Tennyson and his friends

by Unknown

To quote examples might only be tedious, and would assuredly be misleading. It is not that the bare facts of Science are recorded,—such record could not constitute poetry—certainly not high poetry,—it is not merely his acquaintance with contemporary scientific discovery, natural to a man who numbered leading men of Science among his friends;—it is not any of this that arouses our feeling of admiring fellowship, but it is that with all his lordship of language and power of expression so immensely superior to our own, he yet moves in the atmosphere of Science not as an alien, but as an understanding and sympathetic friend.

Look back upon the epoch in which he lived—what a materialistic welter it seems! The mind of man was going through a period of storm; antiquated beliefs were being jettisoned and everything spiritual seemed to be going by the board; the point of view of man was rapidly changing and the whole of existence appeared capable of reducing itself to refined and intricate mechanism.

Poets generally must have felt it as a terrible time. What refuge existed for a poet save to isolate himself from the turmoil, shut himself into his cabin, and think of other times and other surroundings, away from the uproar and the gale. Those who did not thus shelter themselves were liable to bewail the time because the days were evil; as Arnold did, and Clough. But thus did not Tennyson. Out through the tempest he strode, open-eyed and bare-headed, with figure erect, glorying in the conflict of the elements, and summoning the men of his generation to reverence and worship.

Doubt, yes doubt he justified—doubt, so it were straightforward and honest. Forms and accessories—these he was willing to let go—though always with respect and care for the weaker brothers and sisters to whom they stood for things of value; but Faith beyond those forms he clung to, faith fearless and triumphant, uprising out of temporary moods of despondency into ever securer conviction of righteous guidance throughout creation and far-seeing divine Purpose at the heart of things.

Other men retained their faith too, but many only attained security by resolutely closing their eyes and bolting the doors of their water-tight compartments. But the glory of Tennyson’s faith was that it never led him to be unfaithful to the kinds of truth that were being revealed to his age. That, too, was an age of revelation, and he knew it; the science of his epoch was true knowledge, as far as it went; it was over-emphatic and explosive, and to weaker or less inspired minds was full of danger, but it was genuine cargo, nevertheless, which must be taken on board; there was a real overload of superstition which had to be discarded; and it was his mission, and that of a few other noble souls, to help us to accomplish with calmness and something like wisdom the task of that revolutionary age.

In the conflict between Science and Faith our business was to accept the one without rejecting the other: and that he achieved. Never did his acceptance of the animal ancestry of man, for instance, upset his belief in the essential divinity of the human soul, its immortality, its supremacy, its eternal destiny. Never did his recognition of the materialistic aspect of nature cloud his perception of its spiritual aspect as supplementing and completing and dominating the mechanism. His was a voice from other centuries, as it were, sounding through the nineteenth; and by his strong majestic attitude he saved the faith of thousands who else would have been overwhelmed; and his writings convey to our own age a magnificent expression of that which we too have still not fully accepted, but which we are on the way to believe.

If asked to quote in support of this statement I will not quote more than the titles of some of the chief poems to which I appeal. Not always the greatest poems perhaps do I here refer to, but those which most clearly uphold the contention of the Poet’s special service to humanity during the period of revolution in thought through which mankind has been passing.

Let me instance, therefore, first and most obviously, “In Memoriam”; and thereafter poems such as “De Profundis,” “The Two Voices,” “The Ancient Sage,” “Ulysses,” “Vastness,” “By an Evolutionist,” “Demeter and Persephone,” “Akbar’s Dream,” “God and the Universe,” “Flower in the Crannied Wall,” “The Higher Pantheism,” “The Voice and the Peak,” “Wages,” and “Morte d’Arthur.”

If I do not add to this list the great poem “To Virgil,” who in his day likewise assimilated knowledge of diverse kinds and in the light of spiritual vision glorified all he touched, it is only because the atmosphere of the Ancient poet is so like that of the Modern one that it is not by any single poem that their sympathy and kinship has to be displayed, but rather by the similarity of their whole attitude to the Universe.

By the term “Poet of Science” I understand one who assimilates the known truths of Science and Philosophy, through the pores, so to speak, without effort and with intuitive accuracy, one who bears them lightly and raises them above the region of bare fact into the realm of poetry. Such a poet is one who transfuses fact with beauty, he is ready to accept the discoveries of his age, no matter how prosaic and lamentable they seem, and is able to perceive and display the essential beauty and divinity which runs through them all and threads them all together. That is the service which a great poet can perform for Science in his day and generation. The qualities beyond this—exhibited for the most part perhaps in other poems—which enable him to live for all time, are qualities above any that I have the right or the power to estimate.