His were, perchance, the noblest steeds of all,
And from their nostrils blew a fierier dawn
Above the world…. Before his hand
Had learned to quell them, he was dashed to earth.
Minor writers are most impartial in clearing the names of any and all historical artists by such reasoning as this. By negligible American versifiers one too often finds Burns lauded as one whom "such purity inspires," [Footnote: A. S. G., Burns.] and, more astonishingly, Byron conceived of as a misjudged innocent. If one is surprised to hear, in verse on Byron's death,
His cherub soul has passed to its eclipse,
[Footnote: T. H. Chivers, On the Death of Byron.]
this fades into insignificance beside the consolation offered Byron by another writer for his trials in this world,
Peace awaits thee with caressings,
Sitting at the feet of Jesus.
Better known poets are likely to admit a streak of imperfection in a few of their number, while maintaining their essential goodness. It is refreshing, after witnessing too much whitewashing of Burns, to find James Russell Lowell bringing Burns down to a level where the attacks of philistines, though unwarranted, are not sacrilegious. Lowell imagines Holy Willie trying to shut Burns out of heaven. He accuses Burns first of irreligion, but St. Paul protests against his exclusion on that ground. At the charges of drunkenness, and of yearning "o'er-warmly toward the lasses," Noah and David come severally to his defense. In the end, Burns' great charity is felt to offset all his failings, and Lowell adds, of poets in general,
These larger hearts must feel the rolls
Of stormier-waved temptation;
These star-wide souls beneath their poles
Bear zones of tropic passion.
[Footnote: At the Burns Centennial.]
Browning is willing to allow even fictitious artists to be driven into imperfect conduct by the failure of those about them to live up to their standards. For example, Fra Lippo Lippi, disgusted with the barren virtue of the monks, confesses,
I do these wild things in sheer despite
And play the fooleries you catch me at
In sheer rage.
But invariably, whatever a poet hero's failings maybe, the author assures the philistine public that it is entirely to blame.