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Oh! she was perfect past all parallel —
Of any modern female saint's comparison; So far above the cunning powers of hell,
Her guardian angel had given up his garrison; Even her minutest motions went as well
As those of the best time-piece made by Harrison: In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her, Save thine “incomparable oil," Macassar! !
Perfect she was, but as perfection is
Insipid in this naughty world of ours, Where our first parents never learn'd to kiss
Till they were exiled from their earlier bowers, Where all was peace, and innocence, and bliss, 2
(I wonder how they got through the twelve hours), Don Jóse, like a lineal son of Eve, Went plucking various fruit without her leave.
He was a mortal of the careless kind,
With no great love for learning, cr the learn'd, Who chose to go where'er he had a mind,
And never dream'd his lady was concern'd; The world, as usual, wickedly inclined
To see a kingdom or a house o’erturn'd, Whisper'd he had a mistress, some said two. But for domestic quarrels one will do.
Now Donna Inez had, with all her merit,
A great opinion of her own good qualities; Neglect, indeed, requires a saint to bear it,
And such, indeed, she was in her moralities; 3 But then she had a devil of a spirit,
And sometimes mix’d up fancies with realities, And let few opportunities cscape Of getting her liege lord into a scrape.
This was an easy matter with a man
Oft in the wrong, and never on his guard; And even the wisest, do the best they can,
Have moments, hours, and days, so unprepared, That you might “brain them with their lady's fan; "4
And sometimes ladies hit exceeding hard, And fans turn into falchions in fair hands, And why and wherefore no one understands.
XXII. 'Tis pity learned virgins ever wed With persons of no sort of education,
1 “Description des tertus incomparables de l'Huile de Macassar.” See the Advertisement. 2 (“Where all was innocence and quiet bliss.” – MS.] * [“And so she seem’d, in all outside formalities.” – MS.] * [“. By this hand, if I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan.” – Shakspeake.] * [“Wishing each other damn'd, divorced, or dead.”—MS.] * [Lady Byron had left London at the latter end of January, on a visit to her father's house in Leicestershire, and Lord Byron was, in a short time after, to follow her. They had
parted in the utmost kindness, – she wrote him a letter, full of playfulness and affection, on the road, and, immediately on her arrival at Kirkby Mallory, her father wrote to acuaint Lord Byron that she would return to him no more. ''. the time when he had to stand this unexpected shock, his pecuniary embarrassments, which had been fast gathering around him, during the whole of the past year, had arrived at their utmost. — Moon E. “The facts are: – I left London for Kirkby Mallory, the residence of my father and mother, on the 15th of January, 1815. Lord Byron had signified to me in writing (Jan. 5th) his absolute desire that I should
leave London on the earliest day that I could conveniently
Or gentlemen, who, though well born and bred,
Don Jóse and his lady quarrell’d—why,
Not any of the many could divine, Though several thousand people chose to try,
'Twas surely no concern of theirs nor mine; I loathe that low vice—curiosity;
But if there's any thing in which I shine, 'Tis in arranging all my friends' affairs, Not having, of my own, domestic cares.
And so I interfered, and with the best
Intentions, but their treatment was not kind; I think the foolish people were possess'd,
For neither of them could I ever find, Although their porter afterwards confess'd –
But that's no matter, and the worst's behind, For little Juan o'er me threw, down stairs, A pail of housemaid's water unawares.
