Don Juan: CANTO THE THIRTEENTH
I
- I now mean to be serious; -- it is time,
- Since laughter now-a-days is deem'd too serious.
- A jest at Vice by Virtue's call'd a crime,
- And critically held as deleterious:
- Besides, the sad's a source of the sublime,
- Although when long a little apt to weary us;
- And therefore shall my lay soar high and solemn,
- As an old temple dwindled to a column.
II
- The Lady Adeline Amundeville
- ('T is an old Norman name, and to be found
- In pedigrees, by those who wander still
- Along the last fields of that Gothic ground)
- Was high-born, wealthy by her father's will,
- And beauteous, even where beauties most abound,
- In Britain -- which of course true patriots find
- The goodliest soil of body and of mind.
III
- I'll not gainsay them; it is not my cue;
- I'll leave them to their taste, no doubt the best:
- An eye's an eye, and whether black or blue,
- Is no great matter, so 't is in request,
- 'T is nonsense to dispute about a hue --
- The kindest may be taken as a test.
- The fair sex should be always fair; and no man,
- Till thirty, should perceive there's a plain woman.
IV
- And after that serene and somewhat dull
- Epoch, that awkward corner turn'd for days
- More quiet, when our moon's no more at full,
- We may presume to criticise or praise;
- Because indifference begins to lull
- Our passions, and we walk in wisdom's ways;
- Also because the figure and the face
- Hint, that 't is time to give the younger place.
V
- I know that some would fain postpone this era,
- Reluctant as all placemen to resign
- Their post; but theirs is merely a chimera,
- For they have pass'd life's equinoctial line:
- But then they have their claret and Madeira
- To irrigate the dryness of decline;
- And county meetings, and the parliament,
- And debt, and what not, for their solace sent.
VI
- And is there not religion, and reform,
- Peace, war, the taxes, and what's call'd the "Nation"?
- The struggle to be pilots in a storm?
- The landed and the monied speculation?
- The joys of mutual hate to keep them warm,
- Instead of love, that mere hallucination?
- Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure;
- Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.
VII
- Rough Johnson, the great moralist, profess'd,
- Right honestly, "he liked an honest hater!" --
- The only truth that yet has been confest
- Within these latest thousand years or later.
- Perhaps the fine old fellow spoke in jest: --
- For my part, I am but a mere spectator,
- And gaze where'er the palace or the hovel is,
- Much in the mode of Goethe's Mephistopheles;
VIII
- But neither love nor hate in much excess;
- Though 't was not once so. If I sneer sometimes,
- It is because I cannot well do less,
- And now and then it also suits my rhymes.
- I should be very willing to redress
- Men's wrongs, and rather check than punish crimes,
- Had not Cervantes, in that too true tale
- Of Quixote, shown how all such efforts fail.
IX
- Of all tales 't is the saddest -- and more sad,
- Because it makes us smile: his hero's right,
- And still pursues the right; -- to curb the bad
- His only object, and 'gainst odds to fight
- His guerdon: 't is his virtue makes him mad!
- But his adventures form a sorry sight;
- A sorrier still is the great moral taught
- By that real epic unto all who have thought.
X
- Redressing injury, revenging wrong,
- To aid the damsel and destroy the caitiff;
- Opposing singly the united strong,
- From foreign yoke to free the helpless native: --
- Alas! must noblest views, like an old song,
- Be for mere fancy's sport a theme creative,
- A jest, a riddle, Fame through thin and thick sought!
- And Socrates himself but Wisdom's Quixote?
XI
- Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away;
- A single laugh demolish'd the right arm
- Of his own country; -- seldom since that day
- Has Spain had heroes. While Romance could charm,
- The world gave ground before her bright array;
- And therefore have his volumes done such harm,
- That all their glory, as a composition,
- Was dearly purchased by his land's perdition.
XII
- I'm "at my old lunes" -- digression, and forget
- The Lady Adeline Amundeville;
- The fair most fatal Juan ever met,
- Although she was not evil nor meant ill;
- But Destiny and Passion spread the net
- (Fate is a good excuse for our own will),
- And caught them; -- what do they not catch, methinks?
- But I'm not Oedipus, and life's a Sphinx.
XIII
- I tell the tale as it is told, nor dare
- To venture a solution: "Davus sum!"
- And now I will proceed upon the pair.
- Sweet Adeline, amidst the gay world's hum,
- Was the Queen-Bee, the glass of all that's fair;
- Whose charms made all men speak, and women dumb.
- The last's a miracle, and such was reckon'd,
- And since that time there has not been a second.
XIV
- Chaste was she, to detraction's desperation,
- And wedded unto one she had loved well --
- A man known in the councils of the nation,
- Cool, and quite English, imperturbable,
- Though apt to act with fire upon occasion,
- Proud of himself and her: the world could tell
- Nought against either, and both seem'd secure --
- She in her virtue, he in his hauteur.
