more completely they express these characteristic features, the more certainly do they reproduce the frivolous casual aspects of the age, as well as those of serious and permanent significance. Consequently, the problem, how to adapt the eternal spirit of poetry to contemporary interests and sympathies, does not admit of a satisfactory solution. A rigid idealist, professing to go round the world without transgressing the limits of pure poetry, is like one endeavouring to empty the sea with a bucket. A mere realist, trying to accomplish the poet's task with the satirist's tools, would hew an oak with rushes, weave a cable from sand. The same strictures apply to the purely didactic poet, who is inevitably driven to adapt his instructions to the special requirements of his generation. Mr. Patmore1 is an admirable example of the second of the poetical classes we have endeavoured to discriminate above -of those, namely, who write poetry not for its own sake, but for that of some definite aim ever present to their minds. Mr. Tennyson and Mr. Patmore have each treated of the mission of woman; but is it possible to imagine two more dissimilar works than the "Princess" and the " 'Angel in the House?" Mr. Patmore describes his task as self-imposed, requiring special training, steady purpose, and prolonged effort: "The fairest realm in all the earth Is counted still a heathen land; I've girt myself with faith and prayer," &c. And he does indeed go at his work with a simple manly directness that would insure him our respect, even if his genius did not, as it must, command our admiration. Mr. Tennyson, too, professes to have a moral, of which he is continually losing sight, and which cannot be deduced from the preceding narrative. "Maud" has fifty times the moral significance of "The Princess," and for this very 1 Faithful for Ever. By Coventry Patmore. reason, that Mr. Tennyson has not gone out of his way in quest of anything, but, allowing free play to his artistic instincts, has evolved an ethical lesson as well. Mr. Patmore could not write with this abandon; he speaks by the intellect, though, it may be, often to the feelings. Fortunately these feelings, though temporarily entwined like ivy with much that is accidental and perishable, have still, like ivy, a root in the solid earth. If we wish to understand Mr. Patmore's merit in this respect, we can compare his poem with one partly conceived in a kindred spirit-Aurora Leigh. Each book is occupied with a social problem; but Mrs. Browning's is one to which the peculiar aspects of the age have imparted an adventitious importance, while Mr. Patmore's is invested with constant freshness by its vital relation to the needs of the human heart. The elements of decay in his work-its wood, hay, and stubbleappear to us to be not so much inherent in its structure as superinduced by his didactic spirit, his determination to exhaust the significance of his theme, instead of confining himself to its poetic aspects as Mr. Tennyson would have done. In a word, he seems to us to confuse the office of the poet with that of the moralist on one hand, and that of the novelist on the other. This implies that Mr. Patmore is after all essentially a poet, and moreover that, when he temporarily ceases to be such, he does but substitute one kind of excellence for another. His ethics and his social delineations are as good in their way as the inspirations of his loftier mood-his precious metal has some alloy, but little dross. It requires, we are sensible, a much finer analysis than ours to discriminate with perfect accuracy between his poetry and his prose; and, unlike most treasure-seekers, we are in much greater danger of parting with the object of our quest than of retaining what we do not want. It is curious that this enthusiastic singer of domestic life should himself be one of the last writers with whom we can feel thoroughly ble impression we have derived from every reperusal of the "Angel in the House" has been one of astonishment at the amount of beauty which the last reading had left for us to discover. We may say of Mr. Patmore's book, as he says of his heroine, that we have found it "more to us "Yesterday than the day before, And more to-day than yesterday." Any opinion, therefore, that we may express respecting the poem under consideration must be taken as subject to revision; yet there are principles of criticism which we may venture to apply boldly. If we find, for example, any particular passage to be-leaving its metrical form out of account-exactly such as we should have expected to meet with in a novel, we can hardly consider it to be in its place where we find it; often, on the other hand, when the theme is apparently little calculated to arouse our sympathies, the poet's lyrical fervour indicates that its significance has been more truly revealed to him than to us. In the first book, more especially, the