The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-11-17
MIR. rENNYsoN AT HOME.

Aldworth was built some dozen years ago,
when Mrs. Tennyson had been ordered
change, and Freshwater was found to be I'M
bearable and overcrowded during the sum-
mel months. 1t must be borne in mind that
TO hospitable people there are dangers from
friendly inroads as we'll as from the attacks
OF enemies. The new house, where for many
years past the family has spent its m
stands on the summit of a high, lonely hill
in Surrey, and yet it is not quite out of reach
of London life. 1t is a white stone house,
with many broad windows facing a great
view and a long terrace, like some one of
those at Siena or Perugia, with a low parapet
OF stone, where ivies and roses are trained,
making a foreground to the lovely
haze of the distance. Sometimes at
Aldworth, when the summer days are
at their brightest, and high Black
down top has been we'll warmed and
summed, | have seen a little procession COM
ing along the terrace walk, and proceeding
by its green boundary into a garden, where
the sur shines its hottest upon a sheltered
lawn, and where standard rose-trees burn
their flames. Mr.. Tennyson in his broad hat
goes first. dragging the garden chair in which
Mrs. Tennyson lies; perhaps one son is push
ing from behind, while another follows with
rugs and cushions for the rest of the party.
If the little erand-sons and their young
mother are there, the family group is com
plete. One special day l remember when we
u sat lOT an uOuI IOuLQ dOOuI luG AOulelY
chair and its gentle occupant. 1t seemed
not unlike a realization of some Italian
picture that l had somewhere seen, the tran
quill eyes, the peaceful heights, the glorious
summer day, some sense of lasting calm, OF
beauty beyond the present hour.
No impression of this life at Aldworth and
Farrlngford would be complete if, beside the
parents, the sons were not seen, adding each
in his own measure to the grateful sight of a
united household. Hallam, the eldest son,
has been for years past the adviser, the friend
and companion of his father and mother at
home; and Lionel, the younger, although liv-
ing away in London in his own home, all the
same holds fast to the family tradition of
parents and children closely united through
the chances and changes of life, and trusting
and supporting one another.
Mr.. Tennyson works alone in the early
hours of the morning, and comes down long
after his own frugal meal is over to find his
guests assembling around the social breakfast
table. He generally goes out for a walk be-
fore luncheon, with a son and a friend, per-
haps, and followed by a couple of dogs. All
Londoners know the look of the stalwart
figure and the fine face and broad-brimmed
felt hat as he advances.
There is one little peculiar to
the Tennyson family, and reminding one of
some college custom, which is that when
dinner is over the guests are brought away
into a second room, where stands a white
table upon which fruit and wine are set, and
a fire burns bright, and a pleasant hour
passes, while the master OF the house sits in
his carved chair and discourses upon any
topic suggested by his guests, or brings forth
"reminiscences of early Lincolnshire days, or
from the facts he remembers out of the lives
of past men who have been his friends.
There was Rogers, among the rest, for whom
he had a great affection. with whom he con-
stantly lived during that lonely time IN Lon
do, at haua dino6 olOOo with hin, - I
heard Mr. Tennyson say, land we have talked
about death till the tears rolled dow his
face"
Tennyson met Tom Moore at Rogers's, and
there, too, he first met Mr.. Gladstone. John
Forster, Leigh Hunt and Lander, were also
friends of that time. One of Tennyson's
often companions in those days was Mr..
Hallam, whose opinion he once asked of Car
lyle's French Revolution. Mr.. Hallam re-
piled, in his quick, rapid way, upon my
word. l once opened the book, and read four
or five pages. The style is so abominable l
could not get on with it, Whereas Carlyle's
own criticism upon the History of the Mid
die Ages was, "Ehl the poor, miserable skel-
eton of a book!
Was il not Charles Lamb who wanted to
return grace after reading Shakespeare, little
deeming in humble simplicity that many of
ms yet to come would be glad to return
thanks for a Jest of Charles Lambs? The
CllNS W " WV EH1GAN -
natural reality, and those who go through
life fitting their secondhand ideas to
other peoples words, is one so marked
that even a child may tell the differ
ence. When the Laureate speaks, every
word comes wise, racy, absolutely natural.
and sincere; and how gladly do We listen to
his delightful stories, full of odd humors
and knowledge of men and women, or to his
graver talk When a man has read so much
and thought so much, it is ar epitome of the
knowledge of to-day we find in him, touched
by the solemn strain of the poets own gift.
1 once heard Mr.. Tennyson talking to some
actors, to no less a person, indeed, than
to Hamlet himself, for after the curtain
fell the whole play seemed to flow
from off the stage into the box where we
had been sitting, and | could scarcely tell at
last where reality began and Shakespeare
ended. The play was over. and we ourselves
seemed a part of it still; here were the play
ers, and our own prince poet, in that familiar
simple voice we all know, explaining the
art, going straight to the point in his W
downright fashion, critieising with delicate
appreciation, by the simple force of truth
and conviction carrying all before him..
YOU are a good actor lost" one of these
real actors said to him.
1t is a gain to the world when people are
content to be themselves, not Clipped to the
smooth pattern of the times, but simple,
original and unaffected in ways and words.
Here is a poet leading a poets life; where
he goes there goes the spirit of his home,
whether in London, among the crowds, or at
Aldworth, on the lonely height, or at Far
ringford, in that beautiful bay. The last
time / went to see him he was smoking in a
top room in Eaton Square. 1t may interest
an American public to be told that it was
Durham tobacco from North Carolina which
Mr.. Lowell had given him.. / could not but
feel how little even circumstance itself can
contribute to that mysterious essence of in
dividuality which we all recognize and love.
In this commonplace London room, with all
the stucco of Belgravia round about, ! found
the old dream realized, the old charm of
youthful impression. There sat my friend
as | had first seen him years ago among the
clouds.
nanannd for a Nav Styla of Hair-Pin