A Key to Lord Tennyson's 'In Memoriam' Part 8

whereas his words are words only, the "froth of thought."

The Spirit of love reproves this self-accusation:

"Thou canst not move me from thy side, Nor human frailty do me wrong."

There is no ideal of excellence, which we may conceive, that will ensure our attaining to it:

"not the sinless years That breathed beneath the Syrian blue"--

not the life of Christ, in the clear atmosphere of Palestine, keeps any spirit "wholly true" to that pattern of perfection.

So be not "like an idle girl," fretting over little faults--"flecks of sin." But wait, thy wealth will be gathered in--thy worth shown

"When Time hath sunder'd sh.e.l.l from pearl"--

when the flesh has left the Soul free from its contaminating influence.

LIII.

He has often known a father, now

"A sober man among his boys,"

whose youth was noisy and foolish. Are we then to conclude from his example, that had there been no wild oats sown, there scarcely would have come

"The grain by which a man may live?"

If we ventured to name such a doctrine among the old, who have "outlived heats of youth," would we preach it to the young, who still "eddy round and round?"

Hold fast what is good, and define it well; and take care that "divine Philosophy" does not exceed her legitimate bound and become

"Procuress to the lords of h.e.l.l"--

by advocating sin as the path to sanct.i.ty.

LIV.

This Poem expresses a hope in Universalism--

"that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill"--

that natural propensities, wilful sins, imperfect faith, and inherited weakness, may all find a pardonable solution.

He hopes that nothing has been made in vain--

"That not one life shall be destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When G.o.d hath made the pile complete."

But how reverently does he touch this mysterious subject!

"Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall At last--far off--at last, to all, And every winter change to spring.

So runs my dream: but what am I?

An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry."

In Poem cxxiv., stanza 5, he says,

"Then was I as a child that cries, But, crying, knows his father near."

LV.

He pursues the awful theme, and asks whether the wish for an universal restoration to life, does not spring from what is "likest G.o.d" in our own souls, His unlimited goodwill towards men, which would have all come to a knowledge of the truth?

"Are G.o.d and Nature then at strife?"

for we find Nature, whilst careful in preserving the type of each species, utterly reckless of the separate members. We find, too, that out of "fifty (_myriad_)[31] seeds" sown, only one perhaps germinates. He falters and falls down

"Upon the great world's altar-stairs,[32]

That slope thro' darkness up to G.o.d;"--

but still he stretches forth "lame hands of faith"

"To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope"--

the hope of a final rest.i.tution of all things.

LVI.

He said that Nature preserved each type; but no, some species are already extinct; and Nature says that she cares not for preserving anything, and so, in geological strata, we find the fossil remains of creatures that no longer exist.[33] Why then may not man,

"Who seemed so fair, Such splendid purpose in his eyes,"

also perish, and have his dust blown about the desert,

"Or seal'd within the iron hills?"

If he be "no more"[34]--if there be nothing beyond this life for him--then is man but a monster, a dream, a discord--"dragons of the prime," the Ichthyosauri that lived in the slime of chaos, were his betters!

"O life as futile, then, as frail!

O for thy voice to soothe and bless![35]

What hope of answer or redress?

Behind the veil, behind the veil."

LVII.