fountains of the great deep of feeling are broken up with tempest; the subsequent calm is indeed a falling-off, but we are in more danger of tedium than of shipwreck. "Faithful for Ever" is not, as we have seen it described, an episode in "The Angel in the House;" it is rather a supplement, representing some of the aspects of the philosophy of love and marriage, excluded by the plan of the former work. In "The Angel in the House," the course of true love runs exceedingly smooth. Intended as introductory to a comprehensive treatment. of the whole theory of married life, it necessarily excluded the idea of any but a fortunate catastrophe. To have conducted Vaughan's suit to an unprosperous termination would have been to have shut the door in the poet's own face; the "betrothal" was the necessary condition of the "espousals." It would, of course, have been possible to have subjected the hero to violent alternations painters of the final triumph of the righteous make over half their canvas to the demons. But Mr. Patmore appears to have felt, with the delicate tact we so often admire in him, that pathos misses its effect when joy is a foregone conclusion, and that it would be better to reserve it as the leading motive of a new work. In the present poem, accordingly, we are presented with a new protagonist in the person of Frederick Graham, Vaughan's moral and spiritual fac-simile, and whose preferences and antipathies necessarily correspond to those of his counterpart. It follows that both are attracted by Honoria Churchill, and it falls to the rejected Graham to teach what the fortunate Vaughan could not know. The task which Mr. Patmore has thus prescribed to himself, of representing the demeanour of a mind of unusual nobility under a trial of which even his eloquence cannot exaggerate the bitterness, is one already attempted by Mr. Tennyson in Love and Duty. The laureate, however, only gives us the result; Mr. Patmore, a master of analysis rather than of generalisation, is more particularly occupied with the process. Every phase of feeling through which the lover has to struggle is seized at the culminating point, and reproduced with a pathos which nothing can exceed, because nothing can surpass its fidelity. It would be great injustice to Mr. Patmore not to allow him to speak here for himself. Laying a good foundation, Frederick thus describes the lady of his heart in the first canto: "The noble girl! With whom she talks The gradual ascent of admiration into passion is portrayed with the most delicate accuracy. The transient and mood are arrested and recorded in the very act of passing into their opposites; the contending billows of his breast are shown by sudden flashes, as he himself picturesquely says of the waves of an actual storm "Standing about in stony heaps." At one moment he exclaims "Blest is her place! blissful is she! Like the strange waif that comes to run And carries back through boundless night But the next "What! and, when some short months are c'er, Those eyes for which mine own are wet For all? Love's best is not bereft Not loss, nor death, my love shall tire. For explanations. Leave me alone, What that will was is known to all readers of the "Angel in the House." The final overthrow of such hope as Graham had ventured to entertain, is expressed in perhaps the finest simile Mr. Patmore has yet made. His rival Vaughan enters while he is sitting with Honoria: : "And, as the image of the moon Breaks up within some still lagoon Thus, when he took her hand to-night, And flattering weakness. Hope beguiles We know not whether Mr. Patmore, who has finely said in "The Angel in the House" that "Love in tears too noble is For pity, save of Love in smiles," has since so far modified his opinions as to intentionally represent an unfortunate as the legitimate object of envy instead of compassion to a successful lover. We remember, indeed, Vaughan in one place expressing himself as if his being less "hapless" necessarily implied that he was less "great" than his rival; and assuredly the enthusiasm of possession falls short of the fervour with which Graham, "Nursing the image of unfelt caresses Till dim imagination just possesses The half-created shadow," celebrates the object of his affection and despair. He dreams that "Lo! As moisture sweet my seeing blurs By which I'm made divinely bold; Or else some wasteful malady I never loved but half till now.' And we, sublimed to song and fire, All his visions, however, are far from resembling this :— "When I lay me down at even 'Tis Hades lit with neighbouring Heaven. Nor any wish, before long. Vaughan and his bride visit Graham's ship, and the effect of his observation is to compel the latter to resign "the ultimate hope I rested on: :" "The hope that in the heavens high As Hesper in the sunrise." Whence, "Standing beneath the sky's pure cope Unburdened even by a hope," he is able to