ason there, not many years ago, but wearied of it
very quickly, and gave up the idea forever. While in London at that
time he always appeared in public in the picturesque wide-awake hat of
the Italian bandit, and always, even in warm weather, wore a cloak. The
costume is very becoming, and the poet can afford to indulge his
individual tastes in the matter of dress; so everybody said how poetical
he looked, and, on the whole, his eccentricity was a success. He has
always had a great contempt for the conventionalities of dress, and many
laughable anecdotes have been told concerning his appearance at the Isle
of Wight. When young he was really handsome, though he always wore his
hair long, and looked as if he would be the better for a barber; but now
he is very gray and wizened, stoops badly, and shows that he has smoked,
as Carlyle said, infinite tobacco. Tennyson has always exercised a
judicious hospitality, but never overburdened himself with company. His
favorite time for guests is from Saturday until Monday, and those who
are so fortunate as to be invited enjoy very greatly the distinction.
Among his favorite guests is Henry Irving. A few years before his death
Garibaldi paid the poet a visit, which was much enjoyed by both. Years
ago, when the poet was more in London than now, a little knot of
literary friends had a standing engagement to dine together once a
month, and the parties were almost the ideal of unconventional
friendliness. Among the number were Carlyle, Cunningham, Mill,
Thackeray, Forster, Stirling, Landor, and Macready. Here the
conversation was of the best, Carlyle always coming out strong, and all
the rest content to listen. However, Carlyle, unlike many great
conversers, never monopolized the conversation. It was always dialogue
and not monologue with Carlyle in any mixed company, though he would
discourse at length to one or two visitors. Tennyson, like many men of
letters, loves to talk about his own work, and is very fond of reading
his poems to his friends. This is, of course, very delightful to those
friends, if the reading be not too prolonged, although he is said to
chant them in rather a disagreeable manner. He is a great egotist, and
does not like to listen to other people when they talk about themselves.
We are told that Charles Sumner once paid him a visit, and bored him
very much by a long talk upon American affairs in which Tennyson took no
interest. When Sumner finally made a sufficient p