Presently the simulacrum
works no more spells, good or evil, and the deception is unveiled. The
hitherto disregarded author is recognized, and the idol of yesterday,
which seemed so important, is taken down from his too large pedestal and
carted off to the dumping-ground of inadequate things. To be sure, if he
chances to have been not entirely unworthy, and on cool examination is
found to possess some appreciable degree of merit, then he is set up on
a new slab of appropriate dimensions. The late colossal statue shrinks
to a modest bas-relief. On the other hand, some scarcely noticed bust
may suddenly become a revered full-length figure. Between the reputation
of the author living and the reputation of the same author dead there is
ever a wide discrepancy.
A NOT too enchanting glimpse of Tennyson is incidentally given by
Charles Brookfield, the English actor, in his "Random Recollections."
Mr. Brookfield's father was, on one occasion, dining at the Oxford and
Cambridge Club with George Venables, Frank Lushington, Alfred Tennyson,
and others.
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