 Jka:l-i 
 
 CIIL 
 
 " The thews of Anakim." 
 
 Deut. 1 : 10. 
 cvi. 
 "The thousand years of peace." 
 
 Rev. 20 : 2-4- 
 
408 APPENDIX. 
 
 cvm. 
 ••And vacant yearning, though with might, 
 To scale the heavens' highest height, 
 Or dive below the wells of Death." 
 
 Rom. 10 : 6-8. 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 "Who shall fix Her pillars? " (Knowledge.) 
 
 Prov. 9 : 1. 
 cxx. 
 *Like Paul with beasts I fought with Death." 
 
 1 Cor. 15 : 32. 
 
 CXXXI. 
 
 • O living will that shalt endure 
 
 When all that is shall suffer shock, 
 Rise in the spiritual rock, 
 How through our deeds and make them pure." 
 
 1 John2: 17; 1 Cor. 10 1 4. 
 
 "To one that with us works." 
 
 1 Cor. 3:9; Phil. 2 : 13. 
 " The moon 
 
 Of Eden." _ _ _ — _-- 
 Gtn.il*. 
 
 Maud. 
 
 Part I. I. 6. 
 
 "The spirit of Cain." 
 
 * 1 John 3 1 12. 
 
 8. 
 
 " We are ashes and dust." 
 
 Gen. 8 : 19. 
 
 ** My heart as a millstone." 
 
 J Job 41 : 24. 
 
 " Set my face as a flint." 
 
 It. 50 : 7. 
 
 9. 
 
 1 When only not all men lie." 
 
 J P$. 116 : 11. 
 
 12. 
 
 " Mammon." 
 
 Matt. 6 : 24. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 409 
 
 n. 
 
 " Neither savour nor salt." 
 
 Matt. 5 : 13. 
 xiii. 3. 
 * That huge scape-goat of the race." 
 
 Lev. 16 : 10. 
 zviii. 2. 
 
 " The gates of Heaven." 
 
 Rev. 21 : 21. 
 xvm. 3. 
 (A cedar of Lebanon.) " Thy great 
 Forefathers of the thornless garden, there 
 Shadowing the snow-limbed Eve." 
 
 Gen. 2:8; 3:18. 
 Part II. 
 ii. 6. 
 •* An old song vexes my ear ; 
 But that of Lamech is mine." 
 
 Gen. 4 : 23. 
 v. 4. 
 " I never whispered a private affair 
 
 . . • • 
 
 No, not to myself in the closet alone, 
 Bat I heard it shouted at once from the top of the 
 
 house." 
 
 Luke 12 : 3. 
 
 IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 
 The Coming of Arthur. 
 
 " Elfin Urim." 
 
 Ex. 28 : 30. 
 
 u Hath power to walk the watei6 like our Lord." 
 
 Matt. 14 : 25. 
 
 " Dark sayings from of old." 
 
 J & P«.78:2. 
 
 u The King will follow Christ and we the King." 
 
 1 Cor. 11 : L 
 
 u The old order changeth, yielding place to new." 
 
 Rev. 21 : 4, 6. 
 
410 APPENDIX. 
 
 Gahsth and Ltnette. 
 
 "A stone about bis neck to drown him in it." 
 
 Matt. 18 : 6. 
 " When reviled, hast answered graciously." 
 
 1 Pet. 2 : 23. 
 
 Gebaiht and Enid. 
 
 " Tho' they sought 
 Through all the provinces like those of old 
 
 That lighted on Queen Esther." 
 
 Esther 2 : 3. 
 
 " Here through the feeble twilight of this world 
 
 Groping, how many, until we pass and reach 
 
 That other where we see as we are seen." 
 
 1 Cor. 13 : 12. 
 
 " Whose souls the old serpent long had drawn 
 
 Down." 
 
 Rev. 12 : 9. 
 
 " Since high in Paradise 
 O'er the four rivers." 
 
 Gen. 2 : 10. 
 
 " But o'er her meek eyes came a happy mist 
 
 Like that which kept the heart of Eden green 
 
 Before the useful trouble of the rain." 
 
 Gen. 2 : 6. 
 
 " He hears the judgment of the King of Kings." 
 
 1 Tim. 6 : 15- 
 
 Balin and Balan. 
 " The Lost one Found was greeted as in Heaven." 
 
 Luke 15 : 32. 
 " Arimathsean Joseph." 
 
 Mark 15 : 43. 
 " Thorns of the crown." 
 
 Matt. 27 : 29. 
 
 " That same spear 
 Wherewith the Roman pierced the side of Christ." 
 
 John 19 : 34 
 
 "Arm of flesh." 
 
 2 Chron. 82 : 8- 
 
+ 
 
 BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 411 
 
 " I better prize 
 
 The living dog than the dead lion." 
 
 Eccl.9:L 
 
 Merlin and Vivien. 
 
 " As Love, if Love be perfect, casta out fear." 
 
 1 John 4 : 18. 
 
 " There is no being pure, 
 My cherub ; saith not Holy Writ the same 1 " 
 
 Ram. 3 : 10. 
 
 " But neither marry nor are given 
 In marriage, angels of our Lord's report." 
 
 Matt. 22 : 30. 
 * The sin that practice burns into the blood, 
 And not the one dark hour which brings remorse, 
 Will brand us, after, of whose fold we be : 
 Or else were he, the holy king whose hymns 
 Are chanted in our minster, worse than all." 
 
 2 Sam. 11. 
 
 " Seethed like the kid in its own mother's milk." 
 
 Ex. 23 : 19. 
 " An enemy that has left 
 Death in the living waters." 
 
 2 Kings 4 : 39, 40. 
 " And stirr'd this vice in you which ruin'd man 
 Through woman the first hour." 
 
 Gen. 3:12; 8:1-6. 
 " Let her tongue rage like a fire." 
 
