Chapter 5

too, _Extracts from a Diary_, January 11, 1821, _Letters_, 1901, v. 165, 166, "I have stood upon that plain [of Troy] _daily_, for more than a month, in 1810; and if anything diminished my pleasure, it was that the blackguard Bryant had impugned its veracity." Hobhouse, in his _Travels in Albania_, 1858, ii. 93, sq., discusses at length the identity of the barrows of the Troad with the _tumuli_ of Achilles, Ajax, and Protesilaus, and refutes Bryant's arguments against the identity of Cape Janissary and the Sigean promontory.

[eb] / who alive perhaps \ _All heroes_ < >--[MS. Alternative reading.] \ if still alive /

[ec] / _and mountain-bounded \ ---- < > plain_.--[MS. Alternative reading.] \ _and mountain-outlined /

[250] ["The whole region was, in a manner, in possession of the _Salsette's_ crew, parties of whom, in their white summer dresses, might be seen scattered over the plains collecting the tortoises, which swarm on the sides of the rivulets, and are found under every furze-bush."--_Travels in Albania_, 1858, ii. 116. See, too, for mention of "hundreds of tortoises" falling "from the overhanging branches, and thick underwood," into the waters of the Mender, _Travels, etc._, by E.D. Clarke, 1812, Part II. sect. i. p. 96.]

[ed]---- _and land tortoise crawls_.--[MS. Alternative reading.]

{205}[ee] --_their learned researches bear_.--[MS. Alternative reading.]

[251] This is a fact. A few years ago a man engaged a company for some foreign theatre, embarked them at an Italian port, and carrying them to Algiers, sold them all. One of the women, returned from her captivity, I heard sing, by a strange coincidence, in Rossini's opera of _L'Italiana in Algieri_, at Venice, in the beginning of 1817.

[We have reason to believe that the following, which we take from the MS. journal of a highly respectable traveller, is a more correct account: "In 1812 a Signor Guariglia induced several young persons of both sexes--none of them exceeding fifteen years of age--to accompany him on an operatic excursion; part to form the opera, and part the ballet. He contrived to get them on board a vessel, which took them to Janina, where he sold them for the basest purposes. Some died from the effect of the climate, and some from suffering. Among the few who returned were a Signor Molinari, and a female dancer named Bonfiglia, who afterwards became the wife of Crespi, the tenor singer. The wretch who so basely sold them was, when Lord Byron resided at Venice, employed as _capo de' vestarj_, or head tailor, at the Fenice."--Maria Graham (Lady Callcot). Ed. 1832.]

{206}[252] [A comic singer in the _opera buffa_. The Italians, however, distinguish the _buffo cantante_, which requires good singing, from the _buffo comico_, in which there is more acting.--Ed. 1832.]

{207}[253] [The figuranti are those dancers of a ballet who do not dance singly, but many together, and serve to fill up the background during the exhibition of individual performers. They correspond to the chorus in the opera.--Maria Graham.]

[ef] _To help the ladies in their dress and lacing_.--[MS.]

[254] It is strange that it should be the Pope and the Sultan, who are the chief encouragers of this branch of trade--women being prohibited as singers at St. Peter's, and not deemed trustworthy as guardians of the harem.

["Scarcely a soul of them can read. Pacchierotti was one of the best informed of the _castrati_ ... Marchesi is so grossly ignorant that he wrote the word opera, _opperra_, but Nature has been so bountiful to the animal, that his ignorance and insolence were forgotten the moment he sang."--_Venice, etc._, by a Lady of Rank, 1824, ii. 86.]

{208}[255] [The N. Engl. Dict. cites Bunyan, Walpole, Fielding, Miss Austen, and Dickens as authorities for the plural "was." See art. "be." Here, as elsewhere, Byron wrote as he spoke.]

[eg] _He never shows his feelings, but his teeth_.--[MS. Alternative reading.]

[256] ["Our firman arrived from Constantinople on the 30th of April (1810)."--Travels in Albania, 1858, ii. 186.]

{209}[eh] _That each pulled, different ways--and waxing rough_, _Had cuffed each other, only for the cuff_.--[MS.]

{210}[257]

["O, who can hold a fire in his hand, By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?"

_Richard II.,_ act i. sc. 3, lines 294, 295.]

[ei] _Having had some experience in my youth_.--[MS. erased.]

[258] ["_Don Juan_ will be known, _by and by_, for what it is intended--a Satire on abuses in the present states of society, and not an eulogy of vice. It may be now and then voluptuous:--I can't help that. Ariosto is worse. Smollett (see Lord Strutwell in vol. 2^nd^ of _R_[_oderick_] _R_[_andom_][1793, pp. 119-127]) ten times worse; and Fielding no better."--Letter to Murray, December 25, 1822, _Letters_, 1901, vi. 155, 156.]

{211}[259] [_Vide ante_, p. 204, note 1. "It seems hardly to admit of doubt, that the plain of Anatolia, watered by the Mender, and backed by a mountainous ridge, of which Kazdaghy is the summit, offers the precise territory alluded to by Homer. The long controversy, excited by Mr. Bryant's publication, and since so vehemently agitated, would probably never have existed, had it not been for the erroneous maps of the country which, even to this hour, disgrace our geographical knowledge of that part of Asia."--_Travels, etc._, by E.D. Clarke, 1812, Part II. sect, i. p. 78.]

{212}[260] The pillar which records the battle of Ravenna is about two miles from the city, on the opposite side of the river to the road towards Forli. Gaston de Foix [(1489-1512) Duc de Nemours, nephew of Louis XII.], who gained the battle, was killed in it: there fell on both sides twenty thousand men. The present state of the pillar and its site is described in the text.

[Beyond the Porta Sisi, about two miles from Ravenna, on the banks of the Ronco, is a square pillar (_La Colonna de Francesi_), erected in 1557 by Pietro Cesi, president of Romagna, as a memorial of the battle gained by the combined army of Louis XII. and the Duke of Ferrara over the troops of Julius II. and the King of Spain, April 11 1512.--_Handbook of Northern Italy_, p. 548.]

[261] [Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto IV. stanza lvii. line i, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 371, note i. See, too, Preface to the _Prophecy of Dante, ibid_., iv. 243.]

[ej] _Protects his tomb, but greater care is paid_.--[MS.]

{213}[ek] _With human ordure is it now defiled_, _As if the peasant's scorn this mode invented_ _To show his loathing of the thing he soiled_.--[MS.]

[el] _Those sufferings once reserved for Hell alone._--[MS.]

[em] _Its fumes are frankincense; and were there nought_ _Even of this vapour, still the chilling yoke_ _Of silence would not long be borne by Thought_.--[MS.]

[en] _I have drunk deep of passions as they pass,_ _And dearly bought the bitter power to give_.--[MS.]

[262] [See, for instance, Wilson's review of _Don Juan_, in _Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine_, August, 1819, vol. v. p. 512, _sq._: "To confess ... to his Maker, and to weep over in secret agonies the wildest and most fantastic transgressions of heart and mind, is the part of a conscious sinner, in whom sin has not become the sole principle of life and action.... But to lay bare to the eye of man--and of _woman_--all the hidden convulsions of a wicked spirit," etc.]

{214}[eo] _What! must I go with Wordy to the cooks?_ _Read--were it but your Grandmother's to vex--_ _And let me not the only minstrel be_ _Cut off from tasting your Castalian tea_.--[MS.]

[263] [Compare--

"I leave them to their daily 'tea is ready,' Snug coterie, and literary lady."

_Beppo_, stanza lxxvi. lines 7, 8, _Poetical Works_, 1901, iv. 184, note.]

[264] [The caged starling, by its repeated cry, "I can't get out! I can't get out!" cured Yorick of his sentimental yearnings for imprisonment in the Bastille. See Sterne's _Sentimental Journey_, ed. 1804, pp. 100-106.]

[265] [In his _Essay, Supplement to the Preface_ (_Poems by William Wordsworth_, ed. 1820, iii. 315-348), Wordsworth maintains that the appreciation of great poetry is a plant of slow growth, that immediate recognition is a mark of inferiority, or is to be accounted for by the presence of adventitious qualities: "So strange, indeed, are the obliquities of admiration, that they whose opinions are much influenced by authority will often be tempted to think that there are no fixed principles in human nature for this art to rest upon.... Away, then, with the senseless iteration of the word _popular!_ ... The voice that issues from this spirit [of human knowledge] is that _Vox Populi_ which the Deity inspires. Foolish must he be who can mistake for this a local acclamation, or a transitory outcry--transitory though it be for years, local though from a Nation. Still more lamentable is his error who can believe that there is anything of divine infallibility in this clamour of that small though loud portion of the community ever governed by factitious influence, which under the name of the PUBLIC, passes itself upon the unthinking for the PEOPLE." Naturally enough Byron regarded this pronouncement as a taunt if not as a challenge. Wordsworth's noble appeal from a provincial to an imperial authority, from the present to the future, is not strengthened by the obvious reference to the popularity of contemporaries.]

{215}[266] [Southey's _Madoc in Wales, Poetical Works_, Part I. Canto V. Ed. 1838, v. 39.]

[ep] _Not having looked at many of that hue,_ _Nor garters--save those of the_ "honi soit"--_which lie_ _Round the Patrician legs which walk about,_ _The ornaments of levee and of rout_.--[M.S.]

[267] [Probably Lady Charlemont. See "Journal," November 22, 1813.]

{216}[268] [The cyanometer, an instrument for ascertaining the intensity of the blue colour of the sky, was invented by Horace Bénédict de Saussure (1740-1799); see his _Essai sur l'Hygrométrie_. F.H. Alexander von Humboldt (1769-1859) "made great use of his instrument on his voyages, and ascertained by the colour the degree of blueness, the accumulation and the nature of the non-transparent exhalations of the air."--_Alexander von Humboldt_, by Professor Klencke, translated by Juliette Bauer, 1852, pp. 45, 46.]

[eq] _I'll back a London_ "Bas" _against Peru_. or, _I'll bet some pair of stocking beat Peru_. or, _And so, old Sotheby, we'll measure you_.--[MS.]

[269] ["The slave-market is a quadrangle, surrounded by a covered gallery, and ranges of small and separate apartments." Here the poor wretches sit in a melancholy posture. "Before they cheapen 'em, they turn 'em about from this side to that, survey 'em from top to bottom.... Such of 'em, both men and women, to whom Dame Nature has been niggardly of her charms, are set apart for the vilest services: but such girls as have youth and beauty pass their time well enough.... The retailers of this human ware are the Jews, who take good care of their slaves' education, that they may sell the better: their choicest they keep at home, and there you must go, if you would have better than ordinary; for 'tis here, as 'tis in markets for horses, the handsomest don't always appear, but are kept within doors."--_A Voyage into the Levant_, by M. Tournefort, 1741, ii. 198, 199. See, too, for the description of the sale of two Circassians and one Georgian, _Voyage de Vienne à Belgrade_, ... par N.E. Kleeman, 1780, pp. 141, 142. The "lowest offer for the prize Circassian was 4000 piastres."]

[er] _The females stood, till chosen each as victim_ _To the soft oath of "Ana seing Siktum!"_[*]--[MS.]

[[*]If the Turkish words are correctly given, "the oath" may be an imprecation on "your mother's" chastity.]

[es] _For fear the Canto should become too long._--[MS.]

CANTO THE FIFTH.[270]

I.

WHEN amatory poets sing their loves In liquid lines mellifluously bland, And pair their rhymes as Venus yokes her doves, They little think what mischief is in hand; The greater their success the worse it proves, As Ovid's verse may give to understand; Even Petrarch's self, if judged with due severity, Is the Platonic pimp of all posterity.

II.

I therefore do denounce all amorous writing, Except in such a way as not to attract; Plain--simple--short, and by no means inviting, But with a moral to each error tacked, Formed rather for instructing than delighting, And with all passions in their turn attacked; Now, if my Pegasus should not be shod ill, This poem will become a moral model.

III.

The European with the Asian shore Sprinkled with palaces--the Ocean stream[271] Here and there studded with a seventy-four, Sophia's Cupola with golden gleam,[272] The cypress groves, Olympus high and hoar, The twelve isles, and the more than I could dream, Far less describe, present the very view Which charmed the charming Mary Montagu.

IV.

I have a passion for the name of "Mary,"[273] For once it was a magic sound to me; And still it half calls up the realms of Fairy, Where I beheld what never was to be; All feelings changed, but this was last to vary, A spell from which even yet I am not quite free: But I grow sad--and let a tale grow cold, Which must not be pathetically told.

V.

The wind swept down the Euxine, and the wave Broke foaming o'er the blue Symplegades; 'T is a grand sight from off "the Giant's Grave"[274] To watch the progress of those rolling seas Between the Bosphorus, as they lash and lave Europe and Asia, you being quite at ease: There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in, Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.

VI.

'T was a raw day of Autumn's bleak beginning, When nights are equal, but not so the days; The Parcæ then cut short the further spinning Of seamen's fates, and the loud tempests raise[et] The waters, and repentance for past sinning In all, who o'er the great deep take their ways: They vow to amend their lives, and yet they don't; Because if drowned, they can't--if spared, they won't.

VII.

A crowd of shivering slaves of every nation, And age, and sex, were in the market ranged; Each bevy with the merchant in his station: Poor creatures! their good looks were sadly changed. All save the blacks seemed jaded with vexation, From friends, and home, and freedom far estranged; The negroes more philosophy displayed,-- Used to it, no doubt, as eels are to be flayed.

VIII.

Juan was juvenile, and thus was full, As most at his age are, of hope, and health; Yet I must own, he looked a little dull, And now and then a tear stole down by stealth; Perhaps his recent loss of blood might pull His spirit down; and then the loss of wealth, A mistress, and such comfortable quarters, To be put up for auction amongst Tartars,

IX.

Were things to shake a Stoic; ne'ertheless, Upon the whole his carriage was serene: His figure, and the splendour of his dress, Of which some gilded remnants still were seen, Drew all eyes on him, giving them to guess He was above the vulgar by his mien; And then, though pale, he was so very handsome; And then--they calculated on his ransom.[eu]

X.

Like a backgammon board the place was dotted With whites and blacks, in groups on show for sale, Though rather more irregularly spotted: Some bought the jet, while others chose the pale. It chanced amongst the other people lotted,[ev] A man of thirty, rather stout and hale, With resolution in his dark grey eye, Next Juan stood, till some might choose to buy.

XI.

He had an English look; that is, was square In make, of a complexion white and ruddy, Good teeth, with curling rather dark brown hair, And, it might be from thought, or toil, or study, An open brow a little marked with care: One arm had on a bandage rather bloody; And there he stood with such _sang froid,_ that greater Could scarce be shown even by a mere spectator.

XII.

But seeing at his elbow a mere lad, Of a high spirit evidently, though At present weighed down by a doom which had O'erthrown even men, he soon began to show A kind of blunt compassion for the sad Lot of so young a partner in the woe, Which for himself he seemed to deem no worse Than any other scrape, a thing of course.

XIII.

"My boy!"--said he, "amidst this motley crew Of Georgians, Russians, Nubians, and what not, All ragamuffins differing but in hue, With whom it is our luck to cast our lot, The only gentlemen seem I and you; So let us be acquainted, as we ought: If I could yield you any consolation, 'T would give me pleasure.--Pray, what is your nation?"

XIV.

When Juan answered--"Spanish!" he replied, "I thought, in fact, you could not be a Greek; Those servile dogs are not so proudly eyed: Fortune has played you here a pretty freak, But that's her way with all men, till they're tried; But never mind,--she'll turn, perhaps, next week; She has served me also much the same as you, Except that I have found it nothing new."

XV.

"Pray, sir," said Juan, "if I may presume, _What_ brought you here?"--"Oh! nothing very rare-- Six Tartars and a drag-chain----"--"To this doom But what conducted, if the question 's fair, Is that which I would learn."--"I served for some Months with the Russian army here and there; And taking lately, by Suwarrow's bidding, A town, was ta'en myself instead of Widdin."[275]

XVI.

"Have you no friends?"--"I had--but, by God's blessing, Have not been troubled with them lately. Now I have answered all your questions without pressing, And you an equal courtesy should show." "Alas!" said Juan, "'t were a tale distressing, And long besides."--"Oh! if 't is really so, You're right on both accounts to hold your tongue; A sad tale saddens doubly when 't is long.

XVII.

"But droop not: Fortune at your time of life, Although a female moderately fickle, Will hardly leave you (as she's not your wife) For any length of days in such a pickle. To strive, too, with our fate were such a strife As if the corn-sheaf should oppose the sickle: Men are the sport of circumstances, when The circumstances seem the sport of men."

XVIII.

"'T is not," said Juan, "for my present doom I mourn, but for the past;--I loved a maid:"-- He paused, and his dark eye grew full of gloom; A single tear upon his eyelash staid A moment, and then dropped; "but to resume, 'Tis not my present lot, as I have said, Which I deplore so much; for I have borne Hardships which have the hardiest overworn,

XIX.

"On the rough deep. But this last blow--" and here He stopped again, and turned away his face. "Aye," quoth his friend, "I thought it would appear That there had been a lady in the case; And these are things which ask a tender tear, Such as I, too, would shed if in your place: I cried upon my first wife's dying day, And also when my second ran away:

XX.

"My third----"--"Your third!" quoth Juan, turning round; "You scarcely can be thirty: have you three?" "No--only two at present above ground: Surely 't is nothing wonderful to see One person thrice in holy wedlock bound!" "Well, then, your third," said Juan; "what did she? She did not run away, too,--did she, sir?" "No, faith."--"What then?"--"I ran away from her."

XXI.

"You take things coolly, sir," said Juan. "Why," Replied the other, "what can a man do? There still are many rainbows in your sky, But mine have vanished. All, when Life is new, Commence with feelings warm, and prospects high; But Time strips our illusions of their hue, And one by one in turn, some grand mistake Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake.

XXII.

"'T is true, it gets another bright and fresh, Or fresher, brighter; but the year gone through, This skin must go the way, too, of all flesh, Or sometimes only wear a week or two;-- Love's the first net which spreads its deadly mesh; Ambition, Avarice, Vengeance, Glory, glue The glittering lime-twigs of our latter days, Where still we flutter on for pence or praise."

XXIII.

"All this is very fine, and may be true," Said Juan; "but I really don't see how It betters present times with me or you." "No?" quoth the other; "yet you will allow By setting things in their right point of view, Knowledge, at least, is gained; for instance, now, We know what slavery is, and our disasters May teach us better to behave when masters."

XXIV.

"Would we were masters now, if but to try Their present lessons on our Pagan friends here," Said Juan,--swallowing a heart-burning sigh: "Heaven help the scholar, whom his fortune sends here!" "Perhaps we shall be one day, by and by," Rejoined the other, "when our bad luck mends here; Meantime (yon old black eunuch seems to eye us) I wish to G--d that somebody would buy us.

XXV.

"But after all, what _is_ our present state? 'T is bad, and may be better--all men's lot: Most men are slaves, none more so than the great, To their own whims and passions, and what not; Society itself, which should create Kindness, destroys what little we had got: To feel for none is the true social art Of the world's Stoics--men without a heart."

XXVI.

Just now a black old neutral personage Of the third sex stepped up, and peering over The captives seemed to mark their looks and age, And capabilities, as to discover If they were fitted for the purposed cage: No lady e'er is ogled by a lover, Horse by a blackleg, broadcloth by a tailor, Fee by a counsel, felon by a jailor,

XXVII.

As is a slave by his intended bidder. 'T is pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures; And all are to be sold, if you consider Their passions, and are dext'rous; some by features Are bought up, others by a warlike leader, Some by a place--as tend their years or natures: The most by ready cash--but all have prices, From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.

XXVIII.

The eunuch, having eyed them o'er with care, Turned to the merchant, and began to bid First but for one, and after for the pair; They haggled, wrangled, swore, too--so they did! As though they were in a mere Christian fair, Cheapening an ox, an ass, a lamb, or kid; So that their bargain sounded like a battle For this superior yoke of human cattle.

XXIX.

At last they settled into simple grumbling, And pulling out reluctant purses, and Turning each piece of silver o'er, and tumbling Some down, and weighing others in their hand, And by mistake sequins[276] with paras jumbling, Until the sum was accurately scanned, And then the merchant giving change, and signing Receipts in full, began to think of dining.

XXX.

I wonder if his appetite was good? Or, if it were, if also his digestion? Methinks at meals some odd thoughts might intrude, And Conscience ask a curious sort of question, About the right divine how far we should Sell flesh and blood. When dinner has oppressed one, I think it is perhaps the gloomiest hour Which turns up out of the sad twenty-four.

XXXI.

Voltaire says "No:" he tells you that Candide Found life most tolerable after meals;[277] He's wrong--unless man were a pig, indeed, Repletion rather adds to what he feels, Unless he's drunk, and then no doubt he's freed From his own brain's oppression while it reels. Of food I think with Philip's son[278] or rather Ammon's (ill pleased with one world and one father);[ew]

XXXII.

I think with Alexander, that the act Of eating, with another act or two, Makes us feel our mortality in fact Redoubled; when a roast and a ragout, And fish, and soup, by some side dishes backed, Can give us either pain or pleasure, who Would pique himself on intellects, whose use Depends so much upon the gastric juice?

XXXIII.

The other evening ('t was on Friday last)-- This is a fact, and no poetic fable-- Just as my great coat was about me cast, My hat and gloves still lying on the table, I heard a shot--'t was eight o'clock scarce past-- And, running out as fast as I was able,[279] I found the military commandant Stretched in the street, and able scarce to pant.

XXXIV.

Poor fellow! for some reason, surely bad, They had slain him with five slugs; and left him there To perish on the pavement: so I had Him borne into the house and up the stair, And stripped, and looked to[ex]----But why should I add More circumstances? vain was every care; The man was gone--in some Italian quarrel Killed by five bullets from an old gun-barrel.

XXXV.

I gazed upon him, for I knew him well; And though I have seen many corpses, never Saw one, whom such an accident befell, So calm; though pierced through stomach, heart, and liver, He seemed to sleep,--for you could scarcely tell (As he bled inwardly, no hideous river Of gore divulged the cause) that he was dead: So as I gazed on him, I thought or said--

XXXVI.

"Can this be Death? then what is Life or Death? Speak!" but he spoke not: "wake!" but still he slept:-- "But yesterday and who had mightier breath? A thousand warriors by his word were kept In awe: he said, as the Centurion saith, 'Go,' and he goeth; 'come,' and forth he stepped. The trump and bugle till he spake were dumb-- And now nought left him but the muffled drum."[ey]

XXXVII.

And they who waited once and worshipped--they With their rough faces thronged about the bed To gaze once more on the commanding clay Which for the last, though not the first, time bled; And such an end! that he who many a day Had faced Napoleon's foes until they fled,-- The foremost in the charge or in the sally, Should now be butchered in a civic alley.

XXXVIII.

The scars of his old wounds were near his new, Those honourable scars which brought him fame; And horrid was the contrast to the view---- But let me quit the theme; as such things claim Perhaps even more attention than is due From me: I gazed (as oft I have gazed the same) To try if I could wrench aught out of Death Which should confirm, or shake, or make a faith;

XXXIX.

But it was all a mystery. Here we are, And there we go:--but _where_? five bits of lead, Or three, or two, or one, send very far! And is this blood, then, formed but to be shed? Can every element our elements mar? And Air--Earth--Water--Fire live--and we dead? _We_, whose minds comprehend all things? No more; But let us to the story as before.

XL.

The purchaser of Juan and acquaintance Bore off his bargains to a gilded boat, Embarked himself and them, and off they went thence As fast as oars could pull and water float; They looked like persons being led to sentence, Wondering what next, till the caique[280] was brought Up in a little creek below a wall O'ertopped with cypresses, dark-green and tall.

XLI.

Here their conductor tapping at the wicket Of a small iron door, 't was opened, and He led them onward, first through a low thicket Flanked by large groves, which towered on either hand: They almost lost their way, and had to pick it-- For night was closing ere they came to land. The eunuch made a sign to those on board, Who rowed off, leaving them without a word.

XLII.

As they were plodding on their winding way Through orange bowers, and jasmine, and so forth: (Of which I might have a good deal to say, There being no such profusion in the North Of oriental plants, _et cetera_, But that of late your scribblers think it worth Their while to rear whole hotbeds in _their_ works, Because _one_ poet travelled 'mongst the Turks:)[281]

XLIII.

As they were threading on their way, there came Into Don Juan's head a thought, which he Whispered to his companion:--'t was the same Which might have then occurred to you or me. "Methinks,"--said he,--"it would be no great shame If we should strike a stroke to set us free; Let's knock that old black fellow on the head, And march away--'t were easier done than said."

XLIV.

"Yes," said the other, "and when done, what then? _How_ get out? how the devil got we in? And when we once were fairly out, and when From Saint Bartholomew we have saved our skin,[282][ez] To-morrow'd see us in some other den, And worse off than we hitherto have been; Besides, I'm hungry, and just now would take, Like Esau, for my birthright a beef-steak.

XLV.

"We must be near some place of man's abode;-- For the old negro's confidence in creeping, With his two captives, by so queer a road, Shows that he thinks his friends have not been sleeping; A single cry would bring them all abroad: 'T is better therefore looking before leaping-- And there, you see, this turn has brought us through, By Jove, a noble palace!--lighted too."

XLVI.

It was indeed a wide extensive building Which opened on their view, and o'er the front There seemed to be besprent a deal of gilding And various hues, as is the Turkish wont,-- A gaudy taste; for they are little skilled in The arts of which these lands were once the font: Each villa on the Bosphorus looks a screen New painted, or a pretty opera-scene.[283]

XLVII.

And nearer as they came, a genial savour Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus, Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour, Made Juan in his harsh intentions pause, And put himself upon his good behaviour: His friend, too, adding a new saving clause, Said, "In Heaven's name let's get some supper now, And then I'm with you, if you're for a row."

XLVIII.

Some talk of an appeal unto some passion, Some to men's feelings, others to their reason; The last of these was never much the fashion, For Reason thinks all reasoning out of season: Some speakers whine, and others lay the lash on, But more or less continue still to tease on, With arguments according to their "forte:" But no one ever dreams of being short.--

XLIX.

But I digress: of all appeals,--although I grant the power of pathos, and of gold, Of beauty, flattery, threats, a shilling,--no Method's more sure at moments to take hold[fa] Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow More tender, as we every day behold, Than that all-softening, overpowering knell, The Tocsin of the Soul--the dinner-bell.

L.

Turkey contains no bells, and yet men dine; And Juan and his friend, albeit they heard No Christian knoll to table, saw no line Of lackeys usher to the feast prepared, Yet smelt roast-meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared, And gazed around them to the left and right, With the prophetic eye of appetite.

LI.

And giving up all notions of resistance, They followed close behind their sable guide, Who little thought that his own cracked existence Was on the point of being set aside: He motioned them to stop at some small distance, And knocking at the gate, 't was opened wide, And a magnificent large hall displayed The Asian pomp of Ottoman parade.

LII.

I won't describe; description is my "forte," But every fool describes in these bright days His wondrous journey to some foreign court, And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise-- Death to his publisher, to him 't is sport; While Nature, tortured twenty thousand ways, Resigns herself with exemplary patience To guide-books, rhymes, tours, sketches, illustrations.[284]

LIII.

Along this hall, and up and down, some, squatted Upon their hams, were occupied at chess; Others in monosyllable talk chatted, And some seemed much in love with their own dress; And divers smoked superb pipes decorated With amber mouths of greater price or less; And several strutted, others slept, and some Prepared for supper with a glass of rum.[285]

LIV.

As the black eunuch entered with his brace Of purchased Infidels, some raised their eyes A moment, without slackening from their pace; But those who sate ne'er stirred in any wise: One or two stared the captives in the face, Just as one views a horse to guess his price; Some nodded to the negro from their station, But no one troubled him with conversation.[286]

LV.

He leads them through the hall, and, without stopping, On through a farther range of goodly rooms, Splendid, but silent, save in _one_, where dropping[287] A marble fountain echoes through the glooms Of night which robe the chamber, or where popping Some female head most curiously presumes To thrust its black eyes through the door or lattice, As wondering what the _devil_ noise that is!

LVI.

Some faint lamps gleaming from the lofty walls Gave light enough to hint their farther way, But not enough to show the imperial halls In all the flashing of their full array; Perhaps there's nothing--I'll not say appals, But saddens more by night as well as day, Than an enormous room without a soul[288] To break the lifeless splendour of the whole.

LVII.

Two or three seem so little, _one_ seems nothing: In deserts, forests, crowds, or by the shore, _There_ Solitude, we know, has her full growth in The spots which were her realms for evermore; But in a mighty hall or gallery, both in More modern buildings and those built of yore, A kind of Death comes o'er us all alone, Seeing what's meant for many with but one.

LVIII.

A neat, snug study on a winter's night,[fb] A book, friend, single lady, or a glass Of claret, sandwich, and an appetite, Are things which make an English evening pass-- Though _certes_ by no means so grand a sight As is a theatre lit up by gas-- _I_ pass my evenings in long galleries solely,[fc][289] And that's the reason I'm so melancholy.

LIX.

Alas! Man makes that great which makes him little-- I grant you in a church 't is very well: What speaks of Heaven should by no means be brittle, But strong and lasting, till no tongue can tell Their names who reared it; but huge houses fit ill, And huge tombs, worse, Mankind--since Adam fell: Methinks the story of the tower of Babel Might teach them this much better than I'm able.

LX.

Babel was Nimrod's hunting-box, and then A town of gardens, walls, and wealth amazing, Where Nabuchadonosor,[290] King of men, Reigned, till one summer's day he took to grazing, And Daniel tamed the lions in their den, The people's awe and admiration raising; 'T was famous, too, for Thisbe and for Pyramus,[291] And the calumniated queen Semiramis--

LXI.

That injured Queen, by chroniclers[292] so coarse, Has been accused (I doubt not by conspiracy) Of an improper friendship for her horse (Love, like Religion, sometimes runs to heresy): This monstrous tale had probably its source (For such exaggerations here and there I see) In writing "Courser" by mistake for "Courier:"[fd] I wish the case could come before a jury here.[293]

LXII.

But to resume,--should there be (what may not Be in these days?) some infidels, who don't, Because they can't find out the very spot Of that same Babel, or because they won't (Though Claudius Rich, Esquire, some bricks has got, And written lately two memoirs upon't),[294] Believe the Jews, those unbelievers, who Must be believed, though they believe not you:

LXIII.

Yet let them think that Horace has expressed Shortly and sweetly the masonic folly Of those, forgetting the great place of rest, Who give themselves to Architecture wholly; We know where things and men must end at best: A moral (like all morals) melancholy, And "Et sepulchri immemor struis domos" Shows that we build when we should but entomb us.

LXIV.

At last they reached a quarter most retired, Where Echo woke as if from a long slumber; Though full of all things which could be desired, One wondered what to do with such a number Of articles which nobody required; Here Wealth had done its utmost to encumber With furniture an exquisite apartment, Which puzzled Nature much to know what Art meant.

LXV.

It seemed, however, but to open on A range or suite of further chambers, which Might lead to Heaven knows where; but in this one The moveables were prodigally rich: Sofas 't was half a sin to sit upon, So costly were they; carpets every stitch Of workmanship so rare, they made you wish You could glide o'er them like a golden fish.

LXVI.

The black, however, without hardly deigning A glance at that which wrapped the slaves in wonder, Trampled what they scarce trod for fear of staining, As if the milky way their feet was under With all its stars; and with a stretch attaining A certain press or cupboard niched in yonder, In that remote recess which you may see-- Or if you don't the fault is not in me,--

LXVII.

I wish to be perspicuous--and the black, I say, unlocking the recess, pulled forth A quantity of clothes fit for the back Of any Mussulman, whate'er his worth: And of variety there was no lack-- And yet, though I have said there was no dearth,-- He chose himself to point out what he thought Most proper for the Christians he had bought.

LXVIII.

The suit he thought most suitable to each Was, for the elder and the stouter, first A Candiote cloak, which to the knee might reach, And trousers not so tight that they would burst, But such as fit an Asiatic breech; A shawl, whose folds in Cashmire had been nursed, Slippers of saffron, dagger rich and handy; In short, all things which form a Turkish Dandy.

LXIX.

While he was dressing, Baba, their black friend, Hinted the vast advantages which they Might probably attain both in the end, If they would but pursue the proper way Which Fortune plainly seemed to recommend; And then he added, that he needs must say, "'T would greatly tend to better their condition, If they would condescend to circumcision.

LXX.

"For his own part, he really should rejoice To see them true believers, but no less Would leave his proposition to their choice." The other, thanking him for this excess Of goodness, in thus leaving them a voice In such a trifle, scarcely could express "Sufficiently" (he said) "his approbation Of all the customs of this polished nation.

LXXI.

"For his own share--he saw but small objection To so respectable an ancient rite; And, after swallowing down a slight refection, For which he owned a present appetite, He doubted not a few hours of reflection Would reconcile him to the business quite." "Will it?" said Juan, sharply: "Strike me dead, But they as soon shall circumcise my head![fe]

LXXII.

"Cut off a thousand heads, before----"--"Now, pray," Replied the other, "do not interrupt: You put me out in what I had to say. Sir!--as I said, as soon as I have supped, I shall perpend if your proposal may Be such as I can properly accept; Provided always your great goodness still Remits the matter to our own free-will."

LXXIII.

Baba eyed Juan, and said, "Be so good As dress yourself--" and pointed out a suit In which a Princess with great pleasure would Array her limbs; but Juan standing mute, As not being in a masquerading mood, Gave it a slight kick with his Christian foot; And when the old negro told him to "Get ready," Replied, "Old gentleman, I'm not a lady."

LXXIV.

"What you may be, I neither know nor care," Said Baba; "but pray do as I desire: I have no more time nor many words to spare." "At least," said Juan, "sure I may inquire The cause of this odd travesty?"--"Forbear," Said Baba, "to be curious; 't will transpire, No doubt, in proper place, and time, and season: I have no authority to tell the reason."

LXXV.

"Then if I do," said Juan, "I'll be----"--"Hold!" Rejoined the negro, "pray be not provoking; This spirit's well, but it may wax too bold, And you will find us not too fond of joking." "What, sir!" said Juan, "shall it e'er be told That I unsexed my dress?" But Baba, stroking The things down, said, "Incense me, and I call Those who will leave you of no sex at all.

LXXVI.

"I offer you a handsome suit of clothes: A woman's, true; but then there is a cause Why you should wear them."--"What, though my soul loathes The effeminate garb?"--thus, after a short pause, Sighed Juan, muttering also some slight oaths, "What the devil shall I do with all this gauze?" Thus he profanely termed the finest lace Which e'er set off a marriage-morning face.

LXXVII.

And then he swore; and, sighing, on he slipped A pair of trousers of flesh-coloured silk;[ff] Next with a virgin zone he was equipped, Which girt a slight chemise as white as milk; But tugging on his petticoat, he tripped, Which--as we say--or as the Scotch say, _whilk_,[295] (The rhyme obliges me to this; sometimes Monarchs are less imperative than rhymes)--[fg]

LXXVIII.

Whilk, which (or what you please), was owing to His garment's novelty, and his being awkward: And yet at last he managed to get through His toilet, though no doubt a little backward: The negro Baba helped a little too, When some untoward part of raiment stuck hard; And, wrestling both his arms into a gown, He paused, and took a survey up and down.

LXXIX.

One difficulty still remained--his hair Was hardly long enough; but Baba found So many false long tresses all to spare, That soon his head was most completely crowned, After the manner then in fashion there; And this addition with such gems was bound As suited the _ensemble_ of his toilet, While Baba made him comb his head and oil it.

LXXX.

And now being femininely all arrayed, With some small aid from scissors, paint, and tweezers, He looked in almost all respects a maid,[fh] And Baba smilingly exclaimed, "You see, sirs, A perfect transformation here displayed; And now, then, you must come along with me, sirs, That is--the Lady:" clapping his hands twice, Four blacks were at his elbow in a trice.

LXXXI.

"You, sir," said Baba, nodding to the one, "Will please to accompany those gentlemen To supper; but you, worthy Christian nun, Will follow me: no trifling, sir; for when I say a thing, it must at once be done. What fear you? think you this a lion's den? Why, 't is a palace; where the truly wise Anticipate the Prophet's paradise.

LXXXII.

"You fool! I tell you no one means you harm." "So much the better," Juan said, "for them; Else they shall feel the weight of this my arm, Which is not quite so light as you may deem. I yield thus far; but soon will break the charm, If any take me for that which I seem: So that I trust for every body's sake, That this disguise may lead to no mistake."

LXXXIII.

"Blockhead! come on, and see," quoth Baba; while Don Juan, turning to his comrade, who Though somewhat grieved, could scarce forbear a smile Upon the metamorphosis in view,-- "Farewell!" they mutually exclaimed: "this soil Seems fertile in adventures strange and new; One's turned half Mussulman, and one a maid, By this old black enchanter's unsought aid."

LXXXIV.

"Farewell!" said Juan: "should we meet no more, I wish you a good appetite."--"Farewell!" Replied the other; "though it grieves me sore: When we next meet, we'll have a tale to tell: We needs must follow when Fate puts from shore. Keep your good name; though Eve herself once fell." "Nay," quoth the maid, "the Sultan's self shan't carry me, Unless his Highness promises to marry me."

LXXXV.

And thus they parted, each by separate doors; Baba led Juan onward, room by room, Through glittering galleries, and o'er marble floors, Till a gigantic portal through the gloom, Haughty and huge, along the distance lowers; And wafted far arose a rich perfume: It seemed as though they came upon a shrine, For all was vast, still, fragrant, and divine.

LXXXVI.

The giant door was broad, and bright, and high, Of gilded bronze, and carved in curious guise; Warriors thereon were battling furiously; Here stalks the victor, there the vanquished lies; There captives led in triumph droop the eye, And in perspective many a squadron flies: It seems the work of times before the line Of Rome transplanted fell with Constantine.

LXXXVII.

This massy portal stood at the wide close Of a huge hall, and on its either side Two little dwarfs, the least you could suppose, Were sate, like ugly imps, as if allied In mockery to the enormous gate which rose O'er them in almost pyramidic pride: The gate so splendid was in all its _features_,[296] You never thought about those little creatures,

LXXXVIII.

Until you nearly trod on them, and then You started back in horror to survey The wondrous hideousness of those small men, Whose colour was not black, nor white, nor grey, But an extraneous mixture, which no pen Can trace, although perhaps the pencil may; They were mis-shapen pigmies, deaf and dumb-- Monsters, who cost a no less monstrous sum.

LXXXIX.

Their duty was--for they were strong, and though They looked so little, did strong things at times-- To ope this door, which they could really do, The hinges being as smooth as Rogers' rhymes; And now and then, with tough strings of the bow, As is the custom of those Eastern climes, To give some rebel Pacha a cravat-- For mutes are generally used for that.

XC.

They spoke by signs--that is, not spoke at all; And looking like two Incubi, they glared As Baba with his fingers made them fall To heaving back the portal folds: it scared Juan a moment, as this pair so small, With shrinking serpent optics on him stared;[297] It was as if their little looks could poison Or fascinate whome'er they fixed their eyes on.

XCI.

Before they entered, Baba paused to hint To Juan some slight lessons as his guide: "If you could just contrive," he said, "to stint That somewhat manly majesty of stride, 'T would be as well, and--(though there's not much in 't) To swing a little less from side to side, Which has at times an aspect of the oddest;-- And also could you look a little modest,

XCII.

"'T would be convenient; for these mutes have eyes Like needles, which may pierce those petticoats; And if they should discover your disguise, You know how near us the deep Bosphorus floats; And you and I may chance, ere morning rise, To find our way to Marmora without boats, Stitched up in sacks--a mode of navigation A good deal practised here upon occasion."[298]

XCIII.

With this encouragement he led the way Into a room still nobler than the last; A rich confusion formed a disarray In such sort, that the eye along it cast Could hardly carry anything away, Object on object flashed so bright and fast; A dazzling mass of gems, and gold, and glitter, Magnificently mingled in a litter.

XCIV.

Wealth had done wonders--taste not much; such things Occur in Orient palaces, and even In the more chastened domes of Western kings (Of which I have also seen some six or seven), Where I can't say or gold or diamond flings Great lustre, there is much to be forgiven; Groups of bad statues, tables, chairs, and pictures, On which I cannot pause to make my strictures.

XCV.

In this imperial hall, at distance lay Under a canopy, and there reclined Quite in a confidential queenly way, A lady; Baba stopped, and kneeling signed To Juan, who though not much used to pray, Knelt down by instinct, wondering in his mind What all this meant: while Baba bowed and bended His head, until the ceremony ended.

XCVI.

The lady rising up with such an air As Venus rose with from the wave, on them Bent like an antelope a Paphian pair[fi] Of eyes, which put out each surrounding gem; And raising up an arm as moonlight fair, She signed to Baba, who first kissed the hem Of her deep purple robe, and, speaking low, Pointed to Juan who remained below.

XCVII.

Her presence was as lofty as her state; Her beauty of that overpowering kind, Whose force Description only would abate: I'd rather leave it much to your own mind, Than lessen it by what I could relate Of forms and features; it would strike you blind Could I do justice to the full detail; So, luckily for both, my phrases fail.

XCVIII.

Thus much however I may add,--her years Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs, But there are forms which Time to touch forbears, And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things:[fj] Such as was Mary's, Queen of Scots; true--tears And Love destroy; and sapping Sorrow wrings Charms from the charmer, yet some never grow Ugly; for instance--Ninon de l'Enclos.[299]

XCIX.

She spake some words to her attendants, who Composed a choir of girls, ten or a dozen, And were all clad alike; like Juan, too, Who wore their uniform, by Baba chosen: They formed a very nymph-like looking crew,[300] Which might have called Diana's chorus "cousin," As far as outward show may correspond-- I won't be bail for anything beyond.

C.

They bowed obeisance and withdrew, retiring, But not by the same door through which came in Baba and Juan, which last stood admiring, At some small distance, all he saw within This strange saloon, much fitted for inspiring Marvel and praise; for both or none things win; And I must say, I ne'er could see the very Great happiness of the "Nil admirari."[301]

CI.

"Not to admire is all the art I know (Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech)-- To make men happy, or to keep them so" (So take it in the very words of Creech)-- Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago; And thus Pope[302] quotes the precept to re-teach From his translation; but had _none admired_, Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired?[303]

CII.

Baba, when all the damsels were withdrawn, Motioned to Juan to approach, and then A second time desired him to kneel down, And kiss the lady's foot; which maxim when He heard repeated, Juan with a frown Drew himself up to his full height again, And said, "It grieved him, but he could not stoop To any shoe, unless it shod the Pope."

CII.

Baba, indignant at this ill-timed pride, Made fierce remonstrances, and then a threat He muttered (but the last was given aside) About a bow-string--quite in vain; not yet Would Juan bend, though 't were to Mahomet's bride: There's nothing in the world like _etiquette_ In kingly chambers or imperial halls, As also at the Race and County Balls.

CIV.

He stood like Atlas, with a world of words About his ears, and nathless would not bend; The blood of all his line's Castilian lords Boiled in his veins, and, rather than descend To stain his pedigree, a thousand swords A thousand times of him had made an end; At length perceiving the "_foot_" could not stand, Baba proposed that he should kiss the hand,

CV.

Here was an honourable compromise, A half-way house of diplomatic rest, Where they might meet in much more peaceful guise; And Juan now his willingness expressed To use all fit and proper courtesies, Adding, that this was commonest and best, For through the South, the custom still commands The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.

CVI.

And he advanced, though with but a bad grace, Though on more _thorough-bred_[304] or fairer fingers No lips e'er left their transitory trace: On such as these the lip too fondly lingers, And for one kiss would fain imprint a brace, As you will see, if she you love shall bring hers In contact; and sometimes even a fair stranger's An almost twelvemonth's constancy endangers.

CVII.

The lady eyed him o'er and o'er, and bade Baba retire, which he obeyed in style, As if well used to the retreating trade; And taking hints in good part all the while, He whispered Juan not to be afraid, And looking on him with a sort of smile, Took leave, with such a face of satisfaction, As good men wear who have done a virtuous action.

CVIII.

When he was gone, there was a sudden change: I know not what might be the lady's thought, But o'er her bright brow flashed a tumult strange, And into her clear cheek the blood was brought, Blood-red as sunset summer clouds which range The verge of Heaven; and in her large eyes wrought, A mixture of sensations might be scanned, Of half voluptuousness and half command.

CIX.

Her form had all the softness of her sex, Her features all the sweetness of the Devil, When he put on the Cherub to perplex[305] Eve, and paved (God knows how) the road to evil; The Sun himself was scarce more free from specks Than she from aught at which the eye could cavil; Yet, somehow, there was something somewhere wanting, As if she rather _ordered_ than was _granting_.--

CX.

Something imperial, or imperious, threw A chain o'er all she did; that is, a chain Was thrown as 't were about the neck of you,-- And Rapture's self will seem almost a pain With aught which looks like despotism in view; Our souls at least are free, and 't is in vain We would against them make the flesh obey-- The spirit in the end will have its way.

CXI.

Her very smile was haughty, though so sweet; Her very nod was not an inclination; There was a self-will even in her small feet, As though they were quite conscious of her station-- They trod as upon necks; and to complete Her state (it is the custom of her nation), A poniard decked her girdle, as the sign She was a Sultan's bride (thank Heaven, not mine!).

CXII.

"To hear and to obey" had been from birth The law of all around her; to fulfil All phantasies which yielded joy or mirth, Had been her slaves' chief pleasure, as her will; Her blood was high, her beauty scarce of earth: Judge, then, if her caprices e'er stood still; Had she but been a Christian, I've a notion We should have found out the "perpetual motion."

CXIII.

Whate'er she saw and coveted was brought; Whate'er she did _not_ see, if she supposed It might be seen, with diligence was sought, And when 't was found straightway the bargain closed: There was no end unto the things she bought, Nor to the trouble which her fancies caused; Yet even her tyranny had such a grace, The women pardoned all except her face.[fk]

CXIV.

Juan, the latest of her whims, had caught Her eye in passing on his way to sale; She ordered him directly to be bought, And Baba, who had ne'er been known to fail In any kind of mischief to be wrought, At all such auctions knew how to prevail:[fl] She had no prudence, but he had--and this Explains the garb which Juan took amiss.

CXV.

His youth and features favoured the disguise, And should you ask how she, a Sultan's bride, Could risk or compass such strange phantasies, This I must leave sultanas to decide: Emperors are only husbands in wives' eyes, And kings and consorts oft are mystified,[fm] As we may ascertain with due precision, Some by experience, others by tradition.

CXVI.

But to the main point, where we have been tending:-- She now conceived all difficulties past, And deemed herself extremely condescending When, being made her property at last, Without more preface, in her blue eyes blending Passion and power, a glance on him she cast, And merely saying, "Christian, canst thou love?" Conceived that phrase was quite enough to move.

CXVII.

And so it was, in proper time and place; But Juan, who had still his mind o'erflowing With Haidée's isle and soft Ionian face, Felt the warm blood, which in his face was glowing Rush back upon his heart, which filled apace, And left his cheeks as pale as snowdrops blowing: These words went through his soul like Arab spears,[306] So that he spoke not, but burst into tears.

CXVIII.

She was a good deal shocked; not shocked at tears, For women shed and use them at their liking; But there is something when man's eye appears Wet, still more disagreeable and striking: A woman's tear-drop melts, a man's half sears, Like molten lead, as if you thrust a pike in His heart to force it out, for (to be shorter) To them 't is a relief, to us a torture.

CXIX.