A little curly-headed, good-for-nothing,
And mischief-making monkey from his birth;
Upon the most unquiet imp on earth;
. Their senses, they'd have sent young master forth
To school, or had him soundly whipp'd at home,
Don Jóse and the Donna Inez led
For some time an unhappy sort of life, Wishing each other, not divorced, but dead; *
They lived respectably as man and wife, Their conduct was exceedingly well-bred,
And gave no outward signs of inward strife, Until at length the smother'd fire broke out, And put the business past all kind of doubt. 6
XXVII. For Inez call'd some druggists, and physicians, And tried to prove her loving lord was mad, 7 But as he had some lucid intermissions, She next decided he was only bad;
fix. It was not safe for me to undertake the fatigue of a journey sooner than the 15th. Previously to my departure, it had been strongly impressed on my mind, that Lord Byron was under the influence of insanity. This opinion was derived in a great measure from the communications made to me by his nearest relatives and o attendant, who had more opportunities than myself of observing him during the latter so of my stay in town. It was even represented to me that e was in danger of destroying himself. With the concurrence of his family, I had consulted Dr. Baillie as a friend (Jan. 8th) respecting this supposed malady. On acquainting him with the state of the case, and with Lord Byron's desire that I should leave London, Dr. Baillie thought that my absence might be advisable as an experiment, assuming the fact of mental derangement; for Dr. Baillie, not having had access to Lord Byron, could not pronounce a positive opinion on that point. He enjoined that in correspondence with Lord Byron I should avoid all but light and soothing .."; nder these impressions, I left London, determined to follow the advice given by Dr. Baillie.” – Lady Byron.]
Yet when they ask'd her for her depositions,
Save that her duty both to man and God
Required this conduct—which seem'd very odd.
She kept a journal, where his faults were noted,
And open'd certain trunks of books and letters, All which might, if occasion served, be quoted;
And then she had all Seville for abettors, Besides her good old grandmother (who doted);
The hearers of her case became repeaters, Then advocates, inquisitors, and judges, Some for amusement, others for old grudges.
And then this best and meekest woman bore
With such serenity her husband's woes, Just as the Spartan ladies did of yore,
Who saw their spouses kill'd, and nobly chose Never to say a word about them more —
Calmly she heard each calumny that rose, And saw his agonies with such sublimity, That all the world exclaim'd, “What magnanimity!”
No doubt this patience, when the world is damning us,
Is philosophic in our former friends;
The more so in obtaining our own ends;
Conduct like this by no means comprehends:
XXXI. And if our quarrels should rip up old stories, And help them with a lie or two additional, I'm not to blame, as you well know—no more is Any one else—they were become traditional; Besides, their resurrection aids our glories By contrast, which is what we just were wishing all:
real object of their visit. I thought their questions singular, frivolous, and somewhat importunate, if not impertinent: but what should I have thought, if I had known that they were sent to provide proofs of my insanity. I have no doubt that my answers to these emissaries were not very rational or consistent, for my imagination was heated with other things. But Dr. Baillie could not conscientiously make me out a certificate for Bedlam ; and perhaps the Lawyer gave a more fa yourable report to his employers. I do not, however, tax Lady Byron with this transaction; probably she was not privy to it. She was the tool of others. Her mother always detested me, and had not even the decency to conceal it in her house.”— Lord Byron. “My mother always treated Lord B. with an affectionate consideration and indulgence, which extended to every little peculiarity of his feelings. Never did an irritating word escape her lips in her whole intercourse with him.” – Lady Byron.] * [Mr. Rogers, Mr. Hobhouse, &c. &c.] * [“First their friends tried at reconciliation.”—MS.] * [The Right Honourable R. Wilmot Horton, &c. The following is from a fragment of a novel written by Lord Byron in 1817 : — “A few hours afterwards we were very good friends; and a few days after she set out for Aragon, with my son, on a visit to her father and mother. I did not accompany her immediately, having been in Aragon before, but was to join the family in their Moorish château within a few weeks. During her journey, I received a very affectionate letter from Donna o apprising me of the welfare of herself and my son. On her arrival at the château, I received another, still more affectionate, pressing me, in very fond, and rather foolish terms, to join her immediately. As I was preparing to set out from Seville, I received a third — this was from her father, Don Jose di Cardozo, who reuested me, in the politest manner, to dissolve my marriage. answered him with equal politeness, that I would do no such thing. A fourth letter arrived — it was from Donna Josepha, in which she informed me that her father's letter
And science profits by this resurrection—
Their friends 1 had tried at reconciliation,”
Then their relations 3, who made matters worse. ("T were hard to tell upon a like occasion
To whom it may be best to have recourse — I can't say much for friend or yet relation):
The lawyers did their utmost for divorce, * But scarce a fee was paid on either side Before, unluckily, Don Jóse died.
