esentation
beautiful and noble in form, and true to the laws of their art. That
poetry which is nearest to the most natural, the most universal elements
of human life when they are suffused with love--in some at least of its
various moods--and at the same time the most beautiful in form, is the
best. It wins most affection from mankind, for it is about noble matters
of thought which the greater number of men and women desire to
contemplate, and about noble matters of passion which the greater number
love and therefore enjoy. This poetry lasts from generation to
generation, is independent of differences made by climate, by caste, by
nationality, by religion, by politics, by knowledge, custom, tradition
or morals. These universal, natural elements of human nature are, in all
their infinite variety and striving, beloved by men, of undying interest
in action, and of immortal pleasure in thought. The nearer a poet is to
them, especially to what is lovable, and therefore beautiful in them,
the greater and the more enduring is his work. It follows that this
greater work will also be simple, that is, easy to feel with the heart
though it may be difficult to grasp by the intelligence. Were it not
simple in feeling, the general answer of mankind to the call of love, in
all its forms, for sympathy would be unheard. And if it be simple in
feeling, it does not much matter if the deep waters of its thought are
difficult for the understanding to fathom.

It would be ridiculous to dogmatise on a matter which can only be fully
answered a century hence, but this much is plain. Of these two poets,
taking into consideration the whole of their work, Tennyson is the
closest to human nature in its noble, common and loving forms, as
Browning is the closest to what is complex, subtle and uncommon in human
nature. The representation both of the simple and of the complex is a
good thing, and both poets have their place and honour. But the
representation of the complex is plainly the more limited in range of
influence, and appeals to a special class of minds rather than to
mankind at large. There are some, indeed, who think that the appeal to
the few, to thinkers alone or high-wrought specialists in various forms
of culture, marks out the greater poet. It is the tendency of literary
castes to think that specialised work is the greatest. "This man," they
say, "is our poet, not the mob's. He stands apart, and his apartness
marks his greatness." Thes