feel "That I have known her, that she moves Is guerdon up to the degree But offers all, with smiles that say, O si sic omnia! In that case, indeed, "Faithful for Ever" would be no illustration of our doctrine that poetry parts with its essential characteristics in proportion as it undertakes to teach otherwise than indirectly, or concerns itself with the mutable superficies of contemporary life. So far, however, though Frederick Graham is a very substantial personality -a thoroughly imaginable man— -his expressions of feeling have been as purely lyrical and subjective as the lamentations of Clymene or Enone. He has, as before remarked, had to learn the same lesson of self-renunciation as the anonymous hero of "Love and Duty," with this very important difference, that the latter has but succumbed to external circumstances as independent of the will of his beloved as of his own; he has yielded nothing to any rival; what he has acquired is after all more precious than what he has been compelled to forgo. Mr. Tennyson, therefore, is not asking too much when he would have us contemplate the "streaming eye" as finally dried, the "broken heart" as eventually bound up; we not merely acquiesce in the propriety, but have faith in the permanence, of the conclusion at which his hero arrives. The infinitely greater severity of Graham's trial perhaps justifies Mr. Patmore in considering that, had the mood of our last extract been represented as permanent, had the curtain fallen then and there upon his hero's folded arms of humility and upward gaze of ineffable aspiration, our torpid imaginations would have seen nothing but a stage-effect, and expected, could we pierce behind the scenes, to find Graham rather prostrate beneath, than "Growing, like Atlas, stronger from his load." At all events, he has not chosen to task our faith so heavily. In the second section of the next canto we find Ho very unattractive personage. Of course, he has a thousand good reasons for maintaining that he has committed no treason against love; that his bride is at worst but as one of Voltaire's oignons, qui n'étaient pas des dieux tout-a-fait, mais qui leur ressemblaient beaucoup:— "As to the ether is the air Is her good to Honoria's fair; Mr. Patmore is now fully in his element, with a triple moral problem before him. He has to make his hero's paradox good, to show the effect on Jane (the unattractive wife) of being thus caught up into a sphere so much above her, and to determine the proper relation of Honoria to her married lover. This involves the necessity of a copious and minute delineation of manners and customs, since (to name but one aspect of the problem) it is impossible to depict Frederick and Jane's mutual relation and interaction without entering fully into the details of their domestic life. Behold us, then, alike from the didactic and the descriptive point of view, fairly committed to a course of what, we say, is substantially prose; not that the writing is not, for the most part, very clever, but this is not the question; not that we are not continually encountering passages of the most exquisite poetry, but these are not the rule. We are content to stake the whole theory of this paper on a single issue,-"Is or is not the first book of Faithful for Ever' incomparably the best of the three?" It would be a cheap triumph to produce some of the passages (excellent as these are in their way) in which Mr. Patmore furls the poet's wing on the essayist's perch; but these separate bricks could at best bear witness to the material, not to the style of the building. In conclusion, it will be but just to produce the results at which Mr. Patmore appears to have arrived, embodied in two of the most charming passages of As regards the relation his poem. which Honoria ultimately assumes to Graham, contemplated from her point of view, we learn nothing; and, indeed, the problem suggests questions of such infinite delicacy that we cannot wonder at Mr. Patmore's reticence. As we are only concerned with her here in so far as she concerns Frederick, we could well have dispensed with numerous trivial details relative to her husband and children, which vexatiously conflict with. the unity of impression already disturbed by the change of venue in Book II. In fact, the way in which she is trotted out for the admiration of one personage after another is almost comical. That Frederick himself should never tire of praising her is as natural as that we should never tire of listening to passages like this:: "I kiss'd the kind, warm neck that slept, I wandered forth, and took my path We have undertaken to question the propriety of Mr. Patmore's attempting the solution of moral problems in verse at all, not the logic of the solution itself. Yet we cannot refrain from remarking, that the conclusion expressed in the above most exquisite passage appears to us an unfair deduction from the pre |