to such critics that Campbell may simplynhave grown up. In addition to normalnjealousy, Mary’s affair forced Campbellnto evaluate the moral and literary healthnof Bloomsbury, and what he saw wasnsmugness, hypocrisy, mutual flattery, intellectualnflabbiness, and a sexual anarchynthat was more perverse than Arcadian.nThe result was a scathing, erratic, andnhilarious satire in heroic couplets callednThe Georgiad, which aimed at the samensatiric targets as Wyndham Lewis’s ThenApes of God, published the same year. Itnis difficult to convey the humor of ThenGeorgiad, where the catholic sexualntastes of Bloomsbury are mocked (“innthe subtle strife of heads or tails/The latter,nas by magic, prevails”) in verse filled withnwicked portraits, such as that of Vita andnher lesbian love poetry (“straight in rapturednsonnets will expose/The bunionsnof her gnarled iambic toes”).nIn spite of his biting satiric humor,nCampbell was stunned, hurt, and insecure.nHe had now estranged himself from thenliterary establishment of England; somenof its members vowed never to mentionnCampbell’s name in print (what has beenncalled Campbell’s “paranoia” was usuallynsharp realism about his enemies).nCampbell left England for Provencenwhere, surprisingly, Mary joined him andntheir relationship slowly grew morensolid. In southern France Campbellnfound a country dry and scrubby, not unlikenthe South Afirican bushveld, and henthrew himself into various occupations,nincluding fishing, horse-breaking, andnbullfighting. In England he had confi-ontedna deracinated, urban literary aristocracy,nutterly divided from the mass ofnthe English people and plunged in immoralitynand triviality. The ancient folknculture of Provence offered Campbellnsomething far more akin to his vision ofnan integrated society, where poets, aristocrats,nand fishermen came together inncommunal feasts and games and shared ancommon heritage. This central feet hasnbeen obscured by the passages in his autobiographicalnworks which take brag­n12inChronicles of Culturengadocio into the realm of seff-gratifyingnfentasy. Nonetheless, only displacednurban intellectuals could miss the movingnpassages in the autobiography ZigA?non a Dark Horse about Provencal feasts,nnautical jousting, and the fisherman’s life.nIt was here that Campbell wrote some ofnhis finest lyric poetry, such as “Mass atnDawn” and “Horses on the Camargue,”nwhich went into the volume of poemsnentitled Adamastor and gained himnanother brief round of critical acclaim. Innthis book, and in the next. FloweringnReeds (possibly his best), there arenpoems which show that pain is necessarynfor a full experience of reality, poems innwhich final peace is hard-won and thereforenmore convincing.nCampbell and his family went on tonlive in Spain and Portugal. Both countriesnrepresented to Campbell the integratednculture that he sought in Provence.nWhen, as an older man, Campbell lived innLondon and entertained guests, his partiesnwould be a wild assortment of friends, includingnpainters, policemen, ex-soldiers,ndiplomats, bullfighters, butchers andnsculptors. As Peter Alexander rightlynsays: “The artificial or real barriers that dividenmen simply did not exist fornCampbell.” Campbell’sconversion to thenRoman Catholic Church is consistentlyncompared by critics to that of EvelynnWaugh or T. S. Eliot’s conversion to Anglo-nCatholicism as an “escape” fl-om personalnproblems. Yet Campbell’s own growingnsense of morality and the need for spiritualndirection had been leading in that directionnfor a long time. His conversion was notnmade under the influence of the EnglishnCatholic Revival, with its witty andndynamic spokesmen Ronald Knox, HilairenBelloc, and G. K Chesterton, but as the resultnof observing the feith of French andnSpanish peasants. By his own existentialnroute, Campbell had come to defendnChristendom in much the same way asnthe fiercely logical Chesterton. The underratednbook of poemsMithraicEmblemsncomes fl-om this period, and incorporatesnCampbell’s idea of suffering in anspecifically Christian context. His Cath­nnnolicism also enabled Campbell to labornfor 11 years on translating the poems ofnthe 16th-century Spanish mystic St. Johnnof the Cross, even though these yearsnwere heavily politicized by his defense ofnthe nationalists in the Spanish Civil War.n1 he Spanish Civil War brought outnthe best and worst in Campbell, and hasnearned him continual obloquy. While henundoubtedly romanticized Franco andnthe Spanish nationalists, and made thenserious mistake of temporarily supportingnHitler and Mussolini, Campbell’s revulsionnat the Soviet-directed campaignnto dominate Spain has had ample historicalndocumentation, despite the mythologynmaintained by liberals. In the atmospherenof hysteria which gripped most intellectualsnin the late 1930’s, Campbellnfoolishly indulged in anti-Semitism andnconspiracy theories. His accusation thatnleftist intellectuals wrote Soviet propagandanfor profit was nonsensical and negatednhis valid insight into their fundamentalnsupport for communist totalitarianism.nAfter the war this led to furthernalienation from the English literary societynhe still depended on for money andnan audience. Campbell’s insecurity and resentmentngrew andagedhimprematurely.nCampbell’s last years were melancholynbut not without their comforts. Hisncreative poetic energy, which he termedn”the sweat of other activities,” dried up asnage and ill health curbed these activities.nHe turned instead to translations ofnBaudelaire, Lorca, and others. Like all thenbest translations, there is a good deal ofnCampbell himself in these poems, whilenthey remain feithfiil to the tone and structurenof the originals. The St. John of thenCross translations, for example, have anmystical intensity that emphasizes thenredemptive value of suffering and has thenring of experience, even though Campbell’snliberal critics have been deaf to hisnspirituality. It was a long way from then”clangour” and “gust” of words in ThenFlaming Terrapin to the taut simplicitynof St. John of the Cross, but the quality ofnhis passion never changed. Dn