XV
- It chanced some diplomatical relations,
- Arising out of business, often brought
- Himself and Juan in their mutual stations
- Into close contact. Though reserved, nor caught
- By specious seeming, Juan's youth, and patience,
- And talent, on his haughty spirit wrought,
- And form'd a basis of esteem, which ends
- In making men what courtesy calls friends.
XVI
- And thus Lord Henry, who was cautious as
- Reserve and pride could make him, and full slow
- In judging men -- when once his judgment was
- Determined, right or wrong, on friend or foe,
- Had all the pertinacity pride has,
- Which knows no ebb to its imperious flow,
- And loves or hates, disdaining to be guided,
- Because its own good pleasure hath decided.
XVII
- His friendships, therefore, and no less aversions,
- Though oft well founded, which confirm'd but more
- His prepossessions, like the laws of Persians
- And Medes, would ne'er revoke what went before.
- His feelings had not those strange fits, like tertians,
- Of common likings, which make some deplore
- What they should laugh at -- the mere ague still
- Of men's regard, the fever or the chill.
XVIII
- "'T is not in mortals to command success:
- But do you more, Sempronius -- don't deserve it,"
- And take my word, you won't have any less.
- Be wary, watch the time, and always serve it;
- Give gently way, when there's too great a press;
- And for your conscience, only learn to nerve it,
- For, like a racer, or a boxer training,
- 'T will make, if proved, vast efforts without paining.
XIX
- Lord Henry also liked to be superior,
- As most men do, the little or the great;
- The very lowest find out an inferior,
- At least they think so, to exert their state
- Upon: for there are very few things wearier
- Than solitary Pride's oppressive weight,
- Which mortals generously would divide,
- By bidding others carry while they ride.
XX
- In birth, in rank, in fortune likewise equal,
- O'er Juan he could no distinction claim;
- In years he had the advantage of time's sequel;
- And, as he thought, in country much the same --
- Because bold Britons have a tongue and free quill,
- At which all modern nations vainly aim;
- And the Lord Henry was a great debater,
- So that few members kept the house up later.
XXI
- These were advantages: and then he thought --
- It was his foible, but by no means sinister --
- That few or none more than himself had caught
- Court mysteries, having been himself a minister:
- He liked to teach that which he had been taught,
- And greatly shone whenever there had been a stir;
- And reconciled all qualities which grace man,
- Always a patriot, and sometimes a placeman.
XXII
- He liked the gentle Spaniard for his gravity;
- He almost honour'd him for his docility;
- Because, though young, he acquiesced with suavity,
- Or contradicted but with proud humility.
- He knew the world, and would not see depravity
- In faults which sometimes show the soil's fertility,
- If that the weeds o'erlive not the first crop --
- For then they are very difficult to stop.
XXIII
- And then he talk'd with him about Madrid,
- Constantinople, and such distant places;
- Where people always did as they were bid,
- Or did what they should not with foreign graces.
- Of coursers also spake they: Henry rid
- Well, like most Englishmen, and loved the races;
- And Juan, like a true-born Andalusian,
- Could back a horse, as despots ride a Russian.
XXIV
- And thus acquaintance grew, at noble routs,
- And diplomatic dinners, or at other --
- For Juan stood well both with Ins and Outs,
- As in freemasonry a higher brother.
- Upon his talent Henry had no doubts;
- His manner show'd him sprung from a high mother;
- And all men like to show their hospitality
- To him whose breeding matches with his quality.
XXV
- At Blank-Blank Square; -- for we will break no squares
- By naming streets: since men are so censorious,
- And apt to sow an author's wheat with tares,
- Reaping allusions private and inglorious,
- Where none were dreamt of, unto love's affairs,
- Which were, or are, or are to be notorious,
- That therefore do I previously declare,
- Lord Henry's mansion was in Blank-Blank Square.
XXVI
- Also there bin another pious reason [*]
- For making squares and streets anonymous;
- Which is, that there is scarce a single season
- Which doth not shake some very splendid house
- With some slight heart-quake of domestic treason --
- A topic scandal doth delight to rouse:
- Such I might stumble over unawares,
- Unless I knew the very chastest squares.
XXVII
- 'T is true, I might have chosen Piccadilly,
- A place where peccadillos are unknown;
- But I have motives, whether wise or silly,
- For letting that pure sanctuary alone.
- Therefore I name not square, street, place, until I
- Find one where nothing naughty can be shown,
- A vestal shrine of innocence of heart:
- Such are -- but I have lost the London Chart.
XXVIII
- At Henry's mansion then, in Blank-Blank Square,
- Was Juan a recherchè, welcome guest,
- As many other noble scions were;
- And some who had but talent for their crest;
- Or wealth, which is a passport every where;
- Or even mere fashion, which indeed's the best
- Recommendation; and to be well drest
- Will very often supersede the rest.