 James 3:6. 
 ■ And judge all nature from her feet of clay." 
 
 Dan. 2 : 33. 
 Lancelot and Elaine. 
 
 " His mood was often like a fiend, and rose 
 And drove him into wastes and solitudes." 
 
 Luke 8 : 29. 
 "Fire in dry stubble." 
 
 Is. 5 : 24. 
 
412 APPENDIX. 
 
 " Since man's first fall." 
 
 Gen. 3 : l-«. 
 "But loved me with a love beyond all love in women." 
 
 2 Sam. 1 : 26. 
 The Holt Grail. 
 
 " The cup, the cup itself, from which onr Lord 
 Drank at the last sad supper with his own." 
 
 Matt. 26 : 29. 
 " After the day of darkness when the dead 
 Went wandering o'er Moriah." 
 
 Matt. 27 : 63. 
 " An adulterous race." 
 
 Matt. 12 : 39. 
 " Galahad, when he heard of Merlin's doom, 
 Cried, ' If I lose myself, I save myself I'" 
 
 Matt. 10 : 39; 16:26. 
 " When the Lord of all things made Himself 
 Naked of glory for His mortal change." 
 
 Phil. 2 : 6-7. 
 " Like a flying star 
 Led on the gray-hair'd wisdom of the east." 
 
 Matt. 2 : 9. 
 " But my time is hard at hand, 
 And hence I go, and one will crown me King 
 Far in the spiritual city." 
 
 2 Tim. 4 : 6, 8. 
 " Arimathican Joseph." 
 
 Matt. 27 : 67. 
 
 " Thou hast not lost thyself to save thyself." 
 
 Matt. 10 : 39. 
 " For now there is a lion in the way." 
 
 Prov. 22 : 13. 
 " What go ye into the wilderness to see 1 " 
 
 Matt. 11 : 7. 
 " Shoutings of all the sons of God." 
 
 Job 38 : 7. 
 " Gateways in a glory like one pearl." 
 
 Rev. 21 : 12. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 413 
 
 ■ As ever shepherd knew his sheep." 
 
 John 10 : 14, 
 
 " Perhaps, like him of Cana in Holy Writ, 
 
 Our Arthur kept his best until the last." 
 
 John 2 : 1-10. 
 
 " Glory and joy aud honour to our Lord." 
 
 Rev. 4 : 11. 
 
 " A seven-times heated furnace." 
 
 Dan. 3 : 19. 
 
 " Great angels, awful shapes, and wings and eyes." 
 
 Eztk. 10 : 12. 
 " That One 
 Who rose again." 
 
 1 Cor. 15 : 20; 2 Cor. 5 : 15. 
 
 Pelleas and Ettaere. 
 
 " The flame about a sacrifice 
 
 Kindled by fire from heaven." 
 
 2 Chron. 7 : 1. 
 
 " Would they have risen against me in their blood 
 At the last day ? I might have answered them 
 Even before high God." 
 
 Rev. 6 : 10. 
 
 " That own no lust because they have no law." 
 
 Rom. 4 : 15. 
 " I have no sword, — 
 
 Then Lancelot, * Yea, between thy lips — and sharp.'*' 
 
 1$. 49 : % 
 The Last Tournament. 
 " For I have flung thee pearls and find thee swine." 
 
 Matt. 7 : 6. 
 " Fear God : honour the King." 
 
 1 Pet. 2 : 17. 
 " As the water Moab saw 
 Come round by the East." 
 
 2 King* 3 : 20-23. 
 
 "The scorpion- worm that twists in Hell 
 And stings itself to everlasting death." 
 
 It. 66: 24. 
 
414 APPENDIX. 
 
 " Who marrM Heaven's image in thee thns ? " 
 
 Gen. 1 : ff. 
 "That oft I seem as he 
 Of whom was written, ' a sound is in bis ears."* 
 
 Job 15 : 21. 
 "The great lake of fire." 
 
 Rev. 20 : 14. 
 " Conceits himself as God that he can make 
 Figs out of thistles." 
 
 Matt. 7 : 16. 
 " Michael trampling Satan." 
 
 Rev. 12 s 7-9. 
 
 GOINEVSBE. 
 
 "Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill" 
 
 Matt. 25 : L 
 " So she did not see the face 
 Which then was as an angel's." 
 
 Acu 6 : 15. 
 
 QtJBEN MABY. 
 
 Act I., Sc. 2. 
 " ' Thou shalt not wed thy brother's wife.' — T is written, 
 •Thej shall be childless.'" 
 
 Lev. 20 : 21. 
 Sc. 3. 
 " From thine own mouth I judge thee." 
 
 Luke 19 : 22. 
 " The old leaven." 
 
 1 Cor. 5 r 7. 
 Sc. 5. 
 "The great angel of the church." 
 
 Rev. 2 i L 
 " Whosoever 
 Looketh after a woman." 
 
 Matt. 5 : 28. 
 *Him who made Heaven and earth." 
 
 Ex. 20 : 11. 
 " The living waters of the Faith." 
 
 Johni: 10. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 415 
 
 "The palms of Christ," 
 
 John 12 : IS. 
 " Many wolves among you." 
 
 Ads 70 1&. 
 
 Act II., Sc. 2. 
 * They go like those old Pharisees in John 
 Convicted by their conscience, arrant cowards." 
 
 John 8 : 1-11. 
 
 "Fruit of mine own body." 
 
 Ps. 132 : 1L 
 
 Sc.4. 
 " My foes are at my feet . . . 
 There let them lie, your footstool." 
 
 Pi. 110 : 1. 
 Act III., So. 1. 
 " Not red like IscariotV' 
 
 Matt. 10 t 4. 
 
 " A pale horse for Death." 
 
