Few poets have been so fortunate in their residences as was the great Poet Laureate of the Victorian era in the two which he for many years called his own. Selected in the first instance for their beauty and their seclusion, they had other advantages which fitted them admirably to a poet’s temperament.

Farringford, at the western end of the Isle of Wight, was the first to be acquired, being purchased in 1853; it was Tennyson’s home for forty years, and the house wherein most of his best-known works were written. At the time when it came into his hands communication with the mainland was of the most primitive description, and the poet and his wife had to cross the Solent in a rowing-boat. So far removed was he from intrusion there that he could indulge in what to him were favourite pastimes—sweeping up the leaves, mowing the grass, gravelling the walks, and digging the beds—without interruption. Many of the visitors which railway and steamship facilities brought to the neighbourhood in later years felt that he set the boundary within which no foot other than his own and that of his friends should tread at an extreme limit. Golfers over the Needles Links—persons who, perhaps, are prone to consider that whatever is capable of being made into a course should be so utilised—were wont to look with covetous eyes over a portion of the downs that would have formed a much-needed addition to their course, but over which no ball was allowed to be played. But the pertinacity of the crowd, in endeavouring to get a sight of the Laureate, necessitated an inexorable rule if the retreat was to be what it was intended, namely, a place for work and for rest.

Mrs. Tennyson thus described “her wild house amongst the pine trees”:—

The golden green of the trees, the burning splendour of Blackgang Chine, and the red bank of the primeval river contrasted with the turkis blue of the sea (that is our view from the drawing-room) make altogether a miracle of beauty at sunset. We are glad that Farringford is ours.

Although at times the weather can be cold and bleak enough in this sheltered corner of the Isle of Wight, and

must oftentimes have “shocked the ear” in the Farringford house, the climate is too relaxing an one for continued residence, and Tennyson’s second house, Aldworth, was well chosen as a contrast. Aubrey Vere thus describes it:—

It lifted England’s great poet to a height from which he could gaze on a large portion of that English land which he loved so well, see it basking in its most affluent beauty, and only bound by the inviolate sea.

The house stands at an elevation of some six hundred feet above the sea, on the spur of Blackdown, which is the highest ground in Sussex, on a steep side towards the Weald, just where the greensand hills break off. It is some two miles from Haslemere, and just within the Sussex border.

Two of the drawings connected with these houses, which are reproduced here, were painted before Tennyson’s death, namely, in 1890.

The house at Farringford was drawn in the spring, when the lawn was pied with daisies, and the Laureate required his heavy cloak to guard him from the keenness of the April winds.

The kitchen-garden at Farringford, which somewhat belies its name, for flowers encroach everywhere upon the vegetables, and the apple trees rise amidst a parterre of blossom, was painted in its summer aspect, when it was gay with pinks, stocks, rockets, larkspurs, delphiniums, aubrietias, eschscholtzias, and big Oriental poppies. Tennyson visited it almost daily to take the record of the rain-gauge and thermometer, which can be descried in the drawing about half-way down the path.

The kitchen-garden at Aldworth opens up a very different prospect to the banked-up background of trees at Farringford. Standing at a very considerable elevation, it commands a magnificent view over the Weald of Sussex. The spot is referred to in the poem “Roses on the Terrace” in the volume entitled Demeter, thus—

as also in the lines—

It was this view that the dying poet longed to see once again on his last morning when he cried, “I want the blinds up! I want to see the sky and the light!”

The time of year when Mrs. Allingham painted it was October, and a wet October too, for two umbrellas even could not keep her from getting wet through.

It is rare for Mrs. Allingham to set her flowers so near the horizon as in this case,—in fact I only remember having seen another instance of it,—but no doubt the same feeling that appealed to the poet’s eye, and impelled him to pen the lines we have quoted, fascinated the artist’s, namely, the beautiful appearance of the varied hues of flowers against a background of delicate blue.

October is the saddest time of year for the garden, but a basket full of gleanings at that time is more cherished than one in the full heyday of its magnificence. Here the apple tree has already shed most of its leaves, the hollyhock stems are baring, and autumnal flowers, in which yellow so much predominates, as, for instance, the great marigold, the herbaceous sunflower, and the calliopsis, are much in evidence. Nasturtiums and every free-growing creeper have long ere this trailed their stems over the box edging, and made an untidiness which forebodes their early destruction at the hands of the gardener. Of sweet-scented flowers only a few peas and mignonette remain.

Mr. Allingham knew the Poet Laureate for many years, having at one time lived at Lymington, which is the port of departure for the western end of the Isle of Wight, and whence he often crossed to Farringford. The artist’s first meeting with Tennyson was soon after her marriage. He and his son Hallam had come up to town, and had walked over from Mr. James Knowles’s house at Clapham, where they were staying, to Chelsea. He invited Mrs. Allingham to Aldworth, an invitation which was accepted shortly afterwards. The poet was very proud of the country which framed his house, and during this visit he took her his special walks to Blackdown, to Fir Tree Corner (whence there is a wide view over the Weald towards the sea), and to a great favourite of his, the Foxes’ Hole, a lovely valley beyond his own grounds. Whilst on this last-named ramble he suddenly turned round and chided the artist for “chattering instead of looking at the view.” During this visit he read to her a part of his Harold, and the wonder of his voice and whole manner of reading or chanting she will never forget.

When the Allinghams came to live at Witley they were able to get to and from Aldworth in an afternoon, and so were frequent visitors there. One day in the autumn of 1881 Mrs. Allingham went over alone, owing to her husband’s absence, and after lunch the poet walked with her to Foxes’ Hole, where they sat on bundles of peasticks, she painting an old cottage since pulled down, and he watching her. After a time he said slowly, “I should like to do that. It does not look very difficult.” Years later he showed her some water-colour drawings he had made, from imagination, of Mount Ida clad in dark fir groves, which were undoubtedly very clever in their suggestiveness.

Lord Tennyson’s Isle of Wight home Mrs. Allingham did not see until after she returned to live in London, when Mr. Hallam Tennyson, in conversing with her about her drawings, told her that if she would come to the Isle of Wight he could show her some fine old cottages. She accordingly went at the Easter of 1890 to Freshwater, when he was as good as his word, and she at once began drawings of “The Dairy” and the cottage “At Pound Green.” Miss Kate Greenaway, who had come to stay with her, also painted them. The next spring, and many springs afterwards, Mrs. Allingham went to Freshwater, generally after the Easter holidays.

During one of these stays she accompanied Birket Foster to Farringford, and the poet asked the two artists to come for a walk with him. There happened to be a boy of the party in a sailor costume with a bright blue collar and a scarlet cap, and Birket Foster, who was at the moment walking behind with Mrs. Allingham, said, “Why is that red and blue so disagreeable?” Tennyson’s quick ear caught something, and he turned on them, setting his stick firmly in the ground, and asked Mr. Foster to explain himself. “Well,” Mr. Foster said, “I only know that the effect of the contrast is to make cold water run down my spine.” Mrs. Allingham cordially agreed with Mr. Birket Foster, but Tennyson could not feel the “cold water,” although he saw their point, and said it was doubtless with painters as with himself in poetry, namely, that some combinations of sound gave intense pleasure, whilst others grated, and he quoted certain lines as being so to him. On another occasion, whilst walking with him at Freshwater, he said something which led Mrs. Allingham to mention that she generally kept her drawings by her for a long time, often for years, working on them now and again and considering about figures and incidents for them,14 upon which he remarked that it was the same in the case of poems, and that he used generally to keep his by him, often in print, for a considerable time before publishing.

The following drawings have been sufficiently described in the text:—