XXIX
- And since "there's safety in a multitude
- Of counsellors," as Solomon has said,
- Or some one for him, in some sage, grave mood; --
- Indeed we see the daily proof display'd
- In senates, at the bar, in wordy feud,
- Where'er collective wisdom can parade,
- Which is the only cause that we can guess
- Of Britain's present wealth and happiness; --
XXX
- But as "there's safety" grafted in the number
- "Of counsellors" for men, thus for the sex
- A large acquaintance lets not Virtue slumber;
- Or should it shake, the choice will more perplex --
- Variety itself will more encumber.
- 'Midst many rocks we guard more against wrecks;
- And thus with women: howsoe'er it shocks some's
- Self-love, there's safety in a crowd of coxcombs.
XXXI
- But Adeline had not the least occasion
- For such a shield, which leaves but little merit
- To virtue proper, or good education.
- Her chief resource was in her own high spirit,
- Which judged mankind at their due estimation;
- And for coquetry, she disdain'd to wear it:
- Secure of admiration, its impression
- Was faint, as of an every-day possession.
XXXII
- To all she was polite without parade;
- To some she show'd attention of that kind
- Which flatters, but is flattery convey'd
- In such a sort as cannot leave behind
- A trace unworthy either wife or maid; --
- A gentle, genial courtesy of mind,
- To those who were, or pass'd for meritorious,
- Just to console sad glory for being glorious;
XXXIII
- Which is in all respects, save now and then,
- A dull and desolate appendage. Gaze
- Upon the shades of those distinguish'd men
- Who were or are the puppet-shows of praise,
- The praise of persecution; gaze again
- On the most favour'd; and amidst the blaze
- Of sunset halos o'er the laurel-brow'd,
- What can ye recognise? -- a gilded cloud.
XXXIV
- There also was of course in Adeline
- That calm patrician polish in the address,
- Which ne'er can pass the equinoctial line
- Of any thing which nature would express;
- Just as a mandarin finds nothing fine, --
- At least his manner suffers not to guess
- That any thing he views can greatly please.
- Perhaps we have borrow'd this from the Chinese --
XXXV
- Perhaps from Horace: his "Nil admirari"
- Was what he call'd the "Art of Happiness;"
- An art on which the artists greatly vary,
- And have not yet attain'd to much success.
- However, 't is expedient to be wary:
- Indifference certes don't produce distress;
- And rash enthusiasm in good society
- Were nothing but a moral inebriety.
XXXVI
- But Adeline was not indifferent: for
- (Now for a common-place!) beneath the snow,
- As a volcano holds the lava more
- Within -- et cætera. Shall I go on? -- No!
- I hate to hunt down a tired metaphor,
- So let the often-used volcano go.
- Poor thing! How frequently, by me and others,
- It hath been stirr'd up till its smoke quite smothers!
XXXVII
- I'll have another figure in a trice: --
- What say you to a bottle of champagne?
- Frozen into a very vinous ice,
- Which leaves few drops of that immortal rain,
- Yet in the very centre, past all price,
- About a liquid glassful will remain;
- And this is stronger than the strongest grape
- Could e'er express in its expanded shape:
XXXVIII
- 'T is the whole spirit brought to a quintessence;
- And thus the chilliest aspects may concentre
- A hidden nectar under a cold presence.
- And such are many -- though I only meant her
- From whom I now deduce these moral lessons,
- On which the Muse has always sought to enter.
- And your cold people are beyond all price,
- When once you have broken their confounded ice.
XXXIX
- But after all they are a North-West Passage
- Unto the glowing India of the soul;
- And as the good ships sent upon that message
- Have not exactly ascertain'd the Pole
- (Though Parry's efforts look a lucky presage),
- Thus gentlemen may run upon a shoal;
- For if the Pole's not open, but all frost
- (A chance still), 't is a voyage or vessel lost.
XL
- And young beginners may as well commence
- With quiet cruising o'er the ocean woman;
- While those who are not beginners should have sense
- Enough to make for port, ere time shall summon
- With his grey signal-flag; and the past tense,
- The dreary "Fuimus" of all things human,
- Must be declined, while life's thin thread's spun out
- Between the gaping heir and gnawing gout.
XLI
- But heaven must be diverted; its diversion
- Is sometimes truculent -- but never mind:
- The world upon the whole is worth the assertion
- (If but for comfort) that all things are kind:
- And that same devilish doctrine of the Persian,
- Of the two principles, but leaves behind
- As many doubts as any other doctrine
- Has ever puzzled Faith withal, or yoked her in.
XLII
- The English winter -- ending in July,
- To recommence in August -- now was done.
- 'T is the postilion's paradise: wheels fly;
- On roads, east, south, north, west, there is a run.
- But for post-horses who finds sympathy?
- Man's pity's for himself, or for his son,
- Always premising that said son at college
- Has not contracted much more debt than knowledge.
XLIII
- The London winter's ended in July --
- Sometimes a little later. I don't err
- In this: whatever other blunders lie
- Upon my shoulders, here I must aver
- My Muse a glass of Weatherology;
- For parliament is our barometer:
- Let radicals its other acts attack,
- Its sessions form our only almanack.
