Don Juan
Page 26
‘Farewell!’ they mutually exclaimed. ‘This soil
Seems fertile in adventures strange and new;
One’s turned half Mussulman, and one a maid,
By this old black enchanter’s unsought aid.’
84
‘Farewell, ’ said Juan, ‘should we meet no more,
I wish you a good appetite.’ ‘Farewell, ’
Replied the other, ‘though it grieves me sore.
When we next meet, we’ll have a tale to tell.
We needs must follow when Fate puts from shore.
Keep your good name, though Eve herself once fell.’
‘Nay, ’ quoth the maid, ‘the Sultan’s self shan’t carry me,
Unless His Highness promises to marry me.’
85
And thus they parted, each by separate doors.
Baba led Juan onward room by room
Through glittering galleries and o’er marble floors,
Till a gigantic portal through the gloom,
Haughty and huge, along the distance lowers;
And wafted far arose a rich perfume.
It seemed as though they came upon a shrine,
For all was vast, still, fragrant, and divine.
86
The giant door was broad and bright and high,
Of gilded bronze and carved in curious guise.
Warriors thereon were battling furiously;
Here stalks the victor, there the vanquished lies;
There captives led in triumph droop the eye;
And in perspective many a squadron flies.
It seems the work of times before the line
Of Rome transplanted fell with Constantine.
87
This massy portal stood at the wide close
Of a huge hall, and on its either side
Two little dwarfs, the least you could suppose,
Were sate like ugly imps, as if allied
In mockery to the enormous gate which rose
O’er them in almost pyramidic pride.
The gate so splendid was in all its features,
You never thought about those little creatures,
88
Until you nearly trod on them, and then
You started back in horror to survey
The wondrous hideousness of those small men,
Whose colour was not black nor white nor grey,
But an extraneous mixture, which no pen
Can trace, although perhaps the pencil may.
They were misshapen pygmies, deaf and dumb
Monsters, who cost a no less monstrous sum.
89
Their duty was – for they were strong and though
They looked so little, did strong things at times –
To ope this door, which they could really do
(The hinges being as smooth as Rogers’ rhymes),
And now and then with tough strings of the bow,
As is the custom of those eastern climes,
To give some rebel pasha a cravat,
For mutes are generally used for that.
90
They spoke by signs, that is, not spoke at all,
And looking like two incubi, they glared
As Baba with his fingers made them fall
To heaving back the portal folds. It scared
Juan a moment, as this pair so small,
With shrinking serpent optics on him stared;
It was as if their little looks could poison
Or fascinate whome’er they fixed their eyes on.
91
Before they entered, Baba paused to hint
To Juan some slight lessons as his guide.
‘If you could just contrive, ’ he said, ‘to stint
That somewhat manly majesty of stride,
’Twould be as well, and (though there’s not much in’t)
To swing a little less from side to side,
Which has at times an aspect of the oddest;
And also could you look a little modest,
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‘’Twould be convenient, for these mutes have eyes
Like needles, which may pierce those petticoats;
And if they should discover your disguise,
You know how near us the deep Bosphorus floats,
And you and I may chance ere morning rise,
To find our way to Marmora without boats,
Stitched up in sacks, a mode of navigation
A good deal practised here upon occasion.’
93
With this encouragement, he led the way
Into a room still nobler than the last.
A rich confusion formed a disarray
In such sort that the eye along it cast
Could hardly carry anything away –
Object on object flashed so bright and fast,
A dazzling mass of gems and gold and glitter,
Magnificently mingled in a litter.
94
Wealth had done wonders, taste not much. Such things
Occur in orient palaces and even
In the more chastened domes of western kings
(Of which I have also seen some six or seven),
Where I can’t say or gold or diamond flings
Great lustre. There is much to be forgiven:
Groups of bad statues, tables, chairs, and pictures,
On which I cannot pause to make my strictures.
95
In this imperial hall at distance lay
Under a canopy and there reclined
Quite in a confidential queenly way,
A lady. Baba stopped and kneeling signed
To Juan, who though not much used to pray,
Knelt down by instinct, wondering in his mind
What all this meant, while Baba bowed and bended
His head, until the ceremony ended.
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The lady, rising up with such an air
As Venus rose with from the wave, on them
Bent like an antelope a Paphian pair
Of eyes, which put out each surrounding gem,
And raising up an arm, as moonlight fair,
She signed to Baba, who first kissed the hem
Of her deep purple robe, and speaking low,
Pointed to Juan, who remained below.
