That judgment will partly depend on the answers, slowly, as it were unconsciously, given by the world to two questions.  First, how far does their poetry represent truly and passionately what is natural and most widely felt in loving human nature, whether terrible or joyful, simple or complex, tragic or humorous?  Secondly, how far is the representation 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.”  These are amusing persons, who practically say, “We alone understand him, therefore he is great.”