XLIV
- When its quicksilver's down at zero, -- lo
- Coach, chariot, luggage, baggage, equipage!
- Wheels whirl from Carlton palace to Soho,
- And happiest they who horses can engage;
- The turnpikes glow with dust; and Rotten Row
- Sleeps from the chivalry of this bright age;
- And tradesmen, with long bills and longer faces,
- Sigh -- as the postboys fasten on the traces.
XLV
- They and their bills, "Arcadians both," are left [*]
- To the Greek kalends of another session.
- Alas! to them of ready cash bereft,
- What hope remains? Of hope the full possession,
- Or generous draft, conceded as a gift,
- At a long date -- till they can get a fresh one --
- Hawk'd about at a discount, small or large;
- Also the solace of an overcharge.
XLVI
- But these are trifles. Downward flies my lord,
- Nodding beside my lady in his carriage.
- Away! away! "Fresh horses!" are the word,
- And changed as quickly as hearts after marriage;
- The obsequious landlord hath the change restored;
- The postboys have no reason to disparage
- Their fee; but ere the water'd wheels may hiss hence,
- The ostler pleads too for a reminiscence.
XLVII
- 'T is granted; and the valet mounts the dickey --
- That gentleman of lords and gentlemen;
- Also my lady's gentlewoman, tricky,
- Trick'd out, but modest more than poet's pen
- Can paint, -- "Cosi viaggino i Ricchi!"
- (Excuse a foreign slipslop now and then,
- If but to show I've travell'd; and what's travel,
- Unless it teaches one to quote and cavil?)
XLVIII
- The London winter and the country summer
- Were well nigh over. 'T is perhaps a pity,
- When nature wears the gown that doth become her,
- To lose those best months in a sweaty city,
- And wait until the nightingale grows dumber,
- Listening debates not very wise or witty,
- Ere patriots their true country can remember; --
- But there's no shooting (save grouse) till September.
XLIX
- I've done with my tirade. The world was gone;
- The twice two thousand, for whom earth was made,
- Were vanish'd to be what they call alone --
- That is, with thirty servants for parade,
- As many guests, or more; before whom groan
- As many covers, duly, daily, laid.
- Let none accuse Old England's hospitality --
- Its quantity is but condensed to quality.
L
- Lord Henry and the Lady Adeline
- Departed like the rest of their compeers,
- The peerage, to a mansion very fine;
- The Gothic Babel of a thousand years.
- None than themselves could boast a longer line,
- Where time through heroes and through beauties steers;
- And oaks as olden as their pedigree
- Told of their sires, a tomb in every tree.
LI
- A paragraph in every paper told
- Of their departure: such is modern fame:
- 'T is pity that it takes no farther hold
- Than an advertisement, or much the same;
- When, ere the ink be dry, the sound grows cold.
- The Morning Post was foremost to proclaim --
- "Departure, for his country seat, to-day,
- Lord H. Amundeville and Lady A.
LII
- "We understand the splendid host intends
- To entertain, this autumn, a select
- And numerous party of his noble friends;
- 'Midst whom we have heard, from sources quite correct,
- The Duke of D--- the shooting season spends,
- With many more by rank and fashion deck'd;
- Also a foreigner of high condition,
- The envoy of the secret Russian mission."
LIII
- And thus we see -- who doubts the Morning Post?
- (Whose articles are like the "Thirty-nine,"
- Which those most swear to who believe them most) --
- Our gay Russ Spaniard was ordain'd to shine,
- Deck'd by the rays reflected from his host,
- With those who, Pope says, "greatly daring dine."
- 'T is odd, but true, -- last war the News abounded
- More with these dinners than the kill'd or wounded; --
LIV
- As thus: "On Thursday there was a grand dinner;
- Present, Lords A. B. C." -- Earls, dukes, by name
- Announced with no less pomp than victory's winner:
- Then underneath, and in the very same
- Column; date, "Falmouth. There has lately been here
- The Slap-dash regiment, so well known to fame,
- Whose loss in the late action we regret:
- The vacancies are fill'd up -- see Gazette."
LV
- To Norman Abbey whirl'd the noble pair, --
- An old, old monastery once, and now
- Still older mansion; of a rich and rare
- Mix'd Gothic, such as artists all allow
- Few specimens yet left us can compare
- Withal: it lies perhaps a little low,
- Because the monks preferr'd a hill behind,
- To shelter their devotion from the wind.
LVI
- It stood embosom'd in a happy valley,
- Crown'd by high woodlands, where the Druid oak
- Stood like Caractacus in act to rally
- His host, with broad arms 'gainst the thunderstroke;
- And from beneath his boughs were seen to sally
- The dappled foresters -- as day awoke,
- The branching stag swept down with all his herd,
- To quaff a brook which murmur'd like a bird.
LVII
- Before the mansion lay a lucid lake,
- Broad as transparent, deep, and freshly fed
- By a river, which its soften'd way did take
- In currents through the calmer water spread
- Around: the wildfowl nestled in the brake
- And sedges, brooding in their liquid bed:
- The woods sloped downwards to its brink, and stood
- With their green faces fix'd upon the flood.
