once more so unfortunate as to vex the susceptibilities of advanced
thinkers。 The play is not a masterpiece； and yet neither the gallery
gods nor the Marquis of Queensberry need have felt their withers
wrung。 The hero； or villain； Edgar； is a perfectly impossible
person； and represents no kind of political； social； or economical
thinker。 A man would give all other bliss and all his worldly wealth
for this； to waste his whole strength in one kick upon this perfect
prig。 He employs the arguments of evolution and so forth to justify
the seduction of a little girl of fifteen； and later； by way of
making amends； proposes to commit incest by marrying her sister。
There have been evolutionists； to be sure； who believed in
promiscuity； like Mr Edgar； as preferable to monogamy。 But this only
proves that an evolutionist may fail to understand evolution。 There
be also such folk as Stevenson calls 〃squirradicals〃squires who say
that 〃the land is the people's。〃 Probably no advocate of
promiscuity； and no squirradical； was present at the performances of
The Promise of May。 But people of advanced minds had got it into
their heads that their doctrines were to be attacked； so they went
and made a hubbub in the sacred cause of freedom of thought and
speech。 The truth is； that controversial topics； political topics；
ought not to be brought into plays； much less into sermons。 Tennyson
meant Edgar for 〃nothing thorough； nothing sincere。〃 He is that
venomous thing； the prig…scoundrel： he does not suit the stage； and
his place； if anywhere； is in the novel。 Advocates of marriage with
a deceased wife's sister might have applauded Edgar for wishing to
marry the sister of a mistress assumed to be deceased； but no other
party in the State wanted anything except the punching of Edgar's
head by Farmer Dobson。
In 1883 died Edward FitzGerald； the most kind； loyal； and； as he
said； crotchety of old and dear Cambridge friends。 He did not live
to see the delightful poem which Tennyson had written for him。 In
almost his latest letter he had remarked； superfluously； that when he
called the task of translating The Agamemnon 〃work for a poet；〃 he
〃was not thinking of Mr Browning。〃
In the autumn of 1883 Tennyson was taken； with Mr Gladstone； by Sir
Donald Currie； for a cruise round the west coast of Scotland； to the
Orkneys； and to Copenhagen。 The people of Kirkwall conferred on the
poet and the statesman the freedom of the burgh； and Mr Gladstone； in
an interesting speech； compared the relative chances of posthumous
fame of the poet and the politician。 Pericles is not less remembered
than Sophocles； though Shakespeare is more in men's minds than Cecil。
Much depends； as far as the statesmen are considered； on contemporary
historians。 It is Thucydides who immortalises Pericles。 But it is
improbable that the things which Mr Gladstone did； and attempted；
will be forgotten more rapidly than the conduct and characters of；
say； Burleigh or Lethington。
In 1884； after this voyage； with its royal functions and celebrations
at Copenhagen； a peerage was offered to the poet。 He 〃did not want
to alter his plain Mr；〃 and he must have known that； whether he
accepted or refused； the chorus of blame would be louder than that of
applause。 Scott had desired 〃such grinning honour as Sir Walter
hath〃； the title went well with the old name； and pleased his love of
old times。 Tennyson had been blamed 〃by literary men〃 for thrice
evading a baronetcy； and he did not think that a peerage would make
smooth the lives of his descendants。 But he concluded； 〃Why should I
be selfish and not suffer an honour （as Gladstone says） to be done to
literature in my name？〃 Politically； he thought that the Upper
House； while it lasts； partly supplied the place of the American
〃referendum。〃 He voted in July 1884 for the extension of the
franchise； and in November stated his views to Mr Gladstone in verse。
In prose he wrote to Mr Gladstone； 〃I have a strong conviction that
the more simple the dealings of men with men； as well as of man with
man； arethe better；〃 a sentiment which； perhaps； did not always
prevail with his friend。 The poet's reflections on the horror of
Gordon's death are not recorded。 He introduced the idea of the
Gordon Home for Boys； and later supported it by a letter； 〃Have we
forgotten Gordon？〃 to the Daily Telegraph。 They who cannot forget
Gordon must always be grateful to Tennyson for providing this
opportunity of honouring the greatest of an illustrious clan； and of
helping； in their degree； a scheme which was dear to the heroic
