Hallam is eminently pleased with
the English Law of Entail, save that he questions whether any father has
the divine right to divert his titles and wealth from the eldest son. Lord
Hallam's arguments are earnest and well expressed, but they seem to show
that he is lacking in what Herbert Spencer calls the "value sense"--in
other words, the sense of humor.

Hallam's lack of perspective is further demonstrated by his patient
efforts to explain who the various Tennysons were. In my boyhood days I
thought there was but one Tennyson. On reading Hallam's book, however,
one would think there were dozens of them. To keep these various men,
bearing one name, from being confused in the mind of the reader, is quite
a task; and to better identify one particular Tennyson, Hallam always
refers to him as "Father," or "My Father." In the course of a recent
interview with W.H. Seward, of Auburn, New York, I was impressed by his
dignified, respectful, and affectionate references to "Seward." "This
belonged to Seward," and "Seward told me"--as though there were but one.
In these pages I will speak of Tennyson--there has been but one--there
will never be another.

* * * * *

I think Clement Scott is a little severe in his estimate of the character
of Tennyson's father, although the main facts are doubtless as he states
them. The Reverend George Clayton Tennyson, Rector of Somersby and Wood
Enderby parishes, was a typical English parson. As a boy he was simply
big, fat and lazy. His health was so perfect that it overtopped all
ambition, and having no nerves to speak of, his sensibilities were very
slight.

When he was disinherited in favor of his younger brother, a keen, nervous,
forceful fellow, he accepted it as a matter of course. His career was
planned for him: he "took orders," married the young woman his folks
selected, and slipped easily into his proper niche--his adipose serving as
a buffer for his feelings. In his intellect there was no flash, and his
insight into the heart of things was small.

Being happily married to a discreet woman who managed him without ever
letting him be aware of it, and having a sure and sufficient income, and
never knowing that he had a stomach, he did his clerical work (with the
help of a curate), and lived out the measure of his days, no wiser at the
last than he was at thirty.

In passing, we may call attention to the fact that the average man is a
victim of Arre