 Rev. 6 : 8. 
 " Thou shalt do no murder." 
 
 Malt. 19 : 18. 
 " I have ears to hear." 
 
 Matt. 11 : 15. 
 « Verbum Dei . . . Word of God." 
 
 Rom. 10 : 17. 
 "That cannot spell Esaias from St Paul." 
 
 Rom. 9 : 27. 
 8c. 2. 
 " Ave Maria, gratia plena, 
 Benedictu tu in mulieribns." 
 
 Luke 1 : 28. 
 "The scarlet thread of Rahab saved her life." 
 
 Joshua 2 : 18 ; 6 : 17. 
 "And marked me ev'n as Cain." 
 
 Gen. 4 : 15. 
 
416 APPENDIX. 
 
 " Since your Herod's death 
 How oft hath Peter knocked at Mary's gate, 
 And Mary would have risen and let him in ; 
 But, Mary, there were those within the house 
 Who would not have it." 
 
 Acts 12 : 11-17. 
 " Sit benedictus fructus ventris tui." 
 
 Lull 1 : 42. 
 "Our little sister of the Song of Songs." 
 
 Cant. 8 : 8. 
 " Swept and garnished." 
 
 Matt. 12 : 44. 
 " The devils in the swine." 
 
 Matt. 8 : 28-32. 
 " Prince of Peace." 
 
 Is. 9 : 6. 
 
 * Who will avenge me of mine enemies." 
 
 Is. 1 : 24. 
 " Open, ye everlasting gates." 
 
 P$. 24 : 7. 
 Sc. 3. 
 " The blessed angels who rejoice 
 
 Over one saved." 
 
 Luke 15 : 10. 
 
 "The Lord who hath redeem'd us 
 With his own blood and wash'd us from our sins." 
 
 Rev. 5 : 9. 
 "All her breath should, incenselike, 
 Rise to the heavens in grateful praise of Him." 
 
 P$. 141 : 2. 
 " These are forgiven . , . 
 And range with . . . offal thrown 
 Into the blind sea of forgetf ulness." 
 
 Micah 7 : 19. 
 "To purchase for Himself a stainless bride." 
 
 Rev. 19:7. 
 * He whom the Father hath appointed Head 
 
 Of all his church." 
 
 Eph. 5 : 23. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 417 
 
 Sc. 4. 
 " Compel them to come in." 
 
 Luke 14 : 23. 
 " I would they were cut off 
 
 That trouble you." 
 
 Gal. 5 : 12. 
 " Little children, 
 
 Love one another." 
 
 1 John3:lS; 4:7. 
 
 * I come not to bring peace, but a sword." 
 
 Matt. 10 : 34. 
 
 " The Church on Peter's rock." 
 
 Matt. 16 : 18. 
 
 " When Herod-Henry first 
 Began to batter at your English Church." 
 
 Acts 12 : 1. 
 
 " The spotless bride of Christ." 
 
 Eph. 5 : 27. 
 
 " Like Christ himself on Tabor." 
 
 Matt. 17 : 2. 
 
 " God's righteous judgment." 
 
 Rom. 2 : 5. 
 
 * Ev'n Saint Peter in his time of fear 
 Denied his Master, ay, and thrice, my Lord." 
 
 Malt. 26 : 69-74. 
 " Burn and blast them root and branch." 
 
 Mai. 4 : 1. 
 " His fan may thoroughly purge his floor." 
 
 Matt. 3 : 12. 
 Sc. 5. 
 " The very Truth and very Word are one." 
 
 John 14 : 6 ; 1 : 1. 
 ■ Back again into the dust we sprang from." 
 
 Gen. 3 : 19. 
 Act IV., Sc. 2. 
 * There is more joy in Heaven." 
 
 Luke 15 : 7. 
 * The trumpet of the dead." 
 
 1 Cor. 15 : 62. 
 
418 APPENDIX. 
 
 " How are the mighty fallen." 
 
 2 -Sam. 1 : 19. 
 " Power hath been given you." 
 
 John 19 : 11. 
 Sc. 3. 
 * Nunc dimittis." 
 
 Luke 2 : 29. 
 "It is expedient for one man to die." 
 
 John 11 : 50. 
 " The penitent thief's award 
 And be with Christ the Lord in Paradise." 
 
 Luke 23 : 43. 
 " Remember how God made the fierce fire seem 
 To those three children like a pleasant dew." 
 
 Dan. 4 : 20-28. 
 " Saint Andrew." 
 
 Luke 6 : 14. 
 ■ Whither should I flee for any help ? " 
 
 h. 10:3; 20:6. 
 " I am ashamed to lift my eyes to heaven." 
 
 Luke 18 : 13. 
 " Refusing none 
 That come to Thee for succour." 
 
 John 6 : 37. 
 " God the Son . . . when thou becamest 
 Man in the flesh." 
 
 John 1 : 14. 
 " God the Father, not for little sins 
 Didst thou yield up thy Son to human death." 
 
 John 3 : 16. 
 " Unpardonable. Sin against the light." 
 
 Matt. 12 : 32. 
 "Forgive me, Father, for no merit of mine, 
 But that Thy name by man be glorified, 
 And Thy most blessed Son's who died for man." 
 
 John 17 : 1, 2. 
 "Love of this world is hatred against God." 
 
 James 4 : 4. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 419 
 
 " Obey your Kiug and Queen, and not for dread 
 Of these alone, but from the fear of Him 
 Whose ministers they be to govern you." 
 
 1 Pet. 3 : 13, 14. 
 " But do you good to all 
 As much as in you lieth." 
 
 Gal. 6 : 10. 
 
 " How hard it is 
 For the rich man to enter Heaven." 
 
 Matt. 19 : 23. 
 " Give to the poor, 
 le give to God. He is with us in the poor." 
 