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Her presence was as lofty as her state;
Her beauty of that overpowering kind,
Whose force description only would abate.
I’d rather leave it much to your own mind
Than lessen it by what I could relate
Of forms and features. It would strike you blind
Could I do justice to the full detail;
So, luckily for both, my phrases fail.
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This much however I may add: her years
Were ripe, they might make six and twenty springs,
But there are forms which Time to touch forbears
And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things,
Such as was Mary’s, Queen of Scots. True, tears
And love destroy, and sapping sorrow wrings
Charms from the charmer, yet some never grow
Ugly, for instance, Ninon de l’Enclos.
99
She spake some words to her attendants, who
Composed a choir of girls, ten or a dozen,
And were all clad alike; like Juan too,
Who wore their uniform, by Baba chosen.
They formed a very nymph-like looking crew,
Which might have called Diana’s chorus ‘cousin’,
As far as outward show may correspond;
I won’t be bail for anything beyond.
1OO
They bowed obeisance and withdrew, retiring,
But not by the same door through which came in
Baba and Juan, which last stood admiring
At some small distance all he saw within
This strange saloo
n, much fitted for inspiring
Marvel and praise, for both or none things win.
And I must say, I ne’er could see the very
Great happiness of the nil admirari.
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‘Not to admire is all the art I know’
(Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech)
‘To make men happy, or to keep them so’
(So take it in the very words of Creech).
Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago,
And thus Pope quotes the precept to re-teach
From his translation, but had none admired,
Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired?
102
Baba, when all the damsels were withdrawn,
Motioned to Juan to approach and then
A second time desired him to kneel down
And kiss the lady’s foot, which maxim when
He heard repeated, Juan with a frown
Drew himself up to his full height again
And said it grieved him, but he could not stoop
To any shoe, unless it shod the Pope.
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Baba, indignant at this ill-timed pride,
Made fierce remonstrances, and then a threat
He muttered (but the last was given aside)
About a bowstring – quite in vain. Not yet
Would Juan bend, though ‘twere to Mahomet’s bride.
There’s nothing in the world like etiquette
In kingly chambers or imperial halls,
As also at the race and county balls.
104
He stood like Atlas, with a world of words
About his ears, and nathless would not bend.
The blood of all his line’s Castilian lords
Boiled in his veins, and rather than descend
To stain his pedigree, a thousand swords
A thousand times of him had made an end.
At length perceiving the ‘foot’ could not stand,
Baba proposed that he should kiss the hand.
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Here was an honourable compromise,
A halfway house of diplomatic rest,
Where they might meet in much more peaceful guise;
And Juan now his willingness exprest
To use all fit and proper courtesies,
Adding that this was commonest and best,
For through the South the custom still commands
The gentleman to kiss the lady’s hands.
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And he advanced, though with but a bad grace,
Though on more thoroughbred or fairer fingers
No lips e’er left their transitory trace.
On such as these the lip too fondly lingers
And for one kiss would fain imprint a brace,
As you will see, if she you love shall bring hers
In contact. And sometimes even a fair stranger’s
An almost twelvemonth’s constancy endangers.
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The lady eyed him o’er and o’er and bade
Baba retire, which he obeyed in style,
As if well used to the retreating trade;
And taking hints in good part all the while,
He whispered Juan not to be afraid,
And looking on him with a sort of smile,
Took leave, with such a face of satisfaction,
As good men wear who have done a virtuous action.
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When he was gone, there was a sudden change.
I know not what might be the lady’s thought,
But o’er her bright brow flashed a tumult strange,
And into her clear cheek the blood was brought,
Blood-red as sunset summer clouds which range
The verge of heaven; and in her large eyes wrought
A mixture of sensations might be scanned,
Of half voluptuousness and half command.
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Her form had all the softness of her sex,
Her features all the sweetness of the devil,
When he put on the cherub to perplex
Eve and paved (God knows how) the road to evil.
The sun himself was scarce more free from specks
Than she from aught at which the eye could cavil;
Yet somehow there was something somewhere wanting,
As if she rather ordered than was granting.
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Something imperial or imperious threw
A chain o’er all she did; that is, a chain
Was thrown as ‘twere about the neck of you.
