A Return To Swinburne

My favorite Victorian profligate strikes again

All of the poems quoted are in the public domain, and all but one are from A Century of Roundels. They may be easily found in their entirety online.

We have already visited Algernon Charles Swinburne on this blog, but I cannot resist the urge to return to the troubled poet. To remind us, or catch up those who missed it, Swinburne was a Decadent writer of the Victorian era, who reveled in and encouraged his reputation as a sexual deviant (which makes it hard to ascertain how much of it was really true). He used heavily religious language in his poetry, but this was often intended ironically to mock religion and tradition. Also given to heavy drinking, his generally unhealthy lifestyle left him in such a state that a friend had to take him under his care, withdrawing him from public life. It is often said that this friend “saved the man but killed the poet,” but I maintain that some of Swinburne’s best work—as well as evidence that he may have begun to take religion more seriously.

Of the three poems below, I have already shared the last one, titled Concord. I see no other interpretation than that this poem is about Jesus and the repentant thief, but it is really the final piece in a trilogy of poems that seem to center around the same event(s). First, we have Dead Love. (Emphases my own).

DEAD LOVE.

Dead love, by treason slain, lies stark,
White as a dead stark-stricken dove:
None that pass by him pause to mark
Dead love.

His heart, that strained and yearned and strove
As toward the sundawn strives the lark,
Is cold as all the old joy thereof.

Dead men, re-risen from dust, may hark
When rings the trumpet blown above:
It will not raise from out the dark
Dead love.

Might we think of any man in all history, specially marked by a dove, who was slain by treason? The Messiah, anointed by the Spirit in the form of a dove, was handed over by a traitor to men who would put Him to death. “None who pass by him pause to mark” calls to mind the words of Psalm 22. On the cross, Jesus quoted the first verse of that Psalm when he cried, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” But Swinburne’s words remind me of verse 7: “All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads…”

In the second stanza, we see that in life this Man strove for the light, “as toward the sundawn strives the lark.” The opening words of John’s gospel teach us: “In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.” This explains the ending of the poem. “Dead men, re-risen from the dust may hark”—that is, the body is raised which is made from the dust of the earth, and returned to it in death— “It will not raise from out the dark Dead love.”

When God formed Adam, he made his body from the dust of the earth. But Adam was not yet alive. God breathed into him His Spirit, which is the giver of life. The ancient languages were perhaps wiser than our own. In Greek and Hebrew, the words for spirit, breath, and wind are all one and the same: ruah in the Hebrew and pnuema in the Greek. In other words, God spirited into Adam the Spirit of life—the same Spirit who descended on Jesus in His baptism, and to whom we saw reference in the first stanza.

All men must die. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and all that. But there is a second death. There are those who mark not dead love, as Swinburne puts it, or who blaspheme the Holy Breath (or Holy Spirit), as Jesus puts it. These, though their bodies be called forth in the resurrection, will not be given new life, which comes from the Spirit. Even the trumpet blasts of the heavenly hosts will not be enough to raise from out the dark their dead love.

Now, on to the next two poems. (Emphases my own).

DISCORD.

Unreconciled by life’s fleet years, that fled
With changeful clang of pinions wide and wild,
Though two great spirits had lived, and hence had sped
Unreconciled;

Though time and change, harsh time’s imperious child,
That wed strange hands together, might not wed
High hearts by hope’s misprision once beguiled;

Faith, by the light from either’s memory shed,
Sees, radiant as their ends were undefiled,
One goal for each—not twain among the dead
Unreconciled.

CONCORD.

Reconciled by death’s mild hand, that giving
Peace gives wisdom, not more strong than mild,
Love beholds them, each without misgiving
Reconciled.

Each on earth alike of earth reviled,
Hated, feared, derided, and forgiving,
Each alike had heaven at heart, and smiled.

Both bright names, clothed round with man’s thanksgiving,
Shine, twin stars above the storm-drifts piled,
Dead and deathless, whom we saw not living
Reconciled.

These two poems are clearly meant to go together, as the titles indicate. I think Discord is really meant to set up Concord, as its whole point really is to show that the “two great spirits” in question have led very different courses in life, yet are coming together at the end. Note that “time and change” (harsh time’s imperious child is a brilliant description of change) cannot reconcile the two, but faith which sees their mutual end brings them together. “Not twain among the dead,” or unified in death, though they had lived such distant lives from one another. Remember that “faith is the certainty of things hoped for, a proof of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1)

As I have already said, Concord cannot be more clear about its subject matter, at least not to those who have ears. Who else has ever been “dead and deathless” but Jesus? Chesterton says that the crucifix (or cross) is the eternal symbol of Christianity because on it Jesus “is dead and never dies.” What else could be suggested by “clothed round with man’s thanksgiving” but the Eucharist? The very word means ‘thanksgiving,’ and though Jesus was naked on the cross, He identified the very flesh that He wore as the bread which He offers his church.

The two spirits are Jesus and the repentant thief, sometimes named Dismas. “Each on earth alike of earth reviled.” The one was a common outlaw, the other the King of the Universe. But Isaiah 53 says “He was assigned a grave with the wicked… …and was numbered among the transgressors.” They are both “derided but forgiving”. Recall the passage from Psalm 22 mentioned earlier. They hurled insults at Him, but Jesus only said, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.” Finally, the thief asks Jesus to remember him when He comes into His kingdom, to which Jesus responds that “you will be with me in paradise.” In other words, “each alike had heaven at heart.”

I hope those who read the first piece on Swinburne will forgive me repeating my analysis of Concord here, but I wanted to show all three together, since Swinburne organized them sequentially in A Century of Roundels and they really cannot be considered properly on their own. I cherish the hope that Swinburne may have quietly come to faith later in life. His friend Watts-Dunton saved the poet, the man, and the soul, as far as I can tell.