UC-NRLF B 3 Mb2 TflS K^^-. 1^^^^.1/ •^Mk }^iMl''P(y 1 1 JfyAXd U '(^ li^^M UNfVERSlTY'OF CALIFORNIA tC I'W w ,ch f^ji LIONEL TENNYSON s^ LIONEL TENNYSON Truth, for Truth is Truth, he worshlpt, being true as he was brave, Good, for Good is Good, he follow'd, yet he look'd beyond the grave." T. PRIVATELY PRIXTED IL u ti n MACMILLAN AND CO. AND NEW YORK 189I 7 he Risht of J'ransiaiion and Reproduction is Reset ved 5^^^'IU^ Richard Clay and Sons, Limited, london and bungay. ThsAs MAih] CONTENTS PAGE Memorial Tablet vii Memoir ix Diary in India i Two Articles from the "Cornhill"— {a) My Baby or My Dog 49 {b) Plea for Musicians 66 Article from the " Daily News " 85 "— Two Articles from the " Nineteenth Century {a) Ph.^DRA and PHfeDRE. JANUARY 1880 88 {b) Persia and its Passion Drama. April iSSi . 127 Poems ^77 Translation by Hallam Tennyson i93 Press Notices ^^^ 430 ON THE CENOTAPH IN FRESHWATER CHURCH 5n /IDemoriam LIONEL TENNYSON FILII, MARITI, FRATRIS CARISSIMI, FORMA, MENTE, MORUM SIMPLICITATE, LAUDEM INTER AEQUALES MATURE ADEPTI, FAMAM QUOQUE IN REPUBLICA, SI VITA SUFFECISSET, SINE DUBIO ADEPTURI. OBDORMIVIT IN CHRISTO DIE APR: XX. ANNO CHRISTI MDCCCLXXXVI. ^TAT. XXXII. ET IN MARI APUD PERIM INDORUM SEPULTUS EST. MEMOIR Lionel Tennyson was born on March i6th 1854, at Farringford, in the Isle of Wight. From his babyhood he was always an affectionate, joyous, and beautiful child. As he developed, he was imagi- native, and very fond of music, and of fairy stories, legends, and old ballads, read at his mother's knee. One day he was so much affected by some sad song which Mr. Lear was singing that, my mother has told me, she had to carry him out of the room. Our delight was great when Mr. Jowett used to tell us stories out of the Odyssey, or when our father read aloud about King Arthur, in the long winter even- ings, as we sat in front of the yule-log fires. Then came the time of tutors ; to some of these he was much attached, and would weep passionately at their departure. Our life in those early days was very simple, and one of the happiest imaginable. After lessons we used to walk with our father and mother X MEMOIR in the garden, or we helped our father to pull our mother in her chair on the down , or we built and demolished chalk castles with them, or we planted primroses and ferns on the banks, or made bon- fires, or cut down trees, or sawed up wood, or gathered leaves for the leaf heap, or dug in the little plots of ground set apart for our special use. He was always a very plucky boy, both in games and out of door sports, and we had some great adventures while scaling the trees, climbing the rocks by the sea, boating, and svrimming, and riding on our ponies. At thirteen he went to school at Eton. There he did not work very hard, but made staunch friends, to whom he clung in after life, and read a good deal of history to himself, and was especially fond of the poetry of Keats. His Latin verses were often commended, " albescente susurrol' a master quoted to me once as a singularly imaginative phrase for so young a boy (describing the wake of a vessel sailing through the sea). After Eton he went to Trinity College, Cambridge, where his imaginative qualities, his unselfish and open- hearted nature, and his humour were widely appre- ciated. At that period he chiefly, studied history, music, and the drama. He was engaged to be married to Eleanor Locker at twenty-one, and con- MEMOIR xi sequently worked studiously at modern languages, going eventually to Mr. Scoones to be coached, and travelling abroad in Germany and France. He passed well into the India Office, which enabled him to marry. All the higher official work given him to do he en- joyed, but he unfortunately disliked the routine work. None of his age there knew more about India, and I have not a few letters from his " chiefs " speaking in the warmest terms of his ability, and of the high place that, had he lived, he was destined to make for himself. With the natives of India themselves he was popular, and his home (4, Sussex Place, Regent's Park) was always open to those who happened to be in England. His Blue Book on India is a model of vigorous style and condensation. As a relaxation from official work he wrote articles for magazines, and for the Saturday Review and occa- sional poems, and took a great interest