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From the London Review.

MR. SWINBURNE'S DEFENCE.

for excitement will induce men to gamble in proportion to their indolence and recklessness. Some of the old savage spirit is therefore still kept alive. The heavy gambling of the last century has rather gone out WHEN a man finds it necessary to do a of fashion, because the class amongst whom it thing which, as a matter of taste, he might be flourished is on the whole better employed. disinclined to do, it is no very difficult task The Turf still gives opportunities for sheer to discover an excuse to save appearances. gambling, of which plenty of persons are There is always some friend to supply the ready to take advantage; which proves necessary pressure, and to force the relucthat there is still a large class of people tant individual on to the path which he with too little mind to appreciate any intel- perceives he should enter, yet is personally lectual source of excitement, with too little disinclined to explore. We will do Mr. serious occupation to preserve them from Swinburne the justice to believe he has dulness, with too little forethought to ap- really felt that some public apology, or at preciate the real value of their prospects, least some explanation, was. required from and with too much money to be good for him in consideration of the gross outrages them. The first three qualities make them on public decency contained in his last approximate to the Red Indian as closely volume of poems. Yet there is that in his as other differences permit, and they take writings which assures us that to make any the best way for removing the distinction sort of concession, to any one, on any point, founded upon the last quality. The Turf must go strongly against his spirit. Neveris of course an improvement intellectually theless, in the little pamphlet which he has upon games of pure chance, in so far as the just published under the title of "Notes on gamblers generally expect to win by supe- Poems and Reviews," he has condescended rior knowledge or skill. Whether this is a to answer the remarks made in several moral advantage is a very different question. In the same way, gambling on the Stock Exchange of course involves intellect - especially if that name includes every variety of cunning. We should therefore say that the old vice of gambling tends to go out of fashion and to be superseded by the more refined vice- -or perhaps we should call it virtue-in which intellect has a share as well as chance.

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journals — our own included on his "Poems and Ballads." He starts by saying that it is " by no wish of his own "that he undertakes such a task; that he "stoops" to it; and that he would a good deal rather let his critics pass without notice, and "say out their say unheeded." But he has to consider the feelings of his new publisher, and, in recognition of that gentleman's fair dealing in the matter, he feels bound to accede to his The general tendency of these changes, wishes, and to those of friends whose advice. as of so many others, is to what is called the he values, and to make some reply to the softening of modern life the extirpation charges that have been brought against him of the gross, brutal vices of former ages; "as far," he adds, as I understand and, in cases where they subsist in other them." This, he expressly states, is done forms, the substitution of more refined and on his publisher's account, not on his own. indirect modes of gratifying the passion. It would have been more dignified and Possibly the passion which is in some cases courageous to make his replication withgradually starved out by this treatment is out this preliminary flourish, which is a in others stimulated. If envy, hatred, and very old and stale device for securing the malice are on the whole declining, certainly advantage of a retort while preserving an picking and stealing do not seem to fall off. aspect of utter indifference to the censures The modes by which property may be which have really wrung forth the cry of made to change hands are so various, and anger or defiance. A man of Mr. Swinhave been elaborated with such marvellous burne's power and genius should hardly have ingenuity, that the old language of theft is slunk behind a pretence which is very becoming inadequate. Railway Companies much of a piece with the poetaster's have quite distanced pickpockets. But, it quest of friends" in the preface to his rickis only fair to add, this kind of cheating can etty verses. Nor does the statement that only grow in proportion to the growth of he has consented to "reply" to his censors confidence, so that perhaps it is a good sign cohere with that which immediately preon the whole. cedes it, that he has nothing to offer "by