And she would have consoled, but knew not how: Having no equals, nothing which had e'er Infected her with sympathy till now, And never having dreamt what 't was to bear Aught of a serious, sorrowing kind, although There might arise some pouting petty care To cross her brow, she wondered how so near Her eyes another's eye could shed a tear.

CXX.

But Nature teaches more than power can spoil,[fn] And, when a strong although a strange sensation Moves--female hearts are such a genial soil For kinder feelings, whatso'er their nation, They naturally pour the "wine and oil," Samaritans in every situation; And thus Gulbeyaz, though she knew not why, Felt an odd glistening moisture in her eye.

CXXI.

But tears must stop like all things else; and soon Juan, who for an instant had been moved To such a sorrow by the intrusive tone Of one who dared to ask if "he _had_ loved," Called back the Stoic to his eyes, which shone Bright with the very weakness he reproved; And although sensitive to beauty, he Felt most indignant still at not being free.

CXXII.

Gulbeyaz, for the first time in her days, Was much embarrassed, never having met In all her life with aught save prayers and praise; And as she also risked her life to get Him whom she meant to tutor in love's ways Into a comfortable tête-à-tête, To lose the hour would make her quite a martyr, And they had wasted now almost a quarter.

CXXIII.

I also would suggest the fitting time To gentlemen in any such like case, That is to say in a meridian clime-- With us there is more law given to the chase, But here a small delay forms a great crime: So recollect that the extremest grace Is just two minutes for your declaration-- A moment more would hurt your reputation.

CXXIV.

Juan's was good; and might have been still better, But he had got Haidée into his head: However strange, he could not yet forget her, Which made him seem exceedingly ill-bred. Gulbeyaz, who looked on him as her debtor For having had him to her palace led, Began to blush up to the eyes, and then Grow deadly pale, and then blush back again.

CXXV.

At length, in an imperial way, she laid Her hand on his, and bending on him eyes Which needed not an empire to persuade, Looked into his for love, where none replies: Her brow grew black, but she would not upbraid, That being the last thing a proud woman tries; She rose, and pausing one chaste moment threw Herself upon his breast, and there she grew.

CXXVI.

This was an awkward test, as Juan found, But he was steeled by Sorrow, Wrath, and Pride: With gentle force her white arms he unwound, And seated her all drooping by his side, Then rising haughtily he glanced around, And looking coldly in her face he cried, "The prisoned eagle will not pair, nor I Serve a Sultana's sensual phantasy.

CXXVII.

"Thou ask'st, if I can love? be this the proof How much I _have_ loved--that I love not _thee!_ In this vile garb, the distaff, web, and woof, Were fitter for me: Love is for the free! I am not dazzled by this splendid roof; Whate'er thy power, and great it seems to be, Heads bow, knees bend, eyes watch around a throne, And hands obey--our hearts are still our own."

CXXVIII.

This was a truth to us extremely trite; Not so to her, who ne'er had heard such things: She deemed her least command must yield delight, Earth being only made for Queens and Kings. If hearts lay on the left side or the right She hardly knew, to such perfection brings Legitimacy its born votaries, when Aware of their due royal rights o'er men.

CXXIX.

Besides, as has been said, she was so fair As even in a much humbler lot had made A kingdom or confusion anywhere, And also, as may be presumed, she laid Some stress on charms, which seldom are, if e'er, By their possessors thrown into the shade: She thought hers gave a double "right divine;" And half of that opinion's also mine.

CXXX.

Remember, or (if you can not) imagine, Ye! who have kept your chastity when young, While some more desperate dowager has been waging Love with you, and been in the dog-days stung[fo] By your refusal, recollect her raging! Or recollect all that was said or sung On such a subject; then suppose the face Of a young downright beauty in this case!

CXXXI.

Suppose,--but you already have supposed, The spouse of Potiphar, the Lady Booby,[307] Phaedra,[308] and all which story has disclosed Of good examples; pity that so few by Poets and private tutors are exposed,[fp] To educate--ye youth of Europe--you by! But when you have supposed the few we know, You can't suppose Gulbeyaz' angry brow.

CXXXII.

A tigress robbed of young, a lioness, Or any interesting beast of prey, Are similes at hand for the distress Of ladies who can _not_ have their own way; But though my turn will not be served with less, These don't express one half what I should say: For what is stealing young ones, few or many, To cutting short their hope of having _any?_

CXXXIII.

The love of offspring's Nature's general law, From tigresses and cubs to ducks and ducklings; There's nothing whets the beak, or arms the claw Like an invasion of their babes and sucklings; And all who have seen a human nursery, saw How mothers love their children's squalls and chucklings: This strong extreme effect (to tire no longer Your patience) shows the cause must still be stronger.[fq]

CXXXIV.

If I said fire flashed from Gulbeyaz' eyes, 'T were nothing--for her eyes flashed always fire; Or said her cheeks assumed the deepest dyes, I should but bring disgrace upon the dyer, So supernatural was her passion's rise; For ne'er till now she knew a checked desire: Even ye who know what a checked woman is (Enough, God knows!) would much fall short of this.

CXXXV.

Her rage was but a minute's, and 't was well-- A moment's more had slain her; but the while It lasted 't was like a short glimpse of Hell: Nought's more sublime than energetic bile, Though horrible to see, yet grand to tell, Like Ocean warring 'gainst a rocky isle; And the deep passions flashing through her form Made her a beautiful embodied storm.

CXXXVI.

A vulgar tempest 't were to a typhoon To match a common fury with her rage, And yet she did not want to reach the moon,[309] Like moderate Hotspur on the immortal page;[fr] Her anger pitched into a lower tune, Perhaps the fault of her soft sex and age-- Her wish was but to "kill, kill, kill," like Lear's,[310] And then her thirst of blood was quenched in tears.

CXXXVII.

A storm it raged, and like the storm it passed, Passed without words--in fact she could not speak; And then her sex's shame[311] broke in at last, A sentiment till then in her but weak, But now it flowed in natural and fast, As water through an unexpected leak; For she felt humbled--and humiliation Is sometimes good for people in her station.

CXXXVIII.

It teaches them that they are flesh and blood, It also gently hints to them that others, Although of clay, are yet not quite of mud; That urns and pipkins are but fragile brothers, And works of the same pottery, bad or good, Though not all born of the same sires and mothers; It teaches--Heaven knows only what it teaches, But sometimes it may mend, and often reaches.

CXXXIX.

Her first thought was to cut off Juan's head; Her second, to cut only his--acquaintance; Her third, to ask him where he had been bred; Her fourth, to rally him into repentance; Her fifth, to call her maids and go to bed; Her sixth, to stab herself; her seventh, to sentence The lash to Baba:--but her grand resource Was to sit down again, and cry--of course.

CXL.

She thought to stab herself, but then she had The dagger close at hand, which made it awkward; For Eastern stays are little made to pad, So that a poniard pierces if 't is struck hard: She thought of killing Juan--but, poor lad! Though he deserved it well for being so backward, The cutting off his head was not the art Most likely to attain her aim--his heart.

CXLI.

Juan was moved: he had made up his mind To be impaled, or quartered as a dish For dogs, or to be slain with pangs refined, Or thrown to lions, or made baits for fish, And thus heroically stood resigned, Rather than sin--except to his own wish: But all his great preparatives for dying Dissolved like snow before a woman crying.

CXLII.

As through his palms Bob Acres' valour oozed,[312] So Juan's virtue ebbed, I know not how; And first he wondered why he had refused; And then, if matters could be made up now; And next his savage virtue he accused, Just as a friar may accuse his vow, Or as a dame repents her of her oath, Which mostly ends in some small breach of both.

CXLIII.

So he began to stammer some excuses; But words are not enough in such a matter, Although you borrowed all that e'er the Muses Have sung, or even a Dandy's dandiest chatter, Or all the figures Castlereagh abuses;[fs] Just as a languid smile began to flatter His peace was making, but, before he ventured Further, old Baba rather briskly entered.

CXLIV.

"Bride of the Sun! and Sister of the Moon!" ('T was thus he spake,) "and Empress of the Earth! Whose frown would put the spheres all out of tune, Whose smile makes all the planets dance with mirth, Your slave brings tidings--he hopes not too soon-- Which your sublime attention may be worth: The Sun himself has sent me like a ray, To hint that he is coming up this way."

CXLV.

"Is it," exclaimed Gulbeyaz, "as you say? I wish to heaven he would not shine till morning! But bid my women form the milky way. Hence, my old comet! give the stars due warning--[ft] And, Christian! mingle with them as you may, And as you'd have me pardon your past scorning-----" Here they were interrupted by a humming Sound, and then by a cry, "The Sultan's coming!"

CXLVI.

First came her damsels, a decorous file, And then his Highness' eunuchs, black and white; The train might reach a quarter of a mile: His Majesty was always so polite As to announce his visits a long while Before he came, especially at night; For being the last wife of the Emperor, She was of course the favourite of the four.

CXLVII.

His Highness was a man of solemn port, Shawled to the nose, and bearded to the eyes, Snatched from a prison to preside at court, His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise; He was as good a sovereign of the sort As any mentioned in the histories Of Cantemir, or Knōllěs, where few shine[fu] Save Solyman, the glory of their line.[313]

CXLVIII.

He went to mosque in state, and said his prayers With more than "Oriental scrupulosity;"[314] He left to his vizier all state affairs, And showed but little royal curiosity: I know not if he had domestic cares-- No process proved connubial animosity; Four wives and twice five hundred maids, unseen, Were ruled as calmly as a Christian queen.[fv]

CXLIX.

If now and then there happened a slight slip, Little was heard of criminal or crime; The story scarcely passed a single lip-- The sack and sea had settled all in time, From which the secret nobody could rip: The public knew no more than does this rhyme; No scandals made the daily press a curse-- Morals were better, and the fish no worse.[fw]

CL.

He saw with his own eyes the moon was round, Was also certain that the earth was square, Because he had journeyed fifty miles, and found No sign that it was circular anywhere;[fx] His empire also was without a bound: 'T is true, a little troubled here and there, By rebel pachas, and encroaching giaours, But then they never came to "the Seven Towers;"[315]

CLI.

Except in shape of envoys, who were sent To lodge there when a war broke out, according To the true law of nations, which ne'er meant Those scoundrels, who have never had a sword in Their dirty diplomatic hands, to vent Their spleen in making strife, and safely wording Their lies, yclept despatches, without risk or The singeing of a single inky whisker.

CLII.

He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons, Of whom all such as came of age were stowed, The former in a palace, where like nuns They lived till some Bashaw was sent abroad, When she, whose turn it was, was wed at once, Sometimes at six years old[316]--though this seems odd, 'T is true; the reason is, that the Bashaw Must make a present to his sire-in-law.

CLIII.

His sons were kept in prison, till they grew Of years to fill a bowstring or the throne, One or the other, but which of the two Could yet be known unto the fates alone; Meantime the education they went through Was princely, as the proofs have always shown; So that the heir apparent still was found No less deserving to be hanged than crowned.

CLIV.

His Majesty saluted his fourth spouse With all the ceremonies of his rank, Who cleared her sparkling eyes and smoothed her brows, As suits a matron who has played a prank; These must seem doubly mindful of their vows, To save the credit of their breaking bank: To no men are such cordial greetings given As those whose wives have made them fit for Heaven.[317]

CLV.

His Highness cast around his great black eyes, And looking, as he always looked, perceived Juan amongst the damsels in disguise, At which he seemed no whit surprised nor grieved, But just remarked with air sedate and wise,[fy] While still a fluttering sigh Gulbeyaz heaved, "I see you've bought another girl; 't is pity That a mere Christian should be half so pretty."

CLVI.

This compliment, which drew all eyes upon The new-bought virgin, made her blush and shake. Her comrades, also, thought themselves undone: Oh! Mahomet! that his Majesty should take Such notice of a giaour, while scarce to one Of them his lips imperial ever spake! There was a general whisper, toss, and wriggle, But etiquette forbade them all to giggle.

CLVII.

The Turks do well to shut--at least, sometimes-- The women up--because, in sad reality, Their chastity in these unhappy climes[fz] Is not a thing of that astringent quality Which in the North prevents precocious crimes, And makes our snow less pure than our morality; The Sun, which yearly melts the polar ice, Has quite the contrary effect--on vice.

CLVIII.

Thus in the East they are extremely strict, And wedlock and a padlock mean the same: Excepting only when the former's picked It ne'er can be replaced in proper frame; Spoilt, as a pipe of claret is when pricked: But then their own polygamy's to blame; Why don't they knead two virtuous souls for life Into that moral centaur, man and wife?[318]

CLIX.

Thus far our chronicle; and now we pause, Though not for want of matter; but 't is time, According to the ancient epic laws, To slacken sail, and anchor with our rhyme. Let this fifth canto meet with due applause, The sixth shall have a touch of the sublime; Meanwhile, as Homer sometimes sleeps, perhaps You'll pardon to my muse a few short naps.[ga]

End of Canto 5^th^ Finished Ravenna, Nov. 27^th^ 1820. Begun Oct. 16, 1820. and finished copying out, Dec. 26. with some intermediate additions, 1820. B.

FOOTNOTES:

{218}[270] [Canto V. was begun at Ravenna, October the 16th, and finished November the 20th, 1820. It was published August 8, 1821, together with Cantos III. and IV.]

[271] This expression of Homer has been much criticized. It hardly answers to our Atlantic ideas of the ocean, but is sufficiently applicable to the Hellespont, and the Bosphorus, with the Aegean intersected with islands.

[_Vide_ _Iliad_, xiv. 245, etc. Homer's "ocean-stream" was not the Hellespont, but the rim of waters which encircled the disk of the world.]

{219}[272] ["The pleasure of going in a barge to Chelsea is not comparable to that of rowing upon the canal of the sea here, where, for twenty miles together, down the Bosphorus, the most beautiful variety of prospects present themselves. The Asian side is covered with fruit trees, villages, and the most delightful landscapes in nature; on the European stands Constantinople, situated on seven hills; showing an agreeable mixture of gardens, pine and cypress trees, palaces, mosques, and public buildings, raised one above another, with as much beauty and appearance of symmetry as your ladyship ever saw in a cabinet adorned by the most skilful hands, where jars show themselves above jars, mixed with canisters, babies, and candlesticks. This is a very odd comparison: but it gives me an exact idea of the thing."--See letter to Mr. Pope, No. xl. June 17, 1717, and letter to the Countess of Bristol, No. xlvi. n.d., _Letters of the Lady Mary Worthy Montagu,_ 1816, pp. 183-219. See, too, letter to Mrs. Byron, June 28, 1810, _Letters,_ 1890, i. 280, note 1.]

[273] [For Byron's "Marys," see _Poetical Works,_ 1898, i. 192, note 2.]

[274] The "Giant's Grave" is a height on the Asiatic shore of the Bosphorus, much frequented by holiday parties; like Harrow and Highgate.

["The Giant's Mountain, 650 feet high, is almost exactly opposite Buyukdereh ... It is called by the Turks Yoshadagh, _Mountain of Joshua,_ because the _Giant's Grave_ on the top is, according to the Moslem legend, the grave of Joshua. The grave was formerly called the _Couch of Hercules;_ but the classical story is that it was the tomb of Amycus, king of the Bebryces [on his grave grew the _laurus insana_, a branch of which caused strife (Plin., _Hist. Nat.,_ lib. xvi. cap. xliv. ed. 1593, ii. 198)]. The grave is 20 feet long, and 5 feet broad; it is within a stone enclosure, and is planted with flowers and bushes."--_Handbook for Constantinople,_ p. 103.]

{220}[et] _For then the Parca are most busy spinning_ _The fates of seamen, and the loud winds raise_.--[MS.]

{221}[eu] _That he a man of rank and birth had been_, _And then they calculated on his ransom_, _And last not least--he was so very handsome_.--[MS.]

[ev] _It chanced that near him, separately lotted_, _From out the group of slaves put up for sale_, _A man of middle age, and_----.--[MS.]

{222}[275] [The object of Suwarof's campaign of 1789 was the conquest of Belgrade and Servia, that of Wallachia by the Austrians, etc. Neither of these plans succeeded."--_The Life of Field-Marshal Suwarof,_ by L.M.P. Tranchant de Laverne, 1814, pp. 105, 106.]

{226}[276] [The Turkish zecchino is a gold coin, worth about seven shillings and sixpence. The para is not quite equal to an English halfpenny.]

[277] [Candide's increased satisfaction with life is implied in the narrative. For example, in chap, xviii., where Candide visits Eldorado:--"Never was there a better entertainment, and never was more wit shown at table than that which fell from His Majesty. Cacambo explained the king's _bons mots_ to Candide, and notwithstanding they were translated, they still appeared _bons mots._" This was after supper. See, too, Part II. chap, ii.]

[278] See Plutarch in _Alex._, Q. Curt. _Hist. Alexand._, and Sir Richard Clayton's "Critical Inquiry into the Life of Alexander the Great," 1763 [from the _Examen Critique, etc._, of Guilhem de Clermont-Lodève, Baron de Sainte Croix, 1775.]

["He used to say that sleep and the commerce with the sex were the things that made him most sensible of his mortality, ... He was also very temperate in eating."--Plutarch's _Alexander_, Langhorne, 1838, p. 473.]

[ew] _But for mere food, I think with Philip's son_, _Or Ammon's--for two fathers claimed this one_.--[MS.]

{227}[279] The assassination alluded to took place on the 8th of December, 1820, in the streets of Ravenna, not a hundred paces from the residence of the writer. The circumstances were as described.

["December 9, 1820. I open my letter to tell you a fact, which will show the state of this country better than I can. The commandant of the troops is _now_ lying _dead_ in my house. He was shot at a little past eight o'clock, about two hundred paces from my door. I was putting on my great coat to visit Madame la Comtessa G., when I heard the shot. On coming into the hall, I found all my servants on the balcony, exclaiming that a man was murdered. I immediately ran down, calling on Tita (the bravest of them) to follow me. The rest wanted to hinder us from going, as it is the custom for everybody here, it seems, to run away from 'the stricken deer.' ... we found him lying on his back, almost, if not quite, dead, with five wounds; one in the heart, two in the stomach, one in the finger, and the other in the arm. Some soldiers cocked their guns, and wanted to hinder me from passing. However, we passed, and I found Diego, the adjutant, crying over him like a child--a surgeon, who said nothing of his profession--a priest, sobbing a frightened prayer--and the commandant, all this time, on his back, on the hard, cold pavement, without light or assistance, or anything around him but confusion and dismay. As nobody could, or would, do anything but howl and pray, and as no one would stir a finger to move him, for fear of consequences, I lost my patience--made my servant and a couple of the mob take up the body--sent off two soldiers to the guard--despatched Diego to the Cardinal with the news, and had him carried upstairs into my own quarters. But it was too late--he was gone.... I had him partly stripped--made the surgeon examine him, and examined him myself. He had been shot by cut balls or slugs. I felt one of the slugs, which had gone through him, all but the skin.... He only said, 'O Dio!' and 'Gesu!' two or three times, and appeared to have suffered little. Poor fellow! he was a brave officer; but had made himself much disliked by the people."--Letter to Moore, December 9, 1820, _Letters,_ 1901, v. 133. The commandant's name was Del Pinto (_Life,_ p. 472).]

[ex] ---- _so I had_ _Him borne, as soon's I could, up several pair_ _Of stairs--and looked to,----But why should I add_ _More circumstances?_----.--[MS.]

[ey] _And now as silent as an unstrung drum_.--[MS.]

{229}[280] The light and elegant wherries plying about the quays of Constantinople are so called.

{230}[281] [_Ilderim, a Syrian Tale_, by Henry Gally Knight, was published in 1816; _Phrosyne, a Grecian Tale_, and _Alashtar, an Arabian Tale_, in 1817. Moore's _Lalla Kookh_ also appeared in 1817.]

[282] [St. Bartholomew was "discoriate, and flayed quick" (_Golden Legend_, 1900, v. 43).]

[ez] _We from impalement_----.--[MS.]

{231}[283] "Many of the seraï and summer-houses [on the Bosphorus] have received these significant, or rather fantastic names: one is the Pearl Pavilion; another is the Star Palace; a third the Mansion of Looking-glasses."--_Travels in Albania_, 1858, ii. 243.

{232}[fa] _Of speeches, beauty, flattery--there is no_ _Method more sure_----.--[MS.]

{233}[284] [_Guide des Voyageurs_; _Directions for Travellers_, etc.--_Rhymes, Incidental and Humorous_; _Rhyming Reminiscences_; _Effusions in Rhyme_, etc.--Lady Morgan's _Tour in Italy_; _Tour through Istria_, etc., etc.--_Sketches of Italy_; _Sketches of Modern Greece_, etc., etc.--_Historical Illustrations of the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold_, by J.C. Hobhouse, 1818.]

[285] In Turkey nothing is more common than for the Mussulmans to take several glasses of strong spirits by way of appetiser. I have seen them take as many as six of raki before dinner, and swear that they dined the better for it: I tried the experiment, but fared like the Scotchman, who having heard that the birds called kittiwakes were admirable whets, ate six of them, and complained that "he was no hungrier than when he began."

[286] ["Everything is so still [in the court of the Seraglio], that the motion of a fly might be heard, in a manner; and if any one should presume to raise his voice ever so little, or show the least want of respect to the Mansion-place of their Emperor, he would instantly have the bastinado by the officers that go the rounds."-_A Voyage in the Levant_, by M. Tournefort, 1741, ii. 183.]

{234}[287] _A common furniture. I recollect being received by Ali Pacha, in a large room, paved with marble, containing a marble basin, and fountain playing in the centre, etc., etc._

[Compare Childe Harold, Canto II. stanza lxii.--

"In marble-paved pavilion, where a spring Of living water from the centre rose, Whose bubbling did a genial freshness fling, And soft voluptuous couches breathed repose, Ali reclined, a man of war and woes," etc.]

[288] [A reminiscence of Newstead. Compare Moore's song, "Oft in the Stilly Night"--

"I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted."]

{235}[fb] _A small, snug chamber on a winter's night_, _Well furnished with a book, friend, girl, or glass, etc_.--[MS.]

[fc] _I pass my days in long dull galleries solely_.--[MS. erased.]

[289] [When this stanza was written Byron was domiciled in the Palazzo Guiccioli (in the Via di Porta Adriana) at Ravenna; but he may have had in his mind the monks' refectory at Newstead Abbey, "the dark gallery, where his fathers frowned" (_Lara_, Canto I. line 137), or the corridors which form the upper story of the cloisters.]

[290] ["Nabuch_o_donosor," here used _metri gratiâ_, is Latin (see the Vulgate) and French (see J.P. De Béranger, _Chansons Inédites_, 1828, p. 48) for Nebuchadnezzar.]

[291] [See Ovid's _Metamorphoses_, lib. iv. lines 55-58--

"In Babylon, where first her queen, for state, Raised walls of brick magnificently great, Lived Pyramus and Thisbe, lovely pair! He found no Eastern youth his equal there, And she beyond the fairest nymph was fair."

Garth.]

{236}[292] Babylon was enlarged by Nimrod, strengthened and beautified by Nabuchadonosor, and rebuilt by Semiramis.

[Pliny (_Nat. Hist._, lib. viii. cap. xlii. ed. 1593, i. 392) cites Juba, King of Mauretania, died A.D. 19, as his authority for the calumny.]

[fd] _In an Erratum of her Horse for Courier_.--[MS.]

[293] [Queen Caroline--whose trial (August--November, 1820) was proceeding whilst this canto was being written--was charged with having committed adultery with Bartolommeo Bergami, who had been her courier, and was, afterwards, her chamberlain.]

[294] ["_Memoir on the Ruins of Babylon_, by Claudius James Rich, Esq., Resident for the Honourable East India Company at the Court of the Pasha of Bagdad, 1815," pp. 61-64: _Second Memoir on Babylon,_ ... 1818, by Claudius James Rich. See the plates at the end of the volume.]

[fe] _If they shall not as soon cut off my head._--[MS.]

{240}[ff] _A pair of drawers_----.--[MS.]

[295] [Compare "Extracts from a Diary," January 24, 1821, _Letters_, 1901, v. 184.]

[fg] _Kings are not more imperative than rhymes_.--[MS.]

{241}[fh] _He looked almost in modesty a maid_.--[MS.]

{242}[296] _Features_ of a gate--a ministerial metaphor: "the _feature_ upon which this question _hinges_." See the "Fudge Family," or hear Castlereagh.

[Phil. Fudge, in his letter to Lord Castlereagh, says--

"As _thou_ would'st say, my guide and teacher In these gay metaphoric fringes, I must _embark_ into the _feature_ On which this letter chiefly _hinges_."

Moore's note adds, "Verbatim from one of the noble Viscount's speeches:--'_And now, sir, I must embark into the_ feature _on which this question chiefly hinges_.'"--_Fudge Family in Paris_, Letter II. See, too, _post_, the Preface to Cantos VI., VII., and VIII., p. 264, note 3.]

{243}[297] [Compare--

"A snake's small eye blinks dull and sly, And the lady's eyes they shrunk in her head, Each shrunk up to a serpent's eye."

_Christabel_, Part II. lines 583-585.]

{244}[298] A few years ago the wile of Muchtar Pacha complained to his father of his son's supposed infidelity: he asked with whom, and she had the barbarity to give in a list of the twelve handsomest women in Yanina. They were seized, fastened up in sacks, and drowned in the lake the same night. One of the guards who was present informed me, that not one of the victims uttered a cry, or showed a symptom of terror at so sudden a "wrench from all we know, from all we love."

[See _The Giaour_, line _1328, Poetical Works, 1900_, iii. 144, note 1.]

{245}[fi] _As Venus rose from Ocean--bent on them_ _With a far-reaching glance, a Paphian pair_.--[MS.]

[fj] _But there are forms which Time adorns, not wears_, _And to which Beauty obstinately clings_.--[MS.]

{246}[299] [Legend has credited Ninon de Lenclos (1620-1705) with lovers when she had "come to four-score years." According to Voltaire, John Casimir, ex-king of Poland, succumbed to her secular charms (see _Mazeppa_, line 138, _Poetical Works_, 1901, iv. 212, note 1). "In her old age, her house was the rendezvous of wits and men of letters. Scarron is said to have consulted her on his romances, Saint-Evremond on his poems, Molière on his comedies, Fontenelle on his dialogues, and La Rochefoucauld on his maxims. Coligny, Sévigné, etc., were her lovers and friends. At her death, in 1705, she bequeathed to Voltaire two thousand francs, to expend in books."--_Biographic Universelle_, art. "Lenclos."]

[300] ["Her fair maids were ranged below the sofa, to the number of twenty, and put me in mind of the pictures of the ancient nymphs. I did not think all nature could have furnished such a scene of beauty," etc.--Lady M.W. Montagu to the Countess of Mar, April 18, O.S. 1717, ed. 1816, p. 163.]

[301]

["Nil admirari prope res est una, Numici, Solaque quæ possit facere et servare beatum."

Hor., _Epist._, lib. 1, ep. vi. lines 1, 2.]

{247}[302]

["Not to admire, is all the Art I know To make men happy, and to keep them so, (Plain Truth, dear MURRAY, needs no flow'rs of speech, So take it in the very words of Creech)."

_To Mr. Murray_ (Lord Mansfield), Pope's _Imitations of Horace_, Book I. epist. vi. lines 1-4.

Thomas Creech (1659-1701) published his _Translation of Horace_ in 1684. In the second edition, 1688, p. 487, the lines run--

"Not to admire, as most are wont to do, It is the only method that I know, To make Men happy and to keep 'em so."]

[303] [Johnson placed judgment and friendship above admiration and love. "Admiration and love are like being intoxicated with champagne; judgment and friendship like being enlivened." See Boswell's _Life of Johnson_, 1876, p. 450.]

{248}[304] There is nothing, perhaps, more distinctive of birth than the hand. It is almost the only sign of blood which aristocracy can generate.

{249}[305] [In old pictures of the Fall, it is a cherub who whispers into the ear of Eve. The serpent's coils are hidden in the foliage of the tree.]

{250}[fk] _The very women half forgave her face_.--[MS, Erased.]

[fl] _Had his instructions--where and how to deal_.--[MS.]

[fm] _And husbands now and then are mystified_.--[MS.]

{251}[306] [Narrow javelins, once known as archegays--the assegais of Zulu warfare.]

{252}[fn] _But nature teaches what power cannot spoil_ _And, though it was a new and strange sensation_, _Young female hearts are such a genial soil_ _For kinder feelings, she forgot her station_.--[MS.]

[fo] _War with your heart_--.--[MS.]

{254}[307] [See _Fielding's History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews_, bk. i. chap. v.]

[308]

["'But if my boy with virtue be endued, What harm will beauty do him?' Nay, what good? Say, what avail'd, of old, to Theseus' son, The stern resolve? what to Bellerophon?-- O, then did Phaedra redden, then her pride Took fire to be so steadfastly denied! Then, too, did Sthenobaea glow with shame, And both burst forth with unextinguish'd flame!"

Gifford, _Juvenal_, Sat. x. 473-480.

The adventures of Hippolytus, the son of Theseus, and Bellerophon are well known. They were accused of incontinence, by the women whose inordinate passions they had refused to gratify at the expense of their duty, and sacrificed to the fatal credulity of the husbands of the disappointed fair ones. It is very probable that both the stories are founded on the Scripture account of Joseph and Potiphar's wife.--Footnote, ibid., ed. 1817, ii. pp. 49, 50.]

[fp] _The poets and romances_----.--[MS.]

[fq] _And this strong second cause (to tire no longer_ _Your patience) shows the first must still be stronger_.

--[MS. Alternative reading.]

{256}[309]

["By Heaven! methinks, it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon."

_Henry IV_., act i. sc. 3, lines 201, 202.]

[fr] _Like natural Shakespeare on the immortal page_.--[MS.]

[310]

["And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in law, Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill."

_King Lear_, act iv. sc. 6, lines 185, 186.]

[311]

["A woman scorn'd is pitiless as fate, For, there, the dread of shame adds stings to hate." Gifford's _Juvenal, Sat_. x. lines 481, 482, ed. 1817, ii. p. 50.]

{258}[312] ["Yes--my valour is certainly going! it is sneaking off! I feel it _oozing_ out, as it were, at the palms of my hands!"--Sheridan's _Rivals_, act v. sc. 3.]

[fs] _Or all the stuff which uttered by the "Blues" is_.--[MS.]

{259}[ft] _But prithee--get my women in the way_, _That all the stars may gleam with due adorning_.--[MS.]

[fu] _Of Cantemir or Knollēs_-----.--[MS.]

[313] It may not be unworthy of remark, that Bacon, in his essay on "Empire" (Essays, No. xx.), hints that Solyman was the last of his line; on what authority, I know not. These are his words: "The destruction of Mustapha was so fatal to Solyman's line; as the succession of the Turks from Solyman until this day is suspected to be untrue, and of strange blood; for that Selymus the second was thought to be supposititious." But Bacon, in his historical authorities, is often inaccurate. I could give half a dozen instances from his Apophthegms only.

[Selim II. (1524-1574) succeeded his father as Sultan in 1566. Hofmann (_Lexicon Univ_.) describes him as "meticulosus, effeminatus, ebriosus," but neither Demetrius Cantemir, in his _History of the Growth and Decay of the Othman Empire_ (translated by N. Tyndal, 1734); nor _The Turkish History_ (written by Mr. Knolles, 1701), cast any doubts on his legitimacy. Byron complained of the omission from the notes to the first edition of Don Juan, of his corrections of Bacon's "Apophthegms" (see _Letters_, 1901, v. Appendix VI. pp. 597-600), in a letter to Murray, dated January 21, 1821,--_vide ibid_., p. 220.]

{260}[314] [Gibbon.]

[fv] _Because he kept them wrapt up in his closet, he_ _Ruled fair wives and twelve hundred whores, unseen,_ _More easily than Christian kings one queen_.--[MS.]

[fw] _Then ended many a fair Sultana's trip_: _The Public knew no more than does this rhyme_; _No printed scandals flew,--the fish, of course,_ _Were better--while the morals were no worse_.--[MS.]

[fx] _No sign of its depression anywhere_.--[MS.]

[315] ["We attempted to visit the Seven Towers, but were stopped at the entrance, and informed that without a firman it was inaccessible to strangers.... It was supposed that Count Bulukof, the Russian minister, would be the last of the _Moussafirs_, or imperial hostages, confined in this fortress; but since the year 1784 M. Ruffin and many of the French have been imprisoned in the same place; and the dungeons.... were gaping, it seems, for the sacred persons of the gentlemen composing his Britannic Majesty's mission, previous to the rupture between Great Britain and the Porte in 1809."--Hobhouse, _Travels in Albania_, 1858, ii. 311, 312.]

{261}[316] ["The princess" (Asma Sultana, daughter of Achmet III.) "complained of the barbarity which, at thirteen years of age, united her to a decrepit old man, who, by treating her like a child, had inspired her with nothing but disgust."--_Memoirs of Baron de Toil_, 1786, i. 74. See, too, _Mémoires_, etc., 1784, i. 84, 85.]

{262}[317] [The connection between "horns" and Heaven, to which Byron twice alludes, is not very obvious. The reference may be to the Biblical "horn of salvation," or to the symbolical horns of Divine glory as depicted in the Moses of Michel Angelo. Compare _Mazeppa_, lines 177, 178, _Poetical Works_, 1901, iv. 213.]

[fy]---- _with solemn air and wise_.--[MS.]

[fz] _Virginity in these unhappy climes_.--[MS.]

{263}[318] [This stanza, which Byron composed in bed, February 27, 1821 (see _Extracts from a Diary, Letters_, 1901, v. 209), is not in the first edition. On discovering the omission, he wrote to Murray: "Upon what principle have you omitted ... one of the concluding stanzas sent as an addition?--because it ended, I suppose, with--

'And do not link two virtuous souls for life Into that moral centaur, man and wife?'

Now, I must say, once for all, that I will not permit any human being to take such liberties with my writings because I am absent. I desire the omissions to be replaced (except the stanza on Semiramis)--particularly the stanza upon the Turkish marriages."--Letter to Murray, August 31, 1821, ibid., p. 351.]

[ga] _Meanwhile as Homer sometimes sleeps, much more_ _The modern muse may be allowed to snore_.--[MS.]

PREFACE TO CANTOS VI., VII., AND VIII.

THE details of the siege of Ismail in two of the following cantos (_i.e._ the seventh and eighth) are taken from a French Work, entitled _Histoire de la Nouvelle Russie._[319] Some of the incidents attributed to Don Juan really occurred, particularly the circumstance of his saving the infant, which was the actual case of the late Duc de Richelieu, then a young volunteer in the Russian service, and afterward the founder and benefactor of Odessa, where his name and memory can never cease to be regarded with reverence.

In the course of these cantos, a stanza or two will be found relative to the late Marquis of Londonderry,[320] but written some time before his decease. Had that person's oligarchy died with him, they would have been suppressed; as it is, I am aware of nothing in the manner of his death or of his life to prevent the free expression of the opinions of all whom his whole existence was consumed in endeavouring to enslave. That he was an amiable man in _private_ life, may or may not be true: but with this the public have nothing to do; and as to lamenting his death, it will be time enough when Ireland has ceased to mourn for his birth. As a minister, I, for one of millions, looked upon him as the most despotic in intention, and the weakest in intellect, that ever tyrannised over a country. It is the first time indeed since the Normans that England has been insulted by a _minister_ (at least) who could not speak English, and that Parliament permitted itself to be dictated to in the language of Mrs. Malaprop.

Of the manner of his death little need be said, except that if a poor radical, such as Waddington or Watson,[321] had cut his throat, he would have been buried in a cross-road, with the usual appurtenances of the stake and mallet. But the minister was an elegant lunatic--a sentimental suicide--he merely cut the "carotid artery," (blessings on their learning!) and lo! the pageant, and the Abbey! and "the syllables of dolour yelled forth"[322] by the newspapers--and the harangue of the Coroner in a eulogy over the bleeding body of the deceased--(an Anthony worthy of such a Cæsar)--and the nauseous and atrocious cant of a degraded crew of conspirators against all that is sincere and honourable. In his death he was necessarily one of two things by the law[323]--a felon or a madman--and in either case no great subject for panegyric.[324] In his life he was--what all the world knows, and half of it will feel for years to come, unless his death prove a "moral lesson" to the surviving Sejani[325] of Europe. It may at least serve as some consolation to the nations, that their oppressors are not happy, and in some instances judge so justly of their own actions as to anticipate the sentence of mankind. Let us hear no more of this man; and let Ireland remove the ashes of her Grattan from the sanctuary of Westminster. Shall the patriot of humanity repose by the Werther of politics!!!

With regard to the objections which have been made on another score to the already published cantos of this poem, I shall content myself with two quotations from Voltaire:--"La pudeur s'est enfuite des coeurs, et s'est refugiée sur les lèvres." ... "Plus les moeurs sont dépravés, plus les expressions deviennent mesurées; on croit regagner en langage ce qu'on a perdu en vertu."

This is the real fact, as applicable to the degraded and hypocritical mass which leavens the present English generation, and is the only answer they deserve. The hackneyed and lavished title of Blasphemer--which, with Radical, Liberal, Jacobin, Reformer, etc., are the changes which the hirelings are daily ringing in the ears of those who will listen--should be welcome to all who recollect on _whom_ it was originally bestowed. Socrates and Jesus Christ were put to death publicly as _blasphemers_, and so have been and may be many who dare to oppose the most notorious abuses of the name of God and the mind of man. But persecution is not refutation, nor even triumph: the "wretched infidel," as he is called, is probably happier in his prison than the proudest of his assailants. With his opinions I have nothing to do--they may be right or wrong--but he has suffered for them, and that very suffering for conscience' sake will make more proselytes to deism than the example of heterodox[326] Prelates to Christianity, suicide statesmen to oppression, or overpensioned homicides to the impious alliance which insults the world with the name of "Holy!"[327] I have no wish to trample on the dishonoured or the dead; but it would be well if the adherents to the classes from whence those persons sprung should abate a little of the cant which is the crying sin of this double-dealing and false-speaking time of selfish spoilers, and----but enough for the present.

FOOTNOTES:

{264}[319] [The Marquis Gabriel de Castelnau, author of an _Essai sur L'Histoire ancienne et moderne de la Nouvelle Russie_ (Sec. Ed. 3 tom. 1827), was, at one time, resident at Odessa, where he met and made the acquaintance of Armand Emanuel, Duc de Richelieu, who took part in the siege of Ismail. M. Léon de Crousaz-Crétet describes him as "ancien surintendant des théâtres sous l'Empereur Paul."--_Le Duc de Richelieu_, 1897, p. 83.]

[320] [For Robert Stewart, Viscount Castlereagh, second Marquis of Londonderry (1769-1822), see _Letters_, 1900, iv. 108, 109, note 1.]

{266}[321] [Samuel Ferrand Waddington, born 1759, hop-grower and radical politician, first came into notice as the chairman of public meetings in favour of making peace with the French in 1793. He was the author, _inter alia_, of _A Key to a Delicate Investigation_, 1812, and _An Address to the People of the United Kingdom_, 1812. He was alive in 1822. James Watson (1766-1838), a radical agitator of the following of Thomas Spence, was engaged, in the autumn of 1816, in an abortive conspiracy to blow up cavalry barracks, barricade the streets, and seize the Bank and the Tower. He was tried for high treason before Lord Ellenborough, and acquitted.]

[322] [_Macbeth_, act iv. sc. 3, lines 7, 8.]

[323] I say by the _law_ of the _land_--the laws of humanity judge more gently; but as the legitimates have always the law in their mouths, let them here make the most of it.

[324] [Mr. Joseph Carttar, of Deptford, coroner for the County of Kent, addressed the jury at some length. The following sentences are taken from the report of the inquest, contained in _The Annual Biography and Obituary for the year 1823_, vol. vii. p. 57: "As a public man, it is impossible for me to weigh his character in any scales that I can hold. In private life I believe the world will admit that a more amiable man could not be found.... If it should unfortunately appear that there is not sufficient evidence to prove what is generally considered the indication of a disordered mind, I trust that the jury will pay some attention to my humble opinion, which is, that no man can be in his proper senses at the moment he commits so rash an act as self-murder. ...The Bible declares that a man clings to nothing so strongly as his own life, I therefore view it as an axiom, and an abstract principle, that a man must necessarily be out of his mind at the moment of destroying himself." Byron, probably, read the report of the inquest in Cobbett's _Weekly Register_ (August 17, 1822, vol. 43, pp. 389-425). The "eulogy" was in perfectly good taste, but there can be little doubt that if "Waddington or Watson" had cut _their_ "carotid arteries," the verdict would have been different.]

[325] From this number must be excepted Canning. Canning is a genius, almost a universal one, an orator, a wit, a poet, a statesman; and no man of talent can long pursue the path of his late predecessor, Lord C. If ever man saved his country, Canning _can_, but _will_ he? I for one, hope so.

[The phrase, "great moral lesson," was employed by the Duke of Wellington, _à propos_ of the restoration of pictures and statues to their "rightful owners," in a despatch addressed to Castlereagh, under date, Paris, September 19, 1815 (_The Dispatches, etc._ (ed. by Colonel Gurwood), 1847, viii. 270). The words, "moral lesson," as applied to the French generally, are to be found in Scott's _Field of Waterloo_ (conclusion, stanza vi. line 3), which was written about the same time as the despatch. Byron quotes them in his "Ode from the French," stanza iv. line 8 (see _Poetical Works_, 1900, iii. 434, note 1). There is a satirical allusion to the Duke's "assumption of the didactic" about teaching a "great moral lesson" in the Preface to the first number of the _Liberal_ (1822, p. xi.).]

{267}[326] When Lord Sandwich said "he did not know the difference between orthodoxy and heterodoxy," Warburton, the bishop, replied, "Orthodoxy, my lord, is _my doxy_, and heterodoxy is _another man's_ doxy." A prelate of the present day has discovered, it seems, a _third_ kind of doxy, which has not greatly exalted in the eyes of the elect that which Bentham calls "Church-of-Englandism."

[For the "prelate," see _Letters_, 1902, vi. 101, note 2.]

[327] [For the Duke of Wellington and the Holy Alliance, see the Introduction to _The Age of Bronze, Poetical Works_, 1901, v. 538, 561.]

CANTO THE SIXTH.[328]

I.

"There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which,--taken at the flood,"--you know the rest,[329] And most of us have found it now and then: At least we think so, though but few have guessed The moment, till too late to come again. But no doubt everything is for the best-- Of which the surest sign is in the end: When things are at the worst they sometimes mend.

II.

There is a tide in the affairs of women, Which, taken at the flood, leads--God knows where: Those navigators must be able seamen Whose charts lay down its currents to a hair; Not all the reveries of Jacob Behmen[330] With its strange whirls and eddies can compare: Men with their heads reflect on this and that-- But women with their hearts on Heaven knows what![gb]

III.

And yet a headlong, headstrong, downright She, Young, beautiful, and daring--who would risk A throne--the world--the universe--to be Beloved in her own way--and rather whisk The stars from out the sky, than not be free[gc] As are the billows when the breeze is brisk-- Though such a She's a devil (if there be one), Yet she would make full many a Manichean.

IV.

Thrones, worlds, _et cetera_, are so oft upset By commonest ambition, that when Passion O'erthrows the same, we readily forget, Or at the least forgive, the loving rash one. If Anthony be well remembered yet, 'T is not his conquests keep his name in fashion, But Actium, lost for Cleopatra's eyes, Outbalances all Cæsar's victories.[gd]

V.

He died at fifty for a queen of forty; I wish their years had been fifteen and twenty,[ge] For then wealth, kingdoms, worlds are but a sport--I Remember when, though I had no great plenty Of worlds to lose, yet still, to pay my court, I Gave what I had--a heart;[331] as the world went, I Gave what was worth a world; for worlds could never Restore me those pure feelings, gone for ever.

VI.

'T was the boy's "mite," and, like the "widow's," may Perhaps be weighed hereafter, if not now; But whether such things do or do not weigh, All who have loved, or love, will still allow Life has nought like it. God is Love, they say, And Love's a god, or was before the brow Of Earth was wrinkled by the sins and tears Of--but Chronology best knows the years.

VII.

We left our hero and third heroine in A kind of state more awkward than uncommon, For gentlemen must sometimes risk their skin For that sad tempter, a forbidden woman: Sultans too much abhor this sort of sin, And don't agree at all with the wise Roman, Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious, Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius.[332]

VIII.

I know Gulbeyaz was extremely wrong; I own it, I deplore it, I condemn it; But I detest all fiction even in song, And so must tell the truth, howe'er you blame it. Her reason being weak, her passions strong, She thought that her Lord's heart (even could she claim it) Was scarce enough; for he had fifty-nine Years, and a fifteen-hundredth concubine.

IX.

I am not, like Cassio, "an arithmetician," But by "the bookish theoric"[333] it appears, If 't is summed up with feminine precision, That, adding to the account his Highness' years, The fair Sultana erred from inanition; For, were the Sultan just to all his dears, She could but claim the fifteen-hundredth part Of what should be monopoly--the heart.

X.

It is observed that ladies are litigious Upon all legal objects of possession, And not the least so when they are religious, Which doubles what they think of the transgression: With suits and prosecutions they besiege us, As the tribunals show through many a session, When they suspect that any one goes shares In that to which the law makes them sole heirs.

XI.

Now, if this holds good in a Christian land, The heathen also, though with lesser latitude,[gf] Are apt to carry things with a high hand, And take, what Kings call "an imposing attitude;" And for their rights connubial make a stand, When their liege husbands treat them with ingratitude; And as four wives must have quadruple claims, The Tigris hath its jealousies like Thames.

XII.

Gulbeyaz was the fourth, and (as I said) The favourite; but what's favour amongst four? Polygamy may well be held in dread, Not only as a sin, but as a bore: Most wise men with one moderate woman wed,[gg] Will scarcely find philosophy for more; And all (except Mahometans) forbear To make the nuptial couch a "Bed of Ware."[334]

XIII.

His Highness, the sublimest of mankind,--[gh] So styled according to the usual forms Of every monarch, till they are consigned To those sad hungry Jacobins the worms, Who on the very loftiest kings have dined,-- His Highness gazed upon Gulbeyaz' charms, Expecting all the welcome of a lover (A "Highland welcome"[335] all the wide world over).

XIV.

Now here we should distinguish; for howe'er Kisses, sweet words, embraces, and all that, May look like what it is--neither here nor there,[gi] They are put on as easily as a hat, Or rather bonnet, which the fair sex wear, Trimmed either heads or hearts to decorate, Which form an ornament, but no more part Of heads, than their caresses of the heart.

XV.

A slight blush, a soft tremor, a calm kind Of gentle feminine delight, and shown More in the eyelids than the eyes, resigned Rather to hide what pleases most unknown, Are the best tokens (to a modest mind)[gj] Of Love, when seated on his loveliest throne, A sincere woman's breast,--for over-_warm_ Or over-_cold_ annihilates the charm.

XVI.

For over-warmth, if false, is worse than truth; If true, 't is no great lease of its own fire; For no one, save in very early youth, Would like (I think) to trust all to desire, Which is but a precarious bond, in sooth, And apt to be transferred to the first buyer At a sad discount: while your over chilly Women, on t' other hand, seem somewhat silly.

XVII.

That is, we cannot pardon their bad taste, For so it seems to lovers swift or slow, Who fain would have a mutual flame confessed, And see a sentimental passion glow, Even were St. Francis' paramour their guest, In his monastic concubine of snow;--[336] In short, the maxim for the amorous tribe is Horatian, "_Medio tu tutissimus ibis_."[337]

XVIII.

