Don Juan

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by Lord George Gordon Byron


  Battles to the command, Field Marshal Suvaroff.

  40

  The letter of the Prince to the same Marshal

  Was worthy of a Spartan, had the cause

  Been one to which a good heart could be partial,

  Defence of freedom, country, or of laws;

  But as it was mere lust of power to o’erarch all

  With its proud brow, it merits slight applause,

  Save for its style, which said all in a trice,

  ‘You will take Ismail at whatever price.’

  41

  ‘Let there be light, ’ said God, and there was light!

  ‘Let there be blood, ’ says man, and there’s a sea!

  The fiat of this spoiled child of the night

  (For day ne’er saw his merits) could decree

  More evil in an hour than thirty bright

  Summers could renovate, though they should be

  Lovely as those which ripened Eden’s fruit,

  For war cuts up not only branch, but root.

  42

  Our friends the Turks, who with loud ‘Allahs’ now

  Began to signalize the Russ retreat,

  Were damnably mistaken. Few are slow

  In thinking that their enemy is beat

  (Or beaten if you insist on grammar, though

  I never think about it in a heat),

  But here I say the Turks were much mistaken,

  Who hating hogs, yet wished to save their bacon.

  43

  For on the sixteenth at full gallop drew

  In sight two horsemen, who were deemed Cossacks

  For some time, till they came in nearer view.

  They had but little baggage at their backs,

  For there were but three shirts between the two;

  But on they rode upon two Ukraine hacks,

  Till in approaching were at length descried

  In this plain pair, Suwarrow and his guide.

  44

  ‘Great joy to London now!’ says some great fool

  When London had a grand illumination,

  Which to that bottle-conjurer, John Bull,

  Is of all dreams the first hallucination.

  So that the streets of coloured lamps are full,

  That sage (said John) surrenders at discretion

  His purse, his soul, his sense, and even his nonsense

  To gratify like a huge moth this one sense.

  45

  ’Tis strange that he should further ‘damn his eyes’,

  For they are damned. That once all famous oath

  Is to the devil now no further prize,

  Since John has lately lost the use of both.

  Debt he calls wealth, and taxes, paradise;

  And Famine with her gaunt and bony growth,

  Which stare him in the face, he won’t examine,

  Or swears that Ceres hath begotten famine.

  46

  But to the tale. Great joy unto the camp!

  To Russian, Tartar, English, French, Cossack,

  O’er whom Suwarrow shone like a gas lamp,

  Presaging a most luminous attack;

  Or like a wisp along the marsh so damp,

  Which leads beholders on a boggy walk,

  He flitted to and fro a dancing light,

  Which all who saw it followed, wrong or right.

  47

  But certes matters took a different face.

  There was enthusiasm and much applause;

  The fleet and camp saluted with great grace

  And all presaged good fortune to their cause.

  Within a cannon shot length of the place

  They drew, constructed ladders, repaired flaws

  In former works, made new, prepared fascines

  And all kinds of benevolent machines.

  48

  ’Tis thus the spirit of a single mind

  Makes that of multitudes take one direction,

  As roll the waters to the breathing wind,

  Or roams the herd beneath the bull’s protection,

  Or as a little dog will lead the blind,

  Or a bellwether form the flock’s connexion

  By tinkling sounds when they go forth to victual;

  Such is the sway of your great men o’er little.

  49

  The whole camp rung with joy; you would have thought

  That they were going to a marriage feast.

  (This metaphor, I think, holds good as aught,

  Since there is discord after both at least.)

  There was not now a luggage boy but sought

  Danger and spoil with ardour much increased.

  And why? Because a little, odd, old man,

  Stript to his shirt, was come to lead the van.

  50

  But so it was, and every preparation

  Was made with all alacrity. The first

  Detachment of three columns took its station

  And waited but the signal’s voice to burst

  Upon the foe. The second’s ordination

  Was also in three columns with a thirst

  For glory gaping o’er a sea of slaughter.

  The third in columns two attacked by water.

  51

  New batteries were erected, and was held

  A general council, in which unanimity,

  That stranger to most councils, here prevailed,

  As sometimes happens in a great extremity.

  And every difficulty being dispelled,

  Glory began to dawn with due sublimity,

  While Suvaroff, determined to obtain it,

  Was teaching his recruits to use the bayonet.

  52

  It is an actual fact that he, commander

  In chief, in proper person deigned to drill

  The awkward squad and could afford to squander

  His time, a corporal’s duty to fulfil.

  Just as you’d break a sucking salamander

  To swallow flame and never take it ill,

  He showed them how to mount a ladder (which

  Was not like Jacob’s) or to cross a ditch.

  53

  Also he dressed up, for the nonce, fascines

  Like men with turbans, scimitars and dirks,

  And made them charge with bayonet these machines

  By way of lesson against actual Turks.

