Tent Lodge on Coniston Water, in a land of hospitable Marshalls.

After their return to London, on the night of November 18, Tennyson
dreamed that Prince Albert came and kissed him, and that he himself
said, "Very kind, but very German," which was very like him. Next
day he received from Windsor the offer of the Laureateship. He
doubted, and hesitated, but accepted. Since Wordsworth's death there
had, as usual, been a good deal of banter about the probable new
Laureate: examples of competitive odes exist in Bon Gaultier. That
by Tennyson is Anacreontic, but he was not really set on kissing the
Maids of Honour, as he is made to sing. Rogers had declined, on the
plea of extreme old age; but it was worthy of the great and good
Queen not to overlook the Nestor of English poets. For the rest, the
Queen looked for "a name bearing such distinction in the literary
world as to do credit to the appointment." In the previous century
the great poets had rarely been Laureates. But since Sir Walter
Scott declined the bays in favour of Southey, for whom, again, the
tale of bricks in the way of Odes was lightened, and when Wordsworth
succeeded Southey, the office became honourable. Tennyson gave it an
increase of renown, while, though in itself of merely nominal value,
it served his poems, to speak profanely, as an advertisement. New
editions of his books were at once in demand; while few readers had
ever heard of Mr Browning, already his friend, and already author of
Men and Women.

The Laureateship brought the poet acquainted with the Queen, who was
to be his debtor in later days for encouragement and consolation. To
his Laureateship we owe, among other good things, the stately and
moving Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington, a splendid heroic
piece, unappreciated at the moment. But Tennyson was, of course, no