The "tu" 's _too_ much,--but let it stand,--the verse Requires it, that's to say, the English rhyme, And not the pink of old hexameters; But, after all, there's neither tune nor time In the last line, which cannot well be worse,[gk] And was thrust in to close the octave's chime: I own no prosody can ever rate it As a rule, but _Truth_ may, if you translate it.

XIX.

If fair Gulbeyaz overdid her part, I know not--it succeeded, and success Is much in most things, not less in the heart Than other articles of female dress. Self-love in Man, too, beats all female art;[gl] They lie, we lie, all lie, but love no less: And no one virtue yet, except starvation, Could stop that worst of vices--propagation.

XX.

We leave this royal couple to repose: A bed is not a throne, and they may sleep, Whate'er their dreams be, if of joys or woes: Yet disappointed joys are woes as deep As any man's clay mixture undergoes. Our least of sorrows are such as we _weep_; 'T is the vile daily drop on drop which wears The soul out (like the stone) with petty cares.[gm]

XXI.

A scolding wife, a sullen son, a bill To pay, unpaid, protested, or discounted At a per-centage; a child cross, dog ill, A favourite horse fallen lame just as he's mounted, A bad old woman making a worse will,[338] Which leaves you minus of the cash you counted[gn] As certain;--these are paltry things, and yet I've rarely seen the man they did not fret.

XXII.

I'm a philosopher; confound them all![go] Bills, beasts, and men, and--no! not womankind![gp] With one good hearty curse I vent my gall, And then my Stoicism leaves nought behind Which it can either pain or evil call, And I can give my whole soul up to mind; Though what _is_ soul, or mind, their birth or growth, Is more than I know--the deuce take them both![gq]

XXIII.

So now all things are damned one feels at ease, As after reading Athanasius' curse, Which doth your true believer so much please: I doubt if any now could make it worse O'er his worst enemy when at his knees, 'T is so sententious, positive, and terse, And decorates the Book of Common Prayer, As doth a rainbow the just clearing air.

XXIV.

Gulbeyaz and her lord were sleeping, or At least one of them!--Oh, the heavy night, When wicked wives, who love some bachelor,[gr] Lie down in dudgeon to sigh for the light Of the grey morning, and look vainly for Its twinkle through the lattice dusky quite-- To toss, to tumble, doze, revive, and quake Lest their too lawful bed-fellow should wake![gs]

XXV.

These are beneath the canopy of heaven, Also beneath the canopy of beds Four-posted and silk-curtained, which are given For rich men and their brides to lay their heads Upon, in sheets white as what bards call "driven Snow,"[339] Well! 't is all hap-hazard when one weds. Gulbeyaz was an empress, but had been Perhaps as wretched if a _peasants quean_.

XXVI.

Don Juan in his feminine disguise,[340] With all the damsels in their long array, Had bowed themselves before th' imperial eyes, And at the usual signal ta'en their way Back to their chambers, those long galleries In the seraglio, where the ladies lay Their delicate limbs; a thousand bosoms there Beating for Love, as the caged bird's for air.

XXVII.

I love the sex, and sometimes would reverse The Tyrant's[341] wish, "that Mankind only had One neck, which he with one fell stroke might pierce:" My wish is quite as wide, but not so bad,[gt] And much more tender on the whole than fierce; It being (not _now_, but only while a lad) That Womankind had but one rosy mouth,[gu] To kiss them all at once from North to South.

XXVIII.

Oh, enviable Briareus! with thy hands And heads, if thou hadst all things multiplied In such proportion!--But my Muse withstands The giant thought of being a Titan's bride, Or travelling in Patagonian lands; So let us back to Lilliput, and guide Our hero through the labyrinth of Love In which we left him several lines above.

XXIX.

He went forth with the lovely Odalisques,[342] At the given signal joined to their array; And though he certainly ran many risks, Yet he could not at times keep, by the way, (Although the consequences of such frisks Are worse than the worst damages men pay In moral England, where the thing's a tax,) From ogling all their charms from breasts to backs.

XXX.

Still he forgot not his disguise:--along The galleries from room to room they walked, A virgin-like and edifying throng, By eunuchs flanked; while at their head there stalked A dame who kept up discipline among The female ranks, so that none stirred or talked, Without her sanction on their she-parades: Her title was "the Mother of the Maids."

XXXI.

Whether she was a "Mother," I know not, Or whether they were "Maids" who called her Mother; But this is her Seraglio title, got I know not how, but good as any other; So Cantemir[343] can tell you, or De Tott:[344] Her office was to keep aloof or smother All bad propensities in fifteen hundred Young women, and correct them when they blundered.

XXXII.

A goodly sinecure, no doubt! but made More easy by the absence of all men-- Except his Majesty,--who, with her aid, And guards, and bolts, and walls, and now and then A slight example, just to cast a shade Along the rest, contrived to keep this den Of beauties cool as an Italian convent, Where all the passions have, alas! but one vent.

XXXIII.

And what is that? Devotion, doubtless--how Could you ask such a question?--but we will Continue. As I said, this goodly row Of ladies of all countries at the will[345] Of one good man, with stately march and slow, Like water-lilies floating down a rill-- Or rather lake--for _rills_ do _not_ run _slowly_,-- Paced on most maiden-like and melancholy.

XXXIV.

But when they reached their own apartments, there, Like birds, or boys, or bedlamites broke loose, Waves at spring-tide, or women anywhere When freed from bonds (which are of no great use After all), or like Irish at a fair, Their guards being gone, and as it were a truce Established between them and bondage, they Began to sing, dance, chatter, smile, and play.

XXXV.

Their talk, of course, ran most on the new comer; Her shape, her hair, her air, her everything: Some thought her dress did not so much become her, Or wondered at her ears without a ring; Some said her years were getting nigh their summer, Others contended they were but in spring; Some thought her rather masculine in height, While others wished that she had been so quite.

XXXVI.

But no one doubted on the whole, that she Was what her dress bespoke, a damsel fair, And fresh, and "beautiful exceedingly,"[346] Who with the brightest Georgians[347] might compare: They wondered how Gulbeyaz, too, could be So silly as to buy slaves who might share (If that his Highness wearied of his bride) Her Throne and Power, and everything beside.

XXXVII.

But what was strangest in this virgin crew, Although her beauty was enough to vex, After the first investigating view, They all found out as few, or fewer, specks In the fair form of their companion new, Than is the custom of the gentle sex, When they survey, with Christian eyes or Heathen, In a new face "the ugliest creature breathing."

XXXVIII.

And yet they had their little jealousies, Like all the rest; but upon this occasion, Whether there are such things as sympathies Without our knowledge or our approbation, Although they could not see through his disguise, All felt a soft kind of concatenation, Like Magnetism, or Devilism, or what You please--we will not quarrel about that:

XXXIX.

But certain 't is they all felt for their new Companion something newer still, as 't were A sentimental friendship through and through, Extremely pure, which made them all concur In wishing her their sister, save a few Who wished they had a brother just like her, Whom, if they were at home in sweet Circassia, They would prefer to Padisha[348] or Pacha.

XL.

Of those who had most genius for this sort Of sentimental friendship, there were three, Lolah, Katinka,[349] and Dudù--in short (To save description), fair as fair can be Were they, according to the best report, Though differing in stature and degree, And clime and time, and country and complexion-- They all alike admired their new connection.

XLI.

Lolah was dusk as India and as warm; Katinka was a Georgian, white and red, With great blue eyes, a lovely hand and arm, And feet so small they scarce seemed made to tread, But rather skim the earth; while Dudù's form Looked more adapted to be put to bed, Being somewhat large, and languishing, and lazy, Yet of a beauty that would drive you crazy.

XLII.

A kind of sleepy Venus seemed Dudù, Yet very fit to "murder sleep"[350] in those Who gazed upon her cheek's transcendent hue, Her Attic forehead, and her Phidian nose: Few angles were there in her form, 't is true, Thinner she might have been, and yet scarce lose; Yet, after all, 't would puzzle to say where It would not spoil some separate charm to _pare_.

XLIII.

She was not violently lively, but Stole on your spirit like a May-day breaking; Her eyes were not too sparkling, yet, half-shut, They put beholders in a tender taking; She looked (this simile's quite new) just cut From marble, like Pygmalion's statue waking, The mortal and the marble still at strife, And timidly expanding into Life.

XLIV.

Lolah demanded the new damsel's name-- "Juanna."--Well, a pretty name enough. Katinka asked her also whence she came-- "From Spain."--"But where _is_ Spain?"--"Don't ask such stuff, Nor show your Georgian ignorance--for shame!" Said Lolah, with an accent rather rough, To poor Katinka: "Spain's an island near Morocco, betwixt Egypt and Tangier."

XLV.

Dudù said nothing, but sat down beside Juanna, playing with her veil or hair; And, looking at her steadfastly, she sighed, As if she pitied her for being there, A pretty stranger without friend or guide, And all abashed, too, at the general stare Which welcomes hapless strangers in all places, With kind remarks upon their mien and faces.

XLVI.

But here the Mother of the Maids drew near, With "Ladies, it is time to go to rest. I'm puzzled what to do with _you_, my dear!" She added to Juanna, their new guest: "Your coming has been unexpected here, And every couch is occupied; you had best Partake of mine; but by to-morrow early We will have all things settled for you fairly."

XLVII.

Here Lolah interposed--"Mamma, you know You don't sleep soundly, and I cannot bear That anybody should disturb you so; I'll take Juanna; we're a slenderer pair Than you would make the half of;--don't say no; And I of your young charge will take due care." But here Katinka interfered, and said, "She also had compassion and a bed."

XLVIII.

"Besides, I hate to sleep alone," quoth she. The matron frowned: "Why so?"--"For fear of ghosts," Replied Katinka; "I am sure I see A phantom upon each of the four posts; And then I have the worst dreams that can be, Of Guebres, Giaours, and Ginns, and Gouls in hosts." The dame replied, "Between your dreams and you, I fear Juanna's dreams would be but few.

XLIX.

"You, Lolah, must continue still to lie Alone, for reasons which don't matter; you The same, Katinka, until by and by: And I shall place Juanna with Dudù, Who's quiet, inoffensive, silent, shy, And will not toss and chatter the night through. What say you, child?"--Dudù said nothing, as Her talents were of the more silent class;

L.

But she rose up, and kissed the matron's brow Between the eyes, and Lolah on both cheeks, Katinka too; and with a gentle bow (Curt'sies are neither used by Turks nor Greeks) She took Juanna by the hand to show Their place of rest, and left to both their piques, The others pouting at the matron's preference Of Dudù, though they held their tongues from deference.

LI.

It was a spacious chamber (Oda is The Turkish title), and ranged round the wall Were couches, toilets--and much more than this I might describe, as I have seen it all, But it suffices--little was amiss; 'T was on the whole a nobly furnished hall, With all things ladies want, save one or two, And even those were nearer than they knew.

LII.

Dudù, as has been said, was a sweet creature, Not very dashing, but extremely winning, With the most regulated charms of feature, Which painters cannot catch like faces sinning Against proportion--the wild strokes of nature Which they hit off at once in the beginning, Full of expression, right or wrong, that strike, And pleasing, or unpleasing, still are like.

LIII.

But she was a soft landscape of mild earth, Where all was harmony, and calm, and quiet, Luxuriant, budding; cheerful without mirth, Which, if not happiness, is much more nigh it Than are your mighty passions and so forth, Which, some call "the Sublime:" I wish they'd try it: I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women, And pity lovers rather more than seamen.

LIV.

But she was pensive more than melancholy, And serious more than pensive, and serene, It may be, more than either--not unholy Her thoughts, at least till now, appear to have been. The strangest thing was, beauteous, she was wholly Unconscious, albeit turned of quick seventeen, That she was fair, or dark, or short, or tall; She never thought about herself at all.

LV.

And therefore was she kind and gentle as The Age of Gold (when gold was yet unknown, By which its nomenclature came to pass;[gv] Thus most appropriately has been shown "Lucus à _non_ lucendo," _not_ what _was_, But what _was not_; a sort of style that's grown Extremely common in this age, whose metal The Devil may decompose, but never settle:[gw]

LVI.

I think it may be of "Corinthian Brass,"[351] Which was a mixture of all metals, but The brazen uppermost). Kind reader! pass This long parenthesis: I could not shut It sooner for the soul of me, and class My faults even with your own! which meaneth, Put A kind construction upon them and me: But _that_ you won't--then don't--I am not less free.

LVII.

'T is time we should return to plain narration, And thus my narrative proceeds:--Dudù, With every kindness short of ostentation, Showed Juan, or Juanna, through and through This labyrinth of females, and each station Described--what's strange--in words extremely few: I have but one simile, and that's a blunder, For wordless woman, which is _silent_ thunder.[gx]

LVIII.

And next she gave her (I say _her_, because The gender still was epicene, at least In outward show, which is a saving clause) An outline of the customs of the East, With all their chaste integrity of laws, By which the more a Harem is increased, The stricter doubtless grow the vestal duties Of any supernumerary beauties.

LIX.

And then she gave Juanna a chaste kiss: Dudú was fond of kissing--which I'm sure That nobody can ever take amiss, Because 't is pleasant, so that it be pure, And between females means no more than this-- That they have nothing better near, or newer. "Kiss" rhymes to "bliss" in fact as well as verse-- I wish it never led to something worse.

LX.

In perfect innocence she then unmade Her toilet, which cost little, for she was A child of Nature, carelessly arrayed: If fond of a chance ogle at her glass, 'T was like the fawn, which, in the lake displayed, Beholds her own shy, shadowy image pass, When first she starts, and then returns to peep, Admiring this new native of the deep.

LXI.

And one by one her articles of dress Were laid aside; but not before she offered Her aid to fair Juanna, whose excess Of modesty declined the assistance proffered: Which passed well off--as she could do no less; Though by this _politesse_ she rather suffered, Pricking her fingers with those cursed pins, Which surely were invented for our sins,--

LXII.

Making a woman like a porcupine, Not to be rashly touched. But still more dread, Oh ye! whose fate it is, as once 't was mine, In early youth, to turn a lady's maid;-- I did my very boyish best to shine In tricking her out for a masquerade: The pins were placed sufficiently, but not Stuck all exactly in the proper spot.

LXIII.

But these are foolish things to all the wise, And I love Wisdom more than she loves me; My tendency is to philosophise On most things, from a tyrant to a tree; But still the spouseless virgin _Knowledge_ flies. What are we? and whence came we? what shall be Our _ultimate_ existence? what's our present? Are questions answerless, and yet incessant.

LXIV.

There was deep silence in the chamber: dim And distant from each other burned the lights, And slumber hovered o'er each lovely limb Of the fair occupants: if there be sprites, They should have walked there in their sprightliest trim, By way of change from their sepulchral sites, And shown themselves as ghosts of better taste Than haunting some old ruin or wild waste.

LXV.

Many and beautiful lay those around, Like flowers of different hue, and clime, and root, In some exotic garden sometimes found, With cost, and care, and warmth induced to shoot. One with her auburn tresses lightly bound, And fair brows gently drooping, as the fruit Nods from the tree, was slumbering with soft breath, And lips apart, which showed the pearls beneath.

LXVI.

One with her flushed cheek laid on her white arm, And raven ringlets gathered in dark crowd Above her brow, lay dreaming soft and warm; And smiling through her dream, as through a cloud The moon breaks, half unveiled each further charm, As, slightly stirring in her snowy shroud, Her beauties seized the unconscious hour of night All bashfully to struggle into light.

LXVII.

This is no bull, although it sounds so; for 'T was night, but there were lamps, as hath been said. A third's all pallid aspect offered more The traits of sleeping sorrow, and betrayed Through the heaved breast the dream of some far shore Belovéd and deplored; while slowly strayed (As night-dew, on a cypress glittering, tinges The black bough) tear-drops through her eyes' dark fringes.

LXVIII.

A fourth as marble, statue-like and still, Lay in a breathless, hushed, and stony sleep; White, cold, and pure, as looks a frozen rill, Or the snow minaret on an Alpine steep, Or Lot's wife done in salt,--or what you will;-- My similes are gathered in a heap, So pick and choose--perhaps you'll be content With a carved lady on a monument.

LXIX.

And lo! a fifth appears;--and what is she? A lady of a "certain age,"[352] which means Certainly agéd--what her years might be I know not, never counting past their teens; But there she slept, not quite so fair to see, As ere that awful period intervenes Which lays both men and women on the shelf, To meditate upon their sins and self.

LXX.

But all this time how slept, or dreamed, Dudú? With strict inquiry I could ne'er discover, And scorn to add a syllable untrue; But ere the middle watch was hardly over, Just when the fading lamps waned dim and blue, And phantoms hovered, or might seem to hover, To those who like their company, about The apartment, on a sudden she screamed out:

LXXI.

And that so loudly, that upstarted all The Oda, in a general commotion: Matron and maids, and those whom you may call Neither, came crowding like the waves of Ocean, One on the other, throughout the whole hall, All trembling, wondering, without the least notion More than I have myself of what could make The calm Dudù so turbulently wake.

LXXII.

But wide awake she was, and round her bed, With floating draperies and with flying hair, With eager eyes, and light but hurried tread, And bosoms, arms, and ankles glancing bare, And bright as any meteor ever bred By the North Pole,--they sought her cause of care, For she seemed agitated, flushed, and frightened, Her eye dilated, and her colour heightened.

LXXIII.

But what is strange--and a strong proof how great A blessing is sound sleep--Juanna lay As fast as ever husband by his mate In holy matrimony snores away. Not all the clamour broke her happy state Of slumber, ere they shook her,--so they say At least,--and then she, too, unclosed her eyes, And yawned a good deal with discreet surprise.[gy]

LXXIV.

And now commenced a strict investigation, Which, as all spoke at once, and more than once Conjecturing, wondering, asking a narration, Alike might puzzle either wit or dunce To answer in a very clear oration. Dudú had never passed for wanting sense, But being "no orator as Brutus is,"[353] Could not at first expound what was amiss.

LXXV.

At length she said, that in a slumber sound She dreamed a dream, of walking in a wood-- A "wood obscure," like that where Dante found[354] Himself in at the age when all grow good;[gz] Life's half-way house, where dames with virtue crowned Run much less risk of lovers turning rude; And that this wood was full of pleasant fruits, And trees of goodly growth and spreading roots;

LXXVI.

And in the midst a golden apple grew,-- A most prodigious pippin--but it hung Rather too high and distant; that she threw Her glances on it, and then, longing, flung Stones and whatever she could pick up, to Bring down the fruit, which still perversely clung To its own bough, and dangled yet in sight, But always at a most provoking height;[ha]

LXXVII.

That on a sudden, when she least had hope, It fell down of its own accord before Her feet; that her first movement was to stoop And pick it up, and bite it to the core; That just as her young lip began to ope[hb] Upon the golden fruit the vision bore, A bee flew out, and stung her to the heart, And so--she woke with a great scream and start.

LXXVIII.

All this she told with some confusion and Dismay, the usual consequence of dreams Of the unpleasant kind, with none at hand To expound their vain and visionary gleams. I've known some odd ones which seemed really planned Prophetically, or that which one deems A "strange coincidence," to use a phrase By which such things are settled now-a-days.[355]

LXXIX.

The damsels, who had thoughts of some great harm, Began, as is the consequence of fear, To scold a little at the false alarm That broke for nothing on their sleeping ear. The matron, too, was wroth to leave her warm Bed for the dream she had been obliged to hear, And chafed at poor Dudù, who only sighed, And said, that she was sorry she had cried.

LXXX.

"I've heard of stories of a cock and bull; But visions of an apple and a bee, To take us from our natural rest, and pull The whole Oda from their beds at half-past three, Would make us think the moon is at its full. You surely are unwell, child! we must see, To-morrow, what his Highness's physician Will say to this hysteric of a vision.

LXXXI.

"And poor Juanna, too, the child's first night Within these walls, to be broke in upon With such a clamour--I had thought it right That the young stranger should not lie alone, And, as the quietest of all, she might With you, Dudù, a good night's rest have known: But now I must transfer her to the charge Of Lolah--though her couch is not so large."

LXXXII.

Lolah's eyes sparkled at the proposition; But poor Dudù, with large drops in her own, Resulting from the scolding or the vision, Implored that present pardon might be shown For this first fault, and that on no condition (She added in a soft and piteous tone) Juanna should be taken from her, and Her future dreams should be all kept in hand.

LXXXIII.

She promised never more to have a dream, At least to dream so loudly as just now; She wondered at herself how she could scream-- 'T was foolish, nervous, as she must allow, A fond hallucination, and a theme For laughter--but she felt her spirits low, And begged they would excuse her; she'd get over This weakness in a few hours, and recover.

LXXXIV.

And here Juanna kindly interposed, And said she felt herself extremely well Where she then was, as her sound sleep disclosed, When all around rang like a tocsin bell; She did not find herself the least disposed To quit her gentle partner, and to dwell Apart from one who had no sin to show, Save that of dreaming once "mal-à-propos."

LXXXV.

As thus Juanna spoke, Dudù turned round And hid her face within Juanna's breast: Her neck alone was seen, but that was found The colour of a budding rose's crest.[hc] I can't tell why she blushed, nor can expound The mystery of this rupture of their test; All that I know is, that the facts I state Are true as Truth has ever been of late,

LXXXVI.

And so good night to them,--or, if you will, Good morrow--for the cock had crown, and light Began to clothe each Asiatic hill, And the mosque crescent struggled into sight Of the long caravan, which in the chill Of dewy dawn wound slowly round each height That stretches to the stony belt, which girds Asia, where Kaff looks down upon the Kurds.[356]

LXXXVII.

With the first ray, or rather grey of morn, Gulbeyaz rose from restlessness; and pale As Passion rises, with its bosom worn, Arrayed herself with mantle, gem, and veil. The Nightingale that sings with the deep thorn, Which fable places in her breast of wail, Is lighter far of heart and voice than those Whose headlong passions form their proper woes.

LXXXVIII.

And that's the moral of this composition, If people would but see its real drift;-- But _that_ they will not do without suspicion, Because all gentle readers have the gift Of closing 'gainst the light their orbs of vision: While gentle writers also love to lift Their voices 'gainst each other, which is natural, The numbers are too great for them to flatter all.

LXXXIX.

Rose the Sultana from a bed of splendour, Softer than the soft Sybarite's, who cried[357] Aloud because his feelings were too tender To brook a ruffled rose-leaf by his side,-- So beautiful that Art could little mend her, Though pale with conflicts between Love and Pride;-- So agitated was she with her error, She did not even look into the mirror.

XC.

Also arose about the self-same time, Perhaps a little later, her great Lord, Master of thirty kingdoms so sublime, And of a wife by whom he was abhorred; A thing of much less import in that clime-- At least to those of incomes which afford The filling up their whole connubial cargo-- Than where two wives are under an embargo.

XCI.

He did not think much on the matter, nor Indeed on any other: as a man He liked to have a handsome paramour At hand, as one may like to have a fan, And therefore of Circassians had good store, As an amusement after the Divan; Though an unusual fit of love, or duty, Had made him lately bask in his bride's beauty.

XCII.

And now he rose; and after due ablutions Exacted by the customs of the East, And prayers and other pious evolutions, He drank six cups of coffee at the least, And then withdrew to hear about the Russians, Whose victories had recently increased In Catherine's reign, whom Glory still adores, As greatest of all sovereigns and w----s.

XCIII.

But oh, thou grand legitimate Alexander![hd][358] Her son's son, let not this last phrase offend Thine ear, if it should reach--and now rhymes wander Almost as far as Petersburgh, and lend A dreadful impulse to each loud meander Of murmuring Liberty's wide waves, which blend Their roar even with the Baltic's--so you be Your father's son, 't is quite enough for me.

XCIV.

To call men love-begotten, or proclaim[he] Their mothers as the antipodes of Timon, That hater of Mankind, would be a shame, A libel, or whate'er you please to rhyme on: But people's ancestors are History's game;[hf] And if one Lady's slip could leave a crime on All generations, I should like to know What pedigree the best would have to show?[359]

XCV.

Had Catherine and the Sultan understood Their own true interests, which Kings rarely know, Until 't is taught by lessons rather rude, There was a way to end their strife, although Perhaps precarious, had they but thought good, Without the aid of Prince or Plenipo: She to dismiss her guards and he his Harem, And for their other matters, meet and share 'em.

XCVI.

But as it was, his Highness had to hold His daily council upon ways and means How to encounter with this martial scold, This modern Amazon and Queen of queans; And the perplexity could not be told Of all the pillars of the State, which leans Sometimes a little heavy on the backs Of those who cannot lay on a new tax.

XCVII.

Meantime Gulbeyaz when her King was gone, Retired into her boudoir, a sweet place For love or breakfast; private, pleasing, lone, And rich with all contrivances which grace Those gay recesses:--many a precious stone Sparkled along its roof, and many a vase Of porcelain held in the fettered flowers, Those captive soothers of a captive's hours.

XCVIII.

Mother of pearl, and porphyry, and marble, Vied with each other on this costly spot; And singing birds without were heard to warble; And the stained glass which lighted this fair grot Varied each ray;--but all descriptions garble The true effect,[360] and so we had better not Be too minute; an outline is the best,-- A lively reader's fancy does the rest.

XCIX.

And here she summoned Baba, and required Don Juan at his hands, and information Of what had passed since all the slaves retired, And whether he had occupied their station: If matters had been managed as desired, And his disguise with due consideration Kept up; and above all, the where and how He had passed the night, was what she wished to know.

C.

Baba, with some embarrassment, replied To this long catechism of questions, asked More easily than answered,--that he had tried His best to obey in what he had been tasked; But there seemed something that he wished to hide, Which Hesitation more betrayed than masked; He scratched his ear, the infallible resource To which embarrassed people have recourse.

CI.

Gulbeyaz was no model of true patience, Nor much disposed to wait in word or deed; She liked quick answers in all conversations; And when she saw him stumbling like a steed In his replies, she puzzled him for fresh ones; And as his speech grew still more broken-kneed, Her cheek began to flush, her eyes to sparkle, And her proud brow's blue veins to swell and darkle.

CII.

When Baba saw these symptoms, which he knew To bode him no great good, he deprecated Her anger, and beseeched she'd hear him through-- He could not help the thing which he related: Then out it came at length, that to Dudù Juan was given in charge, as hath been stated; But not by Baba's fault, he said, and swore on The holy camel's hump, besides the Koran.

CIII.

The chief dame of the Oda,[361] upon whom The discipline of the whole Harem bore, As soon as they re-entered their own room, For Baba's function stopped short at the door, Had settled all; nor could he then presume (The aforesaid Baba) just then to do more, Without exciting such suspicion as Might make the matter still worse than it was.

CIV.

He hoped, indeed he thought, he could be sure, Juan had not betrayed himself; in fact 'T was certain that his conduct had been pure, Because a foolish or imprudent act Would not alone have made him insecure, But ended in his being found out and _sacked,_ And thrown into the sea.--Thus Baba spoke Of all save Dudù's dream, which was no joke.

CV.

This he discreetly kept in the back ground, And talked away--and might have talked till now, For any further answer that he found, So deep an anguish wrung Gulbeyaz' brow: Her cheek turned ashes, ears rung, brain whirled round, As if she had received a sudden blow, And the heart's dew of pain sprang fast and chilly O'er her fair front, like Morning's on a lily.

CVI.

Although she was not of the fainting sort, Baba thought she would faint, but there he erred-- It was but a convulsion, which though short Can never be described; we all have heard,[hg] And some of us have felt thus "_all amort_"[362] When things beyond the common have occurred;-- Gulbeyaz proved in that brief agony What she could ne'er express--then how should I?

CVII.

She stood a moment as a Pythoness Stands on her tripod, agonized, and full Of inspiration gathered from distress, When all the heart-strings like wild horses pull The heart asunder;--then, as more or less Their speed abated or their strength grew dull, She sunk down on her seat by slow degrees, And bowed her throbbing head o'er trembling knees.

CVIII.

Her face declined and was unseen; her hair Fell in long tresses like the weeping willow, Sweeping the marble underneath her chair, Or rather sofa (for it was all pillow, A low, soft ottoman), and black Despair Stirred up and down her bosom like a billow, Which rushes to some shore whose shingles check Its farther course, but must receive its wreck.

CIX.

Her head hung down, and her long hair in stooping Concealed her features better than a veil; And one hand o'er the ottoman lay drooping, White, waxen, and as alabaster pale: Would that I were a painter! to be grouping All that a poet drags into detail! Oh that my words were colours! but their tints May serve perhaps as outlines or slight hints.

CX.

Baba, who knew by experience when to talk And when to hold his tongue, now held it till This passion might blow o'er, nor dared to balk Gulbeyaz' taciturn or speaking will. At length she rose up, and began to walk Slowly along the room, but silent still, And her brow cleared, but not her troubled eye; The wind was down, but still the sea ran high.

CXI.

She stopped, and raised her head to speak--but paused And then moved on again with rapid pace; Then slackened it, which is the march most caused By deep emotion:--you may sometimes trace A feeling in each footstep, as disclosed By Sallust in his Catiline, who, chased By all the demons of all passions, showed Their work even by the way in which he trode[363].

CXII.

Gulbeyaz stopped and beckoned Baba:--"Slave! Bring the two slaves!" she said in a low tone, But one which Baba did not like to brave, And yet he shuddered, and seemed rather prone To prove reluctant, and begged leave to crave (Though he well knew the meaning) to be shown What slaves her Highness wished to indicate, For fear of any error, like the late.

CXIII.

"The Georgian and her paramour," replied The Imperial Bride--and added, "Let the boat Be ready by the secret portal's side: You know the rest." The words stuck in her throat, Despite her injured love and fiery pride; And of this Baba willingly took note, And begged by every hair of Mahomet's beard, She would revoke the order he had heard.

CXIV.

"To hear is to obey," he said; "but still, Sultana, think upon the consequence: It is not that I shall not all fulfil Your orders, even in their severest sense; But such precipitation may end ill, Even at your own imperative expense: I do not mean destruction and exposure, In case of any premature disclosure;

CXV.

"But your own feelings. Even should all the rest Be hidden by the rolling waves, which hide Already many a once love-beaten breast Deep in the caverns of the deadly tide-- You love this boyish, new, Seraglio guest, And if this violent remedy be tried-- Excuse my freedom, when I here assure you, That killing him is not the way to cure you."

CXVI.

"What dost thou know of Love or feeling?--Wretch! Begone!" she cried, with kindling eyes--"and do My bidding!" Baba vanished, for to stretch His own remonstrance further he well knew Might end in acting as his own "Jack Ketch;" And though he wished extremely to get through This awkward business without harm to others, He still preferred his own neck to another's.

CXVII.

Away he went then upon his commission, Growling and grumbling in good Turkish phrase Against all women of whate'er condition, Especially Sultanas and their ways; Their obstinacy, pride, and indecision, Their never knowing their own mind two days, The trouble that they gave, their immorality, Which made him daily bless his own neutrality.

CXVIII.

And then he called his brethren to his aid, And sent one on a summons to the pair, That they must instantly be well arrayed, And above all be combed even to a hair, And brought before the Empress, who had made Inquiries after them with kindest care: At which Dudù looked strange, and Juan silly; But go they must at once, and will I--nill I.

CXIX.

And here I leave them at their preparation For the imperial presence, wherein whether Gulbeyaz showed them both commiseration, Or got rid of the parties altogether, Like other angry ladies of her nation,-- Are things the turning of a hair or feather May settle; but far be 't from me to anticipate In what way feminine caprice may dissipate.

CXX.

I leave them for the present with good wishes, Though doubts of their well doing, to arrange Another part of History; for the dishes Of this our banquet we must sometimes change; And trusting Juan may escape the fishes, (Although his situation now seems strange, And scarce secure),--as such digressions _are_ fair, The Muse will take a little touch at warfare.

End of Canto 6th.

FOOTNOTES:

{268}[328] [Two MSS. (A, B) are extant, A in Byron's handwriting, B a transcription by Mrs. Shelley. The variants are marked respectively _MS. A., MS. B._

Motto: "Thinkest thou that because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale? Aye! and ginger shall be hot in the mouth too."--_Twelfth Night, or What You Will_, Shakespeare, act ii. sc. 3, lines 109-112.--[_MS. B._]

This motto, in an amended form, which was prefixed to the First Canto in 1833, appears on the title-page of the first edition of Cantos VI., VII., VIII., published by John Hunt in 1823.]

[329] [See Shakespeare, _Julius Cæsar_, act iv. sc. 3, lines 216, 217.]

[330] [Jacob Behmen (or Boehm) stands for "mystic." Byron twice compares him with Wordsworth (see _Letters_, 1899, iii. 239, 1900, iv. 238).]

{269}[gb] _Man with his head reflects (as Spurzheim tells),_ _But Woman with the heart--or something else_. or, _Man's pensive part is (now and then) the head,_ _Woman's the heart or anything instead_.-- [MS. A. Alternative reading.]

[gc] _Like to a Comet's tail_----.--[MS. A. erased.]

[gd] _O'erbalance all the Cæsar's victories_.--[MS. A.] _Outbalance all the Cæsar's victories_.--[MS. B.]

_In the Shelley copy "o'erbalance" has been erased and "outbalance" inserted in Byron's handwriting. The lines must have been intended to run thus_--

_'T is not his conquests keep his name in fashion_ _But Actium lost; for Cleopatra's eyes_ _Outbalance all the Cæsar's victories_.

[ge] _I wish that they had been eighteen_----.--[MS. A. erased.]

{270}[331] [To Mary Chaworth. Compare "Our union would have healed feuds ... it would have joined lands broad and rich; it would have joined at least _one_ heart."--_Detached Thoughts_, 1821, _Letters_, 1901, v. 441.]

[332] [Cato gave up his wife Martia to his friend Hortensius; but, on the death of the latter, took her back again. This conduct was censured by Cæsar, who observed that Cato had an eye to the main chance. "It was the wealth of Hortensius. He lent the young man his wife, that he might make her a rich widow."--Langhorne's Plutarch, 1838, pp. 539, 547.]

{271}[333] [_Othello_, act i. sc. i, lines 19-24.]

[gf]---- _though with greater latitude_.--[MS. A.]

{272}[gg] ---- _with one foolish woman wed_.--[MS. B.]

[334] [The famous _bed_, measuring twelve feet square, to which an allusion is made by Shakespeare in _Twelfth Night_, act iii. sc. 2, line 44, was formerly preserved at the Saracen's Head at Ware, in Hertfordshire. The bed was removed from Ware to the Rye House in 1869.]

[gh] _His Highness the sublimest of mankind,_ _The greatest, wisest, bravest, [and the] best,_ _Proved by his edicts somewhat blind,_ _Who saw his virtues as they saw the rest_-- _His Highness quite connubially inclined_ _Had deigned that night to be Gulbeyaz' guest_.--[MS. A.]

[335] See Waverley [chap. xx.]

[gi] _May look like what I need not mention here_--[MS. A.]

{273}[gj] _Are better signs if such things can be signed_.--[MS. A.]

[336] [For St. Francis of Assisi, and the "seven great balls of snow," of which "the greatest" was "his wife," see _The Golden Legend_, 1900, v. 221, _vide ante_, p. 32, note 1.]

[337] [The words _medio_, etc., are to be found in Ovid., _Metam._, lib. ii. line 137; the doctrine, _Virtus est medium vitiorum_, in Horace, _Epist_., lib. i, ep. xviii. line 9.]

[gk] _In the damned line ('t is worth, at least, a curse)_ _Which I have examined too close_.--[MS. erased.]

{274}[gl] _Self-love that whetstone of Don Cupid's art_.--[MS. A.]

[gm]---- _with love despairs._--[MS. A. erased.]

[338] [Lady Noel's will was proved February 22, 1812. She left to the trustees a portrait of Byron ... with directions that it was not to be shown to his daughter Ada till she attained the age of twenty-one; but that if her mother was still living, it was not to be so delivered without Lady Byron's consent.--_Letters_, 1901, vi. 42, note 1.]

[gn] _Which diddles you_----.--[MS. A. erased.]

[go] _I'm a philosopher; G--d damn them all_.--[MS. B.]

[gp] _Bills, women, wives, dogs, horses and mankind_.--[MS. B. erased.]

{275}[gq] _Is more than I know, and, so, damn them both_.--[MS. A. erased.]

[gr] _When we lie down--wife, spouse, or bachelor_ _By what we love not, to sigh for the light_.--[MS. A. erased.]

[gs] _By their infernal bedfellow_----.--[MS. A. erased.]

[339] [The comparison of Queen Caroline to snow may be traced to an article in the _Times_ of August 23, 1820: "The Queen may now, we believe, be considered as triumphing! For the first three years at least of her Majesty's painful peregrinations, she stands before her husband's admiring subjects 'as white as unsunned snows.'" Political bards and lampoonists of the king's party thanked the _Times_ for "giving them that word."]

{276}[340] [According to Gronow (_Reminiscences_, 1889, i. 62), a practical joke of Dan Mackinnon's (_vide ante_, p. 69, _footnote_) gave Byron a hint for this scene in the harem: "Lord Wellington was curious about visiting a convent near Lisbon, and the lady abbess made no difficulty. Mackinnon hearing this contrived to get clandestinely within the sacred walls ... at all events, when Lord Wellington arrived Dan Mackinnon was to be seen among the nuns, dressed out in their sacred costume, with his whiskers shaved; and, as he possessed good features, he was declared to be one of the best-looking among those chaste dames. It was supposed that this adventure, which was known to Lord Byron, suggested a similar episode in _Don Juan_."]

[341] [Caligula--_vide_ Suetonius, _De XII. Cæs_., C. _Cæs_. Calig., cap, xxx., "Infensus turbæ faventi adversus studium exclamavit: 'Utinam populus Romanus unam cervicem haberet!'"]

[gt] _My wish were general but no worse_.--[MS. A. erased.]

[gu] _That Womankind had only one--say heart_.--[MS. A. erased.]

{277}[342] The ladies of the Seraglio.

[343] [Demetrius Cantemir, hospodar of Moldavia. His work, the _History of the Growth and Decay of the Othman Empire_, was translated into English by N. Tyndal, 1734. He died in 1723.]

[344] [Baron de Tott, in his _Memoirs concerning the State of the Turkish Empire_ (1786, i. 72), gives the title of this functionary as _Kiaya Kadun_, i.e. Mistress or Governess of the Ladies.]

{278}[345] [The repetition of the same rhyme-word was noted in _Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine_, July, 1823, vol. xiv. p. 90.]

{279}[346]

["I guess, 't was frightful there to see A lady so richly clad as she-- Beautiful exceedingly." _Christabel_, Part I. lines 66-68.]

[347] "It is in the adjacent climates of Georgia, Mingrelia, and Circassia, that nature has placed, at least to our eyes, the model of beauty, in the shape of the limbs, the colour of the skin, the symmetry of the features, and the expression of the countenance: the men are formed for action, the women for love."--Gibbon, [_Decline and Fall, etc._, 1825, iii 126.]

{280}[348] Padisha is the Turkish title of the Grand Signior.

[349] [Katinka was the name of the youngest sister of Theresa, the "Maid of Athens."--See letter to H. Drury, May 3, 1810, _Letters_, 1898, i. 269, note 1; and _Poetical Works_, 1900, iii. 15, note 1.

It is probable that the originals of Katinka and Dudù were two Circassians who were presented for sale to Nicolas Ernest Kleeman (see his _Voyage de Vienne, etc._, 1780, pp. 142, 143) at Kaffa, in the Crimea. Of the first he writes, "Elle me baisa la main, et par l'ordre de son maître, elle se promena en long et en large, pour me faire remarquer sa taille mince et aisée. Elle avoit un joli petit pied.... Quand elle a en ôté son voile elle a présenté à mes yeux une beauté très-attrayante; ses cheveux étoient blonds argentés; elle avoit de grands yeux bleux, le nez un peu long, et les lèvres appétissantes. Sa figure étoit régulière, son teint blanc, délicat, les joues couvertes d'un charmant vermilion.... La seconde étoit un peu petite, assez grasse, et avoit les cheveux roux, l'air sensuel et revenant." Kleeman pretended to offer terms, took notes, and retired. But the Circassians are before us still.]

{281}[350] [_Macbeth_, act ii. sc. 2, line 36.]

{284}[gv] _By which no doubt its Baptism came to pass_.--[MS. A. erased.]

[gw] _The Devil in Hell might melt but never settle_.--[MS. A. erased.]

[351] [Hence the title of the satire, _The Age of Bronze_.]

[gx] _For Woman's silence startles more than thunder_.--[MS. A. erased.]

{287}[352] [Compare _Beppo_, stanza xxii. line 2, _Poetical Works_, 1901, iv. 166, note 1.]

[gy] _With no less true and feminine surprise_.--[MS. A. erased.]

{289}[353] [_Julius Cæsar_, act iii. sc. II, line 216.]

[354]

["Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura," etc.

_Inferno_, Canto I, lines I, 2.]

[gz] _Himself in an age when men grow good,_ _As Life's best half is done_----.--[MS. A. erased.]

[ha] _But out of reach--a most provoking sight_.--[MS. A. erased.]

[hb] _That ere her unreluctant lips could ope_.--[MS. A.]

{290}[355] [One of the advocates employed for Queen Caroline in the House of Lords spoke of some of the most puzzling passages in the history of her intercourse with Bergami, as amounting to "odd instances of strange coincidence."--Ed. 1833, xvi. 160.]

{291}[hc] _At least as red as the Flamingo's breast_.--[MS. A. erased.]

{292}[356] [Byron used Kaff for Caucasus, _vide ante_, _English Bards, etc._, line 1022, _Poetical Works_, 1898, i. 378, note 3. But there may be some allusion to the fabulous Kaff, "anciently imagined by the Asiatics to surround the world, to bind the horizon on all sides." There was a proverb "From Kaf to Kaf," _i.e._ "the wide world through." See, too, D'Herbelot's _Bibliothèque Orientale_, 1697, art. "Caf."]

[357] [See L.A. Seneca, _De Irâ_, lib. ii. cap. 25.]

{294}[hd] _Oh thou her lawful grandson Alexander_ _Let not this quality offend_----.--[MS. A. erased.]

[358] [Compare _The Age of Bronze_, lines 434, sq., _Poetical Works_, 1901, v. 563, note 1.]

{294}[he] _To call a man a whoreson_----.--[MS. A. erased.]

[hf] _But a man's grandmother is deemed fair game_.--[MS. A.]

[359] [It is probable that Byron knew that there was a "hint of illegitimacy" in his own pedigree. John Byron of Clayton, grandfather of Richard the second Lord Byron, was born, out of wedlock, to Elizabeth, daughter of William Costerden, of Blakesley, in Lancashire, widow to George Halgh of Halgh (_sic_), and second wife of Sir John Byron of Clayton, "little Sir John with the great beard." He succeeded to Newstead and the Lancashire estates, not as heir-at-law, but by deed of gift. (See letter to Murray, October 20, 1820, _Letters_, 1901, v. 99, note 2.)]

{295}[360] [Aubry de la Motraye, in describing the interior of the Grand Signior's palace, into which he gained admission as the assistant of a watchmaker who was employed to regulate the clocks, says that the eunuch who received them at the entrance of the harem, conducted them into a hall: "Cette salle est incrustee de porcelaines fines; et le lambris doré et azuré qui orne le fond d'une coupole qui regne au-dessus, est des plus riches.... Une fontaine artificielle et jaillissante, dont le bassin est d'un prétieux marbre verd qui m'a paru serpentin ou jaspe, s'élevoit directement au milieu, sous le dôme.... Je me trouvai la tête si pleine de _Sophas_ de prétieux plafonds, de meubles superbes, en un mot, d'une si grande confusion de matériaux magnifiques, ... qu'il seroit difficile d'en donner une idée claire."--_Voyages_, 1727, i. 220, 222.]

{296}[361] ["Il n'ya point de Religieuses ... point de novices, plus soumises à la volonté de leur abbesse que ces filles [les Odaliques] le sont à leurs maitresses."--A. de la Motraye, _Voyages,_ 1727, i. 338.]

{297}[hg] ---- _though seen not heard_ _For it is silent_.--[MS. A. erased.]

[362] ["How fares my Kate? What! sweeting, all amort?"--_Taming of the Shrew,_ act iv. sc. 3, line 36. "Amort" is said to be a corruption of _à la mort_. Byron must have had in mind his silent ecstasy of grief when the Countess Guiccioli endeavoured to break the announcement of Allegra's death (April, 1822). "'I understand,' said he; 'it is enough; say no more.' A mortal paleness spread itself over his face, his strength failed him, and he sunk into a seat. His look was fixed, and the expression such that I began to fear for his reason; he did not shed a tear" (_Life,_ p. 368).]

{299}[363] ["His guilty soul, at enmity with gods and men, could find no rest; so violently was his mind torn and distracted by a consciousness of guilt. Accordingly his countenance was pale, his eyes ghastly, his pace one while quick, another slow [citus modo, modo tardus incessus]; indeed, in all his looks there was an air of distraction."--Sallust, _Catilina_, cap. xv. sf.]

CANTO THE SEVENTH.[364]

I.

O LOVE! O Glory! what are ye who fly Around us ever, rarely to alight? There's not a meteor in the polar sky Of such transcendent and more fleeting flight. Chill, and chained to cold earth, we lift on high Our eyes in search of either lovely light; A thousand and a thousand colours they Assume, then leave us on our freezing way.

II.

And such as they are, such my present tale is, A nondescript and ever-varying rhyme, A versified Aurora Borealis, Which flashes o'er a waste and icy clime. When we know what all are, we must bewail us, But ne'ertheless I hope it is no crime To laugh at _all_ things--for I wish to know _What_, after _all_, are _all_ things--but a _show_?

III.

They accuse me--_Me_--the present writer of The present poem--of--I know not what-- A tendency to under-rate and scoff At human power and virtue, and all that;[365] And this they say in language rather rough. Good God! I wonder what they would be at! I say no more than hath been said in Danté's Verse, and by Solomon and by Cervantes;

IV.

By Swift, by Machiavel, by Rochefoucault, By Fénélon, by Luther, and by Plato;[hh] By Tillotson, and Wesley, and Rousseau, Who knew this life was not worth a potato. 'T is not their fault, nor mine, if this be so,-- For my part, I pretend not to be Cato, Nor even Diogenes.--We live and die, But which is best, _you_ know no more than I.

V.

Socrates said, our only knowledge was[366] "To know that nothing could be known;" a pleasant Science enough, which levels to an ass Each man of wisdom, future, past, or present. Newton (that proverb of the mind), alas! Declared, with all his grand discoveries recent, That he himself felt only "like a youth Picking up shells by the great ocean--Truth."[hi][367]

VI.

Ecclesiastes said, "that all is vanity"-- Most modern preachers say the same, or show it By their examples of true Christianity: In short, all know, or very soon may know it; And in this scene of all-confessed inanity, By Saint, by Sage, by Preacher, and by Poet, Must I restrain me, through the fear of strife, From holding up the nothingness of Life?[hj]

VII.

Dogs, or men!--for I flatter you[368] in saying That ye are dogs--your betters far--ye may Read, or read not, what I am now essaying To show ye what ye are in every way. As little as the moon stops for the baying Of wolves, will the bright Muse withdraw one ray From out her skies--then howl your idle wrath! While she still silvers o'er your gloomy path.

VIII.

"Fierce loves and faithless wars"--I am not sure If this be the right reading--'t is no matter; The fact's about the same, I am secure; I sing them both, and am about to batter A town which did a famous siege endure, And was beleaguered both by land and water By Souvaroff,[369] or Anglicè Suwarrow, Who loved blood as an alderman loves marrow.

IX.

The fortress is called Ismail, and is placed Upon the Danube's left branch and left bank,[370] With buildings in the Oriental taste, But still a fortress of the foremost rank, Or was at least, unless 't is since defaced, Which with your conquerors is a common prank: It stands some eighty versts from the high sea, And measures round of toises thousands three.[371]

X.