  And when well practised in these mimic scenes,

  He judged them proper to assail the works,

  At which your wise men sneered in phrases witty;

  He made no answer, but he took the city.

  54

  Most things were in this posture on the eve

  Of the assault, and all the camp was in

  A stern repose, which you would scarce conceive.

  Yet men resolved to dash through thick and thin

  Are very silent when they once believe

  That all is settled. There was little din,

  For some were thinking of their home and friends,

  And others of themselves and latter ends.

  55

  Suwarrow chiefly was on the alert,

  Surveying, drilling, ordering, jesting, pondering;

  For the man was, we safely may assert,

  A thing to wonder at beyond most wondering –

  Hero, buffoon, half-demon and half-dirt,

  Praying, instructing, desolating, plundering,

  Now Mars, now Momus, and when bent to storm

  A fortress, Harlequin in uniform.

  56

  The day before the assault, while upon drill

  (For this great conqueror played the corporal),

  Some Cossacks hovering like hawks round a hill

  Had met a party towards the twilight’s fall,

  One of whom spoke their tongue or well or ill

  (’Twas much that he was understood at all),

  But whether from his voice or speech or manner,

  They found t
hat he had fought beneath their banner.

  57

  Whereon immediately at his request

  They brought him and his comrades to headquarters.

  Their dress was Moslem, but you might have guessed

  That these were merely masquerading Tartars

  And that beneath each Turkish-fashioned vest

  Lurked Christianity, which sometimes barters

  Her inward grace for outward show and makes

  It difficult to shun some strange mistakes.

  58

  Suwarrow, who was standing in his shirt

  Before a company of Calmucks, drilling,

  Exclaiming, fooling, swearing at the inert,

  And lecturing on the noble art of killing –

  For deeming human clay but common dirt,

  This great philosopher was thus instilling

  His maxims, which to martial comprehension

  Proved death in battle equal to a pension –

  59

  Suwarrow, when he saw this company

  Of Cossacks and their prey, turned round and cast

  Upon them his stern brow and piercing eye.

  ‘Whence come ye?’ ‘From Constantinople last,

  Captives just now escaped, ’ was the reply.

  ‘What are ye?’ ‘What you see us.’ Briefly past

  This dialogue, for he who answered knew

  To whom he spoke and made his words but few.

  60

  ‘Your names?’ ‘Mine’s Johnson, and my comrade’s Juan,

  The other two are women, and the third

  Is neither man nor woman.’ The Chief threw on

  The party a slight glance, then said, ‘I have heard

  Your name before, the second is a new one.

  To bring the other three here was absurd,

  But let that pass. I think I have heard your name

  In the Nikolaiew regiment?’ ‘The same.’

  61

  ‘You served at Widdin?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘You led the attack?’

  ‘I did.’ ‘What next?’ ‘I really hardly know.’

  ‘You were the first i’ the breach?’ ‘I was not slack

  At least to follow those who might be so.’

  ‘What followed?’ ‘A shot laid me on my back,

  And I became a prisoner to the foe.’

  ‘You shall have vengeance, for the town surrounded

  Is twice as strong as that where you were wounded.

  62

  ‘Where will you serve?’ ‘Where’er you please.’ ‘I know

  You like to be the hope of the forlorn

  And doubtless would be foremost on the foe

  After the hardships you’ve already borne.

  And this young fellow, say what can he do,

  He with the beardless chin and garments torn?’

  ‘Why, General, if he hath no greater fault

  In war than love, he had better lead the assault.’

  63

  ‘He shall if that he dare.’ Here Juan bowed

  Low as the compliment deserved. Suwarrow

  Continued, ‘Your old regiment’s allowed

  By special providence to lead tomorrow,

  Or it may be tonight, the assault. I have vowed

  To several saints that shortly plough or harrow

  Shall pass o’er what was Ismail, and its tusk

  Be unimpeded by the proudest mosque.

  64

  ‘So now, my lads, for glory!’ Here he turned

  And drilled away in the most classic Russian,

  Until each high, heroic bosom burned

  For cash and conquest, as if from a cushion

  A preacher had held forth (who nobly spurned

  All earthly goods save tithes) and bade them push on

  To slay the pagans, who resisted, battering

  The armies of the Christian Empress Catherine.

  65

  Johnson, who knew by this long colloquy

  Himself a favourite, ventured to address

  Suwarrow, though engaged with accents high

  In his resumed amusement. ‘I confess

  My debt in being thus allowed to die

  Among the foremost, but if you’d express

  Explicitly our several posts, my friend

  And self would know what duty to attend.’

  66

  ‘Right. I was busy and forgot. Why, you

  Will join your former regiment, which should be

  Now under arms. Ho! Katskoff, take him to –’

  (Here he called up a Polish orderly.)

