Alfred Tennyson emerged as a torn spirit. He produced a poem named The Two Voices, in which dual aspects of the poet argued the pros and cons of self-destruction. Through this revealing book, the author decides to concentrate on the lesser known persona of the literary figure.
The year 1850 became decisive for Tennyson. He published the monumental poem sequence In Memoriam, on which he had toiled for almost a long period. As a result, he became both famous and prosperous. He wed, after a long engagement. Earlier, he had been residing in leased properties with his relatives, or residing with bachelor friends in London, or staying in solitude in a dilapidated house on one of his native Lincolnshire's bleak beaches. Now he took a house where he could receive notable visitors. He was appointed poet laureate. His life as a Great Man commenced.
From his teens he was commanding, verging on charismatic. He was very tall, messy but attractive
His family, observed Alfred, were a “given to dark moods”, indicating prone to temperament and sadness. His paternal figure, a reluctant minister, was angry and frequently intoxicated. Occurred an event, the particulars of which are unclear, that caused the household servant being fatally burned in the residence. One of Alfred’s brothers was confined to a lunatic asylum as a child and stayed there for life. Another endured profound melancholy and followed his father into drinking. A third fell into opium. Alfred himself suffered from bouts of paralysing gloom and what he termed “strange episodes”. His work Maud is told by a lunatic: he must often have questioned whether he might turn into one in his own right.
From his teens he was commanding, even magnetic. He was exceptionally tall, messy but handsome. Prior to he started wearing a black Spanish cloak and wide-brimmed hat, he could dominate a room. But, maturing hugger-mugger with his siblings – several relatives to an cramped quarters – as an mature individual he craved solitude, retreating into quiet when in social settings, vanishing for lonely journeys.
In Tennyson’s lifetime, rock experts, star gazers and those scientific thinkers who were beginning to think with the naturalist about the origin of species, were introducing disturbing questions. If the story of living beings had begun eons before the emergence of the human race, then how to believe that the world had been made for humanity’s benefit? “One cannot imagine,” wrote Tennyson, “that the entire cosmos was merely formed for us, who inhabit a minor world of a common sun.” The modern optical instruments and lenses revealed realms vast beyond measure and organisms minutely tiny: how to maintain one’s religion, considering such proof, in a divine being who had formed man in his likeness? If prehistoric creatures had become died out, then could the humanity follow suit?
The author binds his story together with a pair of recurring motifs. The first he introduces at the beginning – it is the symbol of the Kraken. Tennyson was a 20-year-old student when he wrote his work about it. In Holmes’s view, with its combination of “Norse mythology, “historical science, 19th-century science fiction and the scriptural reference”, the brief verse introduces ideas to which Tennyson would keep returning. Its impression of something enormous, unutterable and tragic, hidden out of reach of human understanding, prefigures the atmosphere of In Memoriam. It marks Tennyson’s introduction as a virtuoso of verse and as the creator of metaphors in which terrible unknown is packed into a few strikingly indicative phrases.
The additional motif is the Kraken’s opposite. Where the fictional beast represents all that is melancholic about Tennyson, his friendship with a genuine individual, Edward FitzGerald, of whom he would say ““there was no better ally”, summons up all that is fond and humorous in the artist. With him, Holmes introduces us to a facet of Tennyson seldom previously seen. A Tennyson who, after reciting some of his most impressive verses with ““bizarre seriousness”, would suddenly chuckle heartily at his own solemnity. A Tennyson who, after calling on ““the companion” at home, composed a grateful note in rhyme describing him in his rose garden with his domesticated pigeons resting all over him, planting their ““reddish toes … on back, palm and lap”, and even on his skull. It’s an image of pleasure nicely adapted to FitzGerald’s significant celebration of pleasure-seeking – his version of The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. It also evokes the excellent foolishness of the both writers' shared companion Edward Lear. It’s satisfying to be learn that Tennyson, the sad renowned figure, was also the inspiration for Lear’s rhyme about the aged individual with a facial hair in which “nocturnal birds and a hen, several songbirds and a tiny creature” constructed their nests.
Elena is a tech enthusiast and business strategist with over a decade of experience in digital transformation and startup consulting.