Within the extent of this fortification A borough is comprised along the height Upon the left, which from its loftier station Commands the city, and upon its site A Greek had raised around this elevation A quantity of palisades _upright_, So placed as to _impede_ the fire of those Who held the place, and to _assist_ the foe's.[372]

XI.

This circumstance may serve to give a notion Of the high talents of this new Vauban: But the town ditch below was deep as Ocean, The rampart higher than you'd wish to hang: But then there was a great want of precaution (Prithee, excuse this engineering slang), Nor work advanced, nor covered way was there,[373] To hint, at least, "Here is no thoroughfare."

XII.

But a stone bastion, with a narrow gorge, And walls as thick as most skulls born as yet; Two batteries, cap-à-pie, as our St. George, Casemated[374] one, and t' other "a barbette,"[375] Of Danube's bank took formidable charge; While two-and-twenty cannon duly set Rose over the town's right side, in bristling tier, Forty feet high, upon a cavalier.[376]

XIII.

But from the river the town's open quite, Because the Turks could never be persuaded A Russian vessel e'er would heave in sight;[377] And such their creed was till they were invaded, When it grew rather late to set things right: But as the Danube could not well be waded, They looked upon the Muscovite flotilla, And only shouted, "Allah!" and "Bis Millah!"

XIV.

The Russians now were ready to attack; But oh, ye goddesses of War and Glory! How shall I spell the name of each Cossacque Who were immortal, could one tell their story? Alas! what to their memory can lack? Achilles' self was not more grim and gory Than thousands of this new and polished nation, Whose names want nothing but--pronunciation.

XV.

Still I'll record a few, if but to increase Our euphony: there was Strongenoff, and Strokonoff, Meknop, Serge Lwow, Arséniew of modern Greece, And Tschitsshakoff, and Roguenoff, and Chokenoff,[378] And others of twelve consonants apiece; And more might be found out, if I could poke enough Into gazettes; but Fame (capricious strumpet), It seems, has got an ear as well as trumpet,

XVI.

And cannot tune those discords of narration,[hk] Which may be names at Moscow, into rhyme; Yet there were several worth commemoration, As e'er was virgin of a nuptial chime; Soft words, too, fitted for the peroration Of Londonderry drawling against time, Ending in "ischskin," "ousckin," "iffskchy," "ouski," Of whom we can insert but Rousamouski,[379]

XVII.

Scherematoff and Chrematoff, Koklophti, Koclobski, Kourakin, and Mouskin Pouskin, All proper men of weapons, as e'er scoffed high[380] Against a foe, or ran a sabre through skin: Little cared they for Mahomet or Mufti, Unless to make their kettle-drums a new skin Out of their hides, if parchment had grown dear, And no more handy substitute been near.

XVIII.

Then there were foreigners of much renown, Of various nations, and all volunteers; Not fighting for their country or its crown, But wishing to be one day brigadiers; Also to have the sacking of a town;-- A pleasant thing to young men at their years. 'Mongst them were several Englishmen of pith, Sixteen called Thomson, and nineteen named Smith.

XIX.

Jack Thomson and Bill Thomson;--all the rest Had been called _"Jemmy,"_ after the great bard; I don't know whether they had arms or crest, But such a godfather's as good a card. Three of the Smiths were Peters; but the best Amongst them all, hard blows to inflict or ward, Was _he_, since so renowned "in country quarters At Halifax;"[381] but now he served the Tartars.

XX.

The rest were Jacks and Gills and Wills and Bills, But when I've added that the elder Jack Smith Was born in Cumberland among the hills, And that his father was an honest blacksmith, I've said all _I_ know of a name that fills Three lines of the despatch in taking "Schmacksmith," A village of Moldavia's waste, wherein He fell, immortal in a bulletin.

XXI.

I wonder (although Mars no doubt's a god I Praise) if a man's name in a _bulletin_ May make up for a _bullet in_ his body? I hope this little question is no sin, Because, though I am but a simple noddy, I think one Shakespeare puts the same thought in The mouth of some one in his plays so doting, Which many people pass for wits by quoting.[382]

XXII.

Then there were Frenchmen, gallant, young, and gay; But I'm too great a patriot to record Their Gallic names upon a glorious day; I'd rather tell ten lies than say a word Of truth;--such truths are treason; they betray Their country; and as traitors are abhorred, Who name the French in English, save to show How Peace should make John Bull the Frenchman's foe.

XXIII.

The Russians, having built two batteries on An isle near Ismail, had two ends in view; The first was to bombard it, and knock down The public buildings and the private too, No matter what poor souls might be undone:[hl] The city's shape suggested this, 't is true, Formed like an amphitheatre--each dwelling Presented a fine mark to throw a shell in.[383]

XXIV.

The second object was to profit by The moment of the general consternation, To attack the Turk's flotilla, which lay nigh Extremely tranquil, anchored at its station: But a third motive was as probably To frighten them into capitulation;[384] A phantasy which sometimes seizes warriors, Unless they are game as bull-dogs and fox-terriers.[hm]

XXV.

A habit rather blameable, which is That of despising those we combat with, Common in many cases, was in this The cause[385] of killing Tchitchitzkoff and Smith-- One of the valorous "Smiths" whom we shall miss Out of those nineteen who late rhymed to "pith;" But 't is a name so spread o'er "Sir" and "Madam," That one would think the _first_ who bore it _"Adam."_

XXVI.

The Russian batteries were incomplete, Because they were constructed in a hurry;[386] Thus the same cause which makes a verse want feet, And throws a cloud o'er Longman and John Murray, When the sale of new books is not so fleet As they who print them think is necessary, May likewise put off for a time what story Sometimes calls "Murder," and at others "Glory."

XXVII.

Whether it was their engineer's stupidity, Their haste or waste, I neither know nor care, Or some contractor's personal cupidity, Saving his soul by cheating in the ware Of homicide, but there was no solidity In the new batteries erected there; They either missed, or they were never missed, And added greatly to the missing list.

XXVIII.

A sad miscalculation about distance Made all their naval matters incorrect; Three fireships lost their amiable existence Before they reached a spot to take effect; The match was lit too soon, and no assistance Could remedy this lubberly defect; They blew up in the middle of the river, While, though 't was dawn, the Turks slept fast as ever.[387]

XXIX.

At seven they rose, however, and surveyed The Russ flotilla getting under way; 'T was nine, when still advancing undismayed, Within a cable's length their vessels lay Off Ismail, and commenced a cannonade, Which was returned with interest, I may say, And by a fire of musketry and grape, And shells and shot of every size and shape.[388]

XXX.

For six hours bore they without intermission The Turkish fire, and, aided by their own Land batteries, worked their guns with great precision; At length they found mere cannonade alone By no means would produce the town's submission, And made a signal to retreat at one. One bark blew up, a second near the works Running aground, was taken by the Turks.[389]

XXXI.

The Moslem, too, had lost both ships and men; But when they saw the enemy retire, Their Delhis[390] manned some boats, and sailed again, And galled the Russians with a heavy fire, And tried to make a landing on the main; But here the effect fell short of their desire: Count Damas drove them back into the water Pell-mell, and with a whole gazette of slaughter.[391]

XXXII.

"If" (says the historian here) "I could report All that the Russians did upon this day, I think that several volumes would fall short, And I should still have many things to say;"[392] And so he says no more--but pays his court To some distinguished strangers in that fray; The Prince de Ligne, and Langeron, and Damas, Names great as any that the roll of Fame has.[393]

XXXIII.

This being the case, may show us what Fame _is_: For out of these three "_preux Chevaliers_," how Many of common readers give a guess That such existed? (and they may live now For aught we know.) Renown's all hit or miss; There's fortune even in Fame, we must allow. 'T is true, the Memoirs of the Prince de Ligne[394] Have half withdrawn from _him_ Oblivion's screen.

XXXIV.

But here are men who fought in gallant actions As gallantly as ever heroes fought, But buried in the heap of such transactions Their names are rarely found, nor often sought. Thus even good fame may suffer sad contractions, And is extinguished sooner than she ought: Of all our modern battles, I will bet You can't repeat nine names from each Gazette.

XXXV.

In short, this last attack, though rich in glory, Showed that _somewhere, somehow_, there was a fault, And Admiral Ribas[395] (known in Russian story) Most strongly recommended an assault; In which he was opposed by young and hoary, Which made a long debate; but I must halt, For if I wrote down every warrior's speech, I doubt few readers e'er would mount the breach.

XXXVI.

There was a man, if that he was a man, Not that his manhood could be called in question, For had he not been Hercules, his span Had been as short in youth as indigestion Made his last illness, when, all worn and wan, He died beneath a tree, as much unblest on The soil of the green province he had wasted, As e'er was locust on the land it blasted.

XXXVII.

This was Potemkin[396]--a great thing in days When homicide and harlotry made great; If stars and titles could entail long praise, His glory might half equal his estate. This fellow, being six foot high, could raise A kind of phantasy proportionate In the then Sovereign of the Russian people, Who measured men as you would do a steeple.

XXXVIII.

While things were in abeyance, Ribas sent A courier to the Prince, and he succeeded In ordering matters after his own bent; I cannot tell the way in which he pleaded, But shortly he had cause to be content. In the mean time, the batteries proceeded, And fourscore cannon on the Danube's border Were briskly fired and answered in due order.[397]

XXXIX.

But on the thirteenth, when already part Of the troops were embarked, the siege to raise, A courier on the spur inspired new heart Into all panters for newspaper praise,[hn] As well as dilettanti in War's art, By his despatches (couched in pithy phrase) Announcing the appointment of that lover of Battles to the command, Field-Marshal Souvaroff.[398]

XL.

The letter of the Prince to the same Marshal Was worthy of a Spartan, had the cause Been one to which a good heart could be partial-- Defence of freedom, country, or of laws; But as it was mere lust of Power to o'er-arch all With its proud brow, it merits slight applause, Save for its style, which said, all in a trice, "You will take Ismail at whatever price."[399]

XLI.

"Let there be Light! said God, and there was Light!" "Let there be Blood!" says man, and there's a sea! The fiat of this spoiled child of the Night (For Day ne'er saw his merits) could decree More evil in an hour, than thirty bright Summers could renovate, though they should be Lovely as those which ripened Eden's fruit; For War cuts up not only branch, but root.

XLII.

Our friends, the Turks, who with loud "Allahs" now Began to signalise the Russ retreat,[400] Were damnably mistaken; few are slow In thinking that their enemy is beat,[401] (Or _beaten_, if you insist on grammar, though I never think about it in a heat,) But here I say the Turks were much mistaken, Who hating hogs, yet wished to save their bacon.

XLIII.

For, on the sixteenth, at full gallop, drew In sight two horsemen, who were deemed Cossacques For some time, till they came in nearer view: They had but little baggage at their backs, For there were but _three_ shirts between the two; But on they rode upon two Ukraine hacks, Till, in approaching, were at length descried In this plain pair, Suwarrow and his guide.[402]

XLIV.

"Great joy to London now!" says some great fool, When London had a grand illumination, Which to that bottle-conjuror, John Bull, Is of all dreams the first hallucination; So that the streets of coloured lamps are full, That sage (said John) surrenders at discretion[ho] His purse, his soul, his sense, and even his nonsense, To gratify, like a huge moth, this _one_ sense.

XLV.

'T is strange that he should further "Damn his eyes," For they are damned; that once all-famous oath Is to the Devil now no further prize, Since John has lately lost the use of both. Debt he calls Wealth, and taxes Paradise; And Famine, with her gaunt and bony growth, Which stare him in the face, he won't examine, Or swears that Ceres hath begotten Famine.

XLVI.

But to the tale;--great joy unto the camp! To Russian, Tartar, English, French, Cossacque, O'er whom Suwarrow shone like a gas lamp, Presaging a most luminous attack; Or like a wisp along the marsh so damp, Which leads beholders on a boggy walk, He flitted to and fro a dancing light, Which all who saw it followed, wrong or right.

XLVII.

But, certes, matters took a different face; There was enthusiasm and much applause, The fleet and camp saluted with great grace, And all presaged good fortune to their cause. Within a cannot-shot length of the place They drew, constructed ladders, repaired flaws In former works, made new, prepared fascines, And all kinds of benevolent machines.

XLVIII.

'T is thus the spirit of a single mind Makes that of multitudes take one direction, As roll the waters to the breathing wind, Or roams the herd beneath the bull's protection; Or as a little dog will lead the blind, Or a bell-wether form the flock's connection By tinkling sounds, when they go forth to victual; Such is the sway of your great men o'er little.

XLIX.

The whole camp rung with joy; you would have thought That they were going to a marriage feast (This metaphor, I think, holds good as aught, Since there is discord after both at least): There was not now a luggage boy but sought Danger and spoil with ardour much increased; And why? because a little--odd--old man, Stripped to his shirt, was come to lead the van.

L.

But so it was; and every preparation Was made with all alacrity: the first Detachment of three columns took its station, And waited but the signal's voice to burst Upon the foe: the second's ordination Was also in three columns, with a thirst For Glory gaping o'er a sea of Slaughter: The third, in columns two, attacked by water.[403]

LI.

New batteries were erected, and was held A general council, in which Unanimity, That stranger to most councils, here prevailed,[404] As sometimes happens in a great extremity;[hp] And every difficulty being dispelled, Glory began to dawn with due sublimity,[hq] While Souvaroff, determined to obtain it, Was teaching his recruits to use the bayonet.[405]

LII.

It is an actual fact, that he, commander In chief, in proper person deigned to drill The awkward squad, and could afford to squander His time, a corporal's duty to fulfil; Just as you'd break a sucking salamander To swallow flame, and never take it ill:[hr] He showed them how to mount a ladder (which Was not like Jacob's) or to cross a ditch.[406]

LIII.

Also he dressed up, for the nonce, fascines Like men with turbans, scimitars, and dirks, And made them charge with bayonet these machines, By way of lesson against actual Turks;[407] And when well practised in these mimic scenes, He judged them proper to assail the works,-- (At which your wise men sneered in phrases witty),[hs] He made no answer--but he took the city.

LIV.

Most things were in this posture on the eve Of the assault, and all the camp was in A stern repose; which you would scarce conceive; Yet men resolved to dash through thick and thin Are very silent when they once believe That all is settled:--there was little din, For some were thinking of their home and friends, And others of themselves and latter ends.[ht]

LV.

Suwarrow chiefly was on the alert, Surveying, drilling, ordering, jesting, pondering; For the man was, we safely may assert, A thing to wonder at beyond most wondering; Hero, buffoon, half-demon, and half-dirt, Praying, instructing, desolating, plundering--Now Mars, now Momus--and when bent to storm A fortress, Harlequin in uniform.[408]

LVI.

The day before the assault, while upon drill-- For this great conqueror played the corporal-- Some Cossacques, hovering like hawks round a hill, Had met a party towards the Twilight's fall, One of whom spoke their tongue--or well or ill, 'T was much that he was understood at all; But whether from his voice, or speech, or manner, They found that he had fought beneath their banner.

LVII.

Whereon immediately at his request They brought him and his comrades to head-quarters; Their dress was Moslem, but you might have guessed That these were merely masquerading Tartars, And that beneath each Turkish-fashioned vest Lurked Christianity--which sometimes barters Her inward grace for outward show, and makes It difficult to shun some strange mistakes.

LVIII.

Suwarrow, who was standing in his shirt Before a company of Calmucks, drilling, Exclaiming, fooling, swearing at the inert, And lecturing on the noble art of killing,-- For deeming human clay but common dirt This great philosopher was thus instilling His maxims,[409] which to martial comprehension Proved death in battle equal to a pension;--

LIX.

Suwarrow, when he saw this company Of Cossacques and their prey, turned round and cast Upon them his slow brow and piercing eye:-- "Whence come ye?"--"From Constantinople last, Captives just now escaped," was the reply. "What are ye?"--"What you see us." Briefly passed This dialogue; for he who answered knew To whom he spoke, and made his words but few.

LX.

"Your names?"--"Mine's Johnson, and my comrade's Juan; The other two are women, and the third Is neither man nor woman." The Chief threw on The party a slight glance, then said, "I have heard _Your_ name before, the second is a new one: To bring the other three here was absurd: But let that pass:--I think I have heard your name In the Nikolaiew regiment?"--"The same."

LXI.

"You served at Widdin?"--"Yes."--"You led the attack?" "I did."--"What next?"--"I really hardly know"-- "You were the first i' the breach?"--"I was not slack At least to follow those who might be so"-- "What followed?"--"A shot laid me on my back, And I became a prisoner to the foe"-- "You shall have vengeance, for the town surrounded Is twice as strong as that where you were wounded.

LXII.

"Where will you serve?"--"Where'er you please."--"I know You like to be the hope of the forlorn, And doubtless would be foremost on the foe After the hardships you've already borne. And this young fellow--say what can he do? He with the beardless chin and garments torn?"-- "Why, General, if he hath no greater fault In War than Love, he had better lead the assault"--

LXIII.

"He shall if that he dare." Here Juan bowed Low as the compliment deserved. Suwarrow Continued: "Your old regiment's allowed, By special providence, to lead to-morrow, Or, it may be, to-night, the assault: I have vowed To several Saints, that shortly plough or harrow Shall pass o'er what was Ismail, and its tusk[410] Be unimpeded by the proudest mosque.

LXIV.

"So now, my lads, for Glory!"--Here he turned And drilled away in the most classic Russian, Until each high heroic bosom burned For cash and conquest, as if from a cushion A preacher had held forth (who nobly spurned All earthly goods save tithes) and bade them push on To slay the Pagans who resisted, battering The armies of the Christian Empress Catherine.

LXV.

Johnson, who knew by this long colloquy Himself a favourite, ventured to address Suwarrow, though engaged with accents high In his resumed amusement. "I confess My debt in being thus allowed to die Among the foremost; but if you'd express Explicitly our several posts, my friend And self would know what duty to attend."

LXVI.

"Right! I was busy, and forgot. Why, you Will join your former regiment, which should be Now under arms. Ho! Katskoff, take him to"-- (Here he called up a Polish orderly) "His post, I mean the regiment Nikolaiew: The stranger stripling may remain with me; He's a fine boy. The women may be sent To the other baggage, or to the sick tent."

LXVII.

But here a sort of scene began to ensue: The ladies,--who by no means had been bred To be disposed of in a way so new, Although their Harem education led, Doubtless, to that of doctrines the most true, Passive obedience,--now raised up the head With flashing eyes and starting tears, and flung Their arms, as hens their wings about their young,

LXVIII.

O'er the promoted couple of brave men Who were thus honoured by the greatest Chief That ever peopled Hell with heroes slain, Or plunged a province or a realm in grief. Oh, foolish mortals! Always taught in vain! Oh, glorious Laurel! since for one sole leaf Of thine imaginary deathless tree, Of blood and tears must flow the unebbing sea.[hu]

LXIX.

Suwarrow, who had small regard for tears, And not much sympathy for blood, surveyed The women with their hair about their ears And natural agonies, with a slight shade Of feeling: for however Habit sears Men's hearts against whole millions, when their trade Is butchery, sometimes a single sorrow Will touch even heroes--and such was Suwarrow.

LXX.

He said,--and in the kindest Calmuck tone,-- "Why, Johnson, what the devil do you mean By bringing women here? They shall be shown All the attention possible, and seen In safety to the waggons, where alone In fact they can be safe. You should have been Aware this kind of baggage never thrives; Save wed a year, I hate recruits with wives"--

LXXI.

"May it please your Excellency," thus replied Our British friend, "these are the wives of others, And not our own. I am too qualified By service with my military brothers To break the rules by bringing one's own bride Into a camp: I know that nought so bothers The hearts of the heroic on a charge, As leaving a small family at large.

LXXII.

"But these are but two Turkish ladies, who With their attendant aided our escape, And afterwards accompanied us through A thousand perils in this dubious shape. To me this kind of life is not so new; To them, poor things, it is an awkward scrape: I therefore, if you wish me to fight freely, Request that they may both be used genteelly."

LXXIII.

Meantime these two poor girls, with swimming eyes, Looked on as if in doubt if they could trust Their own protectors; nor was their surprise Less than their grief (and truly not less just) To see an old man, rather wild than wise In aspect, plainly clad, besmeared with dust, Stripped to his waistcoat, and that not too clean, More feared than all the Sultans ever seen.

LXXIV.

For everything seemed resting on his nod, As they could read in all eyes. Now to them, Who were accustomed, as a sort of god, To see the Sultan, rich in many a gem, Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad (That royal bird, whose tail's a diadem,) With all the pomp of Power, it was a doubt How Power could condescend to do without.

LXXV.

John Johnson, seeing their extreme dismay, Though little versed in feelings oriental, Suggested some slight comfort in his way: Don Juan, who was much more sentimental, Swore they should see him by the dawn of day, Or that the Russian army should repent all: And, strange to say, they found some consolation In this--for females like exaggeration.

LXXVI.

And then with tears, and sighs, and some slight kisses, They parted for the present--these to await, According to the artillery's hits or misses, What sages call Chance, Providence, or Fate-- (Uncertainty is one of many blisses, A mortgage on Humanity's estate;)[hv] While their belovéd friends began to arm, To burn a town which never did them harm.

LXXVII.

Suwarrow,--who but saw things in the gross. Being much too gross to see them in detail, Who calculated life as so much dross, And as the wind a widowed nation's wail, And cared as little for his army's loss (So that their efforts should at length prevail) As wife and friends did for the boils of Job,-- What was 't to him to hear two women sob?

LXXVIII.

Nothing.--The work of Glory still went on In preparations for a cannonade As terrible as that of Ilion, If Homer had found mortars ready made; But now, instead of slaying Priam's son, We only can but talk of escalade, Bombs, drums, guns, bastions, batteries, bayonets, bullets-- Hard words, which stick in the soft Muses' gullets.

LXXIX.

Oh, thou eternal Homer! who couldst charm All ears, though long; all ages, though so short, By merely wielding with poetic arm Arms to which men will never more resort, Unless gunpowder should be found to harm Much less than is the hope of every court, Which now is leagued young Freedom to annoy; But they will not find Liberty a Troy:--

LXXX.

Oh, thou eternal Homer! I have now To paint a siege, wherein more men were slain, With deadlier engines and a speedier blow, Than in thy Greek gazette of that campaign; And yet, like all men else, I must allow, To vie with thee would be about as vain As for a brook to cope with Ocean's flood,-- But still we moderns equal you in blood:[hw]

LXXXI.

If not in poetry, at least in fact; And fact is Truth, the grand desideratum! Of which, howe'er the Muse describes each act, There should be ne'ertheless a slight substratum. But now the town is going to be attacked; Great deeds are doing--how shall I relate 'em? Souls of immortal Generals! Phoebus watches To colour up his rays from your despatches.[hx]

LXXXII.

Oh, ye great bulletins of Bonaparte! Oh, ye less grand long lists of killed and wounded! Shade of Leonidas, who fought so hearty, When my poor Greece was once, as now, surrounded! Oh, Cæsar's Commentaries! now impart, ye Shadows of Glory! (lest I be confounded), A portion of your fading twilight hues-- So beautiful, so fleeting--to the Muse.

LXXXIII.

When I call "fading" martial immortality, I mean, that every age and every year, And almost every day, in sad reality, Some sucking hero is compelled to rear, Who, when we come to sum up the totality Of deeds to human happiness most dear, Turns out to be a butcher in great business, Afflicting young folks with a sort of dizziness.

LXXXIV.

Medals, rank, ribands, lace, embroidery, scarlet, Are things immortal to immortal man, As purple to the Babylonian harlot;[hy] An uniform to boys is like a fan To women; there is scarce a crimson varlet But deems himself the first in Glory's van. But Glory's glory; and if you would find What _that_ is--ask the pig who sees the wind!

LXXXV.

At least _he feels it_, and some say he _sees_, Because he runs before it like a pig; Or, if that simple sentence should displease, Say, that he scuds before it like a brig, A schooner, or--but it is time to ease This Canto, ere my Muse perceives fatigue. The next shall ring a peal to shake all people, Like a bob-major from a village steeple.

LXXXVI.

Hark! through the silence of the cold, dull night, The hum of armies gathering rank on rank! Lo! dusky masses steal in dubious sight Along the leaguered wall and bristling bank Of the armed river, while with straggling light The stars peep through the vapours dim and dank, Which curl in various wreaths:--how soon the smoke Of Hell shall pall them in a deeper cloak!

LXXXVII.

Here pause we for the present--as even then That awful pause, dividing Life from Death, Struck for an instant on the hearts of men,-- Thousands of whom were drawing their last breath! A moment--and all will be Life again! The march! the charge! the shouts of either faith, Hurrah! and Allah! and one moment more-- The death-cry drowning in the Battle's roar.[hz][411]

FOOTNOTES:

{302}[364] ["These [the seventh and eighth] Cantos contain a full detail (like the storm in Canto Second) of the siege and assault of Ismael, with much of sarcasm on those butchers in large business, your mercenary soldiery.... With these things and these fellows it is necessary, in the present clash of philosophy and tyranny, to throw away the scabbard. I know it is against fearful odds; but the battle must be fought; and it will be eventually for the good of mankind, whatever it may be for the individual who risks himself."--Letter to Moore, August 8, 1822, _Letters_, 1901, vi. 101.]

[365] [Byron attributes this phrase to Orator Henley (_Letters_, 1898, i. 227); and to Bayes in the Duke of Buckingham's play, _The Rehearsal_ (_Letters_, 1901, v. 80).]

[hh] _Of Fenelon, of Calvin and of Christ_.--[MS. erased.]

[366] [Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto II. stanza vii. line 1, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 103, note 2.]

[hi] _Picking a pebble on the shore of Truth_.--[MS. erased.]

[367] ["Sir Isaac Newton, a little before he died, said, 'I don't know what I may seem to the world; but, as to myself, I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.'"--Spence, _Anecdotes_ (quoting Chevalier Ramsay), 1858, p. 40.]

{304}[hj] _From fools who dread to know the truth of Life_.--[MS. erased.]

[368] [Compare "Inscription on the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog," lines 7, sq., _Poetical Works_, 1898, i. 280.]

[369] [Aleksandr Vasilievitch Suvóroff (1729-1800) opened his attack on Ismail, November 30, 1790. His forces, including Kossacks, exceeded 27,000 men.--_Essai sur l'Histoire Ancienne et Moderne de la Nouvelle Russie_, par le Marquis Gabriel de Castelnau, 1827, ii. 201.]

[370] ["Ismaël est situé sur la rive gauche du bras gauche (i.e. the ilia) du Danube."--_Ibid._.]

{305}[371] [----"à peu près à quatre-vingts verstes de la mer: elle a près de trois milles toises de tour."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 201.]

[372] ["On a compris dans ces fortifications un faubourg moldave, situé à la gauche de la ville, sur une hauteur qui la domine: l'ouvrage a été terminé par un Grec. Pour donner une idée des talens de cet ingénieur, il suffira de dire qu'il fit placer les palissades perpendiculairement sur le parapet, de manière qu'elles favorisaient les assiégeans, et arrêtaient le feu des assiégés."--_Ibid._, p. 202.]

[373] ["Le rempart en terre est prodigieusement élevé à cause de l'immense profondeur du fossé; il est cependant absolument rasant: il n'y a ni ouvrage avancé, ni chemin couvert."--_Ibid._, p. 202.]

[374] [Casemate is a work made under the rampart, like a cellar or cave, with loopholes to place guns in it, and is bomb proof.--_Milit. Dict._]

[375] [When the breastwork of a battery is only of such height that the guns may fire over it without being obliged to make embrasures, the guns are said to fire in barbet.--_Ibid._]

{306}[376] ["Un bastion de pierres, ouvert par une gorge très-étroite, et dont les murailles son fort épaisses, a une batterie casematée et une à barbette; il défend la rive du Danube. Du côté droit de la ville est un cavalier de quarante pieds d'élévation à pic, garni de vingt-deux pièces de canon, et qui défend la partie gauche."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 202.]

[377] ["Du côté du fleuve, la ville est absolument ouverte; les Turcs ne croyaient pas que les Russes pussent jamais avoir une flotille dans le Danube."--_Ibid._, p. 203.]

[378] [Meknop [supposed to be a corruption of McNab], etc., in line three, are real names: Strongenoff stands for Strogonof, Tschitsshakoff for Tchitchagof, and, perhaps, Chokenoff for Tchoglokof.]

{307}[hk] ---- _these discords of damnation_.--[MS. erased.]

[379] ["La première attaque était composée de trois colonnes, commandées par les lieutenans-generaux Paul Potiemkin, Serge Lwow, les généraux-majors Maurice Lascy, Théodore Meknop.... Trois autres colonnes ... avaient pour chefs le comte de Samoïlow, les généraux Êlie de Bezborodko, Michel Koutousow; les brigadiers Orlow, Platow, Ribaupierre.... La troisième attaque par eau n'avait que deux colonnes, sous les ordres des généraux-majors Ribas et Arséniew, des brigadiers Markoff et Tchépéga," etc.--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 207.

Compare--

"Oscharoffsky and Rostoffsky, And all the others that end in-offsky.

* * * * *

And Kutousoff he cut them off," etc.

Southey's _March to Moscow_, 1813.]

[380] [Count Boris Petrowitch Scheremetov, Russian general, died 1819; Prince Alexis Borisovitch Kourakin (1759-1829), and Count Alexis Iwanowitch Moussine-Pouschkine (1744-1817) were distinguished statesmen; Chrematoff is, perhaps, a rhyming double of Scherematoff, and Koklophti "a match-piece" to Koclobski.]

{308}[381] [Captain Smith, in the song--

"A Captain bold, in Halifax, That dwelt in country quarters, Seduc'd a maid who hang'd herself One Monday in her garters."

See George Colman's farce, _Love Laughs at Locksmiths_, 1818, p. 31.]

{309}[382] [Compare--

"While to my shame I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That for a fantasy and trick of fame Go to their graves like beds."

_Hamlet_, act iv. sc. 4, lines 56-59.]

[hl] _The Conquest seemed not difficult_----.--[MS. erased.]

[383] ["On s'était proposé deux buts également avantageux, par la construction de deux batteries sur l'île qui avoisine Ismaël: le premier, de bombarder la place, d'en abattre les principaux édifices avec du canon de quarante-huit, effet d'autant plus probable, que la ville étant bâtie en amphithéâtre, presque aucun coup ne serait perdu."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 203.]

[384] ["Le second objet était de profiter de ce moment d'alarme pour que la flottille, agissant en même temps, put détruire celle des Turcs. Un troisième motif, et vraisemblablement le plus plausible, était de jeter la consternation parmi les Turcs, et de les engager à capituler."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 203.]

{310}[hm] _Unless they are as game as bull-dogs or even tarriers_. or, _A thing which sometimes hath occurred to warriors_, _Unless they happened to be as game as tarriers_.-- [MS. A. Alternative reading.] _Unless they are Game as bull-dogs or even terriers_.--[MS. B.]

(Byron erased the reading of MS. B. and superscribed the reading of the text.)

[385] ["Une habitude blâmable, celle de mépriser son ennemi, fut la cause."--_Ibid._, p. 203.]

[386] [" ... du défaut de perfection dans la construction des batteries; on voulait agir promptement, et on négligea de donner aux ouvrages la solidité qu'ils exigaient."--_Ibid._, p. 203.]

{311}[387] ["Le même esprit fit manquer l'effet de trois brûlots; on calcula mal la distance; on se pressa d'allumer la méche, ils brûlèrent au milieu du fleuve, et quoiqu'il fût six heures du matin, les Turcs, encore couchés, n'en prirent aucun ombrage."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 203.]

[388] ["1^er^ Dec. 1790. La flottille russe s'avança vers les sept heures; il en était neuf lorsqu'elle se trouva à cinquante toises de la ville [d'Ismaël]: elle souffrit, avec une constance calme, un feu de mitraille et de mousqueterie...."--_Ibid._, p. 204.]

[389] [" ... près de six heures ... les batteries de terre secondaient la flottille; mais on reconnut alors que les canonnades ne suffiraient pas pour réduire la place, on fit la retraite à une heure. Un lançon sauta pendant l'action, un autre dériva par la force du courant, et fut pris par l'ennemi."'--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 204.]

{312}[390] [For Delhis, see _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii., note 1.]

[391] ["Les Turcs perdirent beaucoup de monde et plusieurs vaisseaux. A peine la retraite des Russes fut-elle remarquée, que les plus braves d'entre les ennemis se jetèrent dans de petites barques et essayèrent une descente: le Comte de Damas les mit en fuite, et leur tua plusieurs officiers et grand nombre de soldats."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, p. 204.]

[392] ["On ne tarirait pas si on voulait rapporter tout ce que les Russes firent de mémorable dans cette journée; pour conter les hauts faits d'armes, pour particulariser toutes les actions d'éclat, il faudrait composer des volumes."--_Ibid._, p. 204.]

[393] ["Parmi les étrangers, le prince de Ligne se distingua de manière à mériter l'estime générale; de vrais chevaliers français, attirés par l'amour de la gloire, se montrèrent dignes d'elle: les plus marquans étaient le jeune Duc de Richelieu, les Comtes de Langeron et de Damas."--_Ibid._, p. 204.

Andrault, Comte de Langeron, born at Paris, January 13, 1763, on the outbreak of the Revolution (1790) took service in the Russian Army. He fought against the Swedes in 1790, and the Turks in 1791, and, after serving as a volunteer in the army of the Duke of Brunswick (1792-93), returned to Russia, and was raised to the rank of general in 1799. He commanded a division of the Russian Army in the German campaign of 1813, and entered Paris with Blücher, March 30, 1814. He was afterwards Governor of Odessa and of New Russia; and, a second time, fought against the Turks in 1828. He died at St. Petersburg, July 4, 1831. Joseph Elizabeth Roger, Comte de Damas d'Antigny, born at Paris, September 4, 1765, owed his commission in the Russian Army to the influence of the Prince de Ligne. He fought against the Turks in 1787-88, and was distinguished for bravery and daring. At the Restoration in 1814 he re-entered the French Army, was made Governor of Lyons; shared the temporary exile of Louis XVIII. at Ghent in 1815, and, in the following year, as commandant of a division, took part in repressing the revolutionary disturbances in the central and southern departments of France. He died at Cirey, September 3, 1823.--_La Grande Encyclopédie_.]

{313}[394] [Charles Joseph, Prince de Ligne, was born at Brussels, May 12, 1735. In 1782 he visited St. Petersburg as envoy of the Emperor Joseph II., won Catherine's favour, and was appointed Field Marshal in the Russian Army. In 1788 he was sent to assist Potemkin at the siege of Ochakof. His _Mélanges Militaires, etc._, were first published in 1795. He died in November, 1814.

Josef de Ribas (1737-c. 1797).]

[395] ["L'Amiral de Ribas ... déclara, en plein conseil, que ce n'était qu'en donnant l'assaut qu'on obtiendrait la place: cet avis parut hardi; on lui opposa mille raisons, auxquelles il répondit par de meilleures." --_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii, 205.]

{314}[396] [Prince (Gregor Alexandrovitch) Potemkin, born 1736, died October 15, 1791. "He alighted from his carriage in the midst of the highway, threw himself on the grass, and died under a tree" (_Life of Catherine II_., by W. Tooke, 1880, iii. 324). His character has been drawn by Louis Philippe, Comte de Ségur, who, writes Tooke (_ibid_., p. 326), "lived a long time in habits of intimacy with him, and was so obliging as to delineate it at our solicitation." "In his person were collected the most opposite defects and advantages of every kind. He was avaricious and ostentatious, ... haughty and obliging, politic and confiding, licentious and superstitious, bold and timid, ambitious and indiscreet; lavish of his bounties to his relations, his mistresses, and his favourites, yet frequently paying neither his household nor his creditors. His consequence always depended on a woman, and he was always unfaithful to her. Nothing could equal the activity of his mind, nor the indolence of his body. No dangers could appal his courage; no difficulties force him to abandon his projects. But the success of an enterprise always brought on disgust.... Everything with him was desultory; business, pleasure, temper, carriage. His presence was a restraint on every company. He was morose to all that stood in awe of him, and caressed all such as accosted him with familiarity.... None had read less than he; few people were better informed.... One while he formed the project of becoming Duke of Courland; at another he thought of bestowing on himself the crown of Poland. He frequently gave intimations of an intention to make himself a bishop, or even a simple monk. He built a superb palace, and wanted to sell it before it was finished. In his youth he had pleased her [Catherine] by the ardour of his passion, by his valour, and by his masculine beauty.... Become the rival of Orloff, he performed for his sovereign whatever the most romantic passion could inspire. He put out his eye, to free it from a blemish which diminished his beauty. Banished by his rival, he ran to meet death in battle, and returned with glory."]

{315}[397] ["Ce projet, remis à un autre jour, éprouva encore les plus grandes difficultés; son courage les surmonta: il ne s'agíssait que de déterminer le Prince Potiemkin; il y réussit. Tandis qu'il se démenait pour l'exécution de projet agréé, on construisait de nouvelles batteries; on comptait, le 12 décembre, quatre-vingts pièces de canon sur le bord du Danube, et cette journée se passa en vives canonnades."--_Histoire de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 205.]

[hn] _Into all aspirants for martial praise_.--[MS. erased.]

[398] ["Le 13^e^, une partie des troupes était embarquée; on allait lever le siège: un courrier arrive.... Ce courrier annonce, de la part du prince, que le maréchal Souwarow va prendre le commandement des forces réunies sous Ismaël."--_Ibid._, p. 205.]

{316}[399] ["La lettre du Prince Potiemkin à Souwarow est très courte; elle peint le caractere de ces deux personnages. La voici dans toute sa teneur: _'Vous prendrez Ismaël à quel frix que ce soit!'_"--_Hist, de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 205.]

[400] ["[Le courrier] est témoin des cris de joie du Turc, qui se croyait à la fin de ses maux."-_Ibid_., p. 205.]

[401] ["Beat," as in "dead-beat," is occasionally used for "beaten."--See _N.E.D._, art. "Beat," 10.]

[402] ["Le 16^e^, on voit venir de loin deux hommes courant à toute bride: on les prit pour des Kozaks; l'un était Souwarow, et l'autre son guide, portant un paquet gros comme le poing, et renfermant le bagage du général."-_Hist, de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 205.

M. de Castelnau in his description of the arrival of Suvóroff on the field of battle (_Hist, de la_ N.R., 1827, ii. pp, 205, 206) summarizes the Journal of the Duc de Richelieu. The original passage runs as follows:--

"L'arrivée du comte Souvorow produisit un grand effet parmi les troupes.... La manière d'être plus que simple, puis-qu'il logeait sous une canonnière, et qu'il n'avait pas même de chaises dans sa tente, son affabilité, sa bonhomie lui conciliaient l'affection de tous les individus de son armée. Cet homme singulier qui ressemble plus à un chef de cosaques ou de Tartares, qu'au général d'une armée européenne, est doué d'une intrépidité et d'une hardiesse peu communes.... La manière de vivre, de s'habiller et de parler du comte Souvorow, est aussi singulière que ses opinions militaires.... Il mangeait dans sa tente assis par terre autour d'une natte sur laquelle il prenait le plus détestable repas. L'après-midi, un semblable repas lui servait de souper, il s'endormait ensuite pendant quelques heures, passait une partie de la nuit à chanter, et a la pointe du jour il sortait presque nu et se roulait sur l'herbe assurant que cet exercice lui était necessaire pour le préserver des rhumatismes.... Sa manière de s'exprimer dans toutes les langues est aussi singulière que toute sa façon d'être, ses phrases sont incohérentes, et s'il n'est pas insensé, il dit et fait du moins tout ce qu'il faut pour le paraître; mais il est heureux et cette qualité dont le Cardinal Mazarin faisait tant de cas, est, à bon droit, fort estimée de l'Impératrice et du Prince Potemkin ... Le moment de l'arrivée du Comte Souvorow fut annoncé par une décharge générale des batteries ou camp et de la flotte."--_Journal de mon Voyage en Allemagne_. _Soc, Imp. d'Hist de Russie_, 1886, tom. liv. pp. 168, 169.]

{317}[ho] _That sage John Bull_----.--[MS.]

_That fool John Bull_----.--[MS. erased.]

{319}[403] ["La première attaque était composée de trois colonnes ... Trois autres colonnes, destinées a la seconde attaque, avaient pour chefs, etc.... La troisième attaque par eau n'avait que deux colonnes."--_Hist, de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 207.]

[404] ["On construisit de nouvelles batteries le 18^e^.... On tint un conseil de guerre, on y examina les plans pour l'assaut proposés par M. de Ribas, ils réunirent tous les souffrages."--_Ibid._, p. 208.]

[hp] _For once by some odd sort of magnanimity._--[MS. erased.]

[hq] _Bellona shook her spear with much sublimity._--[MS. erased.]

[405] Fact: Suwaroff did this in person.

[hr]---- _and neither swerve nor spill._--[MS. erased.]

[406] ["Le 19^e^ et le 20^e^, Souwarow exerçailes soldats; il leur montra comment il fallait s'y prendre pour escalader; il enseigna aux recrues la manière de donner le coup de baïonnette."--_Ibid_., p. 208.]

{320}[407] ["Pour ces exercices d'un nouveau genre, il se servit de fascines disposées de manière a représenter un Turc."-_Hist, de la Nauvelle Russie_, ii. 208.]

[hs] _At which your wise men laughed, but all their Wit is_ _Lost, for his repartee was taking cities._--[MS. erased.]

[ht] _For some were thinking of their wives and families,_ _And others of themselves_ (_as poet Samuel is_). --[MS. Alternative reading.] _And others of themselves_ (_as my friend Samuel is_). --[MS. erased.]

[408] [For a detailed account of Suvóroff's personal characteristics, see _The Life of Field-Marshal Souvaroff_, by L.M.P. Tranchant de Laverne, 1814, pp. 267-291; and _Suvóroff_, by Lieut.-Colonel Spalding, 1890, pp. 222-229.

Byron's epithet "buffoon" (line 5) may, perhaps, be traced to the following anecdote recorded by Tranchant de Laverne (p. 281): "During the first war of Poland ... he published, in the order of the day, that at the first crowing of the cock the troops would march to attack the enemy, and caused the spy to send word that the Russians would be upon them some time after midnight. But about eight o'clock Souvarof ran through the camp, imitating the crowing of a cock.... The enemy, completely surprised, lost a great number of men."

For his "praying" (line 6), _vide ibid._, pp. 272, 273: "He made a short prayer after each meal, and again when going to bed. He usually performed his devotions before an image of St. Nicholas, the patron saint of Russia."

"Half-dirt" (line 5) is, however, a calumny (_ibid_. p. 272): "It was his custom to rise at the earliest dawn; several buckets of cold water were thrown over his naked body."

The same writer (p. 268) repudiates the charges of excessive barbarity and cruelty brought against Suvóroff by C.F.P. Masson, in his _Mémoires Secrets sur la Russie_ (_vide_, e.g., ed. 1800, i. 311): "Souvorow ne scroit que le plus ridicule bouffon, s'il n'étoit pas montré le plus barbare guerrier. C'est un monstre, qui renferme dans le corps d'un singe l'âme d'un chien de boucher. Attila, son compatriote, et don't il descend, peut-être ne fut ni si heureux, ni si féroce."

Suvóroff did not regard himself as "half-demon." "Your pencil," he reminded the artist Müller, "will delineate the features of my face. These are visible: but my inner man is hidden. I must tell you that I have shed rivers of blood. I tremble, but I love my neighbour. In my whole life I have made no one unhappy; not an insect hath perished by my hand. I was little; I was big. In fortune's ebb and flow, relying on God, I stood immovable--even as now." (_Suvóroff_, 1890, p. 228, note.)]

{322}[409] [See, for instance, _The Storm_, in "Souvarof's Catechism," Appendix (pp. 299-305) to the _Life, etc._, by Tranchant de Laverne, 1814: "Break down the fence.... Fly over the walls! Stab them on the ramparts!... Fire down the streets! Fire briskly!... Kill every enemy in the streets! Let the cavalry hack them!" etc.]

{323}[410] [The "tusk" of the plough is the coulter or share. Compare "Dens vomeris" (Virg., _Georg._, i. 22).]

{324}[hu] _Of thine imaginary deathless bough_ _The unebbing sea of blood and tears must flow_.--[MS. erased.]

{326}[hv] _Entailed upon Humanity's estate_.--[MS. erased.]

{327}[hw] _As a brook's stream to cope with Ocean's flood shed_ _But still we moderns equal you in bloodshed_.--[MS. erased.]

{328}[hx] _As in a General's letter when well whacked_ _Whatever deeds be done I will relate 'em,_ _With some small variations in the text_ _Of killed and wounded who will not be missed_.--[MS. erased.]

[hy] _Whose leisure hours are wasted on an harlot_.--[MS. erased.]

{329}[hz] _The desperate death-cry and the Battle's roar_.--[MS. erased.]

[411] End of Canto 7. 1822.--[MS.]

CANTO THE EIGHTH.

I.

Oh, blood and thunder! and oh, blood and wounds! These are but vulgar oaths, as you may deem, Too gentle reader! and most shocking sounds:-- And so they are; yet thus is Glory's dream Unriddled, and as my true Muse expounds At present such things, since they are her theme, So be they her inspirers! Call them Mars, Bellona, what you will--they mean but wars.

II.

All was prepared--the fire, the sword, the men To wield them in their terrible array,-- The army, like a lion from his den, Marched forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay,-- A human Hydra, issuing from its fen To breathe destruction on its winding way, Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain Immediately in others grew again.

III.

History can only take things in the gross; But could we know them in detail, perchance In balancing the profit and the loss, War's merit it by no means might enhance, To waste so much gold for a little dross, As hath been done, mere conquest to advance. The drying up a single tear has more Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.

IV.

And why?--because it brings self-approbation; Whereas the other, after all its glare, Shouts, bridges, arches, pensions from a nation, Which (it may be) has not much left to spare, A higher title, or a loftier station, Though they may make Corruption gape or stare, Yet, in the end, except in Freedom's battles, Are nothing but a child of Murder's rattles.

V.

And such they are--and such they will be found: Not so Leonidas and Washington, Whose every battle-field is holy ground, Which breathes of nations saved, not worlds undone. How sweetly on the ear such echoes sound! While the mere victor's may appal or stun The servile and the vain--such names will be A watchword till the Future shall be free.

VI.

The night was dark, and the thick mist allowed Nought to be seen save the artillery's flame, Which arched the horizon like a fiery cloud, And in the Danube's waters shone the same--[412] A mirrored Hell! the volleying roar, and loud Long booming of each peal on peal, o'ercame The ear far more than thunder; for Heaven's flashes Spare, or smite rarely--Man's make millions ashes!

VII.

The column ordered on the assault scarce passed Beyond the Russian batteries a few toises, When up the bristling Moslem rose at last, Answering the Christian thunders with like voices: Then one vast fire, air, earth, and stream embraced, Which rocked as 't were beneath the mighty noises; While the whole rampart blazed like Etna, when The restless Titan hiccups in his den;[413]

VIII.

And one enormous shout of "Allah!"[414] rose In the same moment, loud as even the roar Of War's most mortal engines, to their foes Hurling defiance: city, stream, and shore Resounded "Allah!" and the clouds which close With thickening canopy the conflict o'er, Vibrate to the Eternal name. Hark! through All sounds it pierceth--"Allah! Allah Hu!"[415]

IX.

The columns were in movement one and all, But of the portion which attacked by water, Thicker than leaves the lives began to fall,[416] Though led by Arseniew, that great son of slaughter, As brave as ever faced both bomb and ball. "Carnage" (so Wordsworth tells you) "is God's daughter:"[417] If _he_ speak truth, she is Christ's sister, and Just now behaved as in the Holy Land.