leader。
The poet； very naturally； was most averse to personal appearance in
public matters。 Mankind is so fashioned that the advice of a poet is
always regarded as unpractical； and is even apt to injure the cause
which he advocates。 Happily there cannot be two opinions about the
right way of honouring Gordon。 Tennyson's poem； The Fleet； was also
in harmony with the general sentiment。
In the last month of 1884 Becket was published。 The theme of Fair
Rosamund had appealed to the poet in youth； and he had written part
of a lyric which he judiciously left unpublished。 It is given in his
Biography。 In 1877 he had visited Canterbury； and had traced the
steps of Becket to his place of slaughter in the Cathedral。 The poem
was printed in 1879； but not published till seven years later。 In
1879 Sir Henry Irving had thought the play too costly to be produced
with more than a succes d'estime； but in 1891 he put it on the stage；
where it proved the most successful of modern poetic dramas。 As
published it is； obviously； far too long for public performance。 It
is not easy to understand why dramatic poets always make their works
so much too long。 The drama seems； by its very nature； to have a
limit almost as distinct as the limit of the sonnet。 It is easy to
calculate how long a play for the stage ought to be； and we might
think that a poet would find the natural limit serviceable to his
art； for it inculcates selection； conciseness； and concentration。
But despite these advantages of the natural form of the drama； modern
poets； at least； constantly overflow their banks。 The author ruit
profusus； and the manager has to reduce the piece to feasible
proportions； such as it ought to have assumed from the first。
Becket has been highly praised by Sir Henry Irving himself； for its
〃moments of passion and pathos； 。 。 。 which； when they exist； atone
to an audience for the endurance of long acts。〃 But why should the
audience have such long acts to endure？ The reader； one fears； is
apt to use his privilege of skipping。 The long speeches of Walter
Map and the immense period of Margery tempt the student to exercise
his agility。 A 〃chronicle play〃 has the privilege of wandering； but
Becket wanders too far and too long。 The political details of the
quarrel between Church and State； with its domestic and international
complexities； are apt to fatigue the attention。 Inevitable and
insoluble as the situation was； neither protagonist is entirely
sympathetic； whether in the play or in history。 The struggle in
Becket between his love of the king and his duty to the Church （or
what he takes to be his duty） is nobly presented； and is truly
dramatic； while there is grotesque and terrible relief in the banquet
of the Beggars。 In the scene of the assassination the poet 〃never
stoops his wing；〃 and there are passages of tender pathos between
Henry and Rosamund； while Becket's keen memories of his early days；
just before his death； are moving。
〃Becket。 I once was out with Henry in the days
When Henry loved me； and we came upon
A wild…fowl sitting on her nest； so still
I reach'd my hand and touch'd； she did not stir；
The snow had frozen round her； and she sat
Stone…dead upon a heap of ice…cold eggs。
Look！ how this love； this mother； runs thro' all
The world God madeeven the beastthe bird！
John of Salisbury。 Ay； still a lover of the beast and bird？
But these arm'd menwill you not hide yourself？
Perchance the fierce De Brocs from Saltwood Castle；
To assail our Holy Mother lest she brood
Too long o'er this hard egg； the world； and send
Her whole heart's heat into it； till it break
Into young angels。 Pray you； hide yourself。
Becket。 There was a little fair…hair'd Norman maid
Lived in my mother's house： if Rosamund is
The world's rose； as her name imports hershe
Was the world's lily。
John of Salisbury。 Ay； and what of her？
Becket。 She died of leprosy。〃
But the part of Rosamund； her innocent ignorance especially； is not
very readily intelligible； not quite persuasive； and there is almost
a touch of the burlesque in her unexpected appearance as a monk。 To
weave that old and famous story of love into the terribly complex
political intrigue was a task almost too great。 The character of
Eleanor is perhaps more successfully drawn in the Prologue than in
the scene where she offers the choice of the dagger or the bowl； and
is interrupted； in a startlingly unexpected manner； by the Archbishop
himself。 The opportunities for scenic effects are magnificent
throughout； and must have contributed greatly