 Prov. 19 : 17. 
 " God's image." 
 
 Gen. 1 : 26. 
 ■ Ignorance crying in the streets." 
 
 Prov. 1 : 20, 21. 
 " Your original Adam-clay." 
 
 Gen. 2 : 7. 
 "This hath offended, — this unworthy hand." 
 
 Matt. 6 : 30. 
 Act V., So. 1. 
 " She is none of those who loathe the honeycomb." 
 
 Prov. 27 : 7. 
 Sc. 2. 
 "It was thought we two 
 Might make one flesh, and cleave unto each other 
 As man and wife." 
 
 Matt. 19 I 5. 
 " Labour in vain." 
 
 Ps. 127 : 1. 
 " A low voice from the dust." 
 
 It. SB : 4. 
 " They say the gloom of Saul 
 Was lightened by young David's harp." 
 
 1 8am. 16 : 23. 
 "Bring forth death." 
 
 James 1 : 15. 
 
420 APPENDIX. 
 
 Sc. 4. 
 * Soft raiment." 
 
 Luke 7 : 25. 
 " All things in common as in the days of the first church 
 
 when Jesus Christ was King. 
 
 Actsi: 32. 
 Sc. 5. 
 " Garner the wheat 
 And burn the tares with unquenchable fire." 
 
 Matt. 3: 12; 13: 40. 
 
 " The shadow of death." 
 
 Pt. 23 : 4. 
 
 " And she loved much ; pray God she be forgiven." 
 
 Luke 7 : 47. 
 Ha HOLD. 
 
 " All things make for good." 
 
 Rom. 8 : 28. 
 Act I., Sc. 1. 
 " And hold their babies up to it. 
 I think that they would Molochize them too, 
 
 To have the heavens clear." 
 
 Lev. 18 : 21. 
 
 " In Heaven signs, 
 
 Signs upon earth." 
 
 Dan. 6 : 27. 
 
 " War in heaven. 
 
 Rev. 12 : 7. 
 
 " I have fought the fight and go." 
 
 2 Tim. 4 : 7. 
 
 ■ Gates of Pearl." 
 
 Rev. 21 : 21. 
 
 " To the deaf adder thee, that will not dance 
 
 However wisely charm'd." 
 
 J P$. 68 : 4. 
 
 "Let brethren dwell together in unity." 
 
 Ps. 188 : 1. 
 
 Sc. 2. 
 " Did not heaven speak to men in dreams of old." 
 
 Matt. 2 : 12. 
 " Scape-goat." 
 
 Lev. 16 : 8. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 421 
 
 Acr. II., Sc. 1. 
 " Fishers of men." 
 
 Matt. 4 : 19. 
 "Jonah." 
 
 Jonah. 
 Sc. 2. 
 
 " For having lost myself to save myself." 
 
 Matt. 10 : 39. 
 " Familiar spirit" 
 
 1 Sam. 28 : 7. 
 
 " The torch . . . among your standing corn." 
 
 Judges 15 : 4, 5. 
 
 Act III., Sc. 1. 
 
 "I have built the Lord a house." 
 
 1 Kings 8 : 20. 
 
 " Sing, Asaph ! clash 
 The cymbal, Heman ; blow the trumpet, priest." 
 
 1 Chron. 25 : L 
 " Fall, cloud, and fill the house." 
 
 2 Chron. 7 : 1 ; 1 Kings 8 : 10. 
 
 " Jachin and Boaz." 
 
 1 Kings 7 : 21. 
 
 " Treble denial of the tongue of flesh 
 
 Like Peter's when he fell." 
 
 Matt. 26 : 69-74- 
 
 " To wail like Peter." 
 
 Matt. 26 : 75. 
 
 "Talked with God." 
 
 Ex. 33 : 9. 
 
 " Signs in heaven." 
 
 Dan. 6 : 27. 
 
 Sc. 2. 
 
 "That which reigned called itself God." 
 
 2 Thess. 2 : 4. 
 
 " Render unto Cesar." 
 
 Malt. 22 : 21. 
 " The Good Shepherd." 
 
 John 10 : 1L 
 
 Act IV., Sc. 1. 
 "The kingdoms of this world." 
 
 Rev. 11 : 1ft. 
 
422 APPENDIX. 
 
 " A king of men 
 Not made bat born, like the great King of all, 
 A light among the oxen." 
 
 Luke 2 : 7. 
 So. 8. 
 " A fast of forty days." 
 
 Matt. 4 : 2. 
 
 Act V., Sc. 1. 
 "Mock-king, I am the messenger of God, 
 His Norman Daniel 1 Mene, Mene, Tekel I " 
 
 Ban. 5 : 25. 
 "Evil for good." 
 
 Rom. 3 : 8. 
 
 "Evil for erQ." 
 
 Rom. 12 : 17. 
 
 * The peace of God." 
 
 Phil. 4 : 7. 
 
 " Were the great trumpet blowing Doomsday dawn." 
 
 1 Theu. 4 : 16. 
 " Spear into pruning hook." 
 
 Joel 8 t 10. 
 
 " God of battles." 
 
 Pi. 24 : 8. 
 
 " There is one 
 Come as Goliath came of yore." 
 
 1 Sam. 17 : 40. 
 
 "Pastor fngatur . . . Grex trucidatur." 
 
 John 10 : 12, 13. 
 
 "Equus cum eqnite dejiciatur . . . precipitator." 
 
 Ex. 15 : 1. 
 
 " Glory to God in the highest." 
 
 ' Luke 2 : 14. 
 
 So. 9. 
 " My punishment is more that I can bear." 
 
 Qen. 4 : 13. 
 The Lover's Tale. 
 
 " When the outer lights are darkened." 
 
 Eccl. 12 : 8 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 423 
 
 " Till earth and heaven pass." 
 
