... There is always a gravity about him, a becoming
nobleness, which reminds one of what St. Simon said of Fenelon, 'When
he is present it requires an effort to cease looking at him.'"
When this friend returned after his first interview with Tennyson,
many years ago, we can well recall the eagerness with which we
listened. His excitement as he described the hours they had passed
together was hardly less than that of his hearer. Every minute detail
of the interview was impatiently demanded. "How did he look?" was
asked immediately in the first pause, and "What did he say?" followed
before there was quite time to speak. In reply came a full description
of the tall figure, clad in a long gray dressing-gown, presenting
itself in the half-opened doorway of his chambers in the Temple, and
looking cautiously out at the new comer.
"'Oh! it is you,' he said, drawing his visitor in through the narrow
space with a most cordial welcome. He was sitting before the fire,
with his books about him, which he put aside, and while he talked he
began to toast sundry slices of bread for our repast. As for his
looks, his head is a very grand one, and his voice has a deep swelling
richness in it. He had just received from the printers some proof
sheets of the 'Idylls of the King,' and then and there he chanted the
story of Enid and Elaine: chanted is the true word to apply to his
recitations. He had a theory that poetry should always be given out
with the rhythm accentuated, and the music of the verse strongly
emphasized, and he did it with a power that was marvelous.
Pages:
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300