s egoism, Wordsworth's by a benign and lofty selfishness; Byron
was the 'passionate and dauntless soldier of a forlorn hope,' Wordsworth
a kind of inspired clergyman. Both were influences for good, and both
are likely to be influences for good for some time to come. Which is the
better and stronger is a question that can hardly be determined now. It
is certain that Byron's star has waned, and that Wordsworth's has waxed;
but it is also certain that there are moments in life when the _Ode to
Venice_ is almost as refreshing and as precious as the ode on the
_Intimations_, and when the epic mockery of _Don Juan_ is to the full as
beneficial as the chaste philosophy of _The Excursion_ and the _Ode to
Duty_. Arnold was of course with Michael heart and soul, and was only
interested in our Lucifer. He approached his subject in a spirit of
undue deprecation. He thought it necessary to cite Scherer's opinion
that Byron is but a coxcomb and a rhetorician: partly, it would appear,
for the pleasure of seeming to agree with it in a kind of way and partly
to have the satisfaction of distinguishing and of showing it to be a
mistake. Then, he could not quote Goethe without apologising for the
warmth of that consummate artist's expressions and explaining some of
them away. Again, he was pitiful or disdainful, or both, of Scott's
estimate; and he did not care to discuss the sentiment which made that
great and good man think _Cain_ and the _Giaour_ fit stuff for family
reading on a Sunday after prayers, though as Mr. Ruskin has pointed out,
in one of the wisest and subtlest bits of criticism I know, the sentiment
is both natural and beautiful, and should assist us not a little in the
task of judging Byron and of knowing him for what he was. That Arnold
should institute a comparison between Leopardi and Byron was probably
inevitable: Leopardi had culture and the philosophic mind, which Byron
had not; he is incapable of influencing the general heart, as Byron can;
he is a critics' poet, which Byron can never be; he was always an artist,
which Byron was not; and--it were Arnoldian to take the comparison
seriously. Byron was not interested in words and phrases but in the
greater truths of destiny and emotion. His empire is over the
imagination and the passions. His personality was many-sided enough to
make his egoism representative. And as mankind is wont to feel first and
to think afterwards, a single one of his heart-cries may pro