 Matt. 5 : 18. 
 " Length of days." 
 
 Ps. 91 : 16. 
 
 M The bitterness of death." 
 
 1 Sam. 15 : 32. 
 
 " As that other gazed, 
 
 Shading his eyes till all the fiery cloud, 
 
 The prophet and the chariot and the steeds, 
 
 Sucked into oneness like a little star 
 
 Were drunk into the inmost blue." 
 
 2 Kings 2 : 11, 12. 
 
 " A land of promise flowing with the milk 
 And honey of delicious memories." 
 
 Ex. 3 : 8. 
 " Exceeding sorrow unto Death." 
 
 Matt. 26 : 38. 
 
 " She took the body of my past delight, 
 Narded and swathed and balmed it for herself. 
 And laid it in a sepulchre of rock." 
 
 John 19 : 39-41. 
 " The evil flourish in the world." 
 
 Ps. 37 and 73. 
 " Like a vain rich man, 
 That having always prospered in the world, 
 Folding his hands, deals comfortable words, 
 To hearts wounded forever." 
 
 Jot. 2 : 15, 16. 
 Thb Lover's Tale. (Original edition.) 
 " So, bearing on thro' Being limitless 
 The triumph of this foretaste, I had merged 
 Glory in glory, without sense of change." 
 
 2 Cor. 3 : 18. 
 BlZPAH. 
 
 "Rizpah." 
 
 2 Sam. 21 : 8-ia 
 
 " As the tree falls so it must lie." 
 
 Ecel. 11 : 3. 
 "F*esh of my flesh — bone of my bone." 
 
 Gen. 2 : 2& 
 
424 APPENDIX. 
 
 " My Willy 'ill rise up whole when the trumpet 
 of judgment 'ill sound." 
 
 1 Theu. 4 : 16. 
 "Full of compassion and mercy." 
 
 Pt. 86 : 15. 
 The Northern Cobbles. 
 
 "A beast of the feald." 
 
 Ex. 28 : 11. 
 
 " Like Saatan as fell 
 Down out o' heaven in Hell-fire." 
 
 Luke 10 : 18. 
 In the Children's Hospital. 
 
 " Ye do it to me when ye do it to these." 
 
 Matt. 25 : 40. 
 " Spirits in prison." 
 
 1 Pet. 3 : 19. 
 
 " Little children should come to me." 
 
 Matt. 19 ; 14. 
 Sir John Oldcastle. 
 
 " Not least art thou, little Bethlehem 
 In Judah, for in thee the Lord was born." 
 
 Micah 5 : 2. 
 " Hereafter thou, fulfilling Pentecost, 
 Must learn to speak the tongues of all the world." 
 
 Acts 2 : 1-4. 
 " Thou bringest 
 Not peace, a sword." 
 
 Matt. 10 : 84. 
 "Antichrist." 
 
 1 John 2 : 18. 
 
 * The kingdoms of this world." 
 
 Rev. 11 : 15. 
 
 "Lord, give thou power to thy two witnesses." 
 
 Rev. 11 : 3. 
 
 " Persecute the Lord, 
 And play the Saul that never will be Paul." 
 
 Act* 9 : 4 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 425 
 
 " Or such crimes 
 
 As holy Paul — a shame to speak of them — 
 
 Among the heathen." 
 
 6 Eph. 5 : 12. 
 
 " The Gospel, the Priest's pearl, flung down to swine." 
 
 Matt. 1 : 6. 
 " Thy Gospel meant 
 To course and range thro' all the world." 
 
 Matt. 24 : 14. 
 "Babylon." 
 
 Rev. 17 : 6. 
 " How long, Lord, how long." 
 
 Rev. 6 : 10. 
 
 " Thou living water." 
 
 John 4 : 10. 
 
 " He that thirsteth, come and drink." 
 
 Rev. 22 : 17. 
 
 "Power of the keys." 
 
 Matt. 16 : 19. 
 
 "Those three ! the fourth 
 Was like the Son of God ! Not burnt were they," 
 
 Ban. 3 : 25. 
 
 " Caiaphas." 
 
 Matt. 26 : 57. 
 
 Columbus. 
 
 " The crowd's roar fell as at the ' Peace, be still.' ■ 
 
 Mark 4 : 39. 
 " For him who gave a new heaven, a new earth, 
 As holy John had prophesied of me." 
 
 Rev. 21 : 1. 
 
 " And saw the rivers roll from Paradise." 
 
 Gen. 2 : 10. 
 
 " King David called the heavens a hide, a tent, 
 Spread over earth." 
 
 P». 104 i 8. 
 " Moriah with Jerusalem." 
 
 2 Chron. 8 t L 
 
426 APPENDIX. 
 
 "And I saw 
 The glory of the Lord flash up." 
 
 Rev. 21 : 19-27. 
 " From Solomon's now-recover'd Ophir, all 
 The gold that Solomon's navies carried home." 
 
 1 Kings 9 : 26-28. 
 " soul of little faith, slow to believe." 
 
 Matt. 14 : 31; Luke 24 : 2d. 
 
 " Time shall be no more." 
 
 Rev. 10 : 6. 
 
 " Endure ! thou hast done so well for man, that men 
 Cry out against thee ; was it otherwise 
 With mine own son ? " 
 
 Matt. 10 : 24, 25. 
 " Be not cast down. I lead thee by the hand, 
 Fear not." 
 
 Dent. 31 : 8; /*. 41 : 13. 
 
 The Voyage op Maeldune. 
 " Remember the words of the Lord when he told us 
 ' Vengeance is mine.' " 
 
 Rom. 12 : 19. 
 De Pbofuwdis. 
 " From that great deep, before our world begins, 
 Whereon the spirit of God moves as he will." 
 
