He had less opportunity of knowing what was
going on in the world than most people, in his sheltered and
secluded life, with his court of friends and worshippers. And
indeed it was not a rational pessimism; it was but the shadow of
his fear. And the fact remains that in spite of a life of great
good fortune, and an undimmed supremacy of fame, he spent much of
his time in fighting shadows, involved in clouds of darkness and
dissatisfaction. That was no doubt the price he paid for his
exquisite perception of beauty and his power of melodious
expression. But we make a great mistake if we merely think of
Tennyson as a rich and ample nature moving serenely through life.
He was "black-blooded," he once said, adding, "like all the
Tennysons." Doubtless he had in his mind his father, a man often
deeply in the grip of melancholy. And the absurd legend, invented
probably by Rossetti, contains a truth in it and may be quoted
here. Rossetti said that he once went to dine with a friend in
London, and was shown into a dimly lit drawing-room with no one to
receive him.
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