Don Juan Part 45

This I could prove beyond a single doubt, Were there a jot of sense among mankind; But till that point d'appui is found, alas!

Like Archimedes, I leave earth as 't was.

Our gentle Adeline had one defect-- Her heart was vacant, though a splendid mansion; Her conduct had been perfectly correct, As she had seen nought claiming its expansion.

A wavering spirit may be easier wreck'd, Because 't is frailer, doubtless, than a stanch one; But when the latter works its own undoing, Its inner crash is like an earthquake's ruin.

She loved her lord, or thought so; but that love Cost her an effort, which is a sad toil, The stone of Sisyphus, if once we move Our feelings 'gainst the nature of the soil.

She had nothing to complain of, or reprove, No bickerings, no connubial turmoil: Their union was a model to behold, Serene and n.o.ble,--conjugal, but cold.

There was no great disparity of years, Though much in temper; but they never clash'd: They moved like stars united in their spheres, Or like the Rhone by Leman's waters wash'd, Where mingled and yet separate appears The river from the lake, all bluely dash'd Through the serene and placid gla.s.sy deep, Which fain would lull its river-child to sleep.

Now when she once had ta'en an interest In any thing, however she might flatter Herself that her intentions were the best, Intense intentions are a dangerous matter: Impressions were much stronger than she guess'd, And gather'd as they run like growing water Upon her mind; the more so, as her breast Was not at first too readily impress'd.

But when it was, she had that lurking demon Of double nature, and thus doubly named-- Firmness yclept in heroes, kings, and seamen, That is, when they succeed; but greatly blamed As obstinacy, both in men and women, Whene'er their triumph pales, or star is tamed:-- And 't will perplex the casuist in morality To fix the due bounds of this dangerous quality.

Had Buonaparte won at Waterloo, It had been firmness; now 't is pertinacity: Must the event decide between the two?

I leave it to your people of sagacity To draw the line between the false and true, If such can e'er be drawn by man's capacity: My business is with Lady Adeline, Who in her way too was a heroine.

She knew not her own heart; then how should I?

I think not she was then in love with Juan: If so, she would have had the strength to fly The wild sensation, unto her a new one: She merely felt a common sympathy (I will not say it was a false or true one) In him, because she thought he was in danger,-- Her husband's friend, her own, young, and a stranger,

She was, or thought she was, his friend--and this Without the farce of friendship, or romance Of Platonism, which leads so oft amiss Ladies who have studied friendship but in France, Or Germany, where people purely kiss.

To thus much Adeline would not advance; But of such friendship as man's may to man be She was as capable as woman can be.

No doubt the secret influence of the s.e.x Will there, as also in the ties of blood, An innocent predominance annex, And tune the concord to a finer mood.

If free from pa.s.sion, which all friendship checks, And your true feelings fully understood, No friend like to a woman earth discovers, So that you have not been nor will be lovers.

Love bears within its breast the very germ Of change; and how should this be otherwise?

That violent things more quickly find a term Is shown through nature's whole a.n.a.logies; And how should the most fierce of all be firm?

Would you have endless lightning in the skies?

Methinks Love's very t.i.tle says enough: How should 'the tender pa.s.sion' e'er be tough?

Alas! by all experience, seldom yet (I merely quote what I have heard from many) Had lovers not some reason to regret The pa.s.sion which made Solomon a zany.

I 've also seen some wives (not to forget The marriage state, the best or worst of any) Who were the very paragons of wives, Yet made the misery of at least two lives.

I 've also seen some female friends ( 't is odd, But true--as, if expedient, I could prove) That faithful were through thick and thin, abroad, At home, far more than ever yet was Love-- Who did not quit me when Oppression trod Upon me; whom no scandal could remove; Who fought, and fight, in absence, too, my battles, Despite the snake Society's loud rattles.

Whether Don Juan and chaste Adeline Grew friends in this or any other sense, Will be discuss'd hereafter, I opine: At present I am glad of a pretence To leave them hovering, as the effect is fine, And keeps the atrocious reader in suspense; The surest way for ladies and for books To bait their tender, or their tenter, hooks.

Whether they rode, or walk'd, or studied Spanish To read Don Quixote in the original, A pleasure before which all others vanish; Whether their talk was of the kind call'd 'small,'

Or serious, are the topics I must banish To the next Canto; where perhaps I shall Say something to the purpose, and display Considerable talent in my way.

Above all, I beg all men to forbear Antic.i.p.ating aught about the matter: They 'll only make mistakes about the fair, And Juan too, especially the latter.

And I shall take a much more serious air Than I have yet done, in this epic satire.

It is not clear that Adeline and Juan Will fall; but if they do, 't will be their ruin.

But great things spring from little:--Would you think, That in our youth, as dangerous a pa.s.sion As e'er brought man and woman to the brink Of ruin, rose from such a slight occasion, As few would ever dream could form the link Of such a sentimental situation?