 Gen. 1 : 2. 
 " Let us make man." 
 
 Gen. 1 : 26. 
 "That one light no man can look upon." 
 
 1 Tim. 6 : 16. 
 
 " Hallowed be Thy Name." 
 
 Matt. 6 : 9. 
 
 Bbckbt. 
 
 Prologue. 
 
 " The spiritual body." 
 
 1 Cor. 16 : 44 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 427 
 
 'Let her eat dust like the serpent, and be driven ont 
 of her Paradise." 
 
 Gin. 3 : 14. 
 
 Act I., Sc. 1. 
 
 " King of Kings." 
 
 " The twelve Apostles." 
 " Let them be Anathema.' 
 
 1 Tim. 6 « 1& 
 
 Matt. 10 : 2. 
 
 1 Cor. 16 : 22. 
 
 Sc. 3. 
 
 " The Lord be judged again by Pilate." 
 
 Matt. 27 : 2. 
 " When murder, common 
 As Nature's death, like Egypt's plague, had filled 
 All tilings with blood, — when every doorway blushed, 
 Dash'd red with that unhallow'd passover." 
 
 Ex. 7 : 19 ; 12 : 22. 
 "Peter's rock." 
 
 Matt. 16 : 18. 
 "Life for a life." 
 
 Ex. 21 : 23. 
 * Thou, the shepherd, hast betrayed the sheep." 
 
 John 10 : 12. 
 " Mortify thy flesh." 
 
 Gal. 5:24; Col. 3: 5. 
 "Reeds that sway ... to the wind." 
 
 Matt. 11 : 7. 
 "Who but the bridegroom dares to judge the bride? " 
 
 John 3 : 29. 
 " As gold outvalues dross ; light, darkuess ; At el, Cain." 
 
 Heb. 11 : 4, 5, 8. 
 " Saint Lazarus." 
 
 John 11. 
 "Deal gently with the young man Absalom." 
 
 2 Sam. 18 : 5. 
 M Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord." 
 
 Ps. 118 ; 26 
 
428 APPENDIX. 
 
 Sc. 4. 
 "Ye have drunken of my cup." 
 
 Matt. 20 : 2a 
 " Bidden to our supper." 
 
 Luke 14 : 7-24. 
 "Steams . . . like the altar at Jerusalem." 
 
 2 Sam. 24 : 18. 
 
 " Call in the poor." 
 
 Matt. 22 : 9. 
 
 "The princess sat in judgment against me " 
 
 Pa. 119 : 23, 
 " The Lord hath prepared your table." 
 
 Ps. 23 : 5. 
 " Sheep without the shepherd." 
 
 Matt. 9 : 36. 
 " With Cain's answer, my Lord. Am I his keeper ! " 
 " The Lord hath set his mark upon him that no man 
 
 should murder him." 
 
 Gen. 4 : 9-15. 
 
 " With Cain ... in the land of Nod." 
 
 Gen. 4 : 16. 
 ■ Smite him with the edge of the sword." 
 
 Deut. 13 : 15. 
 " Smite the she'pherd, and the sheep are scattered." 
 
 Zech. 13 : 7. 
 " His Lord and Master in Christ." 
 
 Matt. 20 : 27. 
 ■ Who fed you in the wilderness." 
 
 Deut. 8 : 16. 
 Act II., Sc. 1. 
 
 " The voice of the deep." 
 
 Hob. 3 : 10. 
 " Turn the world upside down." 
 
 Act* 17 : 6. 
 
 Sc. 2. 
 " ^hief-like fled ... no man pursuing." 
 
 Prov. 28 : 1. 
 " Take heed he do not turn and rend you." 
 
 Matt. 7 : 6 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 429 
 
 " None other God bat me." 
 
 Ex. 20 : 3. 
 
 " Nay, if they were defective as Saint Peter 
 Denying Christ, who yet defied the tyrant, 
 We held by his defiance, not by his defect." 
 
 Matt. 26:70; Acts 4 : 19. 
 
 " What manner of man he was." 
 
 James 1 : 24. 
 
 "Yea, let a stranger spoil his heritage, 
 And let another take his bishoprick." 
 
 Acts 1 : 20. 
 
 "Withstood . . . to their faces." 
 
 Gal. 2 : 11. 
 
 " Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings praise." 
 
 Ps. 8 : 2. 
 
 " A fisher of men." 
 
 Matt. 4 : 19. 
 
 " Agree with him quickly." 
 
 6 M att. 5:25. 
 
 "Still choose Barabbas rather than the Christ." 
 
 Matt. 27 : 21. 
 
 " Absolve the left-hand thief and damn the right." 
 
 Luke 23 : 43. 
 
 " On mine own self . . . had had no power except." 
 
 John 19 : 11. 
 " Thou art no prophet 
 
 Nor yet a prophet's son." 
 
 Amos 7 : 14. 
 Act III., Sc. 1. 
 
 " Solomon-shaming flowers." 
 
 Matt. 6 : 29. 
 
 If I had been Eve in the garden, I should n't have 
 minded the apple. For what 's an apple ! " 
 
 Gen. 3 : 6. 
 
 "The seventh Commandment." 
 
 Ex. 20 : 14. 
 Sc. 3. 
 
 "A home on sand." 
 
 Matt. 7 : 26, 27. 
 
430 APPENDIX. 
 
 " Fulled . . . the church . . . down upon his own head." 
 
 Judge* 16 : 29. 
 " A thief at night . . . hears a door open, . . . 
 ' And thinks, ' The master.' " 
 
 Matt. 24 : 43. 
 " The thunder of the captains and the shouting." 
 
 Job 39 : 25. 
 " The miraculous draught." 
 
 Luke 5 : 6. 
 " Goliathizing." 
 