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way of apology or vindication, of answer or horror of these poems, have very ingeappeal." He has not, indeed, "appealed" niously contrived to pick out all the worst to any principle, for we know not to what lines and phrases, so as to convey a comhe could appeal. But, after a fashion, he plete idea of the moral corruption over which has answered the objections of his critics, they shudder. This we have not done, and and he has certainly attempted something shall not do. Our "inexpressiveness" was in the way of vindication and apology. intentional, and will be preserved, with all Apology, vindication, and answer, are all, its advantages and disadvantages. But, with iu our opinion, equally futile; but we can- respect to " Anactoria," we are at liberty to not allow Mr. Swinburne to enter the lists, encounter the argument of Mr. Swinburne, and at the same time affect to treat his. ad- that he cannot be blamed for writing that versaries as below his notice. The sneer, poem because it is based on the celebrated too, about answering the charges as far Second Ode of Sappho. Now, we all know as he understands them," is idle, for it is very well the nature of that Ode, and it is evident that he understands them well preposterous to allege in defence of a modenough; while such easily-grown flowers of ern poem that it is written in the spirit of rhetoric as -"that full-fledged phoenix, the that ecstasy of insane passion. Such a plea 'virtue' of professional pressmen, rises only makes the offence worse, as it still more chuckling and crowing from the dunghill, clearly shows what was the living author's its birthplace and its deathbed "- "the intention and leading idea in the composivirulent virtue of pressmen and prostitutes "tion of his poem. In God's name or, if -"backbiters and imbeciles," &c.—only that seem to Mr. Swinburne a superstitious show that Mr. Swinburne feels he has been adjuration, in the name of plain human reahit very hard, and has lost his temper in son and sense what is the use of searching consequence. As regards his treatment of for the materials of poetry in the morbidiourselves, however, we have no cause of ties of the hospital and the eccentricities of complaint. He singles out our criticism of the madhouse? Grant that Sappho made his Poems and Ballads" as the work of a wonderful poem out of a grievous aberraan enemy," but of" a gentleman," and he tion; is that any reason why a modern addresses his reclamation to us, rather than Englishman should seek to rival her in her to our brother critics, because the review Bedlam flights of eroticism? Mr. Swinwhich appeared in our impression of August burne says he despaired of translating the 4th, "neither contains nor suggests anything original, and, being disturbed that such a false or filthy." In what we have further marvellous revelation of mental and moral to say on this unhappy subject, we hope to disease should be lost to English poetry, he preserve the same mood and temper; but" tried instead to reproduce in a diluted and we cannot the less emphatically express our opinion that Mr. Swinburne has not purged himself of his original offence by the publication of this pamphlet. Not because we are his "enemies," but because we are his friends the friends of his genius, of his prospective fame, and of the sanity of his art do we speak thus sternly of what is no less suicidal than abhorrent; and when his flatterers are equally his friends, we will gladly share with them that title,

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dilated form the spirit of a poem which could not be reproduced in the body." Now, this very "dilution" increases the evil. Sappho's Ode is at any rate short, sharp, and sudden, and may be supposed (which is the greatest excuse that can be made for it) to have been wrung from her during an interval of hysterical emotion. It bursts out, wild, quivering, and involuntary, and is straightway silent for ever. On the other hand, the author of " Atalanta in Calydon,” Mr. Swinburne says that we have de- without even the palliation of a suffering scribed two of his poems" Anactoria" however abnormal, or a desire however deand Dolores". especially horrible;" mented, deliberately sits down, and produces and he objects to the phrase as "somewhat in cold blood an elaborate study of diseased inexpressive." It may be so, but, to speak passion. What Sappho has dismissed in the frankly, there are some puddles which we do briefest form, Mr. Swinburne expands into not care to stir up. We are thus, no doubt, a poem of 305 lines. His production is placed at a disadvantage, since Mr. Swin- really far worse than its prototype, because burne allows himself a latitude of concep- it is more self-conscious, mingling the inteltion and of statement, from which, by the lect with the senses in a vicious union. very terms of our quarrel, we are precluded. Where the Lesbian simply cried out with We are not sure that he is not justified in an intolerable and monstrous pain, Mr. bringing a charge of hypocrisy against some Swinburne investigates with a literary zest. of his critics, who, while expressing their | He analyses, he curiously inquires, he tastes,

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same thing might be said of any indecent writing; it has in fact been urged in extenuation of Petronius Arbiter. But it is not valid. A warmly-coloured exhibition of brutality, glowing and flushing with all the allurements of poetry, is of strength sufficient to burn up any little moral that may be hidden about it, if in fact there be a moral there at all. Those who do not stand in need of the moral will not care for the picture; those who like the picture will contrive to overlook the moral. The plea of morality is idle and disingenuous. It is the excuse of the quack doctor and the anatomical museum.