LVIII
- Its outlet dash'd into a deep cascade,
- Sparkling with foam, until again subsiding,
- Its shriller echoes -- like an infant made
- Quiet -- sank into softer ripples, gliding
- Into a rivulet; and thus allay'd,
- Pursued its course, now gleaming, and now hiding
- Its windings through the woods; now clear, now blue,
- According as the skies their shadows threw.
LIX
- A glorious remnant of the Gothic pile
- (While yet the church was Rome's) stood half apart
- In a grand arch, which once screen'd many an aisle.
- These last had disappear'd -- a loss to art:
- The first yet frown'd superbly o'er the soil,
- And kindled feelings in the roughest heart,
- Which mourn'd the power of time's or tempest's march,
- In gazing on that venerable arch.
LX
- Within a niche, nigh to its pinnacle,
- Twelve saints had once stood sanctified in stone;
- But these had fallen, not when the friars fell,
- But in the war which struck Charles from his throne,
- When each house was a fortalice, as tell
- The annals of full many a line undone, --
- The gallant cavaliers, who fought in vain
- For those who knew not to resign or reign.
LXI
- But in a higher niche, alone, but crowned,
- The Virgin Mother of the God-born Child,
- With her Son in her blessed arms, look'd round,
- Spared by some chance when all beside was spoil'd;
- She made the earth below seem holy ground.
- This may be superstition, weak or wild,
- But even the faintest relics of a shrine
- Of any worship wake some thoughts divine.
LXII
- A mighty window, hollow in the centre,
- Shorn of its glass of thousand colourings,
- Through which the deepen'd glories once could enter,
- Streaming from off the sun like seraph's wings,
- Now yawns all desolate: now loud, now fainter,
- The gale sweeps through its fretwork, and oft sings
- The owl his anthem, where the silenced quire
- Lie with their hallelujahs quench'd like fire.
LXIII
- But in the noontide of the moon, and when
- The wind is wingéd from one point of heaven,
- There moans a strange unearthly sound, which then
- Is musical -- a dying accent driven
- Through the huge arch, which soars and sinks again.
- Some deem it but the distant echo given
- Back to the night wind by the waterfall,
- And harmonised by the old choral wall:
LXIV
- Others, that some original shape, or form
- Shaped by decay perchance, hath given the power
- (Though less than that of Memnon's statue, warm
- In Egypt's rays, to harp at a fix'd hour)
- To this grey ruin, with a voice to charm.
- Sad, but serene, it sweeps o'er tree or tower;
- The cause I know not, nor can solve; but such
- The fact: -- I've heard it -- once perhaps too much.
LXV
- Amidst the court a Gothic fountain play'd,
- Symmetrical, but deck'd with carvings quaint --
- Strange faces, like to men in masquerade,
- And here perhaps a monster, there a saint:
- The spring gush'd through grim mouths of granite made,
- And sparkled into basins, where it spent
- Its little torrent in a thousand bubbles,
- Like man's vain glory, and his vainer troubles.
LXVI
- The mansion's self was vast and venerable,
- With more of the monastic than has been
- Elsewhere preserved: the cloisters still were stable,
- The cells, too, and refectory, I ween:
- An exquisite small chapel had been able,
- Still unimpair'd, to decorate the scene;
- The rest had been reform'd, replaced, or sunk,
- And spoke more of the baron than the monk.
LXVII
- Huge halls, long galleries, spacious chambers, join'd
- By no quite lawful marriage of the arts,
- Might shock a connoisseur; but when combined,
- Form'd a whole which, irregular in parts,
- Yet left a grand impression on the mind,
- At least of those whose eyes are in their hearts:
- We gaze upon a giant for his stature,
- Nor judge at first if all be true to nature.
LXVIII
- Steel barons, molten the next generation
- To silken rows of gay and garter'd earls,
- Glanced from the walls in goodly preservation;
- And Lady Marys blooming into girls,
- With fair long locks, had also kept their station;
- And countesses mature in robes and pearls:
- Also some beauties of Sir Peter Lely,
- Whose drapery hints we may admire them freely.
LXIX
- Judges in very formidable ermine
- Were there, with brows that did not much invite
- The accused to think their lordships would determine
- His cause by leaning much from might to right:
- Bishops, who had not left a single sermon:
- Attorneys-general, awful to the sight,
- As hinting more (unless our judgments warp us)
- Of the "Star Chamber" than of "Habeas Corpus."
LXX
- Generals, some all in armour, of the old
- And iron time, ere lead had ta'en the lead;
- Others in wigs of Marlborough's martial fold,
- Huger than twelve of our degenerate breed:
- Lordlings, with staves of white or keys of gold:
- Nimrods, whose canvass scarce contain'd the steed;
- And here and there some stern high patriot stood,
- Who could not get the place for which he sued.