And rapture’s self will seem almost a pain
With aught which looks like despotism in view.
Our souls at least are free, and ‘tis in vain
We would against them make the flesh obey;
The spirit in the end will have its way.
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Her very smile was haughty, though so sweet;
Her very nod was not an inclination.
There was a self-will even in her small feet,
As though they were quite conscious of her station;
They trod as upon necks. And to complete
Her state (it is the custom of her nation),
A poniard decked her girdle, as the sign
She was a sultan’s bride (thank heaven, not mine).
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‘To hear and to obey’ had been from birth
The law of all around her; to fulfil
All phantasies which yielded joy or mirth
Had been her slaves’ chief pleasure, as her will.
Her blood was high, her beauty scarce of earth;
Judge then if her caprices e’er stood still.
Had she but been a Christian, I’ve a notion
We should have found out the perpetual motion.
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Whate’er she saw and coveted was brought;
Whate’er she did not see, if she supposed
It might be seen, with diligence was sought,
And when ’twas found straightway the bargain closed.
There was no end unto the things she bought,
Nor to the trouble which her fancies caused.
Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
The women pardoned all except her face.
114
Juan, the latest of her whims, had caught
Her eye in passing on his way to sale.
She ordered him directly to be bought,
And Baba, who had ne’er been known to fail
In any kind of mischief to be wrought,
At all such auctions knew how to prevail.
She had no prudence, but he had; and this
Explains the garb which Juan took amiss.
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His youth and features favoured the disguise,
And should you ask how she, a sultan’s bride,
Could risk or compass such strange phantasies,
This I must leave sultanas to decide.
Emperors are only husbands in wives’ eyes,
And kings and consorts oft are mystified,
As we may ascertain with due precision,
Some by experience, others by tradition.
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But to the main point, where we have been tending.
She now conceived all difficulties past
And deemed herself extremely condescending
When, being made her property at last,
Without more preface, in her blue eyes blending
Passion and power, a glance on him she cast,
And merely saying, ‘Christian, canst thou love?’
Conceived that phrase was quite enough to move.
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And so it was, in proper time and place;
But Juan, who had still his mind o’erflowing
With Haidée’s isle and soft Ionian face,
Felt the warm blood, which in his face was glowing,
Rush back upon his hear
t, which filled apace,
And left his cheeks as pale as snowdrops blowing.
These words went through his soul like Arab spears,
So that he spoke not, but burst into tears.
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She was a good deal shocked; not shocked at tears,
For women shed and use them at their liking.
But there is something when man’s eye appears
Wet, still more disagreeable and striking.
A woman’s teardrop melts, a man’s half sears
Like molten lead, as if you thrust a pike in
His heart to force it out, for (to be shorter)
To them ‘tis a relief, to us a torture.
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And she would have consoled, but knew not how;
Having no equals, nothing which had e’er
Infected her with sympathy till now,
And never having dreamt what ‘twas to bear
Aught of a serious sorrowing kind, although
There might arise some pouting petty care
To cross her brow, she wondered how so near
Her eyes another’s eye could shed a tear.
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But nature teaches more than power can spoil;
And when a strong although a strange sensation
Moves, female hearts are such a genial soil
For kinder feelings, whatsoe’er their nation,
They naturally pour the ‘wine and oil’,
Samaritans in every situation.
And thus Gulbeyaz, though she knew not why,
Felt an odd glistening moisture in her eye.
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But tears must stop like all things else; and soon
Juan, who for an instant had been moved
To such a sorrow by the intrusive tone
Of one who dared to ask if he had loved,
Called back the stoic to his eyes, which shone
Bright with the very weakness he reproved.
And although sensitive to beauty, he
Felt most indignant still at not being free.
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Gulbeyaz, for the first time in her days,
Was much embarrassed, never having met
In all her life with aught save prayers and praise;
And as she also risked her life to get
Him whom she meant to tutor in love’s ways
Into a comfortable tête à tête,
To lose the hour would make her quite a martyr,
And they had wasted now almost a quarter.
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I also would suggest the fitting time
To gentlemen in any such like case,
That is to say, in a meridian clime
(With us there is more law given to the chase),
But here a small delay forms a great crime.
So recollect that the extremest grace
Is just two minutes for your declaration;
A moment more would hurt your reputation.
124
Juan’s was good and might have been still better,