 1 Sam. 17 : 4. 
 " A whole Peter's sheet." 
 
 Acts 10 : 11. 
 " Magdalen." 
 
 Luke 8 : 2. 
 " The spouse of the great king." 
 
 Rev. 21 : 9. 
 " The daughter of Zion lies beside the way." 
 
 It. 1 : 8. 
 " The priests of Baal." 
 
 2 Kings 10 : 19. 
 " The kiss of peace." 
 
 1 Thess. 5 : 26. 
 "Ay, if this if be like tne Devil's if, 
 Thou wilt fall down and worship me." 
 
 Matt. 4 : 9. 
 
 " Thou hast trodden this winepress alone." 
 
 It. 63 : 3. 
 
 " The drop may hollow out the dead stone." 
 
 Job 14 : 19. 
 " My visions in the Lord." 
 
 2 Cor. 12 : 1. 
 " Murder her one shepherd, that the sheep." 
 
 Matt. 26 j 31. 
 Act IV., Sc. 2. 
 " The Judas-lover of our passion-play." 
 
 Matt. 26 : 47. 
 " Our great high-priest." 
 
 Heb. 4 : 14. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 431 
 
 Act V., So. 1. 
 
 "The Decalogue." 
 
 Za. 30. 
 So. a. 
 " My kingdom is not of this world." 
 
 John 18 : 36. 
 " A policy of wise pardon, 
 Wins here, as there, to bless thine enemies." 
 
 Matt. 5 : 44, 46. 
 " This world's leaven." 
 
 1 Cor. 5 i 7. 
 " These wells of Marah." 
 
 Ex. 15 : 23- 
 
 "In this life and in the life to come." 
 
 1 Tim. 4 : 8. 
 "They spread their raiment down." 
 
 Matt. 21 : 8. 
 " Give to the King the things that are the King's, 
 And those of God to God." 
 
 Matt. 22 : 21. 
 
 " Mailed in the perfect panoply of faith." 
 
 Eph. 6 : 13. 
 *' The great day 
 
 When God makes up his jewels." 
 
 Mai. 3 : IT. 
 * Would that I could bear thy cross." 
 
 Matt. 27 : 32. 
 " They seek occasion for your death." 
 
 Marl 14 : 55. 
 ■ Why do the heathen rage ? " 
 
 Pi. 2 : 1. 
 
 8c. 3. 
 
 " Die with him and be glorified together." 
 
 Rom. 8 : 17. 
 M Thouf h . . . the great deeps were broken up again." 
 
 Gen. 7 : 11. 
 " Knock and it shall be opened." 
 
 Matt. 7 : 7. 
 
432 APPENDIX. 
 
 "Not tho' it be their hour, the power of darkness." 
 
 Luke 22 : 53. 
 
 "He is not jet ascended to the Father." 
 
 John 20 : 17. 
 
 "Fight out the good fight, die conqueror." 
 
 2 Tim. 4 : 7. 
 
 " At the right hand of Power 
 
 Power and great glory — for thy Church, O Lord — 
 
 Into thy hands, Lord, into thy hands ! " 
 
 Luke 22 : 69 ; 23 : 46. 
 
 " Will the earth gape and swallow us ? " 
 
 Num. 16 : 32. 
 Achilles. 
 
 " Smoke from a city goes to heaven." 
 
 Josh. 8 : 20. 
 
 To E. Fitzgerald. 
 
 " As if they knew your diet spares 
 
 Whatever moved in that full sheet 
 
 Let down to Peter at his prayers." 
 
 Acts 10 : 11 
 
 ** Grapes of Eshcol hugeness." 
 
 Num. 13 : 23 
 The Wreck. 
 
 " The wages of sin is death." 
 
 Bom. 6 : 23. 
 " I am the Jonah; the crew should cast me into the deep." 
 
 Jonah 1 : 15. 
 " Was it well with the child ? " 
 
 2 Kings 4 : 26. 
 Despair. 
 
 " He is only a cloud and a smoke who was once a pillar 
 of fire." 
 
 Ex. 13 : 911. 
 "Ah God ... I waa taking the name in vain." 
 
 Ex. 20 : 7. 
 " Till the sun and moon of our Science are both of them 
 turned into blood." 
 
 Joel 2 : 3L 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 433 
 
 * Does what he will with his own." 
 
 Matt. 20 : 16. 
 
 The Flight. 
 
 " The godless Jephtha vows his child . . . 
 To one cast of the dice." 
 
 Judges 11 : 3a 
 
 Early Spring. 
 
 " Makes all things new." 
 
 Rev, 21 : 15. 
 
 "A Jacob's ladder falls." 
 
 Gen. 28 : 12. 
 
 Locksley Hall, Sixty Years After. 
 
 "Love your enemy, bless your haters, said the 
 
 Greatest of the great." 
 
 Matt. 5 : 44. 
 
 "Have we grown at last beyond the passions of the 
 primal clan, 
 Kill your enemy, for you hate him." 
 
 Matt. 5 : 43. 
 " Dust to dust." 
 
 Eccl. 3: 20; Job 34 : 15. 
 " What are men that he should heed us . ! cried the king 
 of sacred song." 
 
 Pi. 8 : 4. 
 
 " The trampled serpent." 
 
 Gen. 3 : 15. 
 
 " Follow . you the star that lights a desert pathway, 
 yours or mine, 
 Forward till you see the highest Human Nature is 
 divine." Matt. 2 : 2. 
 
 " Follow Light and do the Right — for man can half 
 control his doom — 
 Till you find the deathless Angel seated in the vacant 
 tomb." 
 
 John 20 : 12. 
 
434 APPENDIX. 
 
 The Charge of the Heavy Brigade. 
 Epilogue. 
 " Though carved in harder stone 
 The falling drop will make his name 
 As mortal as my own." 
 