LXXI
- But ever and anon, to soothe your vision,
- Fatigued with these hereditary glories,
- There rose a Carlo Dolce or a Titian,
- Or wilder group of savage Salvatore's; [*]
- Here danced Albano's boys, and here the sea shone
- In Vernet's ocean lights; and there the stories
- Of martyrs awed, as Spagnoletto tainted
- His brush with all the blood of all the sainted.
LXXII
- Here sweetly spread a landscape of Lorraine;
- There Rembrandt made his darkness equal light,
- Or gloomy Caravaggio's gloomier stain
- Bronzed o'er some lean and stoic anchorite: --
- But, lo! a Teniers woos, and not in vain,
- Your eyes to revel in a livelier sight:
- His bell-mouth'd goblet makes me feel quite Danish [*]
- Or Dutch with thirst -- What, ho! a flask of Rhenish.
LXXIII
- O reader! if that thou canst read, -- and know,
- 'T is not enough to spell, or even to read,
- To constitute a reader; there must go
- Virtues of which both you and I have need; --
- Firstly, begin with the beginning (though
- That clause is hard); and secondly, proceed;
- Thirdly, commence not with the end -- or, sinning
- In this sort, end at least with the beginning.
LXXIV
- But, reader, thou hast patient been of late,
- While I, without remorse of rhyme, or fear,
- Have built and laid out ground at such a rate,
- Dan Phoebus takes me for an auctioneer.
- That poets were so from their earliest date,
- By Homer's "Catalogue of ships" is clear;
- But a mere modern must be moderate --
- I spare you then the furniture and plate.
LXXV
- The mellow autumn came, and with it came
- The promised party, to enjoy its sweets.
- The corn is cut, the manor full of game;
- The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats
- In russet jacket: -- lynx-like is his aim;
- Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats.
- Ah, nut-brown partridges! Ah, brilliant pheasants!
- And ah, ye poachers! -- 'T is no sport for peasants.
LXXVI
- An English autumn, though it hath no vines,
- Blushing with Bacchant coronals along
- The paths, o'er which the far festoon entwines
- The red grape in the sunny lands of song,
- Hath yet a purchased choice of choicest wines;
- The claret light, and the Madeira strong.
- If Britain mourn her bleakness, we can tell her,
- The very best of vineyards is the cellar.
LXXVII
- Then, if she hath not that serene decline
- Which makes the southern autumn's day appear
- As if 't would to a second spring resign
- The season, rather than to winter drear,
- Of in-door comforts still she hath a mine, --
- The sea-coal fires the "earliest of the year;"
- Without doors, too, she may compete in mellow,
- As what is lost in green is gain'd in yellow.
LXXVIII
- And for the effeminate villeggiatura --
- Rife with more horns than hounds -- she hath the chase,
- So animated that it might allure
- Saint from his beads to join the jocund race;
- Even Nimrod's self might leave the plains of Dura, [*]
- And wear the Melton jacket for a space:
- If she hath no wild boars, she hath a tame
- Preserve of bores, who ought to be made game.
LXXIX
- The noble guests, assembled at the Abbey,
- Consisted of -- we give the sex the pas --
- The Duchess of Fitz-Fulke; the Countess Crabby;
- The Ladies Scilly, Busey; -- Miss Eclat,
- Miss Bombazeen, Miss Mackstay, Miss O'Tabby,
- And Mrs. Rabbi, the rich banker's squaw;
- Also the honourable Mrs. Sleep,
- Who look'd a white lamb, yet was a black sheep:
LXXX
- With other Countesses of Blank -- but rank;
- At once the "lie" and the "élite" of crowds;
- Who pass like water filter'd in a tank,
- All purged and pious from their native clouds;
- Or paper turn'd to money by the Bank:
- No matter how or why, the passport shrouds
- The "passée" and the past; for good society
- Is no less famed for tolerance than piety, --
LXXXI
- That is, up to a certain point; which point
- Forms the most difficult in punctuation.
- Appearances appear to form the joint
- On which it hinges in a higher station;
- And so that no explosion cry "Aroint
- Thee, witch!" or each Medea has her Jason;
- Or (to the point with Horace and with Pulci)
- "Omne tulit punctum, quæ miscuit utile dulci."
LXXXII
- I can't exactly trace their rule of right,
- Which hath a little leaning to a lottery.
- I've seen a virtuous woman put down quite
- By the mere combination of a coterie;
- Also a so-so matron boldly fight
- Her way back to the world by dint of plottery,
- And shine the very Siria of the spheres, [*]
- Escaping with a few slight, scarless sneers.
LXXXIII
- I have seen more than I'll say: -- but we will see
- How our villeggiatura will get on.
- The party might consist of thirty-three
- Of highest caste -- the Brahmins of the ton.
- I have named a few, not foremost in degree,
- But ta'en at hazard as the rhyme may run.
- By way of sprinkling, scatter'd amongst these,
- There also were some Irish absentees.
LXXXIV
- There was Parolles, too, the legal bully,
- Who limits all his battles to the bar
- And senate: when invited elsewhere, truly,
- He shows more appetite for words than war.
