is of a nature, which he has not elsewhere handled. Thackeray, who
admired the Idylls so enthusiastically, might have recognised in
Vivien a character not unlike some of his own, as dark as Becky
Sharp, more terrible in her selfishness than that Beatrix Esmond who
is still a paragon, and, in her creator's despite, a queen of hearts.
In Elaine, on the other hand, Tennyson has drawn a girl so innocently
passionate, and told a tale of love that never found his earthly
close, so delicately beautiful, that we may perhaps place this Idyll
the highest of his poems on love, and reckon it the gem of the
Idylls, the central diamond in the diamond crown. Reading Elaine
once more, after an interval of years, one is captivated by its
grace, its pathos, its nobility. The poet had touched on some
unidentified form of the story, long before, in The Lady of Shalott.
That poem had the mystery of romance, but, in human interest, could
not compete with Elaine, if indeed any poem of Tennyson's can be
ranked with this matchless Idyll.

The mere invention, and, as we may say, charpentage, are of the first
order. The materials in Malory, though beautiful, are simple, and
left a field for the poet's invention. {16}

Arthur, with the Scots and Northern knights, means to encounter all
comers at a Whitsuntide tourney. Guinevere is ill, and cannot go to
the jousts, while Lancelot makes excuse that he is not healed of a
wound. "Wherefore the King was heavy and passing wroth, and so he
departed towards Winchester." The Queen then blamed Lancelot:
people will say they deceive Arthur. "Madame," said Sir Lancelot, "I
allow your wit; it is of late come that ye were wise." In the Idyll
Guinevere speaks as if their early loves had been as conspicuous as,
according to George Buchanan, were those of Queen Mary and Bothwell.