X.

The Prince de Ligne was wounded in the knee; Count Chapeau-Bras,[ia]--too, had a ball between His cap and head,[418] which proves the head to be Aristocratic as was ever seen, Because it then received no injury More than the cap; in fact, the ball could mean No harm unto a right legitimate head; "Ashes to ashes"--why not lead to lead?

XI.

Also the General Markow, Brigadier, Insisting on removal of _the Prince_ Amidst some groaning thousands dying near,-- All common fellows, who might writhe and wince, And shriek for water into a deaf ear,-- The General Markow, who could thus evince His sympathy for rank, by the same token, To teach him greater, had his own leg broken.[419]

XII.

Three hundred cannon threw up their emetic, And thirty thousand muskets flung their pills Like hail, to make a bloody Diuretic.[420] Mortality! thou hast thy monthly bills: Thy plagues--thy famines--thy physicians--yet tick, Like the death-watch, within our ears the ills Past, present, and to come;--but all may yield To the true portrait of one battle-field;

XIII.

There the still varying pangs, which multiply Until their very number makes men hard By the infinities of agony, Which meet the gaze, whate'er it may regard-- The groan, the roll in dust, the all-_white_ eye Turned back within its socket,--these reward Your rank and file by thousands, while the rest May win perhaps a riband at the breast!

XIV.

Yet I love Glory;--Glory's a great thing:-- Think what it is to be in your old age Maintained at the expense of your good King: A moderate pension shakes full many a sage, And Heroes are but made for bards to sing, Which is still better--thus, in verse, to wage Your wars eternally, besides enjoying Half-pay for life, make Mankind worth destroying.

XV.

The troops, already disembarked, pushed on To take a battery on the right: the others, Who landed lower down, their landing done, Had set to work as briskly as their brothers: Being grenadiers, they mounted one by one, Cheerful as children climb the breasts of mothers, O'er the intrenchment and the palisade,[421] Quite orderly, as if upon parade.

XVI.

And this was admirable: for so hot The fire was, that were red Vesuvius loaded, Besides its lava, with all sorts of shot And shells or hells, it could not more have goaded. Of officers a third fell on the spot, A thing which Victory by no means boded To gentlemen engaged in the assault: Hounds, when the huntsman tumbles, are at fault.

XVII.

But here I leave the general concern To track our Hero on his path of Fame: He must his laurels separately earn-- For fifty thousand heroes, name by name, Though all deserving equally to turn A couplet, or an elegy to claim, Would form a lengthy lexicon of Glory, And, what is worse still, a much longer story:

XVIII.

And therefore we must give the greater number To the Gazette--which doubtless fairly dealt By the deceased, who lie in famous slumber In ditches, fields, or wheresoe'er they felt Their clay for the last time their souls encumber;-- Thrice happy he whose name has been well spelt In the despatch: I knew a man whose loss Was printed _Grove_, although his name was Grose.[422]

XIX.

Juan and Johnson joined a certain corps, And fought away with might and main, not knowing The way which they had never trod before, And still less guessing where they might be going; But on they marched, dead bodies trampling o'er, Firing, and thrusting, slashing, sweating, glowing, But fighting thoughtlessly enough to win, To their _two_ selves, _one_ whole bright bulletin.

XX.

Thus on they wallowed in the bloody mire Of dead and dying thousands,--sometimes gaining A yard or two of ground, which brought them nigher To some odd angle for which all were straining; At other times, repulsed by the close fire, Which really poured as if all Hell were raining Instead of Heaven, they stumbled backwards o'er A wounded comrade, sprawling in his gore.

XXI.

Though 't was Don Juan's first of fields, and though The nightly muster and the silent march In the chill dark, when Courage does not glow So much as under a triumphal arch, Perhaps might make him shiver, yawn, or throw A glance on the dull clouds (as thick as starch, Which stiffened Heaven) as if he wished for day;-- Yet for all this he did not run away.

XXII.

Indeed he could not. But what if he had? There _have been_ and _are_ heroes who begun With something not much better, or as bad: Frederick the Great from Molwitz[423] deigned to run, For the first and last time; for, like a pad, Or hawk, or bride, most mortals after one Warm bout are broken in to their new tricks, And fight like fiends for pay or politics.

XXIII.

He was what Erin calls, in her sublime Old Erse or Irish, or it may be _Punic_;-- (The antiquarians[424]--who can settle Time, Which settles all things, Roman, Greek, or Runic-- Swear that Pat's language sprung from the same clime With Hannibal, and wears the Tyrian tunic Of Dido's alphabet--and this is rational As any other notion, and not national;)--

XXIV.

But Juan was quite "a broth of a boy," A thing of impulse and a child of song; Now swimming in the sentiment of joy, Or the _sensation_ (if that phrase seem wrong), And afterward, if he must needs destroy, In such good company as always throng To battles, sieges, and that kind of pleasure, No less delighted to employ his leisure;

XXV.

But always without malice: if he warred Or loved, it was with what we call "the best Intentions," which form all Mankind's _trump card_, To be produced when brought up to the test. The statesman--hero--harlot--lawyer--ward Off each attack, when people are in quest Of their designs, by saying they _meant well_; 'T is pity "that such meaning should pave Hell."[425]

XXVI.

I almost lately have begun to doubt Whether Hell's pavement--if it be so _paved_-- Must not have latterly been quite worn out, Not by the numbers good intent hath saved, But by the mass who go below without Those ancient good intentions, which once shaved And smoothed the brimstone of that street of Hell Which bears the greatest likeness to Pall Mall.[ib]

XXVII.

Juan, by some strange chance, which oft divides Warrior from warrior in their grim career, Like chastest wives from constant husbands' sides Just at the close of the first bridal year, By one of those odd turns of Fortune's tides, Was on a sudden rather puzzled here, When, after a good deal of heavy firing, He found himself alone, and friends retiring.

XXVIII.

I don't know how the thing occurred--it might Be that the greater part were killed or wounded, And that the rest had faced unto the right About; a circumstance which has confounded Cæsar himself, who, in the very sight Of his whole army, which so much abounded In courage, was obliged to snatch a shield, And rally back his Romans to the field.[426]

XXIX.

Juan, who had no shield to snatch, and was No Cæsar, but a fine young lad, who fought He knew not why, arriving at this pass, Stopped for a minute, as perhaps he ought For a much longer time; then, like an ass (Start not, kind reader, since great Homer[427] thought This simile enough for Ajax, Juan Perhaps may find it better than a new one);

XXX.

Then, like an ass, he went upon his way, And, what was stranger, never looked behind; But seeing, flashing forward, like the day Over the hills, a fire enough to blind Those who dislike to look upon a fray, He stumbled on, to try if he could find A path, to add his own slight arm and forces To corps, the greater part of which were corses.

XXXI.

Perceiving then no more the commandant Of his own corps, nor even the corps, which had Quite disappeared--the gods know how! (I can't Account for everything which may look bad In history; but we at least may grant It was not marvellous that a mere lad, In search of Glory, should look on before, Nor care a pinch of snuff about his corps:)--[ic]

XXXII.

Perceiving nor commander nor commanded, And left at large, like a young heir, to make His way to--where he knew not--single handed; As travellers follow over bog and brake An "ignis fatuus;" or as sailors stranded Unto the nearest hut themselves betake; So Juan, following Honour and his nose, Rushed where the thickest fire announced most foes.[428]

XXXIII.

He knew not where he was, nor greatly cared, For he was dizzy, busy, and his veins Filled as with lightning--for his spirit shared The hour, as is the case with lively brains; And where the hottest fire was seen and heard, And the loud cannon pealed his hoarsest strains, He rushed, while earth and air were sadly shaken By thy humane discovery, Friar Bacon![id][429]

XXXIV.

And as he rushed along, it came to pass he Fell in with what was late the second column, Under the orders of the General Lascy, But now reduced, as is a bulky volume Into an elegant extract (much less massy) Of heroism, and took his place with solemn Air 'midst the rest, who kept their valiant faces And levelled weapons still against the Glacis.[ie]

XXXV.

Just at this crisis up came Johnson too, Who had "retreated," as the phrase is when Men run away much rather than go through Destruction's jaws into the Devil's den; But Johnson was a clever fellow, who Knew when and how "to cut and come again," And never ran away, except when running Was nothing but a valorous kind of cunning.

XXXVI.

And so, when all his corps were dead or dying, Except Don Juan, a mere novice, whose More virgin valour never dreamt of flying, From ignorance of danger, which indues Its votaries, like Innocence relying On its own strength, with careless nerves and thews,-- Johnson retired a little, just to rally Those who catch cold in "shadows of Death's valley."

XXXVII.

And there, a little sheltered from the shot, Which rained from bastion, battery, parapet, Rampart, wall, casement, house--for there was not In this extensive city, sore beset By Christian soldiery, a single spot Which did not combat like the Devil, as yet,-- He found a number of Chasseurs, all scattered By the resistance of the chase they battered.

XXXVIII.

And these he called on; and, what 's strange, they came Unto his call, unlike "the spirits from The vasty deep," to whom you may exclaim, Says Hotspur, long ere they will leave their home:--[430] Their reasons were uncertainty, or shame At shrinking from a bullet or a bomb, And that odd impulse, which in wars or creeds[if] Makes men, like cattle, follow him who leads.

XXXIX.

By Jove! he was a noble fellow, Johnson, And though his name, than Ajax or Achilles, Sounds less harmonious, underneath the sun soon We shall not see his likeness: he could kill his Man quite as quietly as blows the Monsoon Her steady breath (which some months the same _still_ is): Seldom he varied feature, hue, or muscle, And could be very busy without bustle;

XL.

And therefore, when he ran away, he did so Upon reflection, knowing that behind He would find others who would fain be rid so Of idle apprehensions, which like wind Trouble heroic stomachs. Though their lids so Oft are soon closed, all heroes are not blind, But when they light upon immediate death, Retire a little, merely to take breath.

XLI.

But Johnson only ran off, to return With many other warriors, as we said, Unto that rather somewhat misty bourne, Which Hamlet tells us is a pass of dread.[431] To Jack, howe'er, this gave but slight concern: His soul (like galvanism upon the dead) Acted upon the living as on wire, And led them back into the heaviest fire.

XLII.

Egad! they found the second time what they The first time thought quite terrible enough To fly from, malgré all which people say Of Glory, and all that immortal stuff Which fills a regiment (besides their pay, That daily shilling which makes warriors tough)-- They found on their return the self-same welcome, Which made some _think_, and others _know_, a _hell_ come.

XLIII.

They fell as thick as harvests beneath hail, Grass before scythes, or corn below the sickle, Proving that trite old truth, that Life's as frail As any other boon for which men stickle. The Turkish batteries thrashed them like a flail, Or a good boxer, into a sad pickle Putting the very bravest, who were knocked Upon the head before their guns were cocked.

XLIV.

The Turks behind the traverses and flanks Of the next bastion, fired away like devils, And swept, as gales sweep foam away, whole ranks: However, Heaven knows how, the Fate who levels Towns--nations--worlds, in her revolving pranks, So ordered it, amidst these sulphury revels, That Johnson, and some few who had not scampered, Reached the interior "talus"[432] of the rampart.[433]

XLV.

First one or two, then five, six, and a dozen Came mounting quickly up, for it was now All neck or nothing, as, like pitch or rosin, Flame was showered forth above, as well 's below, So that you scarce could say who best had chosen, The gentlemen that were the first to show Their martial faces on the parapet, Or those who thought it brave to wait as yet.

XLVI.

But those who scaled, found out that their advance Was favoured by an accident or blunder: The Greek or Turkish Cohorn's[434] ignorance Had pallisadoed in a way you'd wonder To see in forts of Netherlands or France-- (Though these to our Gibraltar must knock under)-- Right in the middle of the parapet Just named, these palisades were primly set:[435]

XLVII.

So that on either side some nine or ten Paces were left, whereon you could contrive To march; a great convenience to our men, At least to all those who were left alive, Who thus could form a line and fight again; And that which farther aided them to strive Was, that they could kick down the palisades, Which scarcely rose much higher than grass blades.[436]

XLVIII.

Among the first,--I will not say _the first_, For such precedence upon such occasions Will oftentimes make deadly quarrels burst Out between friends as well as allied nations: The Briton must be bold who really durst Put to such trial John Bull's partial patience, As say that Wellington at Waterloo Was beaten,--though the Prussians say so too;--

XLIX.

And that if Blucher, Bulow, Gneisenau, And God knows who besides in "au" and "ow," Had not come up in time to cast an awe[437] Into the hearts of those who fought till now As tigers combat with an empty craw, The Duke of Wellington had ceased to show His Orders--also to receive his pensions, Which are the heaviest that our history mentions.

L.

But never mind;--"God save the King!" and _Kings!_ For if _he_ don't, I doubt if _men_ will longer-- I think I hear a little bird, who sings The people by and by will be the stronger: The veriest jade will wince whose harness wrings So much into the raw as quite to wrong her Beyond the rules of posting,--and the mob At last fall sick of imitating Job.

LI.

At first it grumbles, then it swears, and then, Like David, flings smooth pebbles 'gainst a Giant; At last it takes to weapons such as men Snatch when Despair makes human hearts less pliant. Then comes "the tug of war;"--'t will come again, I rather doubt; and I would fain say "fie on 't," If I had not perceived that Revolution Alone can save the earth from Hell's pollution.

LII.

But to continue:--I say not _the_ first, But of the first, our little friend Don Juan Walked o'er the walls of Ismail, as if nursed Amidst such scenes--though this was quite a new one To him, and I should hope to _most_. The thirst Of Glory, which so pierces through and through one, Pervaded him--although a generous creature, As warm in heart as feminine in feature.[ig]

LIII.

And here he was--who upon Woman's breast, Even from a child, felt like a child; howe'er The Man in all the rest might be confessed, To him it was Elysium to be there; And he could even withstand that awkward test Which Rousseau points out to the dubious fair, "Observe your lover when he _leaves_ your arms;" But Juan never _left_ them--while they had charms,

LIV.

Unless compelled by Fate, or wave, or wind, Or near relations--who are much the same. But _here_ he was!--where each tie that can bind Humanity must yield to steel and flame: And _he_ whose very body was all mind, Flung here by Fate or Circumstance, which tame The loftiest, hurried by the time and place, Dashed on like a spurred blood-horse in a race.

LV.

So was his blood stirred while he found resistance, As is the hunter's at the five-bar gate, Or double post and rail, where the existence Of Britain's youth depends upon their weight-- The lightest being the safest: at a distance He hated cruelty, as all men hate Blood, until heated--and even then his own At times would curdle o'er some heavy groan.

LVI.

The General Lascy, who had been hard pressed, Seeing arrive an aid so opportune As were some hundred youngsters all abreast, Who came as if just dropped down from the moon To Juan, who was nearest him, addressed His thanks, and hopes to take the city soon, Not reckoning him to be a "base Bezonian"[438] (As Pistol calls it), but a young Livonian.[439]

LVII.

Juan, to whom he spoke in German, knew As much of German as of Sanscrit, and In answer made an inclination to The General who held him in command; For seeing one with ribands, black and blue, Stars, medals, and a bloody sword in hand, Addressing him in tones which seemed to thank, He recognised an officer of rank.

LVIII.

Short speeches pass between two men who speak No common language; and besides, in time Of war and taking towns, when many a shriek Rings o'er the dialogue, and many a crime Is perpetrated ere a word can break Upon the ear, and sounds of horror chime In like church-bells, with sigh, howl, groan, yell, prayer, There cannot be much conversation there.

LIX.

And therefore all we have related in Two long octaves, passed in a little minute; But in the same small minute, every sin Contrived to get itself comprised within it. The very cannon, deafened by the din, Grew dumb, for you might almost hear a linnet, As soon as thunder, 'midst the general noise Of Human Nature's agonizing voice!

LX.

The town was entered. Oh Eternity!-- "God made the country, and man made the town," So Cowper says[440]--and I begin to be Of his opinion, when I see cast down Rome--Babylon-Tyre-Carthage--Nineveh-- All walls men know, and many never known; And pondering on the present and the past, To deem the woods shall be our home at last:--

LXI.

Of all men, saving Sylla,[441] the man-slayer, Who passes for in life and death most lucky, Of the great names which in our faces stare, The General Boon, back-woodsman of Kentucky,[442] Was happiest amongst mortals anywhere; For killing nothing but a bear or buck, he Enjoyed the lonely, vigorous, harmless days Of his old age in wilds of deepest maze.

LXII.

Crime came not near him--she is not the child Of solitude; Health shrank not from him--for Her home is in the rarely trodden wild, Where if men seek her not, and death be more Their choice than life, forgive them, as beguiled By habit to what their own hearts abhor-- In cities caged. The present case in point I Cite is, that Boon lived hunting up to ninety;

LXIII.

And, what's still stranger, left behind a name For which men vainly decimate the throng, Not only famous, but of that _good_ fame, Without which Glory's but a tavern song-- Simple, serene, the _antipodes_ of Shame, Which Hate nor Envy e'er could tinge with wrong; An active hermit, even in age the child Of Nature--or the Man of Ross[443] run wild.

LXIV.

'T is true he shrank from men even of his nation, When they built up unto his darling trees,-- He moved some hundred miles off, for a station Where there were fewer houses and more ease; The inconvenience of civilisation Is, that you neither can be pleased nor please; But where he met the individual man, He showed himself as kind as mortal can.

LXV.

He was not all alone: around him grew A sylvan tribe of children of the chase, Whose young, unwakened world was ever new, Nor sword nor sorrow yet had left a trace On her unwrinkled brow, nor could you view A frown on Nature's or on human face; The free-born forest found and kept them free, And fresh as is a torrent or a tree.

LXVI.

And tall, and strong, and swift of foot were they, Beyond the dwarfing city's pale abortions, Because their thoughts had never been the prey Of care or gain: the green woods were their portions; No sinking spirits told them they grew grey, No fashion made them apes of her distortions; Simple they were, not savage--and their rifles, Though very true, were not yet used for trifles.

LXVII.

Motion was in their days, Rest in their slumbers, And Cheerfulness the handmaid of their toil; Nor yet too many nor too few their numbers; Corruption could not make their hearts her soil; The lust which stings, the splendour which encumbers, With the free foresters divide no spoil; Serene, not sullen, were the solitudes Of this unsighing people of the woods.

LXVIII.

So much for Nature:--by way of variety, Now back to thy great joys, Civilisation! And the sweet consequence of large society, War--pestilence--the despot's desolation, The kingly scourge, the lust of notoriety, The millions slain by soldiers for their ration, The scenes like Catherine's boudoir at threescore,[444] With Ismail's storm to soften it the more.

LXIX.

The town was entered: first one column made Its sanguinary way good--then another; The reeking bayonet and the flashing blade Clashed 'gainst the scimitar, and babe and mother With distant shrieks were heard Heaven to upbraid:-- Still closer sulphury clouds began to smother The breath of morn and man, where foot by foot The maddened Turks their city still dispute.

LXX.

Koutousow,[445] he who afterwards beat back (With some assistance from the frost and snow) Napoleon on his bold and bloody track, It happened was himself beat back just now: He was a jolly fellow, and could crack His jest alike in face of friend or foe, Though Life, and Death, and Victory were at stake;[446] But here it seemed his jokes had ceased to take:

LXXI.

For having thrown himself into a ditch, Followed in haste by various grenadiers, Whose blood the puddle greatly did enrich, He climbed to where the parapet appears; But there his project reached its utmost pitch ('Mongst other deaths the General Ribaupierre's Was much regretted), for the Moslem men Threw them all down into the ditch again.[447]

LXXII.

And had it not been for some stray troops landing They knew not where, being carried by the stream To some spot, where they lost their understanding, And wandered up and down as in a dream, Until they reached, as daybreak was expanding, That which a portal to their eyes did seem,-- The great and gay Koutousow might have lain Where three parts of his column yet remain.[448]

LXXIII.

And scrambling round the rampart, these same troops, After the taking of the "Cavalier,"[449] Just as Koutousow's most "forlorn" of "hopes" Took, like chameleons, some slight tinge of fear, Opened the gate called "Kilia," to the groups[450] Of baffled heroes, who stood shyly near, Sliding knee-deep in lately frozen mud, Now thawed into a marsh of human blood.

LXXIV.

The Kozacks, or, if so you please, Cossacques-- (I don't much pique myself upon orthography, So that I do not grossly err in facts, Statistics, tactics, politics, and geography)-- Having been used to serve on horses' backs, And no great dilettanti in topography Of fortresses, but fighting where it pleases Their chiefs to order,--were all cut to pieces.[451]

LXXV.

Their column, though the Turkish batteries thundered Upon them, ne'ertheless had reached the rampart,[452] And naturally thought they could have plundered The city, without being farther hampered; But as it happens to brave men, they blundered-- The Turks at first pretended to have scampered, Only to draw them 'twixt two bastion corners,[453] From whence they sallied on those Christian scorners.

LXXVI.

Then being taken by the tail--a taking Fatal to bishops as to soldiers--these[ih] Cossacques were all cut off as day was breaking, And found their lives were let at a short lease-- But perished without shivering or shaking, Leaving as ladders their heaped carcasses, O'er which Lieutenant-Colonel Yesouskoi Marched with the brave battalion of Polouzki:--[454]

LXXVII.

This valiant man killed all the Turks he met, But could not eat them, being in his turn Slain by some Mussulmans,[455] who would not yet, Without resistance, see their city burn. The walls were won, but 't was an even bet Which of the armies would have cause to mourn: 'T was blow for blow, disputing inch by inch, For one would not retreat, nor 't other flinch.

LXXVIII.

Another column also suffered much:-- And here we may remark with the historian, You should but give few cartridges to such Troops as are meant to march with greatest glory on: When matters must be carried by the touch Of the bright bayonet, and they all should hurry on; They sometimes, with a hankering for existence, Keep merely firing at a foolish distance.[456]

LXXIX.

A junction of the General Meknop's men (Without the General, who had fallen some time Before, being badly seconded just then) Was made at length with those who dared to climb The death-disgorging rampart once again; And, though the Turk's resistance was sublime, They took the bastion, which the Seraskier Defended at a price extremely dear.[457]

LXXX.

Juan and Johnson, and some volunteers, Among the foremost, offered him good quarter, A word which little suits with Seraskiers, Or at least suited not this valiant Tartar. He died, deserving well his country's tears, A savage sort of military martyr: An English naval officer, who wished To make him prisoner, was also dished:

LXXXI.

For all the answer to his proposition Was from a pistol-shot that laid him dead;[458] On which the rest, without more intermission, Began to lay about with steel and lead-- The pious metals most in requisition On such occasions: not a single head Was spared;--three thousand Moslems perished here, And sixteen bayonets pierced the Seraskier.[459]

LXXXII.

The city's taken--only part by part-- And Death is drunk with gore: there's not a street Where fights not to the last some desperate heart For those for whom it soon shall cease to beat.[460] Here War forgot his own destructive art In more destroying Nature; and the heat Of Carnage, like the Nile's sun-sodden slime, Engendered monstrous shapes of every crime.

LXXXIII.

A Russian officer, in martial tread Over a heap of bodies, felt his heel Seized fast, as if 't were by the serpent's head Whose fangs Eve taught her human seed to feel; In vain he kicked, and swore, and writhed, and bled, And howled for help as wolves do for a meal-- The teeth still kept their gratifying hold, As do the subtle snakes described of old.[ii]

LXXXIV.

A dying Moslem, who had felt the foot Of a foe o'er him, snatched at it, and bit The very tendon which is most acute-- (That which some ancient Muse or modern wit Named after thee, Achilles!) and quite through 't He made the teeth meet, nor relinquished it Even with his life--for (but they lie) 't is said To the live leg still clung the severed head.

LXXXV.

However this may be, 't is pretty sure The Russian officer for life was lamed, For the Turk's teeth stuck faster than a skewer, And left him 'midst the invalid and maimed: The regimental surgeon could not cure His patient, and, perhaps, was to be blamed More than the head of the inveterate foe, Which was cut off, and scarce even then let go.

LXXXVI.

But then the fact's a fact--and 't is the part Of a true poet to escape from fiction Whene'er he can; for there is little art in leaving verse more free from the restriction Of Truth than prose, unless to suit the mart For what is sometimes called poetic diction, And that outrageous appetite for lies Which Satan angles with for souls, like flies.[ij]

LXXXVII.

The city's taken, but not rendered!--No! There's not a Moslem that hath yielded sword: The blood may gush out, as the Danube's flow Rolls by the city wall; but deed nor word Acknowledge aught of dread of Death or foe: In vain the yell of victory is roared By the advancing Muscovite--the groan Of the last foe is echoed by his own.

LXXXVIII.

The bayonet pierces and the sabre cleaves, And human lives are lavished everywhere, As the year closing whirls the scarlet leaves[ik] When the stripped forest bows to the bleak air, And groans; and thus the peopled city grieves, Shorn of its best and loveliest, and left bare; But still it falls in vast and awful splinters, As oaks blown down with all their thousand winters.

LXXXIX.

It is an awful topic--but 't is not My cue for any time to be terrific: For checkered as is seen our human lot With good, and bad, and worse, alike prolific Of melancholy merriment, to quote Too much of one sort would be soporific;-- Without, or with, offence to friends or foes, I sketch your world exactly as it goes.

XC.

And one good action in the midst of crimes Is "quite refreshing," in the affected phrase[461] Of these ambrosial, Pharisaic times, With all their pretty milk-and-water ways, And may serve therefore to bedew these rhymes, A little scorched at present with the blaze Of conquest and its consequences, which Make Epic poesy so rare and rich.

XCI.

Upon a taken bastion, where there lay Thousands of slaughtered men, a yet warm group Of murdered women, who had found their way To this vain refuge, made the good heart droop And shudder;--while, as beautiful as May, A female child of ten years tried to stoop And hide her little palpitating breast Amidst the bodies lulled in bloody rest.[462]

XCII.

Two villanous Cossacques pursued the child With flashing eyes and weapons: matched with _them_, The rudest brute that roams Siberia's wild Has feelings pure and polished as a gem,-- The bear is civilised, the wolf is mild; And whom for this at last must we condemn? Their natures? or their sovereigns, who employ All arts to teach their subjects to destroy?

XCIII.

Their sabres glittered o'er her little head, Whence her fair hair rose twining with affright, Her hidden face was plunged amidst the dead: When Juan caught a glimpse of this sad sight, I shall not say exactly what he _said_, Because it might not solace "ears polite;"[463] But what he _did_, was to lay on their backs, The readiest way of reasoning with Cossacques.

XCIV.

One's hip he slashed, and split the other's shoulder, And drove them with their brutal yells to seek If there might be chirurgeons who could solder The wounds they richly merited,[464] and shriek Their baffled rage and pain; while waxing colder As he turned o'er each pale and gory cheek, Don Juan raised his little captive from The heap a moment more had made her tomb.

XCV.

And she was chill as they, and on her face A slender streak of blood announced how near Her fate had been to that of all her race; For the same blow which laid her mother here Had scarred her brow, and left its crimson trace, As the last link with all she had held dear;[465] But else unhurt, she opened her large eyes, And gazed on Juan with a wild surprise.

XCVI.

Just at this instant, while their eyes were fixed Upon each other, with dilated glance, In Juan's look, pain, pleasure, hope, fear, mixed With joy to save, and dread of some mischance Unto his protégée; while hers, transfixed With infant terrors, glared as from a trance, A pure, transparent, pale, yet radiant face, Like to a lighted alabaster vase:--[466]

XCVII.

Up came John Johnson (I will not say _"Jack,"_ For that were vulgar, cold, and common-place On great occasions, such as an attack On cities, as hath been the present case): Up Johnson came, with hundreds at his back, Exclaiming--"Juan! Juan! On, boy! brace Your arm, and I'll bet Moscow to a dollar, That you and I will win St. George's collar.[467]

XCVIII.

"The Seraskier is knocked upon the head, But the stone bastion still remains, wherein The old Pacha sits among some hundreds dead, Smoking his pipe quite calmly 'midst the din Of our artillery and his own: 't is said Our killed, already piled up to the chin, Lie round the battery; but still it batters, And grape in volleys, like a vineyard, scatters.

XCIX.

"Then up with me!"--But Juan answered, "Look Upon this child--I saved her--must not leave Her life to chance; but point me out some nook Of safety, where she less may shrink and grieve, And I am with you."--Whereon Johnson took A glance around--and shrugged--and twitched his sleeve And black silk neckcloth--and replied, "You're right; Poor thing! what's to be done? I'm puzzled quite."

C.

Said Juan--"Whatsoever is to be Done, I'll not quit her till she seems secure Of present life a good deal more than we."-- Quoth Johnson--"_Neither_ will I quite insure; But at the least _you_ may die gloriously."-- Juan replied--" At least I will endure Whate'er is to be borne--but not resign This child, who is parentless, and therefore mine."

CI.

Johnson said--"Juan, we've no time to lose; The child's a pretty child--a very pretty-- I never saw such eyes--but hark! now choose Between your fame and feelings, pride and pity:-- Hark! how the roar increases!--no excuse Will serve when there is plunder in a city;-- I should be loath to march without you, but, By God! we'll be too late for the first cut."

CII.

But Juan was immovable; until Johnson, who really loved him in his way, Picked out amongst his followers with some skill Such as he thought the least given up to prey, And, swearing, if the infant came to ill That they should all be shot on the next day,-- But if she were delivered safe and sound, They should at least have fifty rubles round,

CIII.

And all allowances besides of plunder In fair proportion with their comrades;--then Juan consented to march on through thunder, Which thinned at every step their ranks of men: And yet the rest rushed eagerly--no wonder, For they were heated by the hope of gain, A thing which happens everywhere each day-- No hero trusteth wholly to half pay.

CIV.

And such is Victory, and such is Man! At least nine tenths of what we call so:--God May have another name for half we scan As human beings, or his ways are odd. But to our subject: a brave Tartar Khan-- Or "Sultan," as the author (to whose nod In prose I bend my humble verse) doth call This chieftain--somehow would not yield at all:

CV.

But flanked by _five_ brave sons (such is polygamy, That she spawns warriors by the score, where none Are prosecuted for that false crime bigamy), He never would believe the city won While Courage clung but to a single twig.--Am I Describing Priam's, Peleus', or Jove's son? Neither--but a good, plain, old, temperate man, Who fought with his five children in the van.[468]

CVI.

To _take_ him was the point.--The truly brave, When they behold the brave oppressed with odds, Are touched with a desire to shield and save;-- A mixture of wild beasts and demi-gods Are they--now furious as the sweeping wave, Now moved with pity: even as sometimes nods The rugged tree unto the summer wind, Compassion breathes along the savage mind.

CVII.

But he would _not_ be _taken_, and replied To all the propositions of surrender By mowing Christians down on every side, As obstinate as Swedish Charles at Bender.[469] His five brave boys no less the foe defied; Whereon the Russian pathos grew less tender As being a virtue, like terrestrial patience,[il] Apt to wear out on trifling provocations.

CVIII.

And spite of Johnson and of Juan, who Expended all their Eastern phraseology In begging him, for God's sake, just to show So much less fight as might form an apology For _them_ in saving such a desperate foe-- He hewed away, like Doctors of Theology When they dispute with sceptics; and with curses Struck at his friends, as babies beat their nurses.

CIX.

Nay, he had wounded, though but slightly, both Juan and Johnson; whereupon they fell, The first with sighs, the second with an oath, Upon his angry Sultanship, pell-mell, And all around were grown exceeding wroth At such a pertinacious infidel, And poured upon him and his sons like rain, Which they resisted like a sandy plain

CX.

That drinks and still is dry. At last they perished-- His second son was levelled by a shot; His third was sabred; and the fourth, most cherished Of all the five, on bayonets met his lot; The fifth, who, by a Christian mother nourished, Had been neglected, ill-used, and what not, Because deformed, yet died all game and bottom,[im] To save a Sire who blushed that he begot him.

CXI.

The eldest was a true and tameless Tartar, As great a scorner of the Nazarene As ever Mahomet picked out for a martyr, Who only saw the black-eyed girls in green, Who make the beds of those who won't take quarter On earth, in Paradise; and when once seen, Those houris, like all other pretty creatures, Do just whate'er they please, by dint of features.

CXII.

And what they pleased to do with the young Khan In Heaven I know not, nor pretend to guess; But doubtless they prefer a fine young man To tough old heroes, and can do no less;[in] And that's the cause no doubt why, if we scan A field of battle's ghastly wilderness, For one rough, weather-beaten, veteran body, You'll find ten thousand handsome coxcombs bloody.

CXIII.

Your houris also have a natural pleasure In lopping off your lately married men, Before the bridal hours have danced their measure And the sad, second moon grows dim again, Or dull Repentance hath had dreary leisure To wish him back a bachelor now and then: And thus your Houri (it may be) disputes Of these brief blossoms the immediate fruits.

CXIV.

Thus the young Khan, with Houris in his sight, Thought not upon the charms of four young brides, But bravely rushed on his first heavenly night. In short, howe'er _our_ better faith derides, These black-eyed virgins make the Moslems fight, As though there were one Heaven and none besides-- Whereas, if all be true we hear of Heaven And Hell, there must at least be six or seven.

CXV.

So fully flashed the phantom on his eyes, That when the very lance was in his heart, He shouted "Allah!" and saw Paradise With all its veil of mystery drawn apart, And bright Eternity without disguise On his soul, like a ceaseless sunrise, dart:-- With Prophets--Houris--Angels--Saints, descried In one voluptuous blaze,--and then he died,--[io]

CXVI.

But with a heavenly rapture on his face. The good old Khan, who long had ceased to see Houris, or aught except his florid race, Who grew like cedars round him gloriously-- When he beheld his latest hero grace The earth, which he became like a felled tree, Paused for a moment from the fight, and cast A glance on that slain son, his first and last.

CXVII.

The soldiers, who beheld him drop his point, Stopped as if once more willing to concede Quarter, in case he bade them not "aroynt!" As he before had done. He did not heed Their pause nor signs: his heart was out of joint, And shook (till now unshaken) like a reed, As he looked down upon his children gone, And felt--though done with life--he was alone.[470]

CXVIII.

But 't was a transient tremor:--with a spring Upon the Russian steel his breast he flung, As carelessly as hurls the moth her wing Against the light wherein she dies: he clung Closer, that all the deadlier they might wring, Unto the bayonets which had pierced his young; And throwing back a dim look on his sons, In one wide wound poured forth his soul at once.

CXIX.

'T is strange enough--the rough, tough soldiers, who Spared neither sex nor age in their career Of carnage, when this old man was pierced through, And lay before them with his children near, Touched by the heroism of him they slew, Were melted for a moment; though no tear Flowed from their bloodshot eyes, all red with strife, They honoured such determined scorn of Life.

CXX.

But the stone bastion still kept up its fire, Where the chief Pacha calmly held his post: Some twenty times he made the Russ retire, And baffled the assaults of all their host; At length he condescended to inquire If yet the city's rest were won or lost; And being told the latter, sent a Bey To answer Ribas' summons to give way.[471]

CXXI.

In the mean time, cross-legged, with great sang-froid, Among the scorching ruins he sat smoking Tobacco on a little carpet;--Troy Saw nothing like the scene around;--yet looking With martial Stoicism, nought seemed to annoy His stern philosophy; but gently stroking His beard, he puffed his pipe's ambrosial gales, As if he had three lives, as well as tails.[472] CXXII.

The town was taken--whether he might yield Himself or bastion, little mattered now: His stubborn valour was no future shield. Ismail's no more! The Crescent's silver bow Sunk, and the crimson Cross glared o'er the field, But red with no _redeeming_ gore: the glow Of burning streets, like moonlight on the water, Was imaged back in blood, the sea of slaughter.[ip]

CXXIII.

All that the mind would shrink from of excesses-- All that the body perpetrates of bad; All that we read--hear--dream, of man's distresses-- All that the Devil would do if run stark mad; All that defies the worst which pen expresses,-- All by which Hell is peopled, or as sad As Hell--mere mortals who their power abuse-- Was here (as heretofore and since) let loose.

CXXIV.

If here and there some transient trait of pity Was shown, and some more noble heart broke through Its bloody bond, and saved, perhaps, some pretty Child, or an agéd, helpless man or two-- What's this in one annihilated city, Where thousand loves, and ties, and duties grew? Cockneys of London! Muscadins of Paris! Just ponder what a pious pastime War is.[iq]

CXXV.

Think how the joys of reading a Gazette Are purchased by all agonies and crimes: Or if these do not move you, don't forget Such doom may be your own in after-times. Meantime the Taxes, Castlereagh, and Debt, Are hints as good as sermons, or as rhymes. Read your own hearts and Ireland's present story, Then feed her famine fat with Wellesley's glory.

CXXVI.

But still there is unto a patriot nation, Which loves so well its country and its King, A subject of sublimest exultation-- Bear it, ye Muses, on your brightest wing! Howe'er the mighty locust, Desolation, Strip your green fields, and to your harvests cling, Gaunt famine never shall approach the throne-- Though Ireland starve, great George weighs twenty stone.[473]

CXXVII.

But let me put an end unto my theme: There was an end of Ismail--hapless town! Far flashed her burning towers o'er Danube's stream, And redly ran his blushing waters down. The horrid war-whoop and the shriller scream Rose still; but fainter were the thunders grown: Of forty thousand who had manned the wall, Some hundreds breathed--the rest were silent all![474]

CXXVIII.

In one thing ne'ertheless 't is fit to praise The Russian army upon this occasion, A virtue much in fashion now-a-days, And therefore worthy of commemoration:[ir] The topic's tender, so shall be my phrase-- Perhaps the season's chill, and their long station In Winter's depth, or want of rest and victual, Had made them chaste;--they ravished very little.

CXXIX.

Much did they slay, more plunder, and no less Might here and there occur some violation In the other line;--but not to such excess As when the French, that dissipated nation, Take towns by storm: no causes can I guess, Except cold weather and commiseration;[is] But all the ladies, save some twenty score, Were almost as much virgins as before.

CXXX.

Some odd mistakes, too, happened in the dark, Which showed a want of lanterns, or of taste-- Indeed the smoke was such they scarce could mark Their friends from foes,--besides such things from haste Occur, though rarely, when there is a spark Of light to save the venerably chaste: But six old damsels, each of seventy years, Were all deflowered by different grenadiers.

CXXXI.

But on the whole their continence was great; So that some disappointment there ensued To those who had felt the inconvenient state Of "single blessedness," and thought it good (Since it was not their fault, but only fate, To bear these crosses) for each waning prude To make a Roman sort of Sabine wedding, Without the expense and the suspense of bedding.

CXXII.

Some voices of the buxom middle-aged Were also heard to wonder in the din (Widows of forty were these birds long caged) "Wherefore the ravishing did not begin!" But while the thirst for gore and plunder raged, There was small leisure for superfluous sin; But whether they escaped or no, lies hid In darkness--I can only hope they did.

CXXXIII.

Suwarrow now was conqueror--a match For Timour or for Zinghis in his trade. While mosques and streets, beneath his eyes, like thatch Blazed, and the cannon's roar was scarce allayed, With bloody hands he wrote his first despatch; And here exactly follows what he said:-- "Glory to _God_ and to the Empress!" (_Powers Eternal! such names mingled!_) "Ismail's ours."[475]

CXXXIV.

Methinks these are the most tremendous words, Since "MENE, MENE, TEKEL," and "UPHARSIN," Which hands or pens have ever traced of swords. Heaven help me! I'm but little of a parson: What Daniel read was short-hand of the Lord's, Severe, sublime; the prophet wrote no farce on The fate of nations;--but this Russ so witty Could rhyme, like Nero, o'er a burning city.

CXXXV.

He wrote this Polar melody, and set it, Duly accompanied by shrieks and groans, Which few will sing, I trust, but none forget it-- For I will teach, if possible, the stones To rise against Earth's tyrants. Never let it Be said that we still truckle unto thrones;-- But ye--our children's children! think how we Showed _what things were_ before the World was free!

CXXXVI.

That hour is not for us, but 't is for you: And as, in the great joy of your Millennium, You hardly will believe such things were true As now occur, I thought that I would pen you 'em; But may their very memory perish too!-- Yet if perchance remembered, still disdain you 'em More than you scorn the savages of yore, Who _painted_ their _bare_ limbs, but _not_ with gore.

CXXXVII.

And when you hear historians talk of thrones, And those that sate upon them, let it be As we now gaze upon the mammoth's bones, And wonder what old world such things could see, Or hieroglyphics on Egyptian stones, The pleasant riddles of futurity-- Guessing at what shall happily be hid, As the real purpose of a pyramid.

CXXXVIII.

Reader! I have kept my word,--at least so far As the first Canto promised. You have now Had sketches of Love--Tempest--Travel--War,-- All very accurate, you must allow, And _Epic_, if plain truth should prove no bar; For I have drawn much less with a long bow Than my forerunners. Carelessly I sing, But Phoebus lends me now and then a string,

CXXXIX.

With which I still can harp, and carp, and fiddle. What further hath befallen or may befall The hero of this grand poetic riddle, I by and by may tell you, if at all: But now I choose to break off in the middle, Worn out with battering Ismail's stubborn wall, While Juan is sent off with the despatch, For which all Petersburgh is on the watch.

CXL.

This special honour was conferred, because He had behaved with courage and humanity-- Which last men like, when they have time to pause From their ferocities produced by vanity. His little captive gained him some applause For saving her amidst the wild insanity Of carnage,--and I think he was more glad in her Safety, than his new order of St. Vladimir.

CXLI.

The Moslem orphan went with her protector, For she was homeless, houseless, helpless; all Her friends, like the sad family of Hector, Had perished in the field or by the wall: Her very place of birth was but a spectre Of what it had been; there the Muezzin's call To prayer was heard no more!--and Juan wept, And made a vow to shield her, which he kept.

FOOTNOTES:

{331}[412] ["La nuit était obscure; un brouillard épais ne nous permettait de distinguer autre chose que le feu de notre artillerie, dont l'horizon était embrasé de tous côtés: ce feu, partant du milieu du Danube, se réfléchissait sur les eaux, et offrait un coup d'oeil très-singulier."-_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 209.]

{332}[413] ["À peine eut-on parcouru l'espace de quelques toises au-delà des batteries, que les Turcs, qui n'avaient point tiré pendant toute la nuit s'apperçevant de nos mouvemens, commencèrent de leur côté un feu très-vif, qui embrasa le reste de l'horizon: mais ce fut bien autre chose lorsque, avancés davantage, le feu de la mousqueterie commença dans toute l'étendue du rempart que nous appercevions. Ce fut alors que la place parut à nos yeux comme un volcan dont le feu sortait de toutes parts."-_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 209.]

[414] ["Un cri universel d'_allah_, qui se répétait tout autour de la ville, vint encore rendre plus extraordinaire cet instant, dont il est impossible de se faire une idée."--_Ibid._, p. 209.]

[415] Allah Hu! is properly the war-cry of the Mussulmans, and they dwell on the last syllable, which gives it a wild and peculiar effect.

[See _The Giaour_, line 734, _Poetical Works_, 1900, iii. 120, note 1; see, too, _Siege of Corinth_, line 713, ibid., p. 481.]

[416] ["Toutes les colonnes étaient en mouvement; celles qui attaquaient par eau commandées par le général Arséniew, essuyèrent un feu épouvantable, et perdirent avant le jour un tiers de leurs officiers."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 209.]

[417]

"But _Thy_[*] most dreaded instrument, In working out a pure intent, Is Man--arrayed for mutual slaughter,-- Yea, _Carnage is thy daughter!_"

Wordsworth's _Thanksgiving Ode_ (January 18, 1816), stanza xii. lines 20, 23.

[*]To wit, the Deity's: this is perhaps as pretty a pedigree for murder as ever was found out by Garter King at Arms.--What would have been said, had any free-spoken people discovered such a lineage?

[Wordsworth omitted the lines in the last edition of his poems, which was revised by his own hand.]

{333}[ia] _The Duc de Richelieu_----.--[MS. erased.]

[418] ["Le Prince de Ligne fut blessé au genou; le Duc de Richelieu eut une balle entre le fond de son bonnet et sa tête."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 210.

For the gallantry of Prince Charles de Ligne (died September 14, 1792) eldest son of Prince Charles Joseph de Ligne (1735-1814), see _The Prince de Ligne_, 1899, ii. 46.

Armand Emanuel du Plessis, Duc de Richelieu, born 1767, a grandson of Louis François Duc de Richelieu, the Marshal of France (1696-1780), served under Catherine II., and afterwards under the Czar Paul. On the restoration of Louis XVIII. he entered the King's household; and after the battle of Waterloo took office as President of the Council and Minister for Foreign Affairs. His _Journal de mon Voyage en Allemagne_, which was then unpublished, was placed at the disposal of the Marquis de Castelnau (see _Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, 1827, i. 241). It has been printed in full by the _Société Impériale d'Histoire de Russie_, 1886, tom. liv. pp. 111-198. See for further mention of the manuscript, _Le Duc de Richelieu_, par Raoul de Cisternes, 1898, Preface, p. 3, note 1. He died May 17, 1822, two months before Cantos VI., VII., VIII. were completed.]

{334}[419] ["Le brigadier Markow, insistant pour qu'on emportât le prince blessé, reçut un coup de fusil qui lui fracassa le pied."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 210.]

[420] ["Trois cents bouches à feu vomissaient sans interruption, et trente mille fusils alimentaient sans reláche une grêle de balles."--_Ibid._, p. 210.]

{335}[421] ["Les troupes, déja débarquées, se portèrent á droite pour s'emparer d'une batterie; et celles débarquées plus bas, principalement composées des grenadiers de Fanagorie, escaladaient le retranchement et la palissade."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 210.]

[422] A fact: see the Waterloo Gazettes. I recollect remarking at the time to a friend:--"_There_ is _fame!_ a man is killed, his name is Grose, and they print it Grove." I was at college with the deceased, who was a very amiable and clever man, and his society in great request for his wit, gaiety, and "Chansons à boire."

[In the _London Gazette Extraordinary_ of June 22, 1815, Captain Grove, 1st Guards, is among the list of killed. In the supplement to the _London Gazette_, published July 3, 1815, the mistake was corrected, and the entry runs, "1st Guards, 3d Batt. Lieut. Edward Grose, (Captain)." I am indebted to the courtesy of the Registrar of the University of Cambridge for the information that Edward Grose matriculated at St. John's College as a pensioner, December 7, 1805. Thanks to the "misprint" in the _Gazette_, and to Byron, he is "a name for ever."--_Vir nullâ non donatus lauru!_]

{337}[423] [At the Battle of Mollwitz, April 10, 1741, "the king vanishes for sixteen hours into the regions of Myth 'into Fairyland,' ... of the king's flight ... the king himself, who alone could have told us fully, maintained always rigorous silence, and nowhere drops the least hint. So that the small fact has come down to us involved in a great bulk of fabulous cobwebs, mostly of an ill-natured character, set a-going by Voltaire, Valori, and others."--Carlyle's _Frederick the Great_, 1862, iii. 314, 322, sq.]

[424] See General Valancey and Sir Lawrence Parsons.

[Charles Vallancey (1721-1812), general in the Royal Engineers, published an "Essay on the Celtic Language," etc., in 1782. "The language [the Iberno-Celtic]," he writes (p. 4), "we are now going to explain, had such an affinity with the Punic, that it may be said to have been, in a great degree, the language of Hanibal (_sic_), Hamilcar, and of Asdrubal." Sir Laurence Parsons (1758-1841), second Earl of Rosse, represented the University of Dublin 1782-90, and afterwards King's County, in the Irish House of Commons. He was an opponent of the Union. In a pamphlet entitled _Defence of the Antient History of Ireland_, published in 1795, he maintains (p. 158) "that the Carthaginian and the Irish language being originally the same, either the Carthaginians must have been descended from the Irish, or the Irish from the Carthaginians."]