he lingers round every detail, he contem-pany; yet he boasts of a moral purpose in plates his case of morbid anatomy from his Anactorias" and "Faustines," his every conceivable point of view; he exhausts "Dolores" and "Fragolettas," because he the language of wantonness, and recruits exhibits the fierceness and the despair of himself in a riot of blasphemy. The latter, illicit and abominable viciousness. indeed, is an offence of which poor Sappho herself seems never to have been guilty, and it is therefore a perfectly gratuitous addition by Mr. Swinburne from his own mental stock. As regards his blasphemies, by the way, he seeks a refuge which will not avail him. He refers to the writings of Shelley, and more particularly to the "Queen Mab." The reference is unfortunate. In the first place, Shelley, in his riper years, repudiated that poem, and sought an injunction in Chancery against its surreptitious publication; in the second place, Shelley's opposition to established dogmas was undertaken with a grave and serious purpose, in the excellence of which there can be no doubt Another of Mr. Swinburne's chief grounds that he sincerely and devotedly believed. of defence is that his book is "dramatic, Whether he was right or wrong is nothing many-faced, multifarious," and that "no to the present argument. He had persuaded utterance of enjoyment or despair, belief or himself that the miseries of the world were unbelief, can properly be assumed as the asmainly owing to certain opinions in religion sertion of its author's personal feeling or and morals, and he came forward as a re- faith." That is to say, his subjects being former, to challenge those opinions, and to such and such, he is obliged to shape his supplant them, if he could, with others language in accordance with them. Of which he regarded as more reasonable. course, this is a plain rule of art; but why Mr. Swinburne does nothing of the sort. select such subjects? Boccaccio and ChauHe gives the service of his genius to no cer made similar excuses for similar (though scheme, whether true or false, whether much milder) offences; but Dryden, in the practicable or Quixotic, for the emancipa- Preface to his " Fables," when renouncing tion of mankind; he does not question any in his old age the literary sins of his youth, system of faith or morals, be it good or bad; very acutely remarks:-"If a man, should he simply raves and curses. This is not have inquired of Boccace, or of Chaucer, only shocking; it is silly and boyish, be- what need they had of introducing such cause purposeless. The example of Shelley characters, where obscene words were will serve him equally little in other matters. proper in their mouths, but very undecent The poet of the "Cenci" may have allowed to be heard, I know not what answer they himself sometimes a question ble license in could have made. For that reason, such moral casuistry; but he observed limits over tale shall be left untold by me." Nor can which Mr. Swinburne passes with jaunty we admit much pertinence in the argument indifference. Yet we are not to blame the that these objectionable poems of Mr. Swinlatter, because he tells us, with reference to burne's are "dramatic." They are dra"Anactoria," that there is not "an unclean matic, no doubt, inasmuch as they assume a detail" or 66 an obscene allusion" in the character; but they are not dramatic in whole poem as if the corruption in such any perfect sense, because they only reprematters lay in words, not in ideas. Mr. sent one section of a story. And this inSwinburne excuses himself much as Dry-tensifies the evil that is in them. In a den's friend, Walsh, excuses Virgil for his second Pastoral on the ground that "there is not one immodest word" from beginning to end. Yet Byron, no sticker at trifles, and in "Don Juan" too, no milk-andwater poem, describes that Pastoral as "horrid," and in the very same stanza speaks of Sappho's Ode as not being "a good example" of ancient morals. Mr. Swinburne cannot get even Byron to keep him com

drama, properly so called, there is a complete evolution of character and of events, which does not permit of the mind dwelling wholly upon one idea, and considering merely one side of passion. The great round of human nature is traversed, and even exceptional vice may be much more safely touched on, because it appears as exceptional, and not as all-in-all, and because it is associated with the faces of the gods of

suffering and awe. Mr. Swinburne, how-mies as the subjects of elaborate poetical ever, isolates his instances of corruption, treatment, we must be excused for fearing and forces us to the solitary contemplation that there is something congenial to his mind of monstrosities. At least, he does so in in the train of ideas he so frequently conhis latest volume. In "Atalanta" and in jures up. Mr. Swinburne protests against "Chastelard " there were some questionable all literature being rendered fit for the nurpassages, but they were overborne by the sery or the young ladies' schoolroom. We power and pathos, lost in the many-sided- would join in the protest, if we knew of any ness, of the stories with which they were one who made the demand. Let Mr. Swinconnected. Accordingly, we passed them burne write for men as long as he pleases. over with but slight remark. The case is But there are times when it would almost different in the "Poems and Ballads." seem as if he were ambitious of being the When we find a man repeatedly selecting favourite poet and beloved pocket companabnormal immoralities and aimless blasphe-ion of prematurely depraved boys.