He died: and most unluckily, because,
According to all hints I could collect From counsel learned in those kinds of laws,
(Although their talk's obscure and circumspect) His death contrived to spoil a charming cause;
A thousand pities also with respect
But ah he died; and buried with him lay
The public feeling and the lawyers' fees: His house was sold, his servants sent away,
A Jew took one of his two mistresses, A priest the other—at least so they say:
I ask'd the doctors after his disease— He died of the slow fever call'd the tertian, And left his widow to her own aversion.
Yet Jóse was an honourable man,
That I must say, who knew him very well; Therefore his frailties I'll no further scan,
Indeed there were not many more to tell: And if his passions now and then outran
Discretion, and were not so peaceable As Numa's (who was also named Pompilius), 5 He had been ill brought up, and was born bilious. 6
was written by her particular desire. I requested the reason by return of post; she replied, by express, that as reason had nothing to do with the matter, it was unnecessary to give any —but that she was an injured and excellent woman. I then inquired why she had written to me the two preceding affeetionate letters, requesting me to come to Aragon. She answered, that was because she believed me out of my senses— that, being unfit to take care of myself, I had only to set out on this journey alone, and, making my way without difficulty to Don José di Cardozo's, I should there have found the tenderest of wives and—a strait waistcoat. I had nothing to reply to this piece of affection, but a reiteration of my request for some lights upon the subject. I was answered, that they would only be related to the Inquisition. In the mean time, our domestic discrepancy had become a public topic of discussion ; and the world, which always decides justly, not only in Aragon but in Andalusia, determined that I was not only to blame, but that all Spain could produce nobody so blameable. My case was supposed to comprise all the crimes which could, and several which could not, be committed; and little less than an auto-da-fé was anticipated as the result. But let no man say that we are abandoned by our friends in adversity—it was just the reverse. Mine thronged around me to condemn, advise, and console me with their disapprobation. They told me all that was, would, or could be said on the subject. They shook their heads—they exhorted me — deplored me, with tears in their eyes, and – went to dinner."]
2 [“I could have forgiven the dagger or the bowl, an thing but the deliberate desolation piled upon me, when stood alone upon my hearth, with my household gods shiwered around me. o you suppose I have forgotten or forgiven it 2. It has, comparatively, swallowed up in me every other feeling, and I am only a spectator upon earth till a tenfold opportunity offers.”— Byron Letters, Sept. 10. 1818. “I had one only fount of quiet left, And that they poison'd : My pure household gods Were shiver'd on my hearth, and o'er their shrine Sate grinning ribaldry and sneering scorn.” Marino Faliero.] - ov. 17 anishment — ; * he died.”—MS.] * [“I have been thinking of an odd circumstance.— My daughter, my wife, my half-sister, my mother, my sister's mother, my natural daughter, and myself, are, or were, all My sister's mother had only one half-sister by that second marriage (herself, too, an only child), and my fither had only me (an only child) by his second marriage with my mother. Such a complication of only children, all tending to one family, is singular, and looks like fatality alInost. But the ficroest animals have the rarest number in their litters, – as lions, tigers, and even elephants, which are mild in comparison.”— Byron Diary, 1821.]
7 [“To hear the clamour raised against Juvenal, it might be supposed, by one unacquainted with the times, that he was the only indelicate writer of his * and country. Yet Horace and Persius wrote with equal grossness : yet the rigid stoicism of Seneca did not deter him from the use of expressions which Juvenal, perhaps, would have rejected ; yet the courtly Pliny poured out gratuitous indecencies in his frigid hendecasyllables, which he attempts to justify by the example of a writer to whose freedom the licentiousness of Juvenal is purity It seems as if there was something of * in the singular severity with which he is censured.