- There was the young bard Rackrhyme, who had newly
- Come out and glimmer'd as a six weeks' star.
- There was Lord Pyrrho, too, the great freethinker;
- And Sir John Pottledeep, the mighty drinker.
LXXXV
- There was the Duke of Dash, who was a -- duke,
- "Ay, every inch a" duke; there were twelve peers
- Like Charlemagne's -- and all such peers in look
- And intellect, that neither eyes nor ears
- For commoners had ever them mistook.
- There were the six Miss Rawbolds -- pretty dears!
- All song and sentiment; whose hearts were set
- Less on a convent than a coronet.
LXXXVI
- There were four Honourable Misters, whose
- Honour was more before their names than after;
- There was the preux Chevalier de la Ruse,
- Whom France and Fortune lately deign'd to waft here,
- Whose chiefly harmless talent was to amuse;
- But the clubs found it rather serious laughter,
- Because -- such was his magic power to please --
- The dice seem'd charm'd, too, with his repartees.
LXXXVII
- There was Dick Dubious, the metaphysician,
- Who loved philosophy and a good dinner;
- Angle, the soi-disant mathematician;
- Sir Henry Silvercup, the great race-winner.
- There was the Reverend Rodomont Precisian,
- Who did not hate so much the sin as sinner;
- And Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet,
- Good at all things, but better at a bet.
LXXXVIII
- There was jack jargon, the gigantic guardsman;
- And General Fireface, famous in the field,
- A great tactician, and no less a swordsman,
- Who ate, last war, more Yankees than he kill'd.
- There was the waggish Welsh Judge, Jefferies Hardsman,
- In his grave office so completely skill'd,
- That when a culprit came far condemnation,
- He had his judge's joke for consolation.
LXXXIX
- Good company's a chess-board -- there are kings,
- Queens, bishops, knights, rooks, pawns; the world's a game;
- Save that the puppets pull at their own strings,
- Methinks gay Punch hath something of the same.
- My Muse, the butterfly hath but her wings,
- Not stings, and flits through ether without aim,
- Alighting rarely: -- were she but a hornet,
- Perhaps there might be vices which would mourn it.
XC
- I had forgotten -- but must not forget --
- An orator, the latest of the session,
- Who had deliver'd well a very set
- Smooth speech, his first and maidenly transgression
- Upon debate: the papers echoed yet
- With his début, which made a strong impression,
- And rank'd with what is every day display'd --
- "The best first speech that ever yet was made."
XCI
- Proud of his "Hear hims!" proud, too, of his vote
- And lost virginity of oratory,
- Proud of his learning (just enough to quote),
- He revell'd in his Ciceronian glory:
- With memory excellent to get by rote,
- With wit to hatch a pun or tell a story,
- Graced with some merit, and with more effrontery,
- "His country's pride," he came down to the country.
XCII
- There also were two wits by acclamation,
- Longbow from Ireland, Strongbow from the Tweed,
- Both lawyers and both men of education;
- But Strongbow's wit was of more polish'd breed:
- Longbow was rich in an imagination
- As beautiful and bounding as a steed,
- But sometimes stumbling over a potato, --
- While Strongbow's best things might have come from Cato.
XCIII
- Strongbow was like a new-tuned harpsichord;
- But Longbow wild as an Æolian harp,
- With which the winds of heaven can claim accord,
- And make a music, whether flat or sharp.
- Of Strongbow's talk you would not change a word:
- At Longbow's phrases you might sometimes carp:
- Both wits -- one born so, and the other bred --
- This by his heart, his rival by his head.
XCIV
- If all these seem a heterogeneous mass
- To be assembled at a country seat,
- Yet think, a specimen of every class
- Is better than a humdrum tete-a-tete.
- The days of Comedy are gone, alas!
- When Congreve's fool could vie with Molière's bête:
- Society is smooth'd to that excess,
- That manners hardly differ more than dress.
XCV
- Our ridicules are kept in the back-ground --
- Ridiculous enough, but also dull;
- Professions, too, are no more to be found
- Professional; and there is nought to cull
- Of folly's fruit; for though your fools abound,
- They're barren, and not worth the pains to pull.
- Society is now one polish'd horde,
- Form'd of two mighty tribes, the Bores and Bored.
XCVI
- But from being farmers, we turn gleaners, gleaning
- The scanty but right-well thresh'd ears of truth;
- And, gentle reader! when you gather meaning,
- You may be Boaz, and I -- modest Ruth.
- Farther I'd quote, but Scripture intervening
- Forbids. A great impression in my youth
- Was made by Mrs. Adams, where she cries,
- "That Scriptures out of church are blasphemies." [*]
XCVII
- But what we can we glean in this vile age
- Of chaff, although our gleanings be not grist.
- I must not quite omit the talking sage,
- Kit-Cat, the famous Conversationist,
- Who, in his common-place book, had a page
- Prepared each morn for evenings. "List, oh, list!" --
- "Alas, poor ghost!" -- What unexpected woes
- Await those who have studied their bons-mots!
