The times. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1890-1903, 1893-01-08
OUR LITERARY BUDGET,
Annie Fields Tells Of . visit 70 Tsunysenv
His Constant Preoccupation with
tho Work Of His Life.

wildly across the memory Is that Of gos
ing to Farringford for the first time. and
seeing Tennyson among the surroundings
SO admirably suited to his tastes and me-
cessities. The place was much more re-
tired than at present: indeed. there vaa
neither sight nor sound during those sumo
mer days Of any intrusion. The island
might have been Prospsro's own, u
seemed SO still and far away.
Beyond the gardens and the lawn the
great downs sloped above the sea. and N
the distance on either hand could be seen
the cliffs and shores as they wound away
and were lost In the dim haze that lsy
between US and the horizon. We found
ourselves suddenly walking as IN q dream
surrounded with the scenery Of his Do.
ems.
We could not know. nor did he, what he
knew him felt--that he knew hts work
demanded from him the sacrifice OF what
the world calls pleasure. He eEdeavorvd
to hold his spirit ready. and his mind
trained and responsive.
His constant preoccupation with the
work OF his life rendered him often I'm.
patient Of wasting hours In mere per,
sonal talk" He was always eager and
ready TO hear OF large matters OF Church
or State from those who were competent
10 inform him. but 1t was his chief JOY
when his friends were gathered about
him, to read from other poets or from
his own books.
In this same visit there was much taik
OF Milton. Of whom he spoke as the
great organist OF verse. who always mar
- UhA.. h. -
Surely no one ever gave the lines of that
great poet az he did. It was wonderful
to hear. 1t would he impossible to forget
that grand voice as he repeated:
THE imperir 1nsign. which full high ad-
vanced.
shone like q meteor streaming to the
wind,
With germs and golden lustre rich en-
blazed,
Seraphic arms and trophies: all the
while,
Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds"
His chanting OF his own "Boadicea"
was very remarkable:
Thine the liberty. thine the glory. thfns
the deeds to be celebrated,
Thine the myriadrolling ocean. light and
shadow illimitable."
But nothing could excel the effect of his
rendering OF "Guineverc." his voice st
times tremuous with emotion, and his
face turned from the light. as he read:
Let no man dream but that love thee
STILL"
and all the noble context glowing with
white heat. Il was easy then 10 find
that his own ideal.
''Fios regum Artharus."
was not a legend to him alone, but WIS.,
ion or the Holy Grail, toward which he
aspired.
IL were easy. indeed Il is a temptation.
to record every detail, stamped, as they
all are, on the memory after several visits
at Farringford and at Aiworth, but the
beautiful paper printed In these pages
only a few years ago by Mrs. Anne Thack-
cray Richie, now given to the world in
a volume, where Tennyson stands as one
Of THE Light Bearers" would make any
repetition OF the history OF his family life
worse than unnecessary. Mrs. Rltchies
friendship with the members OF that
household, and her familiarity with the
houses and scenery which surrounded
them, hare given her the opportunity 20
do what her genius has executed.
Summer was again here, with touch
of autumn In the sir--this autumn In
which we write. when we last saw Ten.
nyson at Aldworth. lie was already UNI
well. and suffering from "A cold. He sat,
however. on his couch. which was drawn
across the great window. where he could
look OF, when he turned his head. aud
see the broad green valley and the hills
beyond or, near mt hand, could watch
the terrace and his own trees, and catch
a glimpse OF the garden.
The great frame had lost It's look OK
giant strength; the hands were thinner;
but the habit Of his mind and spirit was
the same. Again we heard the voice;
again we felt the uplift OF his presence.
He was aware that he was not TO stay
here much longer, and when We bowed
over him and kissed his hands, we knew
and he knew II was indeed farewell.
He was surrounded with deep love and
tenderness and the delightful presence OF
his little grandchildren. and when, short
ly after his weakness increased. he doubt
less heard the words sounding In his
mind:
Fear no more the heat o. the sun.
Nor the furious winters RACES,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone. and ta'en thy wages"
He asked for Cymbeline. that he might
carry the noble lines clearly In remem-
brance. Later the moon shone full into
the room, and In that dim splendor, ard
TO the music OF the autumn wind. his
spirit passed.-From "Tennyson." by An
ME Fields. In Harper's Magazine for jan
uary