  ‘His post I mean, the regiment Nikolaiew.

  The stranger stripling may remain with me;

  He’s a fine boy. The women may be sent

  To the other baggage or to the sick tent.’

  67

  But here a sort of scene began to ensue.

  The ladies, who by no means had been bred

  To be disposed of in a way so new,

  Although their harem education led

  Doubtless to that of doctrines the most true,

  Passive obedience, now raised up the head

  With flashing eyes and starting tears and flung

  Their arms, as hens their wings about their young,

  68

  O’er the promoted couple of brave men,

  Who were thus honoured by the greatest chief

  That ever peopled hell with heroes slain

  Or plunged a province or a realm in grief.

  Oh foolish mortals! Always taught in vain!

  Oh glorious laurel! since for one sole leaf

  Of thine imaginary deathless tree,

  Of blood and tears must flow the unebbing sea.

  69

  Suwarrow, who had small regard for tears

  And not much sympathy for blood, surveyed

  The women with their hair about their ears,

  And natural agonies, with a slight shade

  Of feeling; for however habit sears

  Men’s hearts against whole millions when their trade

  Is butchery, sometimes a single sorrow

  Will touch even heroes, and such was Suwarrow.

  70

  He said, and in the kindest Calmuck tone,

  ‘Why, Johnson, what the devil do you mean

  By bringing women here? They shall be shown

  All the attention possible and seen

  In safety to the wagons, where alone

  In fact they can be safe. You should have been

  Aware this kind of baggage never thrives.

  Save wed a year, I hate recruits with wives.’

  71

  ‘May it please Your Excellency, ’ thus replied

  Our British friend, ‘these are the wives of others

  And not our own. I am too qualified

  By service with my military brothers

  To break the rules by bringing one’s own bride

  Into a camp. I know that nought so bothers

  The hearts of the heroic on a charge

  As leaving a small family at large.

  72

  ‘But these are but two Turkish ladies, who

  With their attendant aided our escape

  And afterwards accompanied us through

  A thousand perils in this dubious shape.

  To me this kind of life is not so new;

  To them, poor things, it is an awkward scrape.

  I therefore, if you wish me to fight freely,

  Request that they may both be used genteelly.’

  73

  Meantime these two poor girls with swimming eyes

  Looked on as if in doubt if they could trust

  Their own protectors; nor was their surprise

  Less than their grief (and truly not less just)

  To see an old man, rather wild than wise

  In aspect, plainly clad, besmeared with dust,

  Stript to his waistcoat, and that not too cle
an,

  More feared than all the sultans ever seen.

  74

  For everything seemed resting on his nod,

  As they could read in all eyes. Now to them

  Who were accustomed, as a sort of god,

  To see the Sultan, rich in many a gem,

  Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad

  (That royal bird, whose tail’s a diadem)

  With all the pomp of power, it was a doubt

  How power could condescend to do without.

  75

  John Johnson, seeing their extreme dismay,

  Though little versed in feelings oriental,

  Suggested some slight comfort in his way.

  Don Juan, who was much more sentimental,

  Swore they should see him by the dawn of day

  Or that the Russian army should repent all;

  And strange to say, they found some consolation

  In this, for females like exaggeration.

  70

  And then with tears and sighs and some slight kisses,

  They parted for the present, these to await,

  According to the artillery’s hits or misses,

  What sages call chance, providence, or fate

  (Uncertainty is one of many blisses,

  A mortgage on humanity’s estate),

  While their belovèd friends began to arm

  To burn a town which never did them harm.

  77

  Suwarrow, who but saw things in the gross,

  Being much too gross to see them in detail,

  Who calculated life as so much dross

  And as the wind a widowed nation’s wail

  And cared as little for his army’s loss

  (So that their efforts should at length prevail)

  As wife and friends did for the boils of Job –

  What was’t to him, to hear two women sob?

  78

  Nothing. The work of glory still went on

  In preparations for a cannonade

  As terrible as that of Ilion,

  If Homer had found mortars ready made;

  But now instead of slaying Priam’s son,

  We only can but talk of escalade,

  Bombs, drums, guns, bastions, batteries, bayonets, bullets –

  Hard words, which stick in the soft Muses’ gullets.

  79

  Oh thou eternal Homer! who couldst charm

  All ears, though long; all ages, though so short,

  By merely wielding with poetic arm,

  Arms to which men will never more resort,

  Unless gunpowder should be found to harm

  Much less than is the hope of every court,

  Which now is leagued young freedom to annoy;

  But they will not find liberty a Troy.

  80

  Oh thou eternal Homer! I have now

  To paint a siege, wherein more men were slain

  With deadlier engines and a speedier blow

  Than in thy Greek gazette of that campaign.

  And yet like all men else I must allow,

 

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