You 'll never guess, I 'll bet you millions, milliards-- It all sprung from a harmless game at billiards.

'T is strange,--but true; for truth is always strange; Stranger than fiction; if it could be told, How much would novels gain by the exchange!

How differently the world would men behold!

How oft would vice and virtue places change!

The new world would be nothing to the old, If some Columbus of the moral seas Would show mankind their souls' antipodes.

What 'antres vast and deserts idle' then Would be discover'd in the human soul!

What icebergs in the hearts of mighty men, With self-love in the centre as their pole!

What Anthropophagi are nine of ten Of those who hold the kingdoms in control Were things but only call'd by their right name, Caesar himself would be ashamed of fame.

CANTO THE FIFTEENTH.

Ah!--What should follow slips from my reflection; Whatever follows ne'ertheless may be As _a propos_ of hope or retrospection, As though the lurking thought had follow'd free.

All present life is but an interjection, An 'Oh!' or 'Ah!' of joy or misery, Or a 'Ha! ha!' or 'Bah!'--a yawn, or 'Pooh!'

Of which perhaps the latter is most true.

But, more or less, the whole 's a syncope Or a singultus--emblems of emotion, The grand ant.i.thesis to great ennui, Wherewith we break our bubbles on the ocean,-- That watery outline of eternity, Or miniature at least, as is my notion, Which ministers unto the soul's delight, In seeing matters which are out of sight.

But all are better than the sigh supprest, Corroding in the cavern of the heart, Making the countenance a masque of rest, And turning human nature to an art.

Few men dare show their thoughts of worst or best; Dissimulation always sets apart A corner for herself; and therefore fiction Is that which pa.s.ses with least contradiction.

Ah! who can tell? Or rather, who can not Remember, without telling, pa.s.sion's errors?

The drainer of oblivion, even the sot, Hath got blue devils for his morning mirrors: What though on Lethe's stream he seem to float, He cannot sink his tremors or his terrors; The ruby gla.s.s that shakes within his hand Leaves a sad sediment of Time's worst sand.

And as for love--O love!--We will proceed.

The Lady Adeline Amundeville, A pretty name as one would wish to read, Must perch harmonious on my tuneful quill.

There 's music in the sighing of a reed; There 's music in the gushing of a rill; There 's music in all things, if men had ears: Their earth is but an echo of the spheres.

The Lady Adeline, right honourable; And honour'd, ran a risk of growing less so; For few of the soft s.e.x are very stable In their resolves--alas! that I should say so!

They differ as wine differs from its label, When once decanted;--I presume to guess so, But will not swear: yet both upon occasion, Till old, may undergo adulteration.

But Adeline was of the purest vintage, The unmingled essence of the grape; and yet Bright as a new Napoleon from its mintage, Or glorious as a diamond richly set; A page where Time should hesitate to print age, And for which Nature might forego her debt-- Sole creditor whose process doth involve in 't The luck of finding every body solvent.

O Death! thou dunnest of all duns! thou daily Knockest at doors, at first with modest tap, Like a meek tradesman when, approaching palely, Some splendid debtor he would take by sap: But oft denied, as patience 'gins to fail, he Advances with exasperated rap, And (if let in) insists, in terms unhandsome, On ready money, or 'a draft on Ransom.'

Whate'er thou takest, spare a while poor Beauty!

She is so rare, and thou hast so much prey.

What though she now and then may slip from duty, The more 's the reason why you ought to stay.

Gaunt Gourmand! with whole nations for your booty, You should be civil in a modest way: Suppress, then, some slight feminine diseases, And take as many heroes as Heaven pleases.

Fair Adeline, the more ingenuous Where she was interested (as was said), Because she was not apt, like some of us, To like too readily, or too high bred To show it (points we need not now discuss)-- Would give up artlessly both heart and head Unto such feelings as seem'd innocent, For objects worthy of the sentiment.

Some parts of Juan's history, which Rumour, That live gazette, had scatter'd to disfigure, She had heard; but women hear with more good humour Such aberrations than we men of rigour: Besides, his conduct, since in England, grew more Strict, and his mind a.s.sumed a manlier vigour; Because he had, like Alcibiades, The art of living in all climes with ease.

His manner was perhaps the more seductive, Because he ne'er seem'd anxious to seduce; Nothing affected, studied, or constructive Of c.o.xcombry or conquest: no abuse Of his attractions marr'd the fair perspective, To indicate a Cupidon broke loose, And seem to say, 'Resist us if you can'- Which makes a dandy while it spoils a man.

They are wrong--that 's not the way to set about it; As, if they told the truth, could well be shown.

But, right or wrong, Don Juan was without it; In fact, his manner was his own alone; Sincere he was--at least you could not doubt it, In listening merely to his voice's tone.

The devil hath not in all his quiver's choice An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.