FRIENDSHIP.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 3355, 9 January 1879, Page 3

FRIENDSHIP.

Ouida's latest novel under this name suggests some curious reflections, which are not unconcerned with public morality. How far may a writer, who is popular as the world counts popularity, make use of her art as a vehicle for personal spite and an envenomed attack on the society in winch for the time she finds herself? Every satirist, it may be urged, does so ; but the true " classical " satire deals with types and not with individuals, and the difference between the standpoint of a satirist who is presumably fighting for the right against the wrong, and that of a novelist malignantly weaving into her story personalities with whom she has had, or fancies that she has had, cause to be annoyed, is so enormous that it need scarcely be illustrated. Or, a*ain, it may be said that George Sand was not above the temptation. In the story called " Elle et Lui" she is but transcribing her own experiences with ' Alfred de Mussct, infinitely to the disadvantage of the lover. But here again no candid reaaer cun for a moment allow that the art or the novoliat is sacnliect to CTie personality. It may be Alfred de Musset and George Sand who furnished the materials, and, possibly, some of the scenes of the tale, but the whole treatment lifts the characters into permanent tjpes, in which individualities become extinguished, and leave us face to face with the sensitive, irritable, passionate character of all poets and artists. Can any similar excuse be urged for Ouida's "Friendship?" We do wrong to the works of a great writer in even suggesting the possible parallel. Little interest, probably, will be felt in the pitiful characters of the tale, except by those who know something of society in Florence, and of those real personages of whom we here find such shameless caricatures. Even caricature must have some grain of vraisemblance ; but here, were it not for some of the incidents— notably the sending of Prince loris to the East— which are but too faithfully copied, some little doubt might be felt of the identity. Unfortunately the scenes are kept too close to actual events to leave any shadow of doubt on the subject, and a grave aspersion is put on the character of a lady, who cannot even institute proceedings for libel without seeming, in some way, to acknowledge, is not the truth, at least the pertinence, of the vulgar parody. How far the authoress' own sketch of herself, as "L'Etoile," may be justified, will be best estimated by those who care to belong to that sort of Italian society with which most English residents have little or nothing to do. That revenge is especially sweet to woman, that there curiously sensitive relations between the two sexes, any external interference with which, is likely to dangerous— these tilings most people know full well. But the question is not how much or how little justification there may be for a feeling of keen animosity, but how the public is to protect itself against a bitter writer of three-volumed novels. Suppose that the authoress of " Cometh up as a Flower," who is at present residing in Oxford, were to imagine that some academic duenna had prevented an engagement betweenjherself and a high dignitary— say the Master of Balliol— should we have to expect a merciless slander on the aforesaid duenna's reputation ? Ought we to submit to such an attack on the public security because of the many advantages of a " free Press," or should we do well to be angry ? The two cases are precisely parallel, except that in our imaginary case the scene is in England, while in the actual instance of "Friendehip" the scene is in Italy. The question is, we repeat, a public one, just as much as a private one ; it concerns society at large quite as much as the especial victims of the authoress's pen. Moreover, it is the only question of interest with regard to " Friendship," for, as a novel — that is as a pretended work of art — the book certainly is not worth the perusal. It contains bub the slightest possible thread of a story, interspersed with those sentences of unblushing "freedom from conventionality," and audaciously immoral suggestion, which must by this time be tolerably familiar to the readers of Ouida's novels.