{338}[425] The Portuguese proverb says that "hell is paved with good intentions."--[See _Vision of Judgment_, stanza xxxvii. line 8, _Poetical Works_, 1901, iv. 499, note 2.]

[ib] _At least the sharp faints of that "burning marle."_--[MS. erased.]

{339}[426] ["The Nervii marched to the number of sixty thousand, and fell upon Cæsar, as he was fortifying his camp, and had not the least notion of so sudden an attack. They first routed his cavalry, and then surrounded the twelfth and the seventh legions, and killed all the officers. Had not Cæsar snatched a buckler from one of his own men, forced his way through the combatants before him, and rushed upon the barbarians; or had not the tenth legion, seeing his danger, ran from the heights where they were posted, and mowed down the enemy's ranks, not one Roman would have survived the battle."--Plutarch, _Cæsar_, Langhorne's translation, 1838, p. 502.]

[427] ["As near a field of corn, a stubborn ass ... E'en so great Ajax son of Telamon."

_The Iliad_, Lord Derby's translation, bk. xi. lines 639, 645.]

{339}[ic] _Nor care a single damn about his corps_.--[MS. erased.]

[428] ["N'apercevant plus le commandant du corps dont je faisais partie, et ignorant où je devais porter mes pas, je crus reconnaître le lieu où le rempart était situé; on y faisait un feu assez vif, que je jugeai être celui ... du général-major de Lascy."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 210. The speaker is the Duc de Richelieu. See, for original, his _Journal de mon Voyage, etc., Soc. Imp. d'Hist. de Russie_, tom. liv. p. 179]

[id] _For he was dizzy, busy, and his blood_ _Lightening along his veins, and where he heard_ _The liveliest fire, and saw the fiercest flood_ _Of Friar Bacon's mild discovery, shared_ _By Turks and Christians equally, he could_ _No longer now resist the attraction of gunpowder_ _But flew to where the merry orchestra played louder_.--[MS. erased.]

[429] Gunpowder is said to have been discovered by this friar. [N.B. Though Friar Bacon seems to have discovered gunpowder, he had the _humanity_ not to record his discovery in intelligible language.]

{341}[ie] ---- _whose short breath, and long faces_ _Kept always pushing onwards to the Glacis_.--[MS. erased.]

{342}[430] [_I Henry IV._, act iii. sc. 1, line 53.]

[if] _And that mechanic impulse_----.--[MS. erased.]

[431] [_Hamlet_, act iii, sc. 1, lines 79, 80.]

{343}[432] ["_Talus:_ the slope or inclination of a wall, whereby, reclining at the top so as to fall within its base, the thickness is gradually lessened according to the height."--_Milit. Dict._]

[433] ["Appelant ceux des chasseurs qui étaient autour de moi en assez grand nombre, je m'avançai et reconnus ne m'être point trompé dans mon calcul; c'était en effet cette colonne qui à l'instant parvenait au sommet du rempart. Les Turcs de derrière les travers et les flancs des bastions voisins fasaient sur elle un feu très-vif de canon et de mousqueterie. Je gravis, avec les gens qui m'avaient suivi, le talus intérieur du rempart."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 210.]

{344}[434] [Baron Menno van Coehoorn (circ. 1641-1704), a Dutch military engineer, the contemporary and rival of Vauban, invented a mortar which bore his name. He was the author of a celebrated work on fortification, published in 1692.]

[435] ["Ce fut dans cet instant que je reconnus combien l'ignorance du constructeur des palissades était importante pour nous; car, comme elles étaient placées au milieu du parapet," etc.--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 211.]

[436] They were but two feet above the level.--[MS.]

["Il y avait de chaque côté neuf à dix pieds sur lesquels on pouvait marcher; et les soldats, après être montés, avaient pu se ranger commodément sur l'espace extérieur et enjamber ensuite les palissades, qui ne s'élevaient que d'à-peu-près deux pieds au-dessus du niveau de la terre."--_Ibid._, p. 211.]

{345}[437] [Friederich Wilhelm, Baron von Bülow (1755-1816), was in command of the 4th corps of the Prussian Army at Waterloo. August Wilhelm Antonius Neidhart von Gneisenau (1760-1831) was chief of staff, and after Blücher was disabled by a fall at Ligny, assumed temporary command, June 16-17, 1815. He headed the triumphant pursuit of the French on the night of the battle. For Blücher's official account of the battles of Ligny and Waterloo (subscribed by Gneisenau), see W.H. Maxwell's _Life of the Duke of Wellington_, 1841, iii. 566-571; and for Wellington's acknowledgment of Blücher's "cordial and timely assistance," see _Dispatches_, 1847, viii. 150. See, too, _The Life of Wellington_, by the Right Hon. Sir Herbert Maxwell, Bart., 1899, ii. 88, _et passim_.]

{346}[ig] ---- _as feminine of feature_.--[MS.]

_Led him on--although he was the gentlest creature_, _As kind in heart as feminine of feature_.--[MS. erased.]

{347}[438] [Pistol's "_Bezonian_" is a corruption of _bisognoso_--a rogue, needy fellow. Byron, quoting from memory, confuses two passages. In _2 Henry VI._, act iv. sc. 1, line 134, Suffolk says, "Great men oft die of vile bezonians;" in _2 Henry IV._, act v. sc. 3, line 112, Pistol says, "Under which King, Besonian? speak or die."]

[439] ["Le Général Lascy, voyant arriver un corps, si à-propos à son secours, s'avança vers l'officier qui l'avait conduit, et, le prenant pour un Livonien, lui fit, en allemand, les complimens les plus flatteurs; le jeune militaire (le Duc de Richelieu) qui parlait parfaitement cette langue, y répondit avec sa modestie ordinaire."-_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 211.]

{348}[440] [_The Task_, bk. i. line 749. It was pointed out to Cowper that the same thought had been expressed by Isaac Hawkins Browne, in _The Fire-side, a Pastoral Soliloquy_, lines 15, 16 (_Poems_, ed. 1768, p. 125)--

"I have said it at home, I have said it abroad, That the town is Man's world, but that this is of God."

There is a parallel passage in M.T. Varro, _Rerum Rusticarum_, lib. iii. I. 4, "Nee minim, quod divina natura dedit agros, ars humami aedificavit urbes."--See _The Task, etc._, ed. by H.T. Griffith, 1896, ii. 234.]

[441] [Sulla spoke of himself as the "fortunate," and in the twenty-second book of his Commentaries, finished only two days before his death, "he tells us that the Chaldeans had predicted, that after a life of glory he would depart in the height of his prosperity." He was fortunate, too, with regard to his funeral, for, at first, a brisk wind blew which fanned the pile into flame, and it was not till the fire had begun to die out that the rain, which had been expected throughout the day, began to fall in torrents.--Langhorne's _Plutarch_, 1838, pp. 334, 335. See, too, _Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte_, stanza vii. _Poetical Works_, 1900, in. 308, note I.]

[442] [Daniel Boone (1735-1820) was the grandson of an English settler, George Boone, of Exeter. His great work in life was the conquest of Kentucky. Following in the steps of another pioneer, John Finley, he left his home in North Carolina in May, 1769, and, after numerous adventures, effected a settlement on the Kentucky river. He constructed a fort, which he named Boonesborough, and carried on a protracted campaign with varying but final success against the Indians. When Kentucky was admitted into the Union, February 4, 1791, he failed to make good his title to his property at Boonesborough, and withdrew to Mount Pleasant, beyond the Ohio. Thence, in 1795, he removed to Missouri, then a Spanish possession. Napoleon wrested Missouri from the Spaniards, only to sell the territory to the United States, with the result that in 1810 he was confirmed in the possession of 850 out of the 8000 acres which he had acquired in 1795. "Boone was then seventy-five years of age, hale and strong. The charm of the hunter's life clung to him to the last, and in his eighty-second year he went on a hunting excursion to the mouth of the Kansas river."--Appleton's _Encyclopedia, etc_., art. "Boone." His fine and gracious nature reveals itself in his autobiography (_The Adventures of Colonel Daniel Boon, Formerly a Hunter; Containing a Narrative of the Wars of Kentucky_; Imlay's _North America_, 1793, ii. 52-54). "One day," he writes (pp. 330, _sq_.), "I undertook a tour through the country, and the diversity and beauties of nature ... expelled every gloomy and vexatious thought. Just at the close of day the gentle gales retired, and left the place to the disposal of a profound calm. Not a breeze shook the most tremulous leaf. I had gained the summit of a commanding ridge, and, looking round with astonishing delight, beheld the ample plains, the beauteous tracts below. On the other hand, I surveyed the famous river Ohio, that rolled in silent dignity, marking the western boundary of Kentucky with inconceivable grandeur. ... All things were still. I kindled a fire near a fountain of sweet water, and feasted on the loins of a buck, which a few hours before I had killed.... No populous city, with all the varieties of commerce and stately structures, could afford so much pleasure to my mind as the beauties of nature I found here." (See, too, _The Kentucky Pioneers_, by John Brown, _Harper's New Monthly Magazine_, 1887, vol. lxxv. pp. 48-71.)]

{350}[443] [For John Kyrle, "the Man of Ross" (1635-1724), see Pope's _Moral Essays_, epist. iii. lines 249-284. See, too, _Letters of S.T. Coleridge_, 1895 (letter to R. Southey, July 13, 1794), i. 77.]

{351}[444] [Byron seems to have derived his knowledge of Catherine's _vie intime_ from the _Mémoires Secrets sur la Russie_, of C.F.P. Masson, which were published in Amsterdam in 1800, and translated into English in the same year.]

[445] [Michailo Smolenskoi Koutousof (1743-1813), who was raised to eminence through the influence of Potemkin, was in command of the Austro-Russian Army at Austerlitz. During the retreat from Moscow he repulsed Napoleon at Malo-yaroslavetz, and pursued the French to Kalisz. Tolstoi introduces Koutousof in his novel, _War and Peace_, and dwells on his fatalism.]

{352}[446] ["Parmi les colonnes, une de celles qui souffrirent le plus était commandée par le général Koutouzow (aujourd'hui Prince de Smolensko). Ce brave militaire réunit l'intrépidité à un grand nombre de connaissances acquises; il marche au feu avec la même gaîeté qu'il va à une fête; il sait commander avec autant de sang froid qu'il déploie d'esprit et d'amabilité dans le commerce habituel de la vie."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 212.]

[447] ["Ce brave Koutouzow se jeta dans le fossé, fut suivi des siens, et ne pénétra jusqu'au haut du parapet qu'après avoir éprouvé des difficultés incroyables. (Le brigadier de Ribaupierre perdit la vie dans cette occasion: il avail fixé l'estime générale, et sa mort occasionna beaucoup de regrets.) Les Turcs accoururent en grand nombre; cette multitude repoussa deux fois le général jusqu'au fossé."--_Ibid._, p. 212.]

[448] ["Quelques troupes russes, emportées par le courant, n'ayant pu débarquer sur le terrain qu'on leur avait prescrit," etc.--_Ibid._, p. 213.]

[449] ["A 'Cavalier' is an elevation of earth, situated ordinarily in the gorge of a bastion, bordered with a parapet, and cut into more or fewer embrasures, according to its capacity."--_Milit. Dict._]

{353}[450] [" ... longèrent le rempart, après la prise du cavalier, et ouvrirent la porte dite _de Kilia_ aux soldats du général Koutouzow."--_Hist, de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 213.]

[451] ["Il était réservé aux Kozaks de combler de leurs corps la partie du fossé où ils combattaient; leur colonne avail été divisée entre MM. Platow et d'Orlow ..."--_Ibid._, p. 213.]

[452] [" ... la première partie, devant se joindre à la gauche du général Arséniew, fut foudroyée par le feu des batteries, et parvint néanmoins au haut du rempart."--_Ibid._, p. 213.]

[453] ["Les Turcs la laissèrent un peu s'avancer, dans la ville, et firent deux sorties par les angles saillans des bastions."--_Ibid._, p. 213.]

[ih] _Fatal to warriors as to women--these_.--[MS.]

{354}[454] ["Alors, se trouvant prise en queue, elle fut écrasée; cependant le Lieutenant-colonel Yesouskoï, qui commandait la réserve composée d'un bataillon du régiment de Polozk, traversa le fossé sur les cadavres des Kozaks ..."--_Hist. de la Nouvell Russia_, ii. 212.]

[455] [" ... et extermina tous les Turcs qu'il eut en tête: ce brave homme fut tué pendant l'action."--_Ibid._, p. 213.]

[456] ["L'autre partie des Kozaks, qu' Orlow commandait, souffrit de la manière la plus cruelle: elle attaqua à maintes reprises, fut souvent repoussée, et perdit les deux tiers de son monde (c'est ici le lieu de placer une observation, que nous prenons dans les mémoires qui nous guident; elle fait remarquer combien il est raal vu de donner beaucoup de cartouches aux soldats qui doivent emporter un poste de vive force, et par conséquent où la baïonnette doit principalement agir; ils pensent ne devoir se servir de cette derniere arme, que lorsque les cartouches sont epuisées: dans cette persuasion, ils retardent leur marche, et restent plus long-temps exposés au canon et à la mitraille de l'ennemi)."--_Ibid._, p. 214.]

{355}[457] ["La jonction de la colonne de Meknop--(le général fut nial secondé et tué)--ne put s'effectuer avec celle qui l'avoisinait, ... ces colonnes attaquèrent un bastion, et éprouvèrent une résistance opiniâtre; raais bientôt des cris de victoire se font entendre de toutes parts, et le bastion est emporté: le séraskier défendait cette partie."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 214.]

[458] [" ... un officier de marine Anglais veut le faire prisonnier, et reçoit un coup de pistolet qui l'étend roide mort."--_Ibid._, p. 214.]

[459] ["Les Russes passent trois mille Turcs au fil de l'épée; seize baïonnettes percent à la fois le séraskier."--_Ibid._, p. 214.]

[460] ["La ville est emportée; l'image de la mort et de la désolation se représente de tous les côtés le soldat furieux n'écoute plus la voix de ses officiers, il ne respire que le carnage; altéré de sang, tout est indifférent pour lui."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 214.]

{356}[ii] _As do the subtle snake's denounced of old_.--[MS.]

{357}[ij] _Which most of all doth man characterise_.--[MS. Alternative reading.]

[ik] _As Autumn winds disperse the yellow leaves_.--[MS. erased.]

[461] [See _The Blues_, ecl. i. line 25, _Poetical Works_, 1901, iv. 574, note 3.]

{358}[462] ["Je sauvai la vie à une fille de dix ans, don't l'innocence et la candeur formaient un contraste bien frappant avec la rage de tout ce qui m'environnait. En arrivant sur le bastion où commença le carnage, j'aperçus un groupe de quatre femmes égorgées, entre lesquelles cet enfant, d'une figure charmante, cherchait un asile contre la fureur de deux Kozaks qui étaient sur le point de la massacrer,"--Duc de Richelieu. (See _Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 217.)]

[463] ["Who never mentions Hell to ears polite."--Pope, _Moral Essays_, ep. iv, line 150.]

{359}[464] ["Ce spectacle m'attira bientôt, et je n'hésitai pas, comme on peut le croire, à prendre entre mes bras cette infortunée, que les barbares voulaient y poursuivre encore. J'eus bien de la peine à me retenir et à ne pas percer ces misérables du sabre que je tenais suspendu sur leur tête:--je me contentai cependant de les éloigner, non sans leur prodiguer les coups et les injures qu'ils méritaient...."--Duc de Richelieu, _vide Hist, de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 217.]

[465] [" ... J'eus le plaisir d'apercevoir que ma petite prisonnière n'avait d'autre mal qu'une coupure legere que lui avail faite au visage le même fer qui avail percé sa mére."--Duc de Richelieu, _ibid_.

The Turks clamoured for the child, and Richelieu was forced to give way. But in the original the story ends unhappily.

"Je fus obligé de céder á leurs instances et á celles de l'officier qui parlementait avec eux; ... ce ne fut pas sans de grandes difficultés et sans une promesse expresse de la parl de cet officier [Colonel Ribas] de me la faire rendre aussitôt que les Tures auraient mis bas les armes. Je me séparai donc de cet enfant qui m'était déjà devenu très-cher, et même a présent, je ne puis penser á ce moment sans amertume, puisque malgré toutes les recherches et les peines que je me donnai pour la retrouver, il me fut impossible d'y réussir, el je n'ai que trop sujet de craindre qu'elle n'ait péri malheureusement."--_Société Impériale d'Histoire de Russie_, tom. liv. p. 185.]

{360}[466] [Sir Walter Scott (_Quarterly Review_, October, 1816, vol. xvi. p. 177) says that a "brother-poet" compared Byron's features to the sculpture of a beautiful alabaster vase, only seen to perfection when lighted up from within. Byron alludes to this comparison in his _Detached Thoughts_, October 15, 1821, _Letters_, 1901, v. 408. It may be noted that Lorenzo Bartolini, the Italian sculptor who took a bust of Byron at Pisa, in the spring of 1822, had been employed by Napoleon, in 1814, to design marble vases for a terrace at Elba, which were to be illuminated at night "from within."]

[467] A Russian military order.

{362}[468] ["Le sultan périt dans l'action en brave homme, digne d'un meilleur destin; ce fut lui qui rallia les Turcs lorsque l'ennemi pénétra dans la place ... ce sultan, d'une valeur éprouvée, surpassait en générosité les plus civilisés de sa nation; cinq de ses fils combattaient à ses côtés, il les encourageait par son exemple."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 215.]

[469] ["When Charles XII. reached Bender, August 1, 1709, he refused, in the first instance, to cross the river Dniester, and on yielding to the representations of the Turks, he declined to enter the town, but decided on remaining encamped on an island, in spite of the assurances of the inhabitants that it was occasionally flooded." But, perhaps, Byron had in mind Voltaire's remarks on Charles's _Opiniâtreté_. (See _Histoire de Charles XII._, 1772, p. 377. See, too, _Charles XII._, by Oscar Browning, 1899, pp. 231-234.)]

[il]---- _like celestial patience_.--[MS. erased.]

[im] _Because a hunchback_----.--[MS. erased.]

{364}[in] _In battle to old age and ugliness_.--[MS. erased.]

{365}[io] _In one immortal glance, and then he died_.--[MS. erased]

[470] ["Tous cinq furent tous tués sous ces yeux: il ne cessa point de se battre, répondit par des coups de sabre aux propositions de se rendre, et ne fut atteint du coup mortel qu'après avoir abattu de sa main beaucoup de Kozaks des plus acharnée à sa prise; le reste de sa troupe fut massacré."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 215.]

{366}[471] ["Quoique les Russes fussent répandus dans la ville, le bastion de pierre résistait encore; il était défendu par un vicillard, pacha à trois queues, et commandant les forces réunies à Ismaël. On lui proposa une capitulation; il demanda si le reste de la ville était conquis; sur cette réponse, il autorisa quelques-uns de ces officiers à capituler avec M. de Ribas."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 215.]

[472] ["Pendant ce colloque, il resta étendu sur des tapis placés sur les ruines de la forteresse, fumant sa pipe avec la même tranquillité et la même indifférence que s'il eût été étranger à tout ce qui se passait."--_Ibid._, p. 215.]

{367}[ip] _Of burning cities, those full moons of slaughter_ _Was imaged back in blood instead of water_.--[MS. Alternative reading.]

[iq] _Would_ you _do less_, "pro focis et pro aris"?--[MS. erased.]

{368}[473] [Compare--

"Spread--spread for Vitellius, the royal repast, Till the gluttonous despot be stuffed to the gorge!"

_The Irish Avatar_, stanza 20, _Poetical Works_, 1891, iv. 559.]

[474] ["On égorgea indistinctement, on saccagea la place; et la rage du vainqueur ... se répandit comme un torrent furieux qui a renversé les digues qui le rétenaient: personne obtint de grâce, et _trente huit mille huit cent soixante_ Turcs périrent dans cette journée de sang."--_Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie_, ii. 216.]

[ir]---- _of my peroration_.--[MS. erased.]

{369}[is] ---- _the cause I cannot guess_-- _I hardly think it was commiseration_.--[MS. erased.]

{370}[475] In the original Russian--

"Slava bogu! slava vam! Krépost vzata i ya tam;"

a kind of couplet; for he was a poet.

[J.H. Castéra (_Vie de Catherine II._, 1797, ii. 374) relates this incident in connection with the fall of Turtukey (or Tutrakaw) in Bulgaria, giving the words in French, "Gloire à Dieu! Louange à Catherine! Toutoukai est pris. Souwaroff y est entré." W. Tooke (_Life of Catherine II._, 1800, iii. 278). Castéra's translator, gives the original Russian with an English version. But according to Spalding (_Suvóroff_, 1890, pp. 42, 43), the words, which were written on a scrap of paper, and addressed to Soltikoff, ran thus: "Your Excellency, we have conquered. Glory to God! Glory to you! Alexander Suvóroff." When Ismail was taken he wrote to Potemkin, "The Russian standard floats above the walls of Ismail," and to the Empress, "Proud Ismail lies at your Majesty's feet." The tenour of the poetical message on the fall of Tutrakaw recalls the triumphant piety of the Emperor William I. of Germany. See, too, for "mad Suwarrow's rhymes," Canto IX. stanza lx. lines 1-4.]

CANTO THE NINTH.

I.[476]

Oh, Wellington! (or "Villainton"[477]--for Fame[it] Sounds the heroic syllables both ways; France could not even conquer your great name, But punned it down to this facetious phrase-- Beating or beaten she will laugh the same,) You have obtained great pensions and much praise: Glory like yours should any dare gainsay, Humanity would rise, and thunder "Nay!"[478]

II.

I don't think that you used Kinnaird quite well In Marinèt's affair[479]--in fact, 't was shabby, And like some other things won't do to tell Upon your tomb in Westminster's old Abbey. Upon the rest 't is not worth while to dwell, Such tales being for the tea-hours of some tabby;[480] But though your years as _man_ tend fast to zero, In fact your Grace is still but a _young Hero_.

III.

Though Britain owes (and pays you too) so much, Yet Europe doubtless owes you greatly more: You have repaired Legitimacy's crutch, A prop not quite so certain as before: The Spanish, and the French, as well as Dutch, Have seen, and felt, how strongly you _restore_; And Waterloo has made the world your debtor (I wish your bards would sing it rather better).

IV.

You are "the best of cut-throats:"[481]--do not start; The phrase is Shakespeare's, and not misapplied:-- War's a brain-spattering, windpipe-slitting art, Unless her cause by right be sanctified. If you have acted _once_ a generous part, The World, not the World's masters, will decide, And I shall be delighted to learn who, Save you and yours, have gained by Waterloo?

V.

I am no flatterer--you've supped full of flattery:[482] They say you like it too--'t is no great wonder. He whose whole life has been assault and battery, At last may get a little tired of thunder; And swallowing eulogy much more than satire, he May like being praised for every lucky blunder, Called "Saviour of the Nations"--not yet saved,-- And "Europe's Liberator"--still enslaved.[483]

VI.

I've done. Now go and dine from off the plate Presented by the Prince of the Brazils, And send the sentinel before your gate A slice or two from your luxurious meals:[484] He fought, but has not fed so well of late. Some hunger, too, they say the people feels:-- There is no doubt that you deserve your ration, But pray give back a little to the nation.

VII.

I don't mean to reflect--a man so great as You, my lord Duke! is far above reflection: The high Roman fashion, too, of Cincinnatus, With modern history has but small connection: Though as an Irishman you love potatoes, You need not take them under your direction; And half a million for your Sabine farm Is rather dear!--I'm sure I mean no harm.

VIII.

Great men have always scorned great recompenses: Epaminondas saved his Thebes, and died, Not leaving even his funeral expenses:[485] George Washington had thanks, and nought beside, Except the all-cloudless glory (which few men's is) To free his country: Pitt too had his pride, And as a high-souled Minister of state is Renowned for ruining Great Britain gratis.[486]

IX.

Never had mortal man such opportunity, Except Napoleon, or abused it more: You might have freed fallen Europe from the unity Of Tyrants, and been blest from shore to shore: And _now_--what is your fame? Shall the Muse tune it ye? _Now_--that the rabble's first vain shouts are o'er? Go! hear it in your famished country's cries! Behold the World! and curse your victories!

X.

As these new cantos touch on warlike feats, To _you_ the unflattering Muse deigns to inscribe[iu] Truths, that you will not read in the Gazettes, But which 't is time to teach the hireling tribe Who fatten on their country's gore, and debts, Must be recited--and without a bribe. You _did great_ things, but not being _great_ in mind, Have left _undone_ the _greatest_--and mankind.

XI.

Death laughs--Go ponder o'er the skeleton With which men image out the unknown thing That hides the past world, like to a set sun Which still elsewhere may rouse a brighter spring-- Death laughs at all you weep for!--look upon This hourly dread of all! whose _threatened sting_ Turns Life to terror, even though in its sheath: Mark! how its lipless mouth grins without breath!

XII.

Mark! how it laughs and scorns at all you are! And yet _was_ what you are; from _ear_ to _ear_ It _laughs not_--there is now no fleshy bar So called; the Antic long hath ceased to _hear_, But still he _smiles_; and whether near or far, He strips from man that mantle (far more dear Than even the tailor's), his incarnate skin,[iv] White, black, or copper--the dead bones will grin.

XIII.

And thus Death laughs,--it is sad merriment, But still it _is_ so; and with such example Why should not Life be equally content With his Superior, in a smile to trample Upon the nothings which are daily spent Like bubbles on an Ocean much less ample Than the Eternal Deluge, which devours Suns as rays--worlds like atoms--years like hours?

XIV.

"To be, or not to be? _that_ is the question," Says Shakespeare,[487] who just now is much in fashion. I am neither Alexander nor Hephæstion, Nor ever had for _abstract_ fame much passion; But would much rather have a sound digestion Than Buonaparte's cancer:--could I dash on Through fifty victories to shame or fame-- Without a stomach what were a good name?

XV.

_"O dura ilia messorum!"_[488]--"Oh Ye rigid guts of reapers!" I translate[iw] For the great benefit of those who know What indigestion is--that inward fate Which makes all Styx through one small liver flow. A peasant's sweat is worth his lord's estate: Let _this_ one toil for bread--_that_ rack for rent, He who sleeps best may be the most content.

XVI.

"To be, or not to be?"--Ere I decide, I should be glad to know that which _is being_. 'T is true we speculate both far and wide, And deem, because we _see_, we are _all-seeing_: For my part, I'll enlist on neither side, Until I see both sides for once agreeing. For me, I sometimes think that Life is Death, Rather than Life a mere affair of breath.

XVII.

_"Que scais-je"_[489] was the motto of Montaigne, As also of the first academicians: That all is dubious which man may attain, Was one of their most favourite positions. There's no such thing as certainty, that's plain As any of Mortality's conditions; So little do we know what we're about in This world, I doubt if doubt itself be doubting.

XVIII.

It is a pleasant voyage perhaps to float, Like Pyrrho,[490] on a sea of speculation; But what if carrying sail capsize the boat? Your wise men don't know much of navigation; And swimming long in the abyss of thought Is apt to tire: a calm and shallow station Well nigh the shore, where one stoops down and gathers Some pretty shell, is best for moderate bathers.

XIX.

"But Heaven," as Cassio says, "is above all--[491] No more of this, then, let us pray!" We have Souls to save, since Eve's slip and Adam's fall, Which tumbled all mankind into the grave, Besides fish, beasts, and birds. "The sparrow's fall Is special providence,"[492] though how _it_ gave Offence, we know not; probably it perched Upon the tree which Eve so fondly searched.

XX.

Oh! ye immortal Gods! what is Theogony? Oh! thou, too, mortal man! what is Philanthropy? Oh! World, which was and is, what is Cosmogony? Some people have accused me of Misanthropy; And yet I know no more than the mahogany That forms this desk, of what they mean;--_Lykanthropy_[493] I comprehend, for without transformation Men become wolves on any slight occasion.

XXI.

But I, the mildest, meekest of mankind, Like Moses, or Melancthon,[494] who have ne'er[ix] Done anything exceedingly unkind,-- And (though I could not now and then forbear Following the bent of body or of mind) Have always had a tendency to spare,-- Why do they call me Misanthrope? Because _They hate me, not I them:_--and here we'll pause.

XXII.

'T is time we should proceed with our good poem,-- For I maintain that it is really good, Not only in the body but the proem, However little both are understood Just now,--but by and by the Truth will show 'em Herself in her sublimest attitude: And till she doth, I fain must be content To share her beauty and her banishment.

XXIII.

Our hero (and, I trust, kind reader! yours) Was left upon his way to the chief city Of the immortal Peter's polished boors, Who still have shown themselves more brave than witty. I know its mighty Empire now allures Much flattery--even Voltaire's,[495] and that's a pity. For me, I deem an absolute autocrat _Not_ a barbarian, but much worse than that.

XXIV.

And I will war, at least in words (and--should My chance so happen--deeds), with all who war With Thought;--and of Thought's foes by far most rude, Tyrants and sycophants have been and are. I know not who may conquer: if I could Have such a prescience, it should be no bar To this my plain, sworn, downright detestation Of every despotism in every nation.[iy]

XXV.

It is not that I adulate the people: Without _me_, there are demagogues enough,[496] And infidels, to pull down every steeple, And set up in their stead some proper stuff. Whether they may sow scepticism to reap Hell, As is the Christian dogma rather rough, I do not know;--I wish men to be free As much from mobs as kings--from you as me.

XXVI.

The consequence is, being of no party, I shall offend all parties:--never mind! My words, at least, are more sincere and hearty Than if I sought to sail before the wind. He who has nought to gain can have small art: he Who neither wishes to be bound nor bind, May still expatiate freely, as will I, Nor give my voice to slavery's jackal cry.[iz]

XXVII.

_That's_ an appropriate simile, _that jackal;_-- I've heard them in the Ephesian ruins howl[497] By night, as do that mercenary pack all, Power's base purveyors, who for pickings prowl, And scent the prey their masters would attack all. However, the poor jackals are less foul (As being the brave lions' keen providers) Than human insects, catering for spiders.[ja]

XXVIII.

Raise but an arm! 't will brush their web away, And without _that_, their poison and their claws Are useless. Mind, good people! what I say-- (Or rather Peoples)--_go on_ without pause! The web of these Tarantulas each day Increases, till you shall make common cause: None, save the Spanish Fly and Attic Bee, As yet are strongly stinging to be free.[jb]

XXIX.

Don Juan, who had shone in the late slaughter, Was left upon his way with the despatch, Where blood was talked of as we would of water; And carcasses that lay as thick as thatch O'er silenced cities, merely served to flatter Fair Catherine's pastime--who looked on the match Between these nations as a main of cocks, Wherein she liked her own to stand like rocks.

XXX.

And there in a _kibitka_ he rolled on, (A cursed sort of carriage without springs, Which on rough roads leaves scarcely a whole bone,) Pondering on Glory, Chivalry, and Kings, And Orders, and on all that he had done-- And wishing that post-horses had the wings Of Pegasus, or at the least post-chaises Had feathers, when a traveller on deep ways is.

XXXI.

At every jolt--and they were many--still He turned his eyes upon his little charge, As if he wished that she should fare less ill Than he, in these sad highways left at large To ruts, and flints, and lovely Nature's skill, Who is no paviour, nor admits a barge On _her_ canals, where God takes sea and land, Fishery and farm, both into his own hand.

XXXII.

At least he pays no rent, and has best right To be the first of what we used to call "Gentlemen farmers"--a race worn out quite, Since lately there have been no rents at all, And "gentlemen" are in a piteous plight, And "farmers" can't raise Ceres from her fall: She fell with Buonaparte,[498]--What strange thoughts Arise, when we see Emperors fall with oats!

XXXIII.

But Juan turned his eyes on the sweet child Whom he had saved from slaughter--what a trophy Oh! ye who build up monuments, defiled With gore, like Nadir Shah,[499] that costive Sophy, Who, after leaving Hindostan a wild, And scarce to the Mogul a cup of coffee To soothe his woes withal, was slain, the sinner! Because he could no more digest his dinner;--[jc][500]

XXXIV.

Oh ye! or we! or he! or she! reflect, That _one_ life saved, especially if young Or pretty, is a thing to recollect Far sweeter than the greenest laurels sprung From the manure of human clay, though decked With all the praises ever said or sung: Though hymned by every harp, unless within Your heart joins chorus, Fame is but a din.

XXXV.

Oh! ye great authors luminous, voluminous! Ye twice ten hundred thousand daily scribes! Whose pamphlets, volumes, newspapers, illumine us! Whether you're paid by government in bribes, To prove the public debt is not consuming us-- Or, roughly treading on the "courtier's kibes" With clownish heel[501] your popular circulation Feeds you by printing half the realm's starvation;--

XXXVI.

Oh, ye great authors!--_A propos des bottes,_-- I have forgotten what I meant to say, As sometimes have been greater sages' lots;-- 'T was something calculated to allay All wrath in barracks, palaces, or cots: Certes it would have been but thrown away, And that's one comfort for my lost advice, Although no doubt it was beyond all price.

XXXVII.

But let it go:--it will one day be found With other relics of "a former World," When this World shall be _former,_ underground, Thrown topsy-turvy, twisted, crisped, and curled, Baked, fried, or burnt, turned inside-out, or drowned, Like all the worlds before, which have been hurled First out of, and then back again to chaos-- The superstratum which will overlay us.[jd]

XXXVIII.

So Cuvier says:[502]--and then shall come again Unto the new creation, rising out From our old crash, some mystic, ancient strain Of things destroyed and left in airy doubt; Like to the notions we now entertain Of Titans, giants, fellows of about Some hundred feet in height, _not_ to say _miles,_ And mammoths, and your winged crocodiles.

XXXIX.

Think if then George the Fourth should be dug up![503] How the new worldlings of the then new East Will wonder where such animals could sup! (For they themselves will be but of the least: Even worlds miscarry, when too oft they pup, And every new creation hath decreased In size, from overworking the material-- Men are but maggots of some huge Earth's burial.)

XL.

_How_ will--to these young people, just thrust out From some fresh Paradise, and set to plough, And dig, and sweat, and turn themselves about, And plant, and reap, and spin, and grind, and sow, Till all the arts at length are brought about, Especially of War and taxing,--_how_, I say, will these great relics, when they see 'em, Look like the monsters of a new Museum!

XLI.

But I am apt to grow too metaphysical: "The time is out of joint,"[504]--and so am I; I quite forget this poem's merely quizzical, And deviate into matters rather dry. I ne'er decide what I shall say, and this I call[je] Much too poetical: men should know why They write, and for what end; but, note or text, I never know the word which will come next.

XLII.

So on I ramble, now and then narrating, Now pondering:--it is time we should narrate. I left Don Juan with his horses baiting-- Now we'll get o'er the ground at a great rate: I shall not be particular in stating His journey, we've so many tours of late: Suppose him then at Petersburgh; suppose That pleasant capital of painted snows;[505]

XLIII.

Suppose him in a handsome uniform-- A scarlet coat, black facings, a long plume, Waving, like sails new shivered in a storm, Over a cocked hat in a crowded room, And brilliant breeches, bright as a Cairn Gorme, Of yellow casimire we may presume, White stockings drawn uncurdled as new milk O'er limbs whose symmetry set off the silk;[jf]

XLIV.

Suppose him sword by side, and hat in hand, Made up by Youth, Fame, and an army tailor-- That great enchanter, at whose rod's command Beauty springs forth, and Nature's self turns paler, Seeing how Art can make her work more grand (When she don't pin men's limbs in like a gaoler),-- Behold him placed as if upon a pillar! He[jg] Seems Love turned a Lieutenant of Artillery![506]

XLV.

His bandage slipped down into a cravat-- His wings subdued to epaulettes--his quiver Shrunk to a scabbard, with his arrows at His side as a small sword, but sharp as ever-- His bow converted into a cocked hat-- But still so like, that Psyche were more clever Than some wives (who make blunders no less stupid), If she had not mistaken him for Cupid.

XLVI.

The courtiers stared, the ladies whispered, and The Empress smiled: the reigning favourite frowned--[jh] I quite forget which of them was in hand Just then, as they are rather numerous found,[507] Who took, by turns, that difficult command Since first her Majesty was singly crowned:[508] But they were mostly nervous six-foot fellows, All fit to make a Patagonian jealous.

XLVII.

Juan was none of these, but slight and slim, Blushing and beardless; and, yet, ne'ertheless, There was a something in his turn of limb, And still more in his eye, which seemed to express, That, though he looked one of the Seraphim, There lurked a man beneath the Spirit's dress. Besides, the Empress sometimes liked a boy, And had just buried the fair-faced Lanskoi.[ji][509]

XLVIII.

No wonder then that Yermoloff, or Momonoff,[510] Or Scherbatoff, or any other _off_ Or _on_, might dread her Majesty had not room enough Within her bosom (which was not too tough), For a new flame; a thought to cast of gloom enough Along the aspect, whether smooth or rough, Of him who, in the language of his station, Then held that "high official situation."

XLIX.

O gentle ladies! should you seek to know The import of this diplomatic phrase, Bid Ireland's Londonderry's Marquess[511] show His parts of speech, and in the strange displays Of that odd string of words, all in a row, Which none divine, and every one obeys, Perhaps you may pick out some queer _no_ meaning,-- Of that weak wordy harvest the sole gleaning.

L.

I think I can explain myself without That sad inexplicable beast of prey-- That Sphinx, whose words would ever be a doubt, Did not his deeds unriddle them each day-- That monstrous hieroglyphic--that long spout Of blood and water--leaden Castlereagh! And here I must an anecdote relate, But luckily of no great length or weight.

LI.

An English lady asked of an Italian, What were the actual and official duties Of the strange thing some women set a value on, Which hovers oft about some married beauties, Called "Cavalier Servente?"[512]--a Pygmalion Whose statues warm (I fear, alas! too true 't is) Beneath his art:[jj]--the dame, pressed to disclose them, Said--"Lady, I beseech you to _suppose them_."

LII.

And thus I supplicate your supposition, And mildest, matron-like interpretation, Of the imperial favourite's condition. 'T was a high place, the highest in the nation In fact, if not in rank; and the suspicion Of any one's attaining to his station, No doubt gave pain, where each new pair of shoulders, If rather broad, made stocks rise--and their holders.

LIII.

Juan, I said, was a most beauteous boy, And had retained his boyish look beyond The usual hirsute seasons which destroy, With beards and whiskers, and the like, the fond _Parisian_ aspect, which upset old Troy And founded Doctors' Commons:[jk]--I have conned The history of divorces, which, though chequered, Calls Ilion's the first damages on record.

LIV.

And Catherine, who loved all things (save her Lord, Who was gone to his place), and passed for much, Admiring those (by dainty dames abhorred) Gigantic gentlemen, yet had a touch Of sentiment: and he she most adored Was the lamented Lanskoi, who was such A lover as had cost her many a tear, And yet but made a middling grenadier.

LV.

Oh thou "_teterrima causa_" of all "_belli_"--[513] Thou gate of Life and Death--thou nondescript! Whence is our exit and our entrance,--well I May pause in pondering how all souls are dipped In thy perennial fountain:--how man _fell_ I Know not, since Knowledge saw her branches stripped Of her first fruit; but how he _falls_ and rises Since,--_thou_ hast settled beyond all surmises.

LVI.

Some call thee "the _worst_ cause of War," but I Maintain thou art the _best_:--for after all, From thee we come, to thee we go, and why To get at thee not batter down a wall, Or waste a World? since no one can deny Thou dost replenish worlds both great and small: With--or without thee--all things at a stand[jl] Are, or would be, thou sea of Life's dry land![jm]

LVII.

Catherine, who was the grand Epitome Of that great cause of War, or Peace, or what You please (it causes all the things which be, So you may take your choice of this or that)-- Catherine, I say, was very glad to see The handsome herald, on whose plumage sat[514] Victory; and, pausing as she saw him kneel With his despatch, forgot to break the seal.

LVIII.

Then recollecting the whole Empress, nor Forgetting quite the Woman (which composed At least three parts of this great whole), she tore The letter open with an air which posed The Court, that watched each look her visage wore, Until a royal smile at length disclosed Fair weather for the day. Though rather spacious, Her face was noble, her eyes fine, mouth gracious.[515]

LIX.

Great joy was hers, or rather joys: the first Was a ta'en city, thirty thousand slain: Glory and triumph o'er her aspect burst, As an East Indian sunrise on the main:-- These quenched a moment her Ambition's thirst-- So Arab deserts drink in Summer's rain: In vain!--As fall the dews on quenchless sands, Blood only serves to wash Ambition's hands!

LX.

Her next amusement was more fanciful; She smiled at mad Suwarrow's rhymes, who threw Into a Russian couplet rather dull The whole gazette of thousands whom he slew: Her third was feminine enough to annul The shudder which runs naturally through Our veins, when things called Sovereigns think it best To kill, and Generals turn it into jest.

LXI.

The two first feelings ran their course complete, And lighted first her eye, and then her mouth: The whole court looked immediately most sweet, Like flowers well watered after a long drouth:-- But when on the Lieutenant at her feet Her Majesty, who liked to gaze on youth Almost as much as on a new despatch, Glanced mildly,--all the world was on the watch.

LXII.

Though somewhat large, exuberant, and truculent, When _wroth_--while _pleased_, she was as fine a figure As those who like things rosy, ripe, and succulent, Would wish to look on, while they are in vigour. She could repay each amatory look you lent With interest, and, in turn, was wont with rigour To exact of Cupid's bills the full amount At sight, nor would permit you to discount.

LXIII.

With her the latter, though at times convenient, Was not so necessary; for they tell That she was handsome, and though fierce _looked_ lenient, And always used her favourites too well. If once beyond her boudoir's precincts in ye went, Your "fortune" was in a fair way "to swell A man" (as Giles says);[516] for though she would widow all Nations, she liked Man as an individual.

LXIV.

What a strange thing is Man! and what a stranger Is Woman! What a whirlwind is her head, And what a whirlpool full of depth and danger Is all the rest about her! Whether wed, Or widow--maid--or mother, she can change her Mind like the wind: whatever she has said Or done, is light to what she'll say or do;-- The oldest thing on record, and yet new!

LXV.

Oh Catherine! (for of all interjections, To thee both _oh!_ and _ah!_ belong, of right, In Love and War) how odd are the connections Of human thoughts, which jostle in their flight! Just now _yours_ were cut out in different sections: _First_ Ismail's capture caught your fancy quite; _Next_ of new knights, the fresh and glorious batch: And _thirdly_ he who brought you the despatch!

LXVI.

Shakespeare talks of "the herald Mercury New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill:"[517] And some such visions crossed her Majesty, While her young herald knelt before her still. 'T is very true the hill seemed rather high, For a Lieutenant to climb up; but skill Smoothed even the Simplon's steep, and by God's blessing, With Youth and Health all kisses are "Heaven-kissing."

LXVII.

Her Majesty looked down, the youth looked up-- And so they fell in love;--she with his face, His grace, his God-knows-what: for Cupid's cup With the first draught intoxicates apace, A quintessential laudanum or "Black Drop," Which makes one drunk at once, without the base Expedient of full bumpers; for the eye In love drinks all Life's fountains (save tears) dry.

LXVIII.

He, on the other hand, if not in love, Fell into that no less imperious passion, Self-love--which, when some sort of thing above Ourselves, a singer, dancer, much in fashion, Or Duchess--Princess--Empress, "deigns to prove"[518] ('T is Pope's phrase) a great longing, though a rash one, For one especial person out of many, Make us believe ourselves as good as any.

LXIX.

Besides, he was of that delighted age Which makes all female ages equal--when We don't much care with whom we may engage, As bold as Daniel in the lions' den, So that we can our native sun assuage In the next ocean, which may flow just then-- To make a _twilight_ in, just as Sol's heat is Quenched in the lap of the salt sea, or Thetis.

LXX.

And Catherine (we must say thus much for Catherine), Though bold and bloody, was the kind of thing Whose temporary passion was quite flattering, Because each lover looked a sort of King, Made up upon an amatory pattern, A royal husband in all save the _ring_--[jn] Which, (being the damnedest part of matrimony,) Seemed taking out the sting to leave the honey:

LXXI.

And when you add to this, her Womanhood In its meridian, her blue eyes[519] or gray-- (The last, if they have soul, are quite as good, Or better, as the best examples say: Napoleon's, Mary's[520] (Queen of Scotland), should Lend to that colour a transcendent ray; And Pallas also sanctions the same hue, Too wise to look through optics black or blue)--

LXXII.

Her sweet smile, and her then majestic figure,[jo] Her plumpness, her imperial condescension, Her preference of a boy to men much bigger (Fellows whom Messalina's self would pension), Her prime of life, just now in juicy vigour, With other _extras_, which we need not mention,-- All these, or any one of these, explain Enough to make a stripling very vain.

LXXIII.

And that's enough, for Love is vanity, Selfish in its beginning as its end,[jp] Except where 't is a mere insanity, A maddening spirit which would strive to blend Itself with Beauty's frail inanity, On which the Passion's self seems to depend; And hence some heathenish philosophers Make Love the main-spring of the Universe.

LXXIV.

Besides Platonic love, besides the love Of God, the love of sentiment, the loving Of faithful pairs--(I needs must rhyme with dove, That good old steam-boat which keeps verses moving 'Gainst reason--Reason ne'er was hand-and-glove With rhyme, but always leant less to improving The sound than sense)--besides all these pretences To Love, there are those things which words name senses;

LXXV.

Those movements, those improvements in our bodies Which make all bodies anxious to get out Of their own sand-pits, to mix with a goddess, For such all women are at first no doubt.[jq] How beautiful that moment! and how odd is That fever which precedes the languid rout Of our sensations! What a curious way The whole thing is of clothing souls in clay![jr]

LXXVI.[521]

The noblest kind of love is love Platonical, To end or to begin with; the next grand Is that which may be christened love canonical, Because the clergy take the thing in hand; The third sort to be noted in our chronicle As flourishing in every Christian land, Is when chaste matrons to their other ties Add what may be called _marriage in disguise_.

LXXVII.

Well, we won't analyse--our story must Tell for itself: the Sovereign was smitten, Juan much flattered by her love, or lust;-- I cannot stop to alter words once written, And the _two_ are so mixed with human dust, That he who _names one_, both perchance may hit on: But in such matters Russia's mighty Empress Behaved no better than a common sempstress.

LXXVIII.

The whole court melted into one wide whisper, And all lips were applied unto all ears! The elder ladies' wrinkles curled much crisper As they beheld; the younger cast some leers On one another, and each lovely lisper Smiled as she talked the matter o'er; but tears Of rivalship rose in each clouded eye Of all the standing army who stood by.

LXXIX.

All the ambassadors of all the powers Inquired, Who was this very new young man, Who promised to be great in some few hours? Which is full soon (though Life is but a span). Already they beheld the silver showers Of rubles rain, as fast as specie can, Upon his cabinet, besides the presents Of several ribands, and some thousand peasants.[522]

LXXX.

Catherine was generous,--all such ladies are: Love--that great opener of the heart and all The ways that lead there, be they near or far, Above, below, by turnpikes great or small,-- Love--(though she had a cursed taste for War, And was not the best wife unless we call Such Clytemnestra, though perhaps 't is better That one should die--than two drag on the fetter)--

LXXXI.

Love had made Catherine make each lover's fortune, Unlike our own half-chaste Elizabeth, Whose avarice all disbursements did importune, If History, the grand liar, ever saith The truth; and though grief her old age might shorten, Because she put a favourite to death, Her vile, ambiguous method of flirtation, And stinginess, disgrace her sex and station.