 Job 14 : 19 
 
 The Falcon. 
 
 " Happy was the prodigal son." 
 
 Luke 15 : 20-23. 
 The Promise of Mat. 
 
 Act I. 
 " Let us eat and drink for tomorrow we die." 
 
 Is. 22 : 13; 1 Cor. 15 : 32. 
 u Yes, tho' the fire should run along the ground, 
 
 As it once did in Egypt." 
 
 Ex. 9 : 23. 
 
 Act n. 
 
 "As long as the man sarved for 'is sweet'art i' 
 Scripture." 
 
 Gen. 29 : 20. 
 Act III. 
 " Forgive him seventy times and seven." 
 
 Matt. 18 : 22. 
 " This valley of tears." 
 
 Pt. 84 . 6. 
 Vastness. 
 
 " Innocence seethed in her mother's milk." 
 
 Ex. 34 : 26. 
 " He that has nail'd all flesh to the Cross." 
 
 Gal. 5 : 24. 
 "The dead are not dead, but alive." 
 
 Matt. 22 32; Mark 12 : 27; Luke 10 : 38. 
 Owd Roi. 
 " Faaithf ul an' True — them words be i' Scriptur'." 
 
 Rev. 22 : 6. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 435 
 
 " Or like t'other Hangel i' Scriptur' at summon seed P 
 the flaame, 
 When summun 'ed hax'd for a son, an' 'e promised 
 a son to she." 
 
 Judge* 13 : 19-21. 
 " Judgment daay." 
 „ „ Matt. 12 : 36. 
 
 Tins Ring. 
 
 " Father's fault visited on the children." 
 
 Ex. 20 : 5. 
 " The veil is rending." 
 „ Matt. 27 : 5L 
 
 Foblobn. 
 
 "Daughter of the seed of Cain." 
 
 Gen. 4. 
 ILiPPT. 
 
 " My soldier of the cross." 
 
 2 Tim. 2 : 3. 
 " A crueller mark than Cain's." 
 
 Gen. 4 : 15. 
 
 " Creature which in Eden was divine." 
 
 Gen. 1 : 27. 
 "When we shall stand transfigured, like Christ on 
 Hermon hill." 
 
 Matt. 17 : 1, 2. 
 " Clove the Moslem . . . moon ... and changed it into 
 blood." 
 
 Joel 2 : 31. 
 "'Libera me, Domine ! ' you sang the Psalm." 
 
 "If man and wife be but one flesh." 
 
 Matt. 19 : 6. 
 To Maht Boyle. 
 
 " Dives and Lazarus." 
 
 Luke 16 : 19-31. 
 Merlin and The Gleam. 
 
 " Drew to the valley 
 Named of the shadow." 
 
 Ps. 23:4. 
 
436 APPENDIX. 
 
 Romhey's Remorse. 
 
 " Ay, but when the shout 
 
 Of his descending peals from heaven." 
 
 1 Then, 4 : 16. 
 
 * Why left you wife and children ? for my sake? 
 
 According to my word ? " 
 
 Marie 10 : 29. 
 
 " The coals of fire you heap upon my head 
 
 Have crazed me." 
 
 Rom. 12 : 20. 
 
 Crossing the Bar. 
 
 " I hope to see my Pilot face to face, 
 When I have crost the bar." 
 
 1 John 3 : 2; 1 Cor. 13 : 12. 
 
 The Foresters. 
 
 Act I., Sc 1. 
 
 * Sufficient for the day." 
 
 Matt. 6 : 84. 
 
 Act II., Sc. 1. 
 
 " The serpent that had crept into the garden." 
 
 Gen. 3 : 1. 
 
 " The palms of Paradise." 
 
 * Rev. 7 : 9. 
 
 Act III., Sc. 1. 
 * Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor." 
 
 Matt. 19 : 21. 
 Act IV., Sc. 1. 
 
 "The King of Kings." 
 
 Rev. 17 : 14. 
 
 **Will hang as high as Haman." 
 
 Eith. 7 : 9, 10. 
 
 " Beelzebub." 
 
 Matt. 10 : 25. 
 
 " I am like the man 
 
 In Holy Writ, who brought his talent back." 
 
 Matt. 25 : 25. 
 
 Akbar's Dreah. 
 
 " Allah, says their sacred book, is Love." 
 
 1 John 4 : 16. 
 
BIBLICAL REFERENCES. 437 
 
 " Love one another, little ones." 
 
 John 13 : 33, 34. 
 " Bless your persecutors." 
 
 Rom. 12 : 14. 
 "The Sun of Righteousness." 
 
 Mai. 4 : 2 
 " Bear false witness." 
 
 Ex. 20 : 16. 
 
 The Church Warden. 
 
 " The narra gaate." 
 
 Matt. 7 : 14. 
 " The tongue's sit afire o' HelL" 
 
 Jai. 3 : 6. 
 
 " By the Graace o' the Lord — I have wot I have." 
 
 1 Cor. 15 : 10. 
 "The Kingdom c' Heaven." 
 
 Matt. 3 : 3. 
 Charity. 
 
 " For a woman ruined the world, 
 As God's own Scriptures tell." 
 
 Gen. 3 : 1-6. 
 * I had cursed — the day I was born." 
 
 "The Heaven of Heavens." 
 
 1 Kings 8 : 27. 
 " Face to face with her Lord." 
 
 1 Cor. 13 : 12. 
 The Dawk. 
 
 " A babe in the red-hot palms 
 Of a Moloch of Tyre." 
 
 2 Kings 23 : 10. 
 The Dreamer. 
 
 " The meek shall inherit the earth." 
 
 r, ,, Matt. 5 : 5. 
 
 Riflemen Form. 
 
 " Are figs of thistles? Or grapes of thorns 1 " 
 
 Matt. 7 : 16. 
 
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