His pure and sublime morality operates as a tacit reproach on the generality of mankind, who seek to indemnify themselves by questioning the sanctity which they cannot but respect ; and find a secret pleasure in persuading one another that “this dreaded satirist " was, at heart, no inveterate enemy to the licentiousness which he so vehemently reprehends. When I find that his views are to render depravity loathsome, that every thing which can alarm and disgust is directed at her in his terrible page, I forget the grossness of the execution in the excellence of the design.” – Gifford.]
* Fact ' There is, or was, such an edition, with all the obnoxious epigrams of Martial placed by themselves at the
For there we have them all “at one fell swoop,”
Instead of being scatter'd through the pages; They stand forth marshall'd in a handsome troop,
To meet the ingenuous youth of future ages, Till some less rigid editor shall stoop
To call them back into their separate cages, Instead of standing staring altogether,
Like garden gods—and not so decent either.
The Missal too (it was the family Missal)
"as ornamented in a sort of way Which ancient mass-books often are, and this all
Kinds of grotesques illumined; and how they, Who saw those fieures on `ele n...rgin kiss all,
Could turn their optics to the text and pray, Is more than I know — But Don Juan's mother Kept this herself, and gave her son another.
Sermons he read, and lectures he endured,
And homilies, and lives of all the saints; To Jerome and to Chrysostom inured,
He did not take such studies for restraints; But how faith is acquired, and then ensured,
So well not one of the aforesaid paints As Saint Augustine in his fine Confessions, Which make the reader envy his transgressions. 1
This, too, was a seal’d book to little Juan —
I can't but say that his mamma was right, If such an education was the true one.
She scarcely trusted him from out her sight; Her maids were old, and if she took a new one,
You might be sure she was a perfect fright, She did this during even her husband's life— I recommend as much to every wife.
Young Juan wax'd in goodliness and grace;
At six a charming child, and at eleven With all the promise of as fine a face
As e'er to man's maturer growth was given: He studied steadily, and grew apace,
And seem’d, at least, in the right road to heaven, For half his days were pass'd at church, the other Between his tutors, confessor, and mother.
At six, I said, he was a charming child,
At twelve he was a fine, but quiet boy; Although in infancy a little wild,
They tamed him down amongst them: to destroy His natural spirit not in vain they toil'd.
At least it seem'd so ; and his mother's joy Was to declare how sage, and still, and steady,
| Her young philosopher was grown already.
* See his Confessions, 1. f. c. ix. By the representation which Saint Augustine gives of himself in his youth. it is easy to see that he was what we should call a rake. He avoided the school as the plague : he loved nothing but gaming and public shows ; he robbed his father of every thing he could find ; he invented a thousand lies to escape the rod, which they were obliged to make use of to punish his irregularities.
* [Foreigners often ask, ‘‘ by what means an uninterrupted succession of men, qualified more or less eminently for the performance of united parliamentary and official dutics, is secured 2." First, I answer (with the prejudices, perhaps, of Eton and Oxford), that we owe it to our system of public schools and universities. From these institutions is derived (in the language of the prayer of our collegiate churches) “a
LL. I had my doubts, perhaps I have them still, But what I say is neither here nor there: I knew his father well, and have some skill In character—but it would not be fair From sire to son to augur good or ill: He and his wife were an ill-sorted pair– But scandal's my aversion—I protest Against all evil speaking, even in jest. LII. For my part I say nothing—nothing—but This I will say—my reasons are my own— That if I had an only son to put To school (as God be praised that I have none), 'T is not with Donna Inez I would shut Him up to learn his catechism alone, No – no — I'd send him out betimes to college, For there it was I pick'd up my own knowledge.