LXXXII.

But when the levée rose, and all was bustle In the dissolving circle, all the nations' Ambassadors began as 't were to hustle Round the young man with their congratulations. Also the softer silks were heard to rustle Of gentle dames, among whose recreations It is to speculate on handsome faces, Especially when such lead to high places.

LXXXIII.

Juan, who found himself, he knew not how, A general object of attention, made His answers with a very graceful bow, As if born for the ministerial trade. Though modest, on his unembarrassed brow Nature had written "Gentleman!" He said Little, but to the purpose; and his manner Flung hovering graces o'er him like a banner.

LXXXIV.

An order from her Majesty consigned Our young Lieutenant to the genial care Of those in office: all the world looked kind, (As it will look sometimes with the first stare, Which Youth would not act ill to keep in mind,) As also did Miss Protasoff[523] then there,[js] Named from her mystic office "l'Eprouveuse," A term inexplicable to the Muse.

LXXXV.

With _her_ then, as in humble duty bound, Juan retired,--and so will I, until My Pegasus shall tire of touching ground. We have just lit on a "heaven-kissing hill," So lofty that I feel my brain turn round, And all my fancies whirling like a mill; Which is a signal to my nerves and brain, To take a quiet ride in some green lane.[524]

FOOTNOTES:

{373}[476] [Stanzas i.-viii., which are headed "_Don Juan_, Canto III., July 10, 1819," are in the handwriting of (?) the Countess Guiccioli. Stanzas ix., x., which were written on the same sheet of paper, are in Byron's handwriting. The original MS. opens with stanza xi., "Death laughs," etc. (See letter to Moore, July 12, 1822, _Letters_, 1901, vi. 96.)]

[477]

["Faut qu' lord Villain-ton ait tout pris; N'y a plus d' argent dans c' gueux de Paris."

De Béranger, "Complainte d'une de ces Demoiselles a l'Occasion des Affaires du Temps (Février, 1816)," _Chansons_, 1821, ii. 17.

Compare a retaliatory epigram which appeared in a contemporary newspaper--

"These French _petit-maîtres_ who the spectacle throng, Say of Wellington's dress _qu'il fait vilain ton!_ But, at Waterloo, Wellington made the French stare When their army he dressed _à la mode Angleterre!_"]

[it] _Oh Wellington_ (_or "Vilainton"_)----.--[MS. B.]

[478] Query, _Ney?_--Printer's Devil. [Michel Ney, Duke of Elchingen, "the bravest of the brave" (see _Ode from the French_, stanza i. _Poetical Works_, 1900, iii. 431), born January 10, 1769, was arrested August 5, and shot December 7, 1815.]

[479] [The story of the attempted assassination (February 11, 1818) of the Duke of Wellington, which is dismissed by Alison in a few words (_Hist. of Europe_ (1815-1852), 1853, i. 577, 578), occupies many pages of the _Supplementary Despatches_ (1865, xii. 271-546). Byron probably drew his own conclusions as to the Kinnaird-Marinet incident, from the _Letter to the Duke of Wellington on the Arrest of M. Marinet_, by Lord Kinnaird, 1818. The story, which is full of interest, may be briefly recounted. On January 30, 1818, Lord Kinnaird informed Sir George Murray (Chief of the Staff of the Army of Occupation) that a person, whose name he withheld, had revealed to him the existence of a plot to assassinate the Duke of Wellington. At 12.30 a.m., February 11, 1818, the Duke, on returning to his Hotel, was fired at by an unknown person; and then, but not till then, he wrote to urge Lord Clancarty to advise the Prince Regent to take steps to persuade or force Kinnaird to disclose the name of his informant. A Mr. G.W. Chad, of the Consular Service, was empowered to proceed to Brussels, and to seek an interview with Kinnaird. He carried with him, among other documents, a letter from the Duke to Lord Clancarty, dated February 12, 1818. A postscript contained this intimation: "It may be proper to mention to you that the French Government are disposed to go every length in the way of negotiation with the person mentioned by Lord Kinnaird, or others, to discover the plot."

Kinnaird absolutely declined to give up the name of his informant, but, acting on the strength of the postscript, which had been read but not shown to him, started for Paris with "the great unknown." Some days after their arrival, and while Kinnaird was a guest of the Duke, the man was arrested, and discovered to be one Nicholle or Marinet, who had been appointed _receveur_ under the restored government of Louis XVIII., but during the _Cent jours_ had fled to Belgium, retaining the funds he had amassed during his term of office. Kinnaird regarded this action of the French Government as a breach of faith, and in a "Memorial" to the French Chamber of Peers, and his _Letter_, maintained that the Duke's postscript implied a promise of a safe conduct for Marinet to and from Paris to Brussels. The Duke, on the other hand, was equally positive (see his letter to Lord Liverpool, May 30, 1818) "that he never intended to have any negotiations with anybody." Kinnaird was a "dog with a bad name." He had been accused (see his _Letter to the Earl of Liverpool_, 1816, p. 16) of "the promulgation of dangerous opinions," and of intimacy "with persons suspected." The Duke speaks of him as "the friend of Revolutionists"! It is evident that he held the dangerous doctrine that a promise to a rogue _is_ a promise, and that the authorities took a different view of the ethics of the situation. It is clear, too, that the Duke's postscript was ambiguous, but that it did not warrant the assumption that if Marinet went to Paris he should be protected. The air was full of plots. The great Duke despised and was inclined to ignore the pistol or the dagger of the assassin; but he believed that "mischief was afoot," and that "great personages" might or might not be responsible. He was beset by difficulties at every turn, and would have been more than mortal if he had put too favourable a construction on the scruples, or condoned the imprudence of a "friend of Revolutionists."]

{374}[480] [The reference may be to the Duke of Wellington's intimacy with Lady Frances Wedderburn Webster. Byron had "passed that way" himself (see _Letters_, 1898, ii. 251, note i, 323, etc.), and could hardly attack the Duke on _that_ score.]

[481] ["Thou art the best o' the cut-throats." _Macbeth_, act iii. sc. 4, line 17.]

[482] ["I have supped full of horrors." _Macbeth_, act v. sc. 5, line 13.]

[483] _Vide_ speeches in Parliament, after the battle of Waterloo.

{376}[484] ["I at this time got a post, being for fatigue, with four others. We were sent to break biscuit, and make a mess for Lord Wellington's hounds. I was very hungry, and thought it a good job at the time, as we got our own fill, while we broke the biscuit,--a thing I had not got for some days. When thus engaged, the Prodigal Son was never once out of my mind; and I sighed, as I fed the dogs, over my humble situation and my ruined hopes."--_Journal of a Soldier of the 71st Regiment_, 1806 to 1815 (Edinburgh, 1822), pp. 132, 133.]

[485] ["We are assured that Epaminondas died so poor that the Thebans buried him at the public charge; for at his death nothing was found in his house but an iron spit."--Plutarch's _Fabius Maximus_, Langhorne's translation, 1838, p. 140. See, too, Cornelius Nepos, _Epam_., cap. iii. "Paupertatem adeo facilè perpessus est, ut de Republica nihil præter gloriam ceperit."]

[486] [For Pitt's refusal to accept £100,000 from the merchants of London towards the payment of his debts, or £30,000 from the King's Privy Purse, see _Pitt_, by Lord Rosebery, 1891. p. 231.]

{377}[iu] _To_ you _this_ one _unflattering Muse inscribes_.--[MS. erased.]

{377}[iv] _He strips from man his mantle (which is dear_ _Though beautiful in youth) his carnal skin_.--[MS. erased.]

[487] [_Hamlet_, act iii. sc. i, line 56.]

[488] ["O dura messorum ilia!" etc.-Hor., _Epod._ iii. 4.]

[iw] _Ye iron guts_----.--[MS. erased.]

{379}[489] ["Ce n'est qu'à l'édition de 1635 qu'on voit paraître la devise que Montaigne avait adoptée, le _que sais-je_? avec l'emblème des balances. ... Ce _que sais-je_ que Pascal a si sévèrement analysé se lit au chapitre douze du livre ii; il caractérise parfaitement la philosophie de Montaigne; il est la conséquence de cette maxime qu'il avait inscrite en grec sur les solives de sa librairie: 'Il n'est point de raisonnement au quel on n'oppose un raissonnement contraire.'"--_Oeuvres de ... Montaigne_, 1837, "Notice Bibliographique," p. xvii.]

[490] [Concerning the Pyrrhonists or Sceptics and their master Pyrrho, who held that Truth was incomprehensible (_inprensibilis_), and that you may not affirm of aught that it be rather this or that, or neither this nor that (οὐ μᾶλλον οὕτως ἔχει τόδε ἢ ἐκείνως ἢ οὐδετέρως), [Greek: (ou) ma~llon ou(/tôs e)/chei to/de ê)\ e)kei/nôs ê)\ ou)dete/rôs),] see Aul. Gellii _Noct. Attic._, lib. xi. cap. v.]

[491] See _Othello_, [act ii. sc. 3, lines 206, 207: "Well, God's above all, and there be souls must be saved; and there be souls must not be saved--Let's have no more of this."]

{380}[492] [_Hamlet_, act v. sc. 2, lines 94, 98, 102.]

[493] [For "Lycanthropy," see "The Soldier's Story" in the _Satyricôn_ of Petronius Arbiter, cap. 62; see, too, _Letters on Demonology, etc._, by Sir W. Scott, 1830, pp. 211, 212.]

[494] [In respect of suavity and forbearance Melancthon was the counterpart of Luther. John Arrowsmith (1602-1657), in his _Tractica Sacra_, describes him as "Vir in quo cum pietate doctrina, et cum utrâque candor certavit."]

[ix] _Like Moses or like Cobbett who have ne'er._

Moses and Cobbet proclaim themselves the "meekest of men." See their writings.--[MS.]

_Like Moses who was "very meek" had ne'er_.--[MS. erased.]

{381}[495] [See his "Correspondance avec L'Impératrice de Russie," _Oeuvres Complètes_ de Voltaire, 1836, x. 393-477. M. Waliszewski, in his _Story of a Throne_, 1895, i. 224, has gathered a handful of these flowers of speech: "She is the chief person in the world.... She is the fire and life of nations.... She is a saint.... She is above all saints.... She is equal to the mother of God.... She is the divinity of the North.--_Te Catherinam laudamus, te Dominam confitemur, etc., etc._"]

[iy] _Of everything that ever cursed a nation._--[_MS. erased._]

[496] ["It is still more difficult to say which form of government is the _worst_--all are so bad. As for democracy, it is the worst of the whole; for what is (_in fact_) democracy?--an Aristocracy of Blackguards."--See "My Dictionary" (May 1, 1821), _Letters_, 1901, v. 405, 406.]

{382}[iz] _Though priests and slaves may join the servile cry_.--[_MS. erased._]

[497] In Greece I never saw or heard these animals; but among the ruins of Ephesus I have heard them by hundreds.

[See _Childe Harold_, Canto IV. stanza cliii. line 6, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 441; and _Siege of Corinth_, line 329, ibid., 1900, iii. 462, note 1.]

[ja] _Whereas the others hunt for rascal spiders._--[_MS. erased._]

[jb] _Which still are strongly fluttering to be free_.--[_MS. erased._]

{383}[498] [Compare _The Age of Bronze_, line 576, sq., _Poetical Works_, 1901, v. 570.]

{384}[499] [Nadir Shah, or Thamas Kouli Khan, born November, 1688, invaded India, 1739-40, was assassinated June 19, 1747.]

[jc] ---- _went mad and was_ _Killed because what he swallowed would not pass_.--[MS. erased.]

[500] He was killed in a conspiracy, after his temper had been exasperated by his extreme costivity to a degree of insanity.

[To such a height had his madness (attributed to _melancholia_ produced by dropsy) attained, that he actually ordered the Afghan chiefs to rise suddenly upon the Persian guard, and seize the ... chief nobles; but the project being discovered, the intended victims conspired in turn, and a body of them, including Nadir's guard, and the chief of his own tribe of Afshar, entered his tent at midnight, and, after a moment's involuntary pause--when challenged by the deep voice at which they had so often trembled--rushed upon the king, who being brought to the ground by a sabre-stroke, begged for life, and attempted to rise, but soon expired beneath the repeated blows of the conspirators.--_The Indian Empire_, by R. Montgomery Martin (1857), i. 172.]

[501] [Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto I. stanza lxvii. line 5, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 64, note 3.]

{385}[jd] _Or the substrata_----.--[MS.]

[502] [Compare Preface to _Cain_, _Poetical Works_, 1901, V. 210, note 1.]

[503] [_Vide ante,_ Canto VIII. stanza cxxvi. line 9, p. 368.]

{386}[504] [_Hamlet_, act i. sc. 5, line 189.]

[je] _I never know what's next to come_----.--[MS. erased.]

[505] [It is possible that the phrase "painted snows" was suggested by Tooke's description of the winter-garden of the Taurida Palace: "The genial warmth, ... the voluptuous silence that reigns in this enchanting garden, lull the fancy into sweet romantic dreams: we think ourselves in the groves of Italy, while torpid nature, through the windows of this pavilion, announces the severity of a northern winter" (_The Life, etc._, 1800, iii. 48).]

{387}[jf] _O'er limits which mightily_----:--[MS. erased.]

[jg]---- _in Youth and Glory's pillory_.--[MS. erased.]

[506] [In his _Notes sur le Don Juanisme_ (_Mercure de France_, 1898, xxvi. 66), M. Bruchard says that this phrase defines and summarizes the Byronic Don Juan.]

[jh] _The Empress smiled while all the Orloff frowned_-- _A numerous family, to whose heart or hand_ _Mild Catherine owed the chance of being crowned,_.--[MS. erased.]

{388}[507] [C.F.P. Masson, in his _Mémoires Secrets, etc._, 1880, i. 150-178, gives a list of twelve favourites, and in this Canto, Don Juan takes upon himself the characteristics of at least three, Lanskoï, Zoritch (or Zovitch), and Plato Zoubof. For example (p. 167), "Zoritch ... est le seul étranger qu'elle ait osé créer son favori pendant son regne. C'étoit un _Servien_ échappé du bagne de Constantinople où il étoit prisonnier: il parut, pour la première fois, en habit de hussard à la cour. Il éblouit tout le monde par sa beauté, et les vielles dames en parlent encore comme d'un Adonis." M. Waliszewski, in his _Romance of an Empress_ (1894), devotes a chapter to "Private Life and Favouritism" (ii. 234-286), in which he graphically describes the election and inauguration of the _Vremienchtchik_, "the man of the moment," paramour regnant, and consort of the Empress _pro hac vice_: "'We may observe in Russia a sort of interregnum in affairs, caused by the displacement of one favourite and the installation of his successor.' ... The interregnums are, however, of very short duration. Only one lasts for several months, between the death of Lanskoï (1784) and the succession of Iermolof.... There is no lack of candidates. The place is good.... Sometimes, too, on the height by the throne, reached at a bound, these spoilt children of fate grow giddy.... It is over in an instant, at an evening reception it is noticed that the Empress has gazed attentively at some obscure lieutenant, presented but just before ... next day it is reported that he has been appointed aide-de-camp to her Majesty. What that means is well known. Next day he finds himself in the special suite of rooms.... The rooms are already vacated, and everything is prepared for the new-comer. All imaginable comfort and luxury ... await him; and, on opening a drawer, he finds a hundred thousand roubles [about £20,000], the usual first gift, a foretaste of Pactolus. That evening, before the assembled court, the Empress appears, leaning familiarly on his arm, and on the stroke of ten, as she retires, the new favourite follows her" (_ibid._, pp. 246-249).]

[508] [After the death or murder of her husband, Peter III., Catherine Alexievna (1729-1796) (born Sophia Augusta), daughter of the Prince of Anhalt Zerbst, was solemnly crowned (September, 1762) Empress of all the Russias.]

{389}[ji] _And almost died for the scarce-fledged Lanskoi_.--[MS. erased.]

[509] He was the grande passion of the grande Catherine. See her Lives under the head of "Lanskoi."

[Lanskoi was a youth of as fine and interesting a figure as the imagination can paint. Of all Catherine's favourites, he was the man whom she loved the most. In 1784 he was attacked with a fever, and perished in the arms of her Majesty. When he was no more, Catherine gave herself up to the most poignant grief, and remained three months without going out of her palace of Tzarsko-selo. She afterwards raised a superb monument to his memory. (See _Life of Catherine II._, by W. Tooke, 1800, iii. 88, 89.)]

[510] [Ten months after the death of Lanskoi, the Empress consoled herself with Iermolof, described, by Bezborodky, as "a modest refined young man, who cultivates the society of serious people." In less than a year this excellent youth is, in turn, displaced by Dmitrief Mamonof. His _petit nom_ was _Red Coat_, and, for a time, he is a "priceless creature." "He has," says Catherine, "two superb black eyes, with eyebrows outlined as one rarely sees; about the middle height, noble in manner, easy in demeanour." But Mamonof suffered from "scruples of conscience," and, after a while, with Catherine's consent and blessing, was happily married to the Princess Shtcherbatof, a maid of honour, and not, as Byron supposed, a rival "man of the moment."--See _The Story of a Throne_, by K. Waliszewski, 1895, ii. 135, sq.]

[511] This was written long before the suicide of that person. [For "his parts of speech" compare--

" ... that long mandarin C-stle-r-agh (whom Fum calls the Confucius of Prose) Was rehearsing a speech upon Europe's repose To the deep double bass of the fat Idol's nose."

Moore's _Fum and Hum, The Two Birds of Royalty_.]

{390}[512] [Compare _Beppo_, stanza xvii. line 8, _Poetical Works_, 1901, iv. 165. See, too, letter to Hoppner, December 31, 1819, _Letters_, 1900, iv. 393.]

[jj] _Beneath his chisel_-- or, _Beneath his touches_----.--[MS. erased.]

{391}[jk] ---- _and bound fair Helen in a bond_.--[MS. erased.]

[513] Hor., _Sat._, lib. i. sat. iii. lines 107, 108.

[jl] _That Riddle which all read, none understand_.--[MS. erased.]

[jm]---- _thou Sea which lavest Life's sand_.--[MS. erased.]

{392}[514] ["Fortune and victory sit on thy helm."--_Richard III._, act v, sc. 3, line 79.]

[515] ["Catherine had been handsome in her youth, and she preserved a gracefulness and majesty to the last period of her life. She was of a moderate stature, but well proportioned; and as she carried her head very high, she appeared rather tall. She had an open front, an aquiline nose, an agreeable mouth, and her chin, though long, was not mis-shapen. Her hair was auburn, her eyebrows black and rather thick, and her blue eyes had a gentleness which was often affected, but oftener still a mixture of pride. Her physiognomy was not deficient in expression; but this expression never discovered what was passing in the soul of Catherine, or rather it served her the better to disguise it."--_Life of Catherine II._, by W. Tooke, iii. 381 (translated from _Vie de Catherine II._ (J.H. Castéra), 1797, ii. 450).]

{393}[516] ["His fortune swells him: 'Tis rank, he's married."--_Sir Giles Overreach_, in Massinger's _New Way to pay Old Debts_, act v. sc. 1.]

{394}[517] [_Hamlet_, act iii. sc. iv. lines 58, 59.]

{395}[518]

["Not Cæsar's empress would I deign to prove; No! make me mistress to the man I love."

Pope, _Eloisa to Abelard_, lines 87, 88.]

[jn] _O'er whom an Empress her Crown-jewels scattering_ _Was wed with something better than a ring_.--[MS. erased.]

[519] ["Several persons who lived at the court affirm that Catherine had very blue eyes, and not brown, as M. Rulhières has stated."--_Life of Catherine II._, by W. Tooke, 1800, iii. 382.]

{396}[520] [The historic Catherine (_æt._ 62) was past her meridian in the spring of 1791.]

[jo] _Her figure, and her vigour, and her rigour_.--[MS. erased.]

[jp] _In its sincere beginning, or dull end_.--[MS. erased.]

{397}[jq] _For such all women are just_ then, _no doubt_.--[MS.]

[jr] _Of such sensations, in the drowsy drear_ After--_which shadows the, say_--second _year_.--[MS.] _Of that sad heavy, drowsy, doubly drear_ After, _which shadows the first--say, year_.--[MS. erased.]

[521] [Stanza lxxvi. is not in the MS.]

{398}[522] A Russian estate is always valued by the number of the slaves upon it.

{399}[523] [The "Protassova" (born 1744) was a cousin of the Orlofs. She survived Catherine by many years, and was, writes M. Waliszewski (_The Story of a Throne_, 1895, ii. 193), "present at the Congress of Vienna, covered with diamonds like a reliquary, and claiming precedence of every one." She is named _l'éprouveuse_ in a note to the _Mémoires Secrets_, 1800, i. 148.]

[js] _And not be dazzled by its early glare_.--[MS. erased.]

[524] End of Canto 9^th^, Augt. Sept., 1822. B.

CANTO THE TENTH.

I.

When Newton saw an apple fall, he found In that slight startle from his contemplation-- 'T is _said_ (for I'll not answer above ground For any sage's creed or calculation)-- A mode of proving that the Earth turned round In a most natural whirl, called "gravitation;" And this is the sole mortal who could grapple,[jt] Since Adam--with a fall--or with an apple.[ju][525]

II.

Man fell with apples, and with apples rose, If this be true; for we must deem the mode In which Sir Isaac Newton could disclose Through the then unpaved stars the turnpike road,[jv] A thing to counterbalance human woes:[526] For ever since immortal man hath glowed With all kinds of mechanics, and full soon Steam-engines will conduct him to the moon.

III.

And wherefore this exordium?--Why, just now, In taking up this paltry sheet of paper, My bosom underwent a glorious glow, And my internal spirit cut a caper: And though so much inferior, as I know, To those who, by the dint of glass and vapour, Discover stars, and sail in the wind's eye, I wish to do as much by Poesy.

IV.

In the wind's eye I have sailed, and sail; but for The stars, I own my telescope is dim; But at the least I have shunned the common shore, And leaving land far out of sight, would skim The Ocean of Eternity:[527] the roar Of breakers has not daunted my slight, trim, But _still_ sea-worthy skiff; and she may float Where ships have foundered, as doth many a boat.

V.

We left our hero, Juan, in the _bloom_ Of favouritism, but not yet in the _blush;--_ And far be it from my _Muses_ to presume (For I have more than one Muse at a push), To follow him beyond the drawing-room: It is enough that Fortune found him flush Of Youth, and Vigour, Beauty, and those things Which for an instant clip Enjoyment's wings.

VI.

But soon they grow again and leave their nest. "Oh!" saith the Psalmist, "that I had a dove's Pinions to flee away, and be at rest!" And who that recollects young years and loves,-- Though hoary now, and with a withering breast, And palsied Fancy, which no longer roves Beyond its dimmed eye's sphere,--but would much rather Sigh like his son, than cough like his grandfather?

VII.

But sighs subside, and tears (even widows') shrink, Like Arno[528] in the summer, to a shallow, So narrow as to shame their wintry brink, Which threatens inundations deep and yellow! Such difference doth a few months make. You'd think Grief a rich field which never would lie fallow; No more it doth--its ploughs but change their boys, Who furrow some new soil to sow for joys.

VIII.

But coughs will come when sighs depart--and now And then before sighs cease; for oft the one Will bring the other, ere the lake-like brow Is ruffled by a wrinkle, or the Sun Of Life reached ten o'clock: and while a glow, Hectic and brief as summer's day nigh done, O'erspreads the cheek which seems too pure for clay, Thousands blaze, love, hope, die,--how happy they!--

IX.

But Juan was not meant to die so soon:-- We left him in the focus of such glory As may be won by favour of the moon Or ladies' fancies--rather transitory Perhaps; but who would scorn the month of June, Because December, with his breath so hoary, Must come? Much rather should he court the ray, To hoard up warmth against a wintry day.

X.

Besides, he had some qualities which fix Middle-aged ladies even more than young: The former know what's what; while new-fledged chicks Know little more of Love than what is sung In rhymes, or dreamt (for Fancy will play tricks) In visions of those skies from whence Love sprung. Some reckon women by their suns or years, I rather think the Moon should date the dears.

XI.

And why? because she's changeable and chaste: I know no other reason, whatsoe'er Suspicious people, who find fault in haste,[jw] May choose to tax me with; which is not fair, Nor flattering to "their temper or their taste," As my friend Jeffrey writes with such an air:[529] However, I forgive him, and I trust He will forgive himself;--if not, I must.

XII.

Old enemies who have become new friends Should so continue--'t is a point of honour; And I know nothing which could make amends For a return to Hatred: I would shun her Like garlic, howsoever she extends Her hundred arms and legs, and fain outrun her. Old flames, new wives, become our bitterest foes-- Converted foes should scorn to join with those.

XIII.

This were the worst desertion:--renegadoes, Even shuffling Southey, that incarnate lie,[jx] Would scarcely join again the "reformadoes,"[530] Whom he forsook to fill the Laureate's sty; And honest men from Iceland to Barbadoes, Whether in Caledon or Italy, Should not veer round with every breath, nor seize To pain, the moment when you cease to please.

XIV.

The lawyer and the critic but behold The baser sides of literature and life, And nought remains unseen, but much untold, By those who scour those double vales of strife. While common men grow ignorantly old, The lawyer's brief is like the surgeon's knife, Dissecting the whole inside of a question, And with it all the process of digestion.

XV.[531]

A legal broom's a moral chimney-sweeper, And that's the reason he himself's so dirty; The endless soot[532] bestows a tint far deeper Than can be hid by altering his shirt; he Retains the sable stains of the dark creeper, At least some twenty-nine do out of thirty, In all their habits;--not so _you_, I own; As Cæsar wore his robe you wear your gown.[533]

XVI.

And all our little feuds, at least all _mine_, Dear Jeffrey, once my most redoubted foe (As far as rhyme and criticism combine To make such puppets of us things below), Are over: Here's a health to "Auld Lang Syne!" I do not know you, and may never know Your face--but you have acted on the whole Most nobly, and I own it from my soul.

XVII.

And when I use the phrase of "Auld Lang Syne!" 'T is not addressed to you--the more's the pity For me, for I would rather take my wine With you, than aught (save Scott) in your proud city: But somehow--it may seem a schoolboy's whine, And yet I seek not to be grand nor witty, But I am half a Scot by birth, and bred A whole one, and my heart flies to my head,--[534]

XVIII.

As "Auld Lang Syne" brings Scotland, one and all,[535] Scotch plaids, Scotch snoods, the blue hills, and clear streams, The Dee--the Don--Balgounie's brig's _black wall_--[536] All my boy feelings, all my gentler dreams Of what I _then dreamt_, clothed in their own pall,-- Like Banquo's offspring--floating past me seems My childhood, in this childishness of mine:-- I care not--'t is a glimpse of "_Auld Lang Syne_."

XIX.

And though, as you remember, in a fit Of wrath and rhyme, when juvenile and curly, I railed at Scots to show my wrath and wit, Which must be owned was sensitive and surly, Yet 't is in vain such sallies to permit, They cannot quench young feelings fresh and early: I "_scotched_ not killed" the Scotchman in my blood, And love the land of "mountain and of flood."[537]

XX.

Don Juan, who was real, or ideal,-- For both are much the same, since what men think Exists when the once thinkers are less real Than what they thought, for Mind can never sink, And 'gainst the Body makes a strong appeal; And yet 't is very puzzling on the brink Of what is called Eternity to stare, And know no more of what is _here_, than _there_;--

XXI.

Don Juan grew a very polished Russian-- _How_ we won't mention, _why_ we need not say: Few youthful minds can stand the strong concussion Of any slight temptation in their way; But _his_ just now were spread as is a cushion Smoothed for a Monarch's seat of honour: gay Damsels, and dances, revels, ready money, Made ice seem Paradise, and winter sunny.

XXII.

The favour of the Empress was agreeable; And though the duty waxed a little hard, Young people at his time of life should be able To come off handsomely in that regard. He was now growing up like a green tree, able For Love, War, or Ambition, which reward Their luckier votaries, till old Age's tedium Make some prefer the circulating medium.

XXIII.

About this time, as might have been anticipated, Seduced by Youth and dangerous examples, Don Juan grew, I fear, a little dissipated; Which is a sad thing, and not only tramples On our fresh feelings, but--as being participated With all kinds of incorrigible samples Of frail humanity--must make us selfish, And shut our souls up in us like a shell-fish.

XXIV.

This we pass over. We will also pass The usual progress of intrigues between Unequal matches, such as are, alas! A young Lieutenant's with a _not old_ Queen, But one who is not so youthful as she was In all the royalty of sweet seventeen.[jy] Sovereigns may sway materials, but not matter, And wrinkles, the d----d democrats! won't flatter.

XXV.

And Death, the Sovereign's Sovereign, though the great Gracchus of all mortality, who levels, With his _Agrarian_ laws,[538] the high estate Of him who feasts, and fights, and roars, and revels, To one small grass-grown patch (which must await Corruption for its crop) with the poor devils Who never had a foot of land till now,-- Death's a reformer--all men must allow.

XXVI.

He lived (not Death, but Juan) in a hurry Of waste, and haste, and glare, and gloss, and glitter, In this gay clime of bear-skins black and furry-- Which (though I hate to say a thing that's bitter) Peep out sometimes, when things are in a flurry, Through all the "purple and fine linen," fitter For Babylon's than Russia's royal harlot-- And neutralise her outward show of scarlet.

XXVII.

And this same state we won't describe: we would Perhaps from hearsay, or from recollection: But getting nigh grim Dante's "obscure wood,"[539] That horrid equinox, that hateful section Of human years--that half-way house--that rude Hut, whence wise travellers drive with circumspection[jz] Life's sad post-horses o'er the dreary frontier Of Age, and looking back to Youth, give _one_ tear;--

XXVIII.

I won't describe,--that is, if I can help Description; and I won't reflect,--that is, If I can stave off thought, which--as a whelp Clings to its teat--sticks to me through the abyss Of this odd labyrinth; or as the kelp Holds by the rock; or as a lover's kiss Drains its first draught of lips:--but, as I said, I _won't_ philosophise, and _will_ be read.

XXIX.

Juan, instead of courting courts, was courted,-- A thing which happens rarely: this he owed Much to his youth, and much to his reported Valour; much also to the blood he showed, Like a race-horse; much to each dress he sported, Which set the beauty off in which he glowed, As purple clouds befringe the sun; but most He owed to an old woman and his post.

XXX.

He wrote to Spain;--and all his near relations, Perceiving he was in a handsome way Of getting on himself, and finding stations For cousins also, answered the same day. Several prepared themselves for emigrations; And eating ices, were o'erheard to say, That with the addition of a slight pelisse, Madrid's and Moscow's climes were of a piece.

XXXI.

His mother, Donna Inez, finding, too, That in the lieu of drawing on his banker, Where his assets were waxing rather few, He had brought his spending to a handsome anchor,-- Replied, "that she was glad to see him through Those pleasures after which wild youth will hanker; As the sole sign of Man's being in his senses Is--learning to reduce his past expenses.[ka]

XXXII.

"She also recommended him to God, And no less to God's Son, as well as Mother, Warned him against Greek worship, which looks odd In Catholic eyes; but told him, too, to smother _Outward_ dislike, which don't look well abroad; Informed him that he had a little brother Born in a second wedlock; and above All, praised the Empress's _maternal_ love.

XXXIII.

"She could not too much give her approbation Unto an Empress, who preferred young men Whose age, and what was better still, whose nation And climate, stopped all scandal (now and then);-- At home it might have given her some vexation; But where thermometers sink down to ten, Or five, or one, or zero, she could never Believe that Virtue thawed before the river."[kb]

XXXIV.

Oh for a _forty-parson power_[540]--to chant Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh for a hymn Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt, Not practise! Oh for trump of Cherubim! Or the ear-trumpet of my good old aunt,[541] Who, though her spectacles at last grew dim, Drew quiet consolation through its hint, When she no more could read the pious print.

XXXV.

She was no Hypocrite at least, poor soul, But went to heaven in as sincere a way As anybody on the elected roll, Which portions out upon the Judgment Day Heaven's freeholds, in a sort of Doomsday scroll, Such as the conqueror William did repay His knights with, lotting others' properties Into some sixty thousand new knights' fees.

XXXVI.

I can't complain, whose ancestors are there, Erneis, Radulphus--eight-and-forty manors (If that my memory doth not greatly err) Were _their_ reward for following Billy's banners:[542] And though I can't help thinking 't was scarce fair To strip the Saxons of their _hydes_[543] like tanners; Yet as they founded churches with the produce, You'll deem, no doubt, they put it to a good use.[kc]

XXXVII.

The gentle Juan flourished, though at times He felt like other plants called sensitive, Which shrink from touch, as Monarchs do from rhymes, Save such as Southey can afford to give. Perhaps he longed in bitter frosts for climes In which the Neva's ice would cease to live Before May-day: perhaps, despite his duty, In Royalty's vast arms he sighed for Beauty:

XXXVIII.

Perhaps--but, sans perhaps, we need not seek[kd] For causes young or old: the canker-worm Will feed upon the fairest, freshest cheek, As well as further drain the withered form: Care, like a housekeeper, brings every week His bills in, and however we may storm, They must be paid: though six days smoothly run, The seventh will bring blue devils or a dun.

XXXIX.

I don't know how it was, but he grew sick: The Empress was alarmed, and her physician (The same who physicked Peter) found the tick Of his fierce pulse betoken a condition Which augured of the dead, however _quick_ Itself, and showed a feverish disposition; At which the whole Court was extremely troubled, The Sovereign shocked, and all his medicines doubled.

XL.

Low were the whispers, manifold the rumours: Some said he had been poisoned by Potemkin; Others talked learnedly of certain tumours, Exhaustion, or disorders of the same kin;[544] Some said 't was a concoction of the humours, Which with the blood too readily will claim kin: Others again were ready to maintain, "'T was only the fatigue of last campaign."

XLI.

But here is one prescription out of many: "_Sodae sulphat_. ʒvj. ʒfs. _Mannae optim._ _Aq. fervent._ f. ℥ ifs. ʒij. _tinct. Sennae_ _Haustus_" (And here the surgeon came and cupped him) "℞ _Pulv. Com._ gr. iij. _Ipecacuanhæ_" (With more beside if Juan had not stopped 'em). "_Bolus Potassae Sulphuret. sumendus_, _Et haustus ter in die capiendus._"

XLII.

This is the way physicians mend or end us, _Secundum artem_: but although we sneer In health--when ill, we call them to attend us, Without the least propensity to jeer; While that "_hiatus maxime deflendus_" To be filled up by spade or mattock's near, Instead of gliding graciously down Lethe, We tease mild Baillie,[545] or soft Abernethy.

XLIII.

Juan demurred at this first notice to Quit; and though Death had threatened an ejection, His youth and constitution bore him through, And sent the doctors in a new direction. But still his state was delicate: the hue Of health but flickered with a faint reflection Along his wasted cheek, and seemed to gravel The faculty--who said that he must travel.

XLIV.

The climate was too cold, they said, for him, Meridian-born, to bloom in. This opinion Made the chaste Catherine look a little grim, Who did not like at first to lose her minion: But when she saw his dazzling eye wax dim, And drooping like an eagle's with clipt pinion, She then resolved to send him on a mission, But in a style becoming his condition.

XLV.

There was just then a kind of a discussion, A sort of treaty or negotiation, Between the British cabinet and Russian, Maintained with all the due prevarication With which great states such things are apt to push on; Something about the Baltic's navigation, Hides, train-oil, tallow, and the rights of Thetis, Which Britons deem their _uti possidetis_.

XLVI.

So Catherine, who had a handsome way Of fitting out her favourites, conferred This secret charge on Juan, to display At once her royal splendour, and reward His services. He kissed hands the next day, Received instructions how to play his card, Was laden with all kinds of gifts and honours, Which showed what great discernment was the donor's.

XLVII.

But she was lucky, and luck's all. Your Queens Are generally prosperous in reigning-- Which puzzles us to know what Fortune means:-- But to continue--though her years were waning, Her climacteric teased her like her teens; And though her dignity brooked no complaining, So much did Juan's setting off distress her, She could not find at first a fit successor.

XLVIII.

But Time, the comforter, will come at last; And four-and-twenty hours, and twice that number Of candidates requesting to be placed, Made Catherine taste next night a quiet slumber:-- Not that she meant to fix again in haste, Nor did she find the quantity encumber, But always choosing with deliberation, Kept the place open for their emulation.

XLIX.

While this high post of honour's in abeyance, For one or two days, reader, we request You'll mount with our young hero the conveyance Which wafted him from Petersburgh: the best Barouche, which had the glory to display once The fair Czarina's autocratic crest, When, a new Iphigene, she went to Tauris, Was given to her favourite,[546] and now _bore his_.

L.

A bull-dog, and a bullfinch, and an ermine, All private favourites of Don Juan;--for (Let deeper sages the true cause determine) He had a kind of inclination, or Weakness, for what most people deem mere vermin, Live animals: an old maid of threescore For cats and birds more penchant ne'er displayed, Although he was not old, nor even a maid;--

LI.

The animals aforesaid occupied Their station: there were valets, secretaries, In other vehicles; but at his side Sat little Leila, who survived the parries He made 'gainst Cossacque sabres in the wide Slaughter of Ismail. Though my wild Muse varies Her note, she don't forget the infant girl Whom he preserved, a pure and living pearl.

LII.

Poor little thing! She was as fair as docile, And with that gentle, serious character, As rare in living beings as a fossile Man, 'midst thy mouldy mammoths, "grand Cuvier!"[ke] Ill fitted was her ignorance to jostle With this o'erwhelming world, where all must err: But she was yet but ten years old, and therefore Was tranquil, though she knew not why or wherefore.

LIII.

Don Juan loved her, and she loved him, as Nor brother, father, sister, daughter love.-- I cannot tell exactly what it was; He was not yet quite old enough to prove Parental feelings, and the other class, Called brotherly affection, could not move His bosom,--for he never had a sister: Ah! if he had--how much he would have missed her!

LIV.

And still less was it sensual; for besides That he was not an ancient debauchee, (Who like sour fruit, to stir their veins' salt tides, As acids rouse a dormant alkali,)[kf] Although (_'t will_ happen as our planet guides) His youth was not the chastest that might be, There was the purest Platonism at bottom Of all his feelings--only he forgot 'em.

LV.

Just now there was no peril of temptation; He loved the infant orphan he had saved, As patriots (now and then) may love a nation; His pride, too, felt that she was not enslaved Owing to him;--as also her salvation Through his means and the Church's might be paved. But one thing's odd, which here must be inserted, The little Turk refused to be converted.

LVI.

'T was strange enough she should retain the impression Through such a scene of change, and dread, and slaughter; But though three Bishops told her the transgression, She showed a great dislike to holy water; She also had no passion for confession; Perhaps she had nothing to confess:--no matter, Whate'er the cause, the Church made little of it-- She still held out that Mahomet was a prophet.

LVII.

In fact, the only Christian she could bear Was Juan; whom she seemed to have selected In place of what her home and friends once _were_. _He_ naturally loved what he protected: And thus they formed a rather curious pair, A guardian green in years, a ward connected In neither clime, time, blood, with her defender; And yet this want of ties made theirs more tender.

LVIII.

They journeyed on through Poland and through Warsaw, Famous for mines of salt and yokes of iron: Through Courland also, which that famous farce saw Which gave her dukes the graceless name of "Biron."[547] 'T is the same landscape which the modern Mars saw, Who marched to Moscow, led by Fame, the Siren! To lose by one month's frost some twenty years Of conquest, and his guard of Grenadiers.

LIX.

Let this not seem an anti-climax:--"Oh! My guard! my old guard!"[548] exclaimed that god of clay. Think of the Thunderer's falling down below Carotid-artery-cutting Castlereagh![kg] Alas! that glory should be chilled by snow! But should we wish to warm us on our way Through Poland, there is Kosciusko's name Might scatter fire through ice, like Hecla's flame.

LX.

From Poland they came on through Prussia Proper, And Königsberg, the capital, whose vaunt, Besides some veins of iron, lead, or copper, Has lately been the great Professor Kant.[549] Juan, who cared not a tobacco-stopper About philosophy, pursued his jaunt To Germany, whose somewhat tardy millions Have princes who spur more than their postilions.

LXI.

And thence through Berlin, Dresden, and the like, Until he reached the castellated Rhine:-- Ye glorious Gothic scenes! how much ye strike All phantasies, not even excepting mine! A grey wall, a green ruin, rusty pike, Make my soul pass the equinoctial line Between the present and past worlds, and hover Upon their airy confines, half-seas-over.

LXII.

But Juan posted on through Mannheim, Bonn, Which Drachenfels[550] frowns over like a spectre Of the good feudal times for ever gone, On which I have not time just now to lecture. From thence he was drawn onwards to Cologne, A city which presents to the inspector Eleven thousand maiden heads of bone. The greatest number flesh hath ever known.[551]

LXIII.

From thence to Holland's Hague and Helvoetsluys, That water-land of Dutchmen and of ditches, Where juniper expresses its best juice, The poor man's sparkling substitute for riches. Senates and sages have condemned its use-- But to deny the mob a cordial, which is Too often all the clothing, meat, or fuel, Good government has left them, seems but cruel.

LXIV.

Here he embarked, and with a flowing sail Went bounding for the Island of the free, Towards which the impatient wind blew half a gale; High dashed the spray, the bows dipped in the sea, And sea-sick passengers turned somewhat pale; But Juan, seasoned, as he well might be, By former voyages, stood to watch the skiffs Which passed, or catch the first glimpse of the cliffs.

LXV.

At length they rose, like a white wall along The blue sea's border; and Don Juan felt-- What even young strangers feel a little strong At the first sight of Albion's chalky belt-- A kind of pride that he should be among Those haughty shopkeepers, who sternly dealt Their goods and edicts out from pole to pole, And made the very billows pay them toll.

LXVI.

I've no great cause to love that spot of earth, Which holds what _might have been_ the noblest nation; But though I owe it little but my birth, I feel a mixed regret and veneration For its decaying fame and former worth. Seven years (the usual term of transportation) Of absence lay one's old resentments level, When a man's country's going to the devil.

LXVII.

Alas! could she but fully, truly, know How her great name is now throughout abhorred; How eager all the Earth is for the blow Which shall lay bare her bosom to the sword; How all the nations deem her their worst foe, That worse than _worst of foes_, the once adored False friend, who held out Freedom to Mankind, And now would chain them--to the very _mind_;--

LXVIII.

Would she be proud, or boast herself the free, Who is but first of slaves? The nations are In prison,--but the gaoler, what is he? No less a victim to the bolt and bar. Is the poor privilege to turn the key Upon the captive, Freedom? He's as far From the enjoyment of the earth and air Who watches o'er the chain, as they who wear.

LXIX.

Don Juan now saw Albion's earliest beauties, Thy cliffs, _dear_ Dover! harbour, and hotel; Thy custom-house, with all its delicate duties; Thy waiters running mucks at every bell; Thy packets, all whose passengers are booties To those who upon land or water dwell; And last, not least, to strangers uninstructed, Thy long, long bills, whence nothing is deducted.

LXX.

Juan, though careless, young, and _magnifique_, And rich in rubles, diamonds, cash, and credit, Who did not limit much his bills per week, Yet stared at this a little, though he paid it,-- (His Maggior Duomo, a smart, subtle Greek, Before him summed the awful scroll and read it): But, doubtless, as the air--though seldom sunny-- Is free, the respiration's worth the money.

LXXI.

On with the horses! Off to Canterbury! Tramp, tramp o'er pebble, and splash, splash through puddle; Hurrah! how swiftly speeds the post so merry! Not like slow Germany, wherein they muddle Along the road,[552] as if they went to bury Their fare; and also pause besides, to fuddle With "schnapps"--sad dogs! whom "Hundsfot," or "Verflucter,"[553] Affect no more than lightning a conductor.[kh]

LXXII.

Now there is nothing gives a man such spirits, Leavening his blood as cayenne doth a curry, As going at full speed--no matter where its Direction be, so 't is but in a hurry, And merely for the sake of its own merits; For the less cause there is for all this flurry, The greater is the pleasure in arriving At the great _end_ of travel--which is driving.

LXXIII.

They saw at Canterbury the cathedral; Black Edward's helm, and Becket's bloody stone, Were pointed out as usual by the bedral, In the same quaint, uninterested tone:-- There's glory again for you, gentle reader! All Ends in a rusty casque and dubious bone,[554] Half-solved into these sodas or magnesias, Which form that bitter draught, the human species.

LXXIV.

The effect on Juan was of course sublime: He breathed a thousand Cressys, as he saw That casque, which never stooped except to Time. Even the bold Churchman's tomb excited awe, Who died in the then great attempt to climb O'er Kings, who _now_ at least _must talk_ of Law Before they butcher. Little Leila gazed, And asked why such a structure had been raised:

LXXV.

And being told it was "God's House," she said He was well lodged, but only wondered how He suffered Infidels in his homestead, The cruel Nazarenes, who had laid low His holy temples in the lands which bred The True Believers;--and her infant brow Was bent with grief that Mahomet should resign A mosque so noble, flung like pearls to swine.

LXXVI.

On! on! through meadows, managed like a garden, A paradise of hops and high production; For, after years of travel by a bard in Countries of greater heat, but lesser suction, A green field is a sight which makes him pardon The absence of that more sublime construction, Which mixes up vines--olives--precipices-- Glaciers--volcanoes--oranges and ices.

LXXVII.

And when I think upon a pot of beer---- But I won't weep!--and so drive on, postilions! As the smart boys spurred fast in their career, Juan admired these highways of free millions-- A country in all senses the most dear To foreigner or native, save some silly ones, Who "kick against the pricks" just at this juncture, And for their pains get only a fresh puncture.[ki]

LXXVIII.

What a delightful thing's a turnpike road! So smooth, so level, such a mode of shaving The Earth, as scarce the eagle in the broad Air can accomplish, with his wide wings waving. Had such been cut in Phaeton's time, the god Had told his son to satisfy his craving With the York mail;--but onward as we roll, _Surgit amari aliquid_--the toll![555]

LXXIX.

Alas! how deeply painful is all payment! Take lives--take wives--take aught except men's purses: As Machiavel shows those in purple raiment, Such is the shortest way to general curses.[556] They hate a murderer much less than a claimant On that sweet ore which everybody nurses.-- Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket:

LXXX.

So said the Florentine: ye monarchs, hearken To your instructor. Juan now was borne, Just as the day began to wane and darken, O'er the high hill, which looks with pride or scorn Toward the great city.--Ye who have a spark in Your veins of Cockney spirit, smile or mourn According as you take things well or ill;-- Bold Britons, we are now on Shooter's Hill!

LXXXI.

The Sun went down, the smoke rose up, as from A half-unquenched volcano, o'er a space Which well beseemed the "Devil's drawing-room," As some have qualified that wondrous place: But Juan felt, though not approaching _Home_, As one who, though he were not of the race, Revered the soil, of those true sons the mother, Who butchered half the earth, and bullied t' other.[557]

LXXXII.

A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun Cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head--and there is London Town!

LXXXIII.

But Juan saw not this: each wreath of smoke Appeared to him but as the magic vapour Of some alchymic furnace, from whence broke The wealth of worlds (a wealth of tax and paper): The gloomy clouds, which o'er it as a yoke Are bowed, and put the Sun out like a taper, Were nothing but the natural atmosphere, Extremely wholesome, though but rarely clear.

LXXXIV.

He paused--and so will I; as doth a crew Before they give their broadside. By and by, My gentle countrymen, we will renew Our old acquaintance; and at least I'll try To tell you truths _you_ will not take as true, Because they are so;--a male Mrs. Fry,[558] With a soft besom will I sweep your halls, And brush a web or two from off the walls.