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CHAPTER IX.

THE BREAK IN THE CLOUDS.

We left Eva and her supposed mother driving home from Bangor, on the morning of Wednesday, the 30th of July. Their little excursion had come to an untimely and unpleasant end. The unlucky meeting of the night before had agitated Mrs. Roberts in a most dangerous manner, and had filled Eva's mind with a foreboding of new misfortune. Nor was this foreboding in any way lessened by the new phase in which, as they journeyed home, the feelings of Mrs. Roberts displayed themselves.

It was some comfort to Eva that the presence of a third party, the driver of the car, compelled Mrs. Roberts to be reserved in all she said. But Eva well understood her when she began complaining that she had done very wrong in thus abruptly quitting Bangor. Her first natural horror at meeting the man who had blighted her life was now giving way to the old day-dream which had kept her in hope for so many desolate years. She was thinking of his returning to her and doing her the justice against which the death of his lawful wife had left no positive hindrance. To Eva the idea was horrible. She felt that such a marriage would rather deepen than lighten the family disgrace. Her mother, hitherto the unwilling dupe of a scoundrel, would then become the consenting wife of a scoundrel. The man's appearance in his old theological guise was but too plain a proof that he was altered in nothing save the name which he bore. Mrs. Roberts had quickly remembered that "M'Quantigan" was known to have been the name of Mr. O'Cullamore's mother, and therefore naturally adopted as his alias; and her recollection of the man's face and figure was too painfully accurate to leave her in any doubt. Eva hoped for some time that a striking resemblance, accounted for by close relationship, might have deceived her as to M'Quantigan's identity. And before they quitted the Bangor hotel on Wednesday morning, they heard from their landlady that there had been a row at the meeting so prematurely quitted by themselves; that an Irish genileman (Papist of course) had stood up and professed to identify Mr. Murphy M Quantigan with a convict who, some years before, had been transported for bigamy. (The Irish gentleman had been removed by the police, and the meeting had taken its course. We need hardly say that with the ladies and gentlemen who promote such meetings, no crime pos

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Isible to man could make a Protestant champion unacceptable.) Nearly all their way home Mrs. Roberts went on with as much openness as the presence of a third party allowed, to talk of her hopes that Mr. M'Quantigan had recognized her, and that he would follow her to Lynbwllyn, ready to offer the long-deferred atonement. Eva would have been glad to tell her mother that her hope was an idle dream, which had better be put aside; but she felt it but too probable that the idea might quickly become a fact. Her mother had money; Mr. M.Quantigan's present occupation indicated that he had little or none. A very few days might determine her mother on a marriage, marriage likely to be followed up by fresh ill-treatment, and a second desertion. The real marriage would renew, and perhaps in greater measure, all the misery and cruelty of the mock marriage. That the semi-religious character maintained by M'Quantigan would coerce him into decency, our heroine could not entertain much hope. She knew-alas! it lies on the surface of all history-how much personal wickedness will be pardoned on account of zeal in controversy. She also knew that this perverse morality too common everywhere, was familiar indeed to that Orange Association, which numbered Murphy M Quantigan, as it had numbered Bryan O'Cullamore twenty years before, among its loudest and busiest maintainers. Eva did not. know very much about Orangemen. She did not know, for instance, that once upon a time, and in a cathedral city of England, a clergyman advocated from the pulpit the dethronement of queen Victoria, ere her approaching marriage destroyed the hopes of having an Orange king; but she knew enough to know that her wretched father was likely, for all his Protestantism, to commit the first act of wickedness that promised him anything safely advantageous.

A marriage with her mother might be plausibly represented as a very virtuous act, and it would put into his hands, without any danger whatever, a very substantial sum of money.

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Of one thing Eva felt quite sure, — if her mother obtained and embraced the opportunity of such a marriage, she could not make her abode with her parents.

Though he was her father, M'Quantigan was not a man under whose roof she could allow herself to live. In such a case with great sorrow, but with entire decision-she must give up as hopeless the task she had set herself, that of comforting and sustaining her foolish, helpless mother, Yet all

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