For there one learns—'tis not for me to boast,
Though I acquired—but I pass over that, As well as all the Greek I since have lost:
I say that there's the place—but “Verbum sat," I think I pick’d up too, as well as most,
Knowledge of matters—but no matter what— I never married—but, I think, I know That sons should not be educated so.
Young Juan now was sixteen years of age,
Tall, handsome, slender, but well knit : he seem'd Active, though not so sprightly, as a page;
And every body but his mother deem'd Him almost man; but she flew in a rage
And bit her lips (for else she might have scream'd) If any said so, for to be precocious Was in her eyes a thing the most atrocious.
Amongst her numerous acquaintance, all
Selected for discretion and devotion, There was the Donna Julia, whom to call
Pretty were but to give a feeble notion Of many charms in her as natural
As sweetness to the flower, or salt to ocean, Her zone to Venus, or his bow to Cupid, (But this last simile is trite and stupid.)
The darkness of her Oriental eye
Accorded with her Moorish origin;
In Spain, you know, this is a sort of sin.) When proud Granada fell, and, forced to fly,
Boabdil wept 3, of Donna Julia's kin Some went to Africa, some stay’d in Spain, Her great great grandmamma chose to remain.
due supply of men fitted to serve their country both in church and state.” It is in her public schools and universities that the youth of England are, by a discipline which shallow judgments have sometimes attempted to undervalue, prepared for the duties of public life. There are rare and splendid exceptions, to be sure; but in my conscience I believe, that England would not be what she is, without her system of public education ; and that no other country can become what England is, without the advantages of such a system. – CANNING. — I shall always be ready to join in the public opinion, that our public schools, which have produced so many eminent characters, are the best adapted to the genius and constitution of the English people.—Giuliox.]
She married (I forget the pedigree)
With an Hidalgo, who transmitted down
At such alliances his sires would frown,
That they bred in and in, as might be shown, Marrying their cousins—nay, their aunts, and nieces, Which always spoils the breed, if it increases.
This heathenish cross restored the breed again,
Ruin'd its blood, but much improved its flesh; For from a root the ugliest in Old Spain
Sprung up a branch as beautiful as fresh ; The sons no more were short, the daughters plain :
But there 's a rumour which I fain would hush, 1 'T is said that Donna Julia's grandmamma Produced her Don more heirs at love than law.
However this might be, the race went on
Improving still through every generation, Until it centred in an only son,
Who left an only daughter; my narration May have suggested that this single one
Could be but Julia (whom on this occasion I shall have much to speak about), and she Was married, charming, chaste, and twenty-three.
LX. Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes) Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire Until she spoke, then through its soft disguise Flash'd an expression more of pride than ire, And love than either; and there would arise A something in them which was not desire, But would have been, perhaps, but for the soul Which struggled through and chasten'd down the whole.
Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow
Bright with intelligence, and fair, and smooth; Her eyebrow's shape was like the aerial bow,
Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth, Mounting, at times, to a transparent glow,
As if her veins ran lightning ; she, in sooth, Possess'd an air and grace by no means common : Her stature tall — I hate a dumpy Wonnan.
Wedded she was some years, and to a man
Of fifty, and such husbands are in plenty; And yet, I think, instead of such a on E
'T were better to have two of five-and-twenty, Especially in countries near the sun :
And now I think on 't, “mi vien in mente,” Ladies even of the most uneasy virtue Prefer a spouse whose age is short of thirty. 2
fortunate Boabdil continued on towards the Alpuxarras, that he might not behold the entrance of the Christians into his His devoted band of cavaliers followed him in gloomy silence, Having ascended an eminence commanding the last yiew of Granada, they paused involuntarily to take a farewell gaze at their beloved city, which a few steps more would shut from their sight for ever. While they yet looked, a light cloud of smoke broke forth from the citadel ; and presently a peal of "...'. faintly heard, told that the city was taken possession or and the throne of the Moslem kings was lost for ever. The heart of Boabdil, softened by mistortunes, and overcharged with grief, could no longer