9. There perhaps was no one among those who were blessed with his friendship, nay, as we see, not even Mr. Tennyson, who did not feel at once bound closely to him. by commanding affection, and left far behind by the rapid, full, and rich development of his ever-searching mind; by his "All comprehensive tenderness, It would be easy to show what, in the varied forms of human excellence, he might, had life been granted him, have accomplished; much more difficult to point the finger and to say, "This he never could have done." Enough remains from among his early efforts, to accredit whatever mournful witness may now be borne of him. But what can be a nobler tribute than this, that for seventeen years after his death a poet, fast rising towards the lofty summits of his art, found that young fading image the richest source of his inspiration, and of thoughts that gave him buoyancy for a flight such as he had not hitherto attained? 10. It would be very difficult to convey a just idea of this volume either by narrative or by quotation. In the series of monodies or meditations which compose it, and which follow in long series without weariness or sameness, the poet never moves away a step from the grave of his friend, but, while still circling round it, has always a new point of view. Strength of love, depth of grief, aching sense of loss, have driven him forth as it were on a quest of consolation, and he asks it of nature, thought, religion, in a hundred forms which a rich and varied imagination continually suggests, but all of them connected by one *See In Memoriam,' pp. 64, 84. central point, the recollection of the dead. This work he prosecutes, not in vain effeminate complaint, but in manly recognition of the fruit and profit even of baffled love, in noble suggestions of the future, in heart-soothing and heart-chastening thoughts of what the dead was and of what he is, and of what one who has been, and therefore still is, in near contact with him is bound to be. The whole movement of the poem is between the mourner and the mourned: it may be called one long soliloquy; but it has this mark of greatness, that, though the singer is himself a large part of the subject, it never degenerates into egotism-for he speaks typically on behalf of humanity at large, and in his own name, like Dante on his mystic journey, teaches deep lessons of life and conscience to us all. 11. We subjoin one or two specimens. They have many rivals; but they are among those most directly ministering to the purpose of the volume (CVII.): "Heart affluence in discursive talk From household fountains, never dry; That saw through all the Muses' walk; Seraphic intellect, and force To seize and throw the doubts of man; High nature amorous of the good, A love of freedom rarely felt, Of freedom in her regal seat Of England; not the schoolboy heat, And again, No. CXXVIII. : "Thy voice is on the rolling air; I hear thee when the waters run; What art thou then? I cannot guess; I do not therefore love thee less. My love involves the love before; My love is vaster passion now; Though mixed with God and Nature thou, Far off thou art, but ever nigh; I have thee still, and I rejoice; 12. The high colour of the portrait in the first of these pieces, and the absorbing and pervading power assigned to the friendship in the second, may seem in excess to such as have to take the subject of them upon trust. But we believe that the surviving friends would with one voice assert that Mr. Tennyson is fully warranted in the rare elevation of his strain by the extraordinary endowments of his original. 13. By the time 'In Memoriam' had sunk into the public mind, Mr. Tennyson had taken his rank as our first then living poet. Over the fresh hearts and understandings of the young, notwithstanding his more youthful obscurities, his metaphysics, his contempt of gewgaws, he had established an extraordinary sway. We ourselves, with some thousands of other spectators, saw him receive in that noble structure of Wren, the theatre of Oxford, the decoration of D.C.L., which we perceive he always wears on his title-page. Among his colleagues in the honour were Sir De Lacy Evans and Sir John Burgoyne, fresh from the stirring exploits of the Crimea ; but even patriotism, at the fever heat of war, could not command a more fervent enthusiasm for the old and gallant soldiers, than was evoked by the presence of Mr. Tennyson. 14. In the year 1855 Mr. Tennyson proceeded to publish his 'Maud,' the least popular, and probably the least worthy of popularity, among his more considerable works. A somewhat heavy dreaminess, and a great deal of obscurity, hang about this poem; and the effort required to dispel the darkness of the general scheme is not repaid when we discover what it hides. The main thread of 'Maud' seems to be this: A love once accepted, then disappointed, leads to bloodshedding, and onward to madness with lucid alternations. The insanity expresses itself in the ravings of the homicide lover, who even imagines himself among the dead, in a clamour and confusion closely resembling an ill-regulated Bedlam, but which, if the description be a faithful one, would for ever deprive the grave of its title to the epithet of silent. It may be good frenzy, but we doubt its being as good poetry. Of all this there may, we admit, be an esoteric view but we speak of the work as it offers itself to the common eye. Both Maud and the lover are too nebulous by far; and : they remind us of the boneless and pulpy personages by whom, as Dr. Whewell assures us, the planet Jupiter, if inhabited at all, is inhabited. 15. But the most doubtful part of the poem is its climax. A vision of the beloved image (p. 97) "spoke of a hope for the world in the coming wars," righteous wars of course, and the madman begins to receive light and comfort; but, strangely enough, it seems to be the wars, and not the image, in which the source of consolation lies (p. 98). "No more shall commerce be all in all, and Peace a peace that was full of wrongs and shames, What interpretation are we meant to give to all this sound and fury? We would fain have put it down as intended to be the finishing-stroke in the picture of a mania which has reached its zenith. 16. We might call in aid of this construction more happy and refreshing passages from other poems, as when Mr. Tennyson is "Certain, if knowledge brings the sword, And again in 'The Golden Dream,' "When shall all men's good Be each man's rule, and universal peace Poems,' p. 182, ed. 1853. See also 'Locksley Hall,' p. 278. |