XCVIII
- Firstly, they must allure the conversation
- By many windings to their clever clinch;
- And secondly, must let slip no occasion,
- Nor bate (abate) their hearers of an inch,
- But take an ell -- and make a great sensation,
- If possible; and thirdly, never flinch
- When some smart talker puts them to the test,
- But seize the last word, which no doubt's the best.
XCIX
- Lord Henry and his lady were the hosts;
- The party we have touch'd on were the guests:
- Their table was a board to tempt even ghosts
- To pass the Styx for more substantial feasts.
- I will not dwell upon ragoûts or roasts,
- Albeit all human history attests
- That happiness for man -- the hungry sinner! --
- Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner.
C
- Witness the lands which "flow'd with milk and honey,"
- Held out unto the hungry Israelites;
- To this we have added since, the love of money,
- The only sort of pleasure which requites.
- Youth fades, and leaves our days no longer sunny;
- We tire of mistresses and parasites;
- But oh, ambrosial cash! Ah! who would lose thee?
- When we no more can use, or even abuse thee!
CI
- The gentlemen got up betimes to shoot,
- Or hunt: the young, because they liked the sport --
- The first thing boys like after play and fruit;
- The middle-aged to make the day more short;
- For ennui is a growth of English root,
- Though nameless in our language: -- we retort
- The fact for words, and let the French translate
- That awful yawn which sleep can not abate.
CII
- The elderly walk'd through the library,
- And tumbled books, or criticised the pictures,
- Or saunter'd through the gardens piteously,
- And made upon the hot-house several strictures,
- Or rode a nag which trotted not too high,
- Or on the morning papers read their lectures,
- Or on the watch their longing eyes would fix,
- Longing at sixty for the hour of six.
CIII
- But none were "gêné:" the great hour of union
- Was rung by dinner's knell; till then all were
- Masters of their own time -- or in communion,
- Or solitary, as they chose to bear
- The hours, which how to pass is but to few known.
- Each rose up at his own, and had to spare
- What time he chose for dress, and broke his fast
- When, where, and how he chose for that repast.
CIV
- The ladies -- some rouged, some a little pale --
- Met the morn as they might. If fine, they rode,
- Or walk'd; if foul, they read, or told a tale,
- Sung, or rehearsed the last dance from abroad;
- Discuss'd the fashion which might next prevail,
- And settled bonnets by the newest code,
- Or cramm'd twelve sheets into one little letter,
- To make each correspondent a new debtor.
CV
- For some had absent lovers, all had friends.
- The earth has nothing like a she epistle,
- And hardly heaven -- because it never ends.
- I love the mystery of a female missal,
- Which, like a creed, ne'er says all it intends,
- But full of cunning as Ulysses' whistle,
- When he allured poor Dolon: -- you had better
- Take care what you reply to such a letter.
CVI
- Then there were billiards; cards, too, but no dice; --
- Save in the clubs no man of honour plays; --
- Boats when 't was water, skating when 't was ice,
- And the hard frost destroy'd the scenting days:
- And angling, too, that solitary vice,
- Whatever Izaak Walton sings or says;
- The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet
- Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it. [*]
CVII
- With evening came the banquet and the wine;
- The conversazione; the duet,
- Attuned by voices more or less divine
- (My heart or head aches with the memory yet).
- The four Miss Rawbolds in a glee would shine;
- But the two youngest loved more to be set
- Down to the harp -- because to music's charms
- They added graceful necks, white hands and arms.
CVIII
- Sometimes a dance (though rarely on field days,
- For then the gentlemen were rather tired)
- Display'd some sylph-like figures in its maze;
- Then there was small-talk ready when required;
- Flirtation -- but decorous; the mere praise
- Of charms that should or should not be admired.
- The hunters fought their fox-hunt o'er again,
- And then retreated soberly -- at ten.
CIX
- The politicians, in a nook apart,
- Discuss'd the world, and settled all the spheres;
- The wits watch'd every loophole for their art,
- To introduce a bon-mot head and ears;
- Small is the rest of those who would be smart,
- A moment's good thing may have cost them years
- Before they find an hour to introduce it;
- And then, even then, some bore may make them lose it.
CX
- But all was gentle and aristocratic
- In this our party; polish'd, smooth, and cold,
- As Phidian forms cut out of marble Attic.
- There now are no Squire Westerns as of old;
- And our Sophias are not so emphatic,
- But fair as then, or fairer to behold.
- We have no accomplish'd blackguards, like Tom Jones,
- But gentlemen in stays, as stiff as stones.
CXI
- They separated at an early hour;
- That is, ere midnight -- which is London's noon:
- But in the country ladies seek their bower
- A little earlier than the waning moon.
- Peace to the slumbers of each folded flower --
- May the rose call back its true colour soon!
- Good hours of fair cheeks are the fairest tinters,
- And lower the price of rouge -- at least some winters.