LXXXV.

Oh Mrs. Fry! Why go to Newgate? Why Preach to _poor_ rogues? And wherefore not begin With Carlton, or with other houses? Try Your hand at hardened and imperial Sin. To mend the People's an absurdity, A jargon, a mere philanthropic din, Unless you make their betters better:--Fie! I thought you had more religion, Mrs. Fry.

LXXXVI.

Teach _them_ the decencies of good threescore; Cure _them_ of tours, hussar and highland dresses; Tell _them_ that youth once gone returns no more, That hired huzzas redeem no land's distresses; Tell them Sir William Curtis[559] is a bore, Too dull even for the dullest of excesses-- The witless Falstaff of a hoary Hal, A fool whose bells have ceased to ring at all.

LXXXVII.

Tell them, though it may be, perhaps, too late-- On Life's worn confine, jaded, bloated, sated-- To set up vain pretence of being _great_, 'T is not so to be _good_; and, be it stated, The worthiest kings have ever loved least state: And tell them--But you won't, and I have prated Just now enough; but, by and by, I'll prattle Like Roland's horn[560] in Roncesvalles' battle.[kj][561]

FOOTNOTES:

{400}[jt] _In a most natural whirling of rotation_.--[MS. erased.]

[ju] _Since Adam--gloriously against an apple_.--[MS. erased.]

[525] ["Neither Pemberton nor Whiston, who received from Newton himself the history of his first Ideas of Gravity, records the story of the falling apple. It was mentioned, however, to Voltaire by Catherine Barton (afterwards Mrs. Conduit), Newton's niece. We saw the apple tree in 1814.... The tree was so much decayed that it was taken down in 1820" (_Memoirs, etc., of Sir Isaac Newton_, by Sir David Brewster, 1855, i. 27, note 1). Voltaire tells the story thus (_Éléments de la Philosophie de Newton_, Partie III. chap, iii.): "Un jour, en l'année 1666 [1665], Newton, retiré à la campagne, et voyant tomber des fruits d'un arbre, à ce que m'a conté sa nièce (Madame Conduit), se laissa aller à une méditation profonde sur la cause qui entraîne ainsi tous les corps dans une ligne qui, si elle était prolongée, passerait à peu près par le centre de la terre."--_Oeuvres Complètes_, 1837, v. 727.]

[jv] _To the then unploughed stars_----.--[MS. erased.]

{401}[526] [Compare _Churchill's Grave,_ line 23, _Poetical Works,_ 1901, iv. 47, note 1.]

[527] [Shelley entitles him "The Pilgrim of Eternity," in his _Adonais_ (stanza xxx. line 3), which was written and published at Pisa in 1821.]

{402}[528] [Byron left Pisa (Palazzo Lanfranchi on the Arno) for the Villa Saluzzo at Genoa, in the autumn of 1822.]

[jw]: {403} _Malicious people_--.--[MS. erased.]

[529] ["We think the abuse of Mr. Southey ... by far too savage and intemperate. It is of ill example, we think, in the literary world, and does no honour either to the _taste_ or the _temper_ of the noble author." --_Edinburgh Review_, February, 1822, vol. xxxvi. p. 445.

"I have read the recent article of Jeffrey ... I suppose the long and the short of it is, that he wishes to provoke me to reply. But I won't, for I owe him a good turn still for his kindness by-gone. Indeed, I presume that the present opportunity of attacking me again was irresistible; and I can't blame him, knowing what human nature is."--Letter to Moore, June 8, 1822, _Letters_, 1901, vi. 80.]

[jx]--_that essence of all Lie_.--[MS. erased.]

{404}[530] "Reformers," or rather "Reformed." The Baron Bradwardine in _Waverley_ is authority for the word. [The word is certainly in Butler's _Hudibras_, Part II. Canto 2--

"Although your Church be opposite To mine as Black Fryars are to White, In _Rule_ and _Order_, yet I grant You are a _Reformado Saint_."]

[531] [Stanza XV. is not in the MS. The "legal broom," _sc._ Brougham, was an afterthought.]

[532] Query, _suit_?--Printer's Devil.

[533] [It has been argued that when "great Cæsar fell" he wore his "robe" to muffle up his face, and that, in like manner, Jeffrey sank the critic in the lawyer. A "deal likelier" interpretation is that Jeffrey wore "his gown" right royally, as Cæsar wore his "triumphal robe." (See Plutarch's _Julius Cæsar_, Langhorne's translation, 1838, p. 515.)]

{405}[534] ["I don't like to bore you about the Scotch novels (as they call them, though two of them are English, and the rest half so); but nothing can or could ever persuade me, since I was the first ten minutes in your company, that you are _not_ the man. To me these novels have so much of 'Auld Lang Syne' (I was bred a canny Scot till ten years old), that I never move without them."--Letter to Sir W. Scott, January 12, 1822, _Letters_, 1901, vi. 4, 5.]

[535] [Compare _The Island_, Canto II. lines 280-297.]

[536] The brig of Don, near the "auld toun" of Aberdeen, with its one arch, and its black deep salmon stream below, is in my memory as yesterday. I still remember, though perhaps I may misquote, the awful proverb which made me pause to cross it, and yet lean over it with a childish delight, being an only son, at least by the mother's side. The saying as recollected by me was this, but I have never heard or seen it since I was nine years of age:--

"Brig of Balgounie, _black_'s your _wa'_, Wi' a wife's _ae son_, and a mear's _ae foal_, Doun ye shall fa'!"

[See for illustration of the Brig o' Balgownie, with its single Gothic arch, _Letters_, 1901 [L.P.], v. 406. ]

{406}[537]

["Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood," etc.

_Lay of the Last Minstrel_, Canto VI. stanza ii.]

{407}[jy] _Some thirty years before at fair eighteen_.--[MS.] or, _Seven and twenty_--which, _it does not matter_,-- _Wrinkles, those damnedst democrats, won't flatter_.--[MS. erased.]

[538] Tiberius Gracchus, being tribune of the people, demanded in their name the execution of the Agrarian law; by which all persons possessing above a certain number of acres were to be deprived of the surplus for the benefit of the poor citizens.

{408}[539]

"Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura." _Inferno_, Canto I. line 2.

[jz] _Hut where we travellers bait with dim reflection_.--[MS. erased.]

{409}[ka] _Is when he learns to limit his expenses_.--[MS. erased.]

[kb] ---- _till the ice_ _Cracked, she would ne'er believe in thaws for vice_.--[MS. erased.]

{410}[540] A metaphor taken from the "forty-horse power" of a steam-engine. That mad wag, the Reverend Sydney Smith, sitting by a brother clergyman at dinner, observed afterwards that his dull neighbour had a _"twelve-parson power"_ of conversation.

[541] [In a letter to his sister, October 25, 1804 (_Letters_, 1898, i. 40), Byron mentions an aunt--"the amiable antiquated Sophia," and asks, "Is she yet in the land of the living, or does she sing psalms with the Blessed in the other world?" This was his father's sister, Sophia Maria, daughter of Admiral the Hon. John Byron. But his "good old aunt" is, more probably, the Hon. Mrs. Frances Byron, widow of George (born April 22, 1730) son of the fourth, and brother of the "Wicked" lord. She was the daughter and co-heiress of Ellis Levett, Esq., and lived "at Nottingham in her own house." She died, aged 86, June 13, 1822, not long before this Canto was written. She is described in the obituary notice of the _Gentleman's Magazine_, June, 1822, vol. 92, p. 573, as "Daughter of Vice-Admiral the Hon. John Byron (who sailed round the world with Lord Anson), grandfather of the present Lord Byron." But that is, chronologically, impossible. Byron must have retained a pleasing recollection of the ear-trumpet and the spectacles, and it gratified his kindlier humour to embalm their owner in his verse.]

[542] [See Collins's _Peerage_, 1779, vii. 120. It is probable that Byron was lineally descended from Ralph de Burun, of Horestan, who is mentioned in Doomsday Book (sect. xi.) as holding eight lordships in Notts and five in Derbyshire, but with regard to Ernysius or Erneis the pedigree is silent. (See _Pedigree of George Gordon, Sixth Lord Byron_, by Edward Bernard, 1870.)]

{411}[543] "Hyde."--I believe a hyde of land to be a legitimate word, and, as such, subject to the tax of a quibble.

[kc] _And humbly hope that the same God which hath given_ _Us land on earth, will do no less in Heaven_.--[MS. erased.]

[kd] _Perhaps--but d--n perhaps_----.--[MS.]

{412}[544] [For the illness ("a scarlet fever, complicated by angina, both aggravated by premature exhaustion") and death of Lanskoï, see _The Story of a Throne_, by K. Waliszewsky, 1895, ii. 131, 133. For the rumour that he was poisoned by Potemkin, see _Mémoires Secrets, etc._ [by C.F.P. Masson], 1800, i. 170.]

[545] [Matthew Baillie (1761-1823), the nephew of William Hunter, the brother of Agnes and Joanna Baillie, was a celebrated anatomist. He attended Byron (1799-1802), when an endeavour was made to effect a cure of the muscular contraction of his right leg and foot. He was consulted by Lady Byron, in 1816, with regard to her husband's supposed derangement, but was not admitted when he called at the house in Piccadilly. He is said to have "avoided technical and learned phrases; to have affected no sentimental tenderness, but expressed what he had to say in the simplest and plainest terms" (_Annual Biography_, 1824, p. 319). Jekyll (_Letters_, 1894, p. 110) repeats or invents an anecdote that "the old king, in his mad fits, used to say he could bring any dead people to converse with him, except those who had died under Baillie's care, for that the doctor always dissected them into so many morsels, that they had not a leg to walk to Windsor with." It is hardly necessary to say that John Abernethy (1764-1831) "expressed what _he_ had to say" in the bluntest and rudest terms at his disposal.]

[546] The empress went to the Crimea, accompanied by the Emperor Joseph, in the year--I forget which.

[The Prince de Ligne, who accompanied Catherine in her progress through her southern provinces, in 1787, gives the following particulars: "We have crossed during many days vast, solitary regions, from which her Majesty has driven Zaporogua, Budjak, and Nogais Tartars, who, ten years ago, threatened to ravage her empire. All these places were furnished with magnificent tents for breakfasts, lunches, dinners, suppers, and sleeping-rooms ... deserted regions were at once transformed into fields, groves, villages: ... The Empress has left in each chief town gifts to the value of a hundred thousand roubles. Every day that we remained stationary was marked with diamonds, balls, fireworks, and illuminations throughout a circuit of ten leagues." --_The Prince de Ligne, His Memoirs, etc._, translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley, 1899, ii. 31.]

{415}[ke] _Man, midst thy mouldy mammoths, Cuvier._--[MS.]

{416}[kf] _Who like sour fruit to sharpen up the tides_ _Of their salt veins, and stir their stagnancy._--[MS. erased.]

{417}[547] In the Empress Anne's time, Biren, her favourite, assumed the name and arms of the "Birons" of France; which families are yet extant with that of England. There are still the daughters of Courland of that name; one of them I remember seeing in England in the blessed year of the Allies (1814)--the Duchess of S.--to whom the English Duchess of Somerset presented me as a namesake.

["Ernest John Biren was born in Courland [in 1690]. His grandfather had been head groom to James, the third Duke of Courland, and obtained from his master the present of a small estate in land.... In 1714 he made his appearance at St. Petersburg, and solicited the place of page to the Princess Charlotte, wife of the Tzarovitch Alexey; but being contemptuously rejected as a person of mean extraction, retired to Mittau, where he chanced to ingratiate himself with Count Bestuchef, Master of the Household to Anne, widow of Frederic William, Duke of Courland, who resided at Mittau. Being of a handsome figure and polite address, he soon gained the good will of the duchess, and became her secretary and chief favourite. On her being declared sovereign of Russia, Anne called Biren to Petersburg, and the secretary soon became Duke of Courland, and first minister or rather despot of Russia. On the death of Anne, which happened in 1740, Biren, being declared regent, continued daily increasing his vexations and cruelties, till he was arrested, on the 18th of December, only twenty days after he had been appointed to the regency; and at the revolution that ensued he was exiled to the frozen shores of the Oby." _Catherine II._, by W. Tooke, 1800, i. 160, _footnote_. He was recalled in 1763, and died in 1772.

In a letter to his sister, dated June 18, 1814, Byron gives a slightly different version of the incident, recorded in his note (_vide supra_): "The Duchess of Somerset also, to mend matters, insisted on presenting me to a Princess _Biron_, Duchess of Hohen-God-knows-what, and another person to her two sisters, Birons too. But I flew off, and _would_ not, saying I had had enough of introductions for that night at least."--_Letters_, 1899, iii. 98. The "daughters of Courland" must have been descendants of "Pierre, dernier Duc de Courlande, De la Maison de Biron," viz. Jeanne Cathérine, born June 24, 1783, who married, in 1801, François Pignatelli de Belmonte, Duc d'Acerenza, and Dorothée, born August 21, 1793, who married, in 1809, Edmond de Talleyrand Périgord, Duc de Talleyrand, nephew to the Bishop of Autun. (See _Almanach de Gotha_, 1848, pp. 109, 110.)]

{418}[548] [Napoleon's exclamation at the Elysée Bourbon, June 23, 1815. "When his civil counsellors talked of defence, the word wrung from him the bitter ejaculation, 'Ah! my old guard! could they but defend themselves like you!'"--_Life of Napoleon Buonaparte_, by Sir Walter Scott, _Prose Works_, 1846, ii. 760.]

[kg] _Who now that he is dead has not a foe_; _The last expired in cut-throat Castlereagh_.--[MS. erased.]

[549] [Immanuel Kant, born at Königsberg, in 1729, became Professor and Rector of the University, and died at Königsberg in 1804.]

{419}[550]

["The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine," etc.

_Childe Harold_, Canto III.]

[551] St. Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins were still extant in 1816, and may be so yet, as much as ever.

{421}[552] ["We left Ratzeburg at 7 o'clock Wednesday evening, and arrived at Lüneburg--_i.e._ 35 English miles--at 3 o'clock on Thursday afternoon. This is a fair specimen! In England I used to laugh at the 'flying waggons;' but compared with a German Post-Coach, the metaphor is perfectly justifiable, and for the future I shall never meet a flying waggon without thinking respectfully of its speed."--S.T. Coleridge, March 12, 1799, _Letters of S.T.C._, 1895, i. 278.]

[553] [See for German oaths, "Extracts from a Diary," January 12, 1821, _Letters_, 1901, v. 172.]

[kh] _With "Schnapps"--Democritus would cease to smile,_ _By German, post-boys driven a mile_.--[MS.] _With "Schnapps"--and spite of "Dam'em," "dog" and "log"_ _Launched at their heads jog-jog-jog-jog-jog-jog_.--[MS. erased.]

{422}[554] [The French Inscription (see _Memorial Inscriptions_, etc., by Joseph Meadows Cowper, 1897, p. 134) on the Black Prince's monument is thus translated in the _History of Kent_ (John Weevers' _Funerall Monuments_, 1636, pp. 205, 206)--

"Who so thou be that passeth by Where this corps entombed lie, Understand what I shall say, As at this time, speake I may. Such as thou art, sometime was I. Such as I am, shalt thou be. I little thought on th' oure of death, So long as I enjoyéd breath. Great riches here did I possess, Whereof I made great nobleness; I had gold, silver, wardrobes, and Great treasure, horses, houses, land. But now a caitife poore am I, Deepe in the ground, lo! here I lie; My beautie great is all quite gone, My flesh is wasted to the bone. My house is narrow now and throng, Nothing but Truth comes from my tongue. And if ye should see me this day, I do not think but ye would say, That I had never beene a man, So much altered now I am."]

{423}[ki] ---- _of higher stations_, _And for their pains get smarter puncturations_.--[MS. erased.]

{424}[555] [See _Childe Harold_, Canto I. stanza xxxii. line 2, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 93, note 16.]

[556] [See _The Prince_ (_Il Principe_), chap. xvii., by Niccolò Machiavelli, translated by Ninian Hill Thomson, 1897, p. 121: "But above all [a Prince] must abstain from the property of others. For men will sooner forget the death of their father than the loss of their patrimony."]

[557] [India; America.]

{425}[558] [Elizabeth Fry (1780-1845) began her visits to Newgate in 1813. In 1820 she corresponded with the Princess Sophie of Russia, and at a later period she was entertained by Louis Philippe, and by the King of Prussia at Kaiserwerth. She might have, she may have, admonished George IV. "with regard to all good things."]

{426}[559] [See _The Age of Bronze_, line 768, _Poetical Works_, 1901, v. 578, note 1.]

[560]

["O for a blast of that dread horn, On Fontarabian echoes borne, That to King Charles did come, When Rowland brave, and Olivier, And every paladin and peer, On Roncesvalles died."

_Marmion_, Canto VI. stanza xxxiii. lines 7-12.]

[kj] _Like an old Roman trumpet ere a battle_.--[MS. erased.]

[561] B. Genoa, Oct. 6^th^, 1822. End of Canto 10^th^.

CANTO THE ELEVENTH.

I.

WHEN Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter,"[562] And proved it--'t was no matter what he said: They say his system 't is in vain to batter, Too subtle for the airiest human head; And yet who can believe it? I would shatter Gladly all matters down to stone or lead, Or adamant, to find the World a spirit, And wear my head, denying that I wear it.

II.

What a sublime discovery 't was to make the Universe universal egotism, That all's ideal--_all ourselves!_--I'll stake the World (be it what you will) that _that's_ no schism. Oh Doubt!--if thou be'st Doubt, for which some take thee, But which I doubt extremely--thou sole prism Of the Truth's rays, spoil not my draught of spirit! Heaven's brandy, though our brain can hardly bear it.

III.

For ever and anon comes Indigestion (Not the most "dainty Ariel"),[563] and perplexes Our soarings with another sort of question: And that which after all my spirit vexes, Is, that I find no spot where Man can rest eye on, Without confusion of the sorts and sexes, Of Beings, Stars, and this unriddled wonder, The World, which at the worst's a _glorious_ blunder--

IV.

If it be chance--or, if it be according To the old text, still better:--lest it should Turn out so, we 'll say nothing 'gainst the wording, As several people think such hazards rude. They're right; our days are too brief for affording Space to dispute what _no one_ ever could Decide, and _everybody one day_ will Know very clearly--or at least lie still.

V.

And therefore will I leave off metaphysical Discussion, which is neither here nor there: If I agree that what is, is; then this I call Being quite perspicuous and extremely fair; The truth is, I've grown lately rather phthisical:[564] I don't know what the reason is--the air Perhaps; but as I suffer from the shocks Of illness, I grow much more orthodox.

VI.

The first attack at once proved the Divinity (But that I never doubted, nor the Devil); The next, the Virgin's mystical virginity; The third, the usual Origin of Evil; The fourth at once established the whole Trinity On so uncontrovertible a level, That I devoutly wished the three were four-- On purpose to believe so much the more.

VII.

To our theme.--The man who has stood on the Acropolis, And looked down over Attica; or he Who has sailed where picturesque Constantinople is, Or seen Timbuctoo, or hath taken tea In small-eyed China's crockery-ware metropolis, Or sat amidst the bricks of Nineveh,[kk] May not think much of London's first appearance-- But ask him what he thinks of it a year hence!

VIII.

Don Juan had got out on Shooter's Hill; Sunset the time, the place the same declivity Which looks along that vale of Good and Ill Where London streets ferment in full activity, While everything around was calm and still, Except the creak of wheels, which on their pivot he Heard,--and that bee-like, bubbling, busy hum Of cities, that boil over with their scum:--

IX.

I say, Don Juan, wrapped in contemplation, Walked on behind his carriage, o'er the summit, And lost in wonder of so great a nation, Gave way to 't, since he could not overcome it. "And here," he cried, "is Freedom's chosen station; Here peals the People's voice, nor can entomb it Racks--prisons--inquisitions; Resurrection Awaits it, each new meeting or election.

X.

"Here are chaste wives, pure lives; here people pay But what they please; and if that things be dear, 'T is only that they love to throw away Their cash, to show how much they have a-year. Here laws are all inviolate--none lay Traps for the traveller--every highway's clear-- Here"--he was interrupted by a knife, With--"Damn your eyes! your money or your life!"--

XI.

These free-born sounds proceeded from four pads In ambush laid, who had perceived him loiter Behind his carriage; and, like handy lads, Had seized the lucky hour to reconnoitre, In which the heedless gentleman who gads Upon the road, unless he prove a fighter, May find himself within that isle of riches Exposed to lose his life as well as breeches.

XII.

Juan, who did not understand a word Of English, save their shibboleth, "God damn!"[565] And even that he had so rarely heard, He sometimes thought 't was only their "Salām," Or "God be with you!"--and 't is not absurd To think so,--for half English as I am (To my misfortune), never can I say I heard them wish "God with you," save that way;--

XIII.

Juan yet quickly understood their gesture, And being somewhat choleric and sudden, Drew forth a pocket pistol from his vesture, And fired it into one assailant's pudding-- Who fell, as rolls an ox o'er in his pasture, And roared out, as he writhed his native mud in, Unto his nearest follower or henchman, "Oh Jack! I'm floored by that 'ere bloody Frenchman!"

XIV.

On which Jack and his train set off at speed, And Juan's suite, late scattered at a distance, Came up, all marvelling at such a deed, And offering, as usual, late assistance. Juan, who saw the moon's late minion[566] bleed As if his veins would pour out his existence, Stood calling out for bandages and lint, And wished he had been less hasty with his flint.

XV.

"Perhaps," thought he, "it is the country's wont To welcome foreigners in this way: now I recollect some innkeepers who don't Differ, except in robbing with a bow, In lieu of a bare blade and brazen front-- But what is to be done? I can't allow The fellow to lie groaning on the road: So take him up--I'll help you with the load."

XVI.

But ere they could perform this pious duty, The dying man cried, "Hold! I've got my gruel! Oh! for a glass of _max_![567] We've missed our booty; Let me die where I am!" And as the fuel Of Life shrunk in his heart, and thick and sooty The drops fell from his death-wound, and he drew ill His breath,--he from his swelling throat untied A kerchief, crying, "Give Sal that!"--and died.

XVII.

The cravat stained with bloody drops fell down Before Don Juan's feet: he could not tell Exactly why it was before him thrown, Nor what the meaning of the man's farewell. Poor Tom was once a kiddy upon town, A thorough varmint, and a _real_ swell, Full flash,[568] all fancy, until fairly diddled, His pockets first and then his body riddled.

XVIII.

Don Juan, having done the best he could In all the circumstances of the case, As soon as "Crowner's quest"[569] allowed, pursued His travels to the capital apace;-- Esteeming it a little hard he should In twelve hours' time, and very little space, Have been obliged to slay a free-born native In self-defence: this made him meditative.

XIX.

He from the world had cut off a great man, Who in his time had made heroic bustle. Who in a row like Tom could lead the van, Booze in the ken, or at the spellken hustle? Who queer a flat?[570] Who (spite of Bow-street's ban) On the high toby-spice so flash the muzzle? Who on a lark with black-eyed Sal (his blowing), So prime--so swell--so nutty--and so knowing?[kl][571]

XX.

But Tom's no more--and so no more of Tom. Heroes must die; and by God's blessing 't is Not long before the most of them go home. Hail! Thamis, hail! Upon thy verge it is That Juan's chariot, rolling like a drum In thunder, holds the way it can't well miss, Through Kennington and all the other "tons," Which make us wish ourselves in town at once;--

XXI.

Through Groves, so called as being void of trees, (Like _lucus_ from _no_ light); through prospects named Mount Pleasant, as containing nought to please, Nor much to climb; through little boxes framed Of bricks, to let the dust in at your ease, With "To be let," upon their doors proclaimed; Through "Rows" most modestly called "Paradise,"[572] Which Eve might quit without much sacrifice;--[km]

XXII.

Through coaches, drays, choked turnpikes, and a whirl Of wheels, and roar of voices, and confusion; Here taverns wooing to a pint of "purl,"[573] There mails fast flying off like a delusion; There barbers' blocks with periwigs in curl In windows; here the lamplighter's infusion Slowly distilled into the glimmering glass (For in those days we had not got to gas--);[kn][574]

XXIII.

Through this, and much, and more, is the approach Of travellers to mighty Babylon: Whether they come by horse, or chaise, or coach, With slight exceptions, all the ways seem one. I could say more, but do not choose to encroach Upon the Guide-book's privilege. The Sun Had set some time, and night was on the ridge Of twilight, as the party crossed the bridge.

XXIV.

That's rather fine, the gentle sound of Thamis-- Who vindicates a moment, too, his stream-- Though hardly heard through multifarious "damme's:" The lamps of Westminster's more regular gleam, The breadth of pavement, and yon shrine where Fame is A spectral resident--whose pallid beam In shape of moonshine hovers o'er the pile-- Make this a sacred part of Albion's isle.

XXV.

The Druids' groves are gone--so much the better: Stonehenge is not--but what the devil is it?-- But Bedlam still exists with its sage fetter, That madmen may not bite you on a visit; The Bench too seats or suits full many a debtor; The Mansion House,[575] too (though some people quiz it), To me appears a stiff yet grand erection; But then the Abbey's worth the whole collection.

XXVI.

The line of lights,[576] too, up to Charing Cross, Pall Mall, and so forth, have a coruscation Like gold as in comparison to dross, Matched with the Continent's illumination, Whose cities Night by no means deigns to gloss. The French were not yet a lamp-lighting nation, And when they grew so--on their new-found lantern, Instead of wicks, they made a wicked man turn.[577]

XXVII.

A row of Gentlemen along the streets Suspended may illuminate mankind, As also bonfires made of country seats; But the old way is best for the purblind: The other looks like phosphorus on sheets, A sort of _ignis fatuus_ to the mind, Which, though 't is certain to perplex and frighten, Must burn more mildly ere it can enlighten.

XXVIII.

But London's so well lit, that if Diogenes Could recommence to hunt his _honest man_, And found him not amidst the various progenies Of this enormous City's spreading span, 'T were not for want of lamps to aid his dodging his Yet undiscovered treasure. What _I_ can, I've done to find the same throughout Life's journey, But see the World is only one attorney.

XXIX.

Over the stones still rattling, up Pall Mall, Through crowds and carriages, but waxing thinner As thundered knockers broke the long sealed spell Of doors 'gainst duns, and to an early dinner Admitted a small party as night fell,-- Don Juan, our young diplomatic sinner, Pursued his path, and drove past some hotels, St. James's Palace, and St. James's "Hells."[578]

XXX.

They reached the hotel: forth streamed from the front door[ko] A tide of well-clad waiters, and around The mob stood, and as usual several score Of those pedestrian Paphians who abound In decent London when the daylight's o'er; Commodious but immoral, they are found Useful, like Malthus, in promoting marriage.-- But Juan now is stepping from his carriage

XXXI.

Into one of the sweetest of hotels,[kp][579] Especially for foreigners--and mostly For those whom favour or whom Fortune swells, And cannot find a bill's small items costly. There many an envoy either dwelt or dwells (The den of many a diplomatic lost lie), Until to some conspicuous square they pass, And blazon o'er the door their names in brass.

XXXII.

Juan, whose was a delicate commission, Private, though publicly important, bore No title to point out with due precision The exact affair on which he was sent o'er. 'T was merely known, that on a secret mission A foreigner of rank had graced our shore, Young, handsome, and accomplished, who was said (In whispers) to have turned his Sovereign's head.

XXXIII.

Some rumour also of some strange adventures Had gone before him, and his wars and loves; And as romantic heads are pretty painters, And, above all, an Englishwoman's roves[kq] Into the excursive, breaking the indentures Of sober reason, wheresoe'er it moves, He found himself extremely in the fashion, Which serves our thinking people for a passion.

XXXIV.

I don't mean that they are passionless, but quite The contrary; but then 't is in the head; Yet as the consequences are as bright As if they acted with the heart instead, What after all can signify the site Of ladies' lucubrations? So they lead In safety to the place for which you start, What matters if the road be head or heart?

XXXV.

Juan presented in the proper place, To proper placemen, every Russ credential; And was received with all the due grimace By those who govern in the mood potential, Who, seeing a handsome stripling with smooth face, Thought (what in state affairs is most essential), That they as easily might _do_ the youngster, As hawks may pounce upon a woodland songster.

XXXVI.

They erred, as agéd men will do; but by And by we'll talk of that; and if we don't, 'T will be because our notion is not high Of politicians and their double front, Who live by lies, yet dare not boldly lie:-- Now what I love in women is, they won't Or can't do otherwise than lie--but do it So well, the very Truth seems falsehood to it.

XXXVII.

And, after all, what is a lie? 'T is but The truth in masquerade; and I defy[kr] Historians--heroes--lawyers--priests, to put A fact without some leaven of a lie. The very shadow of true Truth would shut Up annals--revelations--poesy, And prophecy--except it should be dated Some years before the incidents related.

XXXVIII.

Praised be all liars and all lies! Who now Can tax my mild Muse with misanthropy? She rings the World's "Te Deum," and her brow Blushes for those who will not:--but to sigh Is idle; let us like most others bow, Kiss hands--feet--any part of Majesty, After the good example of "Green Erin,"[580] Whose shamrock now seems rather worse for wearing.[ks]

XXXIX.

Don Juan was presented, and his dress And mien excited general admiration-- I don't know which was more admired or less: One monstrous diamond drew much observation, Which Catherine in a moment of _"ivresse"_ (In Love or Brandy's fervent fermentation), Bestowed upon him, as the public learned; And, to say truth, it had been fairly earned.

XL.

Besides the ministers and underlings, Who must be courteous to the accredited Diplomatists of rather wavering Kings, Until their royal riddle's fully read, The very clerks,--those somewhat dirty springs Of Office, or the House of Office, fed By foul corruption into streams,--even they Were hardly rude enough to earn their pay:

XLI.

And insolence no doubt is what they are Employed for, since it is their daily labour, In the dear offices of Peace or War; And should you doubt, pray ask of your next neighbour, When for a passport, or some other bar To freedom, he applied (a grief and a bore), If he found not this spawn of tax-born riches, Like lap-dogs, the least civil sons of b-----s.

XLII.

But Juan was received with much _"empressement:"_-- These phrases of refinement I must borrow From our next neighbours' land, where, like a chessman, There is a move set down for joy or sorrow, Not only in mere talking, but the press. Man In Islands is, it seems, downright and thorough, More than on Continents--as if the Sea (See Billingsgate) made even the tongue more free.

XLIII.

And yet the British "Damme"'s rather Attic, Your continental oaths are but incontinent, And turn on things which no aristocratic Spirit would name, and therefore even I won't anent[581] This subject quote; as it would be schismatic In _politesse_, and have a sound affronting in 't;-- But "Damme"'s quite ethereal, though too daring-- Platonic blasphemy--the soul of swearing.[kt]

XLIV.

For downright rudeness, ye may stay at home; For true or false politeness (and scarce _that Now_) you may cross the blue deep and white foam-- The first the emblem (rarely though) of what You leave behind, the next of much you come To meet. However, 't is no time to chat On general topics: poems must confine Themselves to unity, like this of mine.[ku]

XLV.

In the great world,--which, being interpreted, Meaneth the West or worst end of a city, And about twice two thousand people bred By no means to be very wise or witty, But to sit up while others lie in bed, And look down on the Universe with pity,-- Juan, as an inveterate patrician, Was well received by persons of condition.

XLVI.

He was a bachelor, which is a matter Of import both to virgin and to bride, The former's hymeneal hopes to flatter; And (should she not hold fast by Love or Pride) 'T is also of some moment to the latter: A rib's a thorn in a wed gallant's side, Requires decorum, and is apt to double The horrid sin--and what's still worse, the trouble.

XLVII.

But Juan was a bachelor--of arts, And parts, and hearts: he danced and sung, and had An air as sentimental as Mozart's Softest of melodies; and could be sad Or cheerful, without any "flaws or starts,"[582] Just at the proper time: and though a lad, Had seen the world--which is a curious sight, And very much unlike what people write.

XLVIII.

Fair virgins blushed upon him; wedded dames Bloomed also in less transitory hues;[kv] For both commodities dwell by the Thames, The painting and the painted; Youth, Ceruse,[kw] Against his heart preferred their usual claims, Such as no gentleman can quite refuse: Daughters admired his dress, and pious mothers Inquired his income, and if he had brothers.

XLIX.

The milliners who furnish "drapery Misses"[583] Throughout the season, upon speculation Of payment ere the Honeymoon's last kisses Have waned into a crescent's coruscation, Thought such an opportunity as this is, Of a rich foreigner's initiation, Not to be overlooked--and gave such credit, That future bridegrooms swore, and sighed, and paid it.

L.

The Blues, that tender tribe, who sigh o'er sonnets, And with the pages of the last Review Line the interior of their heads or bonnets, Advanced in all their azure's highest hue: They talked bad French or Spanish, and upon its Late authors asked him for a hint or two; And which was softest, Russian or Castilian? And whether in his travels he saw Ilion?

LI.

Juan, who was a little superficial, And not in literature a great Drawcansir,[584] Examined by this learnéd and especial Jury of matrons, scarce knew what to answer: His duties warlike, loving or official, His steady application as a dancer, Had kept him from the brink of Hippocrene, Which now he found was blue instead of green.

LII.

However, he replied at hazard, with A modest confidence and calm assurance, Which lent his learnéd lucubrations pith, And passed for arguments of good endurance. That prodigy, Miss Araminta Smith (Who at sixteen translated "Hercules Furens" Into as furious English), with her best look, Set down his sayings in her common-place book.

LIII.

Juan knew several languages--as well He might--and brought them up with skill, in time To save his fame with each accomplished belle, Who still regretted that he did not rhyme. There wanted but this requisite to swell His qualities (with them) into sublime: Lady Fitz-Frisky, and Miss Maevia Mannish, Both longed extremely to be sung in Spanish.

LIV.

However, he did pretty well, and was Admitted as an aspirant to all The coteries, and, as in Banquo's glass, At great assemblies or in parties small, He saw ten thousand living authors pass, That being about their average numeral; Also the eighty "greatest living poets,"[585] As every paltry magazine can show _it's_.

LV.

In twice five years the "greatest living poet," Like to the champion in the fisty ring, Is called on to support his claim, or show it, Although 't is an imaginary thing. Even I--albeit I'm sure I did not know it, Nor sought of foolscap subjects to be king,-- Was reckoned, a considerable time, The grand Napoleon of the realms of rhyme.[kx]

LVI.

But Juan was my Moscow, and Faliero My Leipsic, and my Mont Saint Jean seems Cain:[586] _La Belle Alliance_ of dunces down at zero, Now that the Lion's fallen, may rise again: But I will fall at least as fell my Hero; Nor reign at all, or as a _monarch_ reign; Or to some lonely isle of gaolers go, With turncoat Southey for my turnkey Lowe.[ky]

LVII.

Sir Walter reigned before me; Moore and Campbell Before and after; but now grown more holy, The Muses upon Sion's hill must ramble With poets almost clergymen, or wholly; And Pegasus has a psalmodic amble Beneath the very Reverend Rowley Powley,[kz][587] Who shoes the glorious animal with stilts, A modern Ancient Pistol--"by these hilts!"[588]

LVIII.

Still he excels that artificial hard Labourer in the same vineyard, though the vine Yields him but vinegar for his reward.-- That neutralised dull Dorus of the Nine; That swarthy Sporus, neither man nor bard; That ox of verse, who _ploughs_ for every line:-- Cambyses' roaring Romans beat at least The howling Hebrews of Cybele's priest.--[589]

LIX.

Then there's my gentle Euphues,--who, they say,[la] Sets up for being a sort of _moral me_;[590] He'll find it rather difficult some day To turn out both, or either, it may be. Some persons think that Coleridge hath the sway; And Wordsworth has supporters, two or three; And that deep-mouthed Boeotian "Savage Landor"[591] Has taken for a swan rogue Southey's gander.

LX.

John Keats, who was killed off by one critique, Just as he really promised something great, If not intelligible, without Greek Contrived to talk about the gods of late, Much as they might have been supposed to speak.[592] Poor fellow! His was an untoward fate; 'T is strange the mind, that very fiery particle,[lb][593] Should let itself be snuffed out by an article.

LXI.

The list grows long of live and dead pretenders To that which none will gain--or none will know The conqueror at least; who, ere Time renders His last award, will have the long grass grow Above his burnt-out brain, and sapless cinders. If I might augur, I should rate but low Their chances;--they're too numerous, like the thirty[594] Mock tyrants, when Rome's annals waxed but dirty.

LXII.

This is the literary _lower_ empire, Where the praetorian bands take up the matter;-- A "dreadful trade," like his who "gathers samphire,"[595] The insolent soldiery to soothe and flatter, With the same feelings as you'd coax a vampire. Now, were I once at home, and in good satire, I'd try conclusions with those Janizaries, And show them _what_ an intellectual war is.

LXIII.

I think I know a trick or two, would turn Their flanks;--but it is hardly worth my while, With such small gear to give myself concern: Indeed I've not the necessary bile; My natural temper's really aught but stern, And even my Muse's worst reproof's a smile; And then she drops a brief and modern curtsy, And glides away, assured she never hurts ye.

LXIV.

My Juan, whom I left in deadly peril Amongst live poets and _blue_ ladies, passed With some small profit through that field so sterile, Being tired in time--and, neither least nor last, Left it before he had been treated very ill; And henceforth found himself more gaily classed Amongst the higher spirits of the day, The Sun's true son, no vapour, but a ray.

LXV.

His morns he passed in business--which dissected, Was, like all business, a laborious nothing That leads to lassitude, the most infected And Centaur Nessus garb of mortal clothing,[596] And on our sofas makes us lie dejected, And talk in tender horrors of our loathing All kinds of toil, save for our country's good-- Which grows no better, though 't is time it should.

LXVI.

His afternoons he passed in visits, luncheons, Lounging and boxing; and the twilight hour In riding round those vegetable puncheons Called "Parks," where there is neither fruit nor flower Enough to gratify a bee's slight munchings; But after all it is the only "bower"[597] (In Moore's phrase) where the fashionable fair Can form a slight acquaintance with fresh air.

LXVII.

Then dress, then dinner, then awakes the world! Then glare the lamps, then whirl the wheels, then roar Through street and square fast flashing chariots hurled Like harnessed meteors; then along the floor Chalk mimics painting; then festoons are twirled; Then roll the brazen thunders of the door, Which opens to the thousand happy few An earthly Paradise of _Or Molu_.

LXVIII.

There stands the noble hostess, nor shall sink With the three-thousandth curtsy; there the waltz, The only dance which teaches girls to think,[598] Makes one in love even with its very faults. Saloon, room, hall, o'erflow beyond their brink, And long the latest of arrivals halts, 'Midst royal dukes and dames condemned to climb, And gain an inch of staircase at a time.

LXIX.

Thrice happy he who, after a survey Of the good company, can win a corner, A door that's _in_ or boudoir _out_ of the way, Where he may fix himself like small "Jack Horner," And let the Babel round run as it may, And look on as a mourner, or a scorner, Or an approver, or a mere spectator, Yawning a little as the night grows later.

LXX.

But this won't do, save by and by; and he Who, like Don Juan, takes an active share, Must steer with care through all that glittering sea Of gems and plumes and pearls and silks, to where He deems it is his proper place to be; Dissolving in the waltz to some soft air, Or proudlier prancing with mercurial skill, Where Science marshals forth her own quadrille.

LXXI.

Or, if he dance not, but hath higher views Upon an heiress or his neighbour's bride, Let him take care that that which he pursues Is not at once too palpably descried: Full many an eager gentleman oft rues His haste; Impatience is a blundering guide Amongst a people famous for reflection, Who like to play the fool with circumspection.

LXXII.

But, if you can contrive, get next at supper; Or, if forestalled, get opposite and ogle:-- Oh, ye ambrosial moments! always upper In mind, a sort of sentimental bogle,[599] Which sits for ever upon Memory's crupper, The ghost of vanished pleasures once in vogue! Ill Can tender souls relate the rise and fall Of hopes and fears which shake a single ball.

LXXIII.

But these precautionary hints can touch Only the common run, who must pursue, And watch and ward; whose plans a word too much Or little overturns; and not the few Or many (for the number's sometimes such) Whom a good mien, especially if new, Or fame--or name--for Wit, War, Sense, or Nonsense, Permits whate'er they please,--or _did_ not long since.

LXXIV.

Our Hero--as a hero--young and handsome, Noble, rich, celebrated, and a stranger, Like other slaves of course must pay his ransom, Before he can escape from so much danger As will environ a conspicuous man. Some Talk about poetry, and "rack and manger," And ugliness, disease, as toil and trouble;-- I wish they knew the life of a young noble.

LXXV.

They are young, but know not Youth--it is anticipated; Handsome but wasted, rich without a sou;[lc] Their vigour in a thousand arms is dissipated; Their cash comes _from_, their wealth goes _to_ a Jew; Both senates see their nightly votes participated Between the Tyrant's and the Tribunes' crew; And having voted, dined, drunk, gamed, and whored, The family vault receives another Lord.

LXXVI.

"Where is the World?" cries Young, at _eighty_[600]--"Where The World in which a man was born?" Alas! Where is the world of _eight_ years past? _'T was there_-- I look for it--'t is gone, a globe of glass! Cracked, shivered, vanished, scarcely gazed on, ere[ld] A silent change dissolves the glittering mass. Statesmen, Chiefs, Orators, Queens, Patriots, Kings, And Dandies--all are gone on the Wind's wings.

LXXVII.

Where is Napoleon the Grand? God knows! Where little Castlereagh? The devil can tell! Where Grattan, Curran, Sheridan--all those Who bound the Bar or Senate in their spell? Where is the unhappy Queen, with all her woes? And where the Daughter, whom the Isles loved well? Where are those martyred saints the Five per Cents?[le][601] And where--oh, where the devil are the Rents?

LXXVIII.

Where's Brummell? Dished. Where's Long Pole Wellesley?[602] Diddled. Where's Whitbread? Romilly? Where's George the Third? Where is his will?[603] (That's not so soon unriddled.) And where is "Fum" the Fourth, our "royal bird?"[604] Gone down, it seems, to Scotland to be fiddled Unto by Sawney's violin, we have heard: "Caw me, caw thee"--for six months hath been hatching This scene of royal itch and loyal scratching.

LXXIX.

Where is Lord This? And where my Lady That? The Honourable Mistresses and Misses? Some laid aside like an old Opera hat, Married, unmarried, and remarried: (this is An evolution oft performed of late). Where are the Dublin shouts--and London hisses? Where are the Grenvilles? Turned as usual. Where My friends the Whigs? Exactly where they were.

LXXX.

Where are the Lady Carolines and Franceses?[605] Divorced or doing thereanent. Ye annals So brilliant, where the list of routs and dances is,-- Thou Morning Post, sole record of the panels Broken in carriages, and all the phantasies Of fashion,--say what streams now fill those channels? Some die, some fly, some languish on the Continent, Because the times have hardly left them _one_ tenant.

LXXXI.

Some who once set their caps at cautious dukes,[lf] Have taken up at length with younger brothers: Some heiresses have bit at sharpers' hooks: Some maids have been made wives, some merely mothers: Others have lost their fresh and fairy looks: In short, the list of alterations bothers. There's little strange in this, but something strange is The unusual quickness of these common changes.

LXXXII.

Talk not of seventy years as age; in seven I have seen more changes, down from monarchs to The humblest individuals under Heaven, Than might suffice a moderate century through. I knew that nought was lasting, but now even Change grows too changeable, without being new: Nought's permanent among the human race, Except the Whigs _not_ getting into place.

LXXXIII.

I have seen Napoleon, who seemed quite a Jupiter, Shrink to a Saturn. I have seen a Duke (No matter which) turn politician stupider, If that can well be, than his wooden look. But it is time that I should hoist my "blue Peter," And sail for a new theme:--I have seen--and shook To see it--the King hissed, and then caressed; But don't pretend to settle which was best.

LXXXIV.

I have seen the Landholders without a rap-- I have seen Joanna Southcote--I have seen The House of Commons turned to a tax-trap-- I have seen that sad affair of the late Queen-- I have seen crowns worn instead of a fool's cap-- I have seen a Congress[606] doing all that's mean-- I have seen some nations, like o'erloaded asses, Kick off their burthens--meaning the high classes.

LXXXV.

I have seen small poets, and great prosers, and Interminable--_not eternal_--speakers-- I have seen the funds at war with house and land-- I have seen the country gentlemen turn squeakers-- I have seen the people ridden o'er like sand By slaves on horseback--I have seen malt liquors Exchanged for "thin potations"[607] by John Bull-- I have seen John half detect himself a fool.--

LXXXVI.

But _"carpe diem,"_ Juan, _"carpe, carpe!"_[608] To-morrow sees another race as gay And transient, and devoured by the same harpy. "Life's a poor player,"[609]--then "play out the play,[610] Ye villains!" and above all keep a sharp eye Much less on what you do than what you say: Be hypocritical, be cautious, be Not what you _seem_, but always what you _see_.

LXXXVII.

But how shall I relate in other cantos Of what befell our hero in the land, Which 't is the common cry and lie to vaunt as A moral country? But I hold my hand-- For I disdain to write an Atalantis;[611] But 't is as well at once to understand, You are _not_ a moral people, and you know it, Without the aid of too sincere a poet.

LXXXVIII.

What Juan saw and underwent shall be My topic, with of course the due restriction Which is required by proper courtesy; And recollect the work is only fiction, And that I sing of neither mine nor me, Though every scribe, in some slight turn of diction, Will hint allusions never _meant_. Ne'er doubt _This_--when I speak, I _don't hint_, but _speak out_.

LXXXIX.

Whether he married with the third or fourth Offspring of some sage husband-hunting countess, Or whether with some virgin of more worth (I mean in Fortune's matrimonial bounties), He took to regularly peopling Earth, Of which your lawful, awful wedlock fount is,-- Or whether he was taken in for damages, For being too excursive in his homages,--

XC.

Is yet within the unread events of Time. Thus far, go forth, thou Lay, which I will back Against the same given quantity of rhyme, For being as much the subject of attack As ever yet was any work sublime, By those who love to say that white is black. So much the better!--I may stand alone, But would not change my free thoughts for a throne.[612]

FOOTNOTES:

{427}[562] [Berkeley did not deny the reality of existence, but the reality of matter as an abstract conception. "It is plain," he says (_On the Principles of Human Knowledge_, sect. ix.), "that the very notion of what is called _matter_ or _corporeal substance_, involves a contradiction in it." Again, "It were a mistake to think that what is here said derogates in the least from the reality of things." His contention was that this _reality_ depended, not on an abstraction _called_ matter, "an inert, extended unperceiving substance," but on "those unextended, indivisible substances or _spirits_, which act, and think, and perceive them [unthinking beings]."--_Ibid._, sect. xci., _The Works_ of George Berkeley, D.D., 1820, i. 27, 69, 70.]

{428}[563] [_Tempest_, act v. sc. i, line 95.]

[564] ["I have been very unwell--four days confined to my bed in 'the worst inn's worst room' at Lerici, with a violent rheumatic and bilious attack, constipation, and the devil knows what."--Letter to Murray, October 9, 1822, _Letters_, 1901, vi. 121. The same letter contains an announcement that he had "a fifth [Canto of _Don Juan_] (the 10th) finished, but not transcribed yet; and the _eleventh_ begun."]

{429}[kk] _Or Rome, or Tiber--Naples or the sea_.--[MS. erased.]

{430}[565] [_Vide ante_, Canto I. stanza xiv. lines 7, 8.]

{431}[566] ["_Falstaff_. Let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon: and let men say, we be men of good government; being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we--steal."-_I Henry IV._,