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