Don Juan

Canto the Sixth

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 Csar'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 s*x 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 s*x, 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 s*x,

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 Dud--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 Dud'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 Dud,

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.

Dud 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 Dud,

Who's quiet, inoffensive, silent, shy,

And will not toss and chatter the night through.

What say you, child?"--Dud 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 Dud, 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.

Dud, 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 _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:--Dud,

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:

Dud 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

Belovd 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 agd--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, Dud?

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 Dud 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.

Dud 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 Dud, who only sighed,

And said, that she was sorry she had cried.

LXXX.

"I've heard of stories of a c**k 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, Dud, 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 Dud, 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--propos."

LXXXV.

As thus Juanna spoke, Dud 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 c**k 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 sss 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 Dud

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 Dud'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 Dud 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.

{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.]

[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.]

_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 Csar's victories_.

{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 Csar, 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.]

[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.]

[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.]

[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.]

[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. Cs_., C. _Cs_. Calig.,

cap, xxx., "Infensus turb faventi adversus studium exclamavit: 'Utinam

populus Romanus unam cervicem haberet!'"]

[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.]

["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.]

[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 Dud 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 matre, elle se promena en long et en large, pour me faire

remarquer sa taille mince et aise. Elle avoit un joli petit pied....

Quand elle a en t son voile elle a prsent mes yeux une beaut

trs-attrayante; ses cheveux toient blonds argents; elle avoit de

grands yeux bleux, le nez un peu long, et les lvres apptissantes. Sa

figure toit rgulire, son teint blanc, dlicat, les joues couvertes

d'un charmant vermilion.... La seconde toit 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.]

{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.]

{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 _Bibliothque Orientale_, 1697, art. "Caf."]

[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

dor et azur 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 prtieux marbre verd qui m'a paru serpentin ou jaspe,

s'levoit directement au milieu, sous le dme.... Je me trouvai la tte

si pleine de _Sophas_ de prtieux plafonds, de meubles superbes, en un

mot, d'une si grande confusion de matriaux magnifiques, ... qu'il

seroit difficile d'en donner une ide claire."--_Voyages_, 1727, i. 220,

222.]

{296}[361] ["Il n'ya point de Religieuses ... point de novices, plus

soumises la volont de leur abbesse que ces filles [les Odaliques] le

sont leurs maitresses."--A. de la Motraye, _Voyages,_ 1727, i. 338.]

[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 _

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.]

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