success as few men have known them. His command of the lyric form was
complete. And yet who that loves his work has not felt that lack in it
which Matthew Arnold had in mind when he said that with all his genius
Byron had the ideas of a country squire? The poet was a master of the
technique of his art; he had rare gifts of passion and imagination; but he
lacked breadth, variety, and depth of thought. There is a monotony of
theme and of motive in his compositions. Tennyson, on the other hand,
exalted his technical skill by the reality and richness of his culture.
Nothing which contains and reveals the human spirit was alien to him. He
did not casually touch a great range of themes; he studied them patiently,
thoroughly, persistently. Religion, philosophy, science, literature,
history were his familiar friends; he lived with them, and they so
completely confided to him their richest truths that he became their
interpreter. So wide were his interests and so varied his studies that he
came to be one of those men in whom the deeper currents of an age flow
together and from whom the tumult of angry and contending currents issues
in a great harmonious tide. No modern man has prepared himself more
intelligently for specific excellence by special training, and no man has
more splendidly illustrated the necessity of combining the expertness of
the skilled workman with the insight, power, and culture of a great
personality. A life which issues in an art so beautiful in form and so
significant in content reveals both the necessity of constant and general
preparation, and the identity of great working power with great spiritual
energy.




Chapter XIV