"
The relation of Tennyson's life to that of other men has been but
imperfectly understood. There was indeed a natural sublimity in his
character which gave him, as he has himself said of the poet's mind, a
power for scorn of things fit to be scorned; but his capacity for
friendship has been proved again and again. The tree, as of old, is
known by its fruits, and we need only recall the poems to James
Spedding, to F. D. Maurice, to Mary Boyle, to Lord Dufferin, his
correspondence with Edward Fitzgerald, and the great note of grief and
consolation in "In Memoriam," to know a man capable of friendship, and
one who has drawn to himself the noble lovers of his time.
There was an unconsciousness of outward things, of the furniture of
life, which left him freer than most men to face the individual soul
that approached him. There was also a fine consistency in his
personality,--no tampering with the world; no trying to serve two
masters. The greatness of his presence was felt, we believe, by all
who approached him; he seemed to be invested by a strange remoteness
from the affairs of the world. Yet it was easy for the spirits to draw
near to him who really wanted what he could give. His hospitality was
large and sincere. In his own words of the "Great Duke" we read his
perfect likeness:--
"As the greatest only are,
In his simplicity sublime."
A friend who knew him wrote once: "Tennyson found out in the golden
season of his life, his youth, just what kind of work he was fitted to
do, and he never squandered an hour in search of his primary
bearings.
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