CXXXIV.
What then?-I do not know, no more do you
And so good night.-Return we to our story:
'T was in November, when fine days are few,
And the far mountains wax a little hoary,
And clap a white cape on their mantles blue: 1
And the sea dashes round the promontory,
And the loud breaker boils against the rock,
And sober suns must set at five o'clock.
CXXXV.

'Twas, as the watchmen say, a cloudy night;
No moon, no stars, the wind was low or loud
By gusts, and many a sparkling hearth was bright

With the piled wood, round which the family crowd; There's something cheerful in that sort of light, Even as a summer sky's without a cloud: I'm fond of fire, and crickets, and all that, 3 A lobster salad, and champagne, and chat. +

CXXXVI.

'Twas midnight-Donna Julia was in bed, Sleeping, most probably, when at her door Arose a clatter might awake the dead,

If they had never been awoke before, And that they have been so we all have read, And are to be so, at the least, once more ; — The door was fasten'd, but with voice and fist First knocks were heard, then "Madam — Madam -hist!

CXXXVII.

"For God's sake, Madam-Madam- here's my masWith more than half the city at his back- [ter, 5 Was ever heard of such a curst disaster!

'Tis not my fault- I kept good watch-Alack! Do pray undo the bolt a little faster

They're on the stair just now, and in a crack Will all be here; perhaps he yet may flySurely the window's not so very high!" CXXXVIII.

By this time Don Alfonso was arrived,

With torches, friends, and servants in great number; The major part of them had long been wived,

And therefore paused not to disturb the slumber Of any wicked woman, who contrived

By stealth her husband's temples to encumber:
Examples of this kind are so contagious,
Were one not punish'd, all would be outrageous.

CXXXIX.

I can't tell how, or why, or what suspicion
Could enter into Don Alfonso's head;
But for a cavalier of his condition

It surely was exceedingly ill-bred,
Without a word of previous admonition,

To hold a levee round his lady's bed, And summon lackeys, arm'd with fire and sword, To prove himself the thing he most abhorr'd.

[And lose in shining snow their summits blue."— MS.] [T was midnight— dark and sombre was the night," &c. MS.]

3 ["And supper, punch,ghost-stories, and such chat."-MS.] ["Lady Mary W. Montague was an extraordinary woman: she could translate Epictetus, and yet write a song worthy of Aristippus - the lines,

And when the long hours of the public are past, And we meet, with champagne and a chicken, at last, May every fond pleasure that moment endear! Be banish'd afar both discretion and fear !' &c. &c. There, Mr. Bowles! what say you to such a supper with such a woman? and her own description too? It appears to

CXL.

Poor Donna Julia! starting as from sleep,
(Mind-that I do not say—she had not slept)
Began at once to scream, and yawn, and weep;
Her maid Antonia, who was an adept,
Contrived to fling the bed-clothes in a heap,

As if she had just now from out them crept :
I can't tell why she should take all this trouble
To prove her mistress had been sleeping double.
CXLI.

But Julia mistress, and Antonia maid,

Appear'd like two poor harmless women, who Of goblins, but still more of men afraid,

Had thought one man might be deterr'd by two,
And therefore side by side were gently laid,
Until the hours of absence should run through,
And truant husband should return, and say,
My dear, I was the first who came away."
CXLII.

Now Julia found at length a voice, and cried,
"In heaven's name, Don Alfonso, what d'ye mean?
Has madness seized you? would that I had died
Ere such a monster's victim I had been !6
What may this midnight violence betide,

A sudden fit of drunkenness