in music for the working classes. In 1885 at the invitation of Lord Dufferin he went with his wife on a tour to India, in order to see as much of India as he could for himself. The part of his tour to India which he seemed to enjoy most was that in the old-world Rajputana. He caught jungle-fever while shooting in the jungles of Assam, and this was the cause of his death. The fever was in his system when he xii MEMOIR attended the camp of exercise at Delhi, where he was exposed to very inclement weather during the military manoeuvres. On his return to Calcutta he fell dangerously ill, and never recovered, but hung betw^een life and death for three months and a half, and bore his sufferings with the utmost fortitude and with uncomplaining resignation. In the words of Lord Dufferin, " Nothing could exceed his courage and his patience and his goodness to us all. He was never irritable, and was so grateful for any little thing that my ladies could do for him." On the other hand, he wrote in his last letter home that the kind- ness of Lord and Lady Dufferin and Lady Helen Blackwood was " unspeakable." Our friends Gerald and Margie Ritchie wholly devoted themselves to him. When he started for home from Calcutta at the beginning of April, Gerald Ritchie came with him as far as Madras, Margie as far as Colombo. Gerald, on saying " Good-bye," to him, asked him whether he had any messages for home ; he answered, " It is all right." Gerald adds, '' How Hallam must have envied me having been on board that ship with him. If he could have seen the sweet kind smile on his face (he had the sweetest smile I ever knew, the 'high sweet smile' of Lancelot) as he said 'Good- bye ' to me, I think it would have taken away the MEMOIR xiii bitterness of parting." Then came the last days. He spoke little, but did not suffer much pain. The last morning, when they had reached the Red Sea, he suddenly moved his head up, and began to sing " Our blest Redeemer, ere He breathed His last farewell." He could not remember the word " tender," so his wife brought a hymn-book and told him, and he kept repeating " Tender^ last farewell." Then she read the rest to him, and " Lead, kindly light," a favourite of his. At the words, " Far from home," he said, " Yes, far from home'' She knelt by his side and said the Lord's Prayer, and read some Psalms. He passed away quite peacefully : the breathing became slower and slower, until it quietly ceased at 3 P.M., April 20th. The burial service was at nine that same evening under a great silver moon. The ship stopped —the coffin was lowered into a phos- phorescent sea—and all was over. H. T. LIONEL TENNYSON LIONEL TENNYSON DIARY October i6, 1885.— I cannot say that I am not somewhat melancholy at going, but I suppose it is all for the best, and that I shall enjoy it when I once get there. In the meantime I feel parting with you all very much, as you know. October 17.— Started from London. The Locker Lampsons, Hallam and Audrey, Henry Cameron, and Hameed Ullah, came to see us off. October 18.— Got to Basle about 6 A.M. and went for a drive. I understanding the conductor of the ivagon-lits that the train came up at 7.15, and Bradshaw putting the time at 7.30. In conse- quence, we missed the train and had to wait till ten for another to Lucerne. In the meantime I had a walk. Arrived at Lucerne about two. Eleanor had a bad headache and went to bed. I went for B J LIONEL TENNYSON a drive to the top of a small hill near the town, with a lovely view over the town and lake to the mountains. Had dinner and walked by the lake. A lovely night. The light and the music came dancing along the water from the town, and the moon sent a pure stream of silver over all. The lake reflected everything, like the mind of a man of the world : and high over all a quiet mountain- top stood in the clear heaven with soft white clouds nestlino; on its bosom, like thousrhts in a virg-in's breast. About eleven o'clock we started for Milan. Bothers of changing carriages, &c. We only got a sleeping-berth from Lugano to Milan. Usual custom-house bothers at Chiasso. The foreign rail- way system is excellent if you do everything }'0u ought to do, like Positivism ; but if you stray from the proper path, your sin haunts you for days, so at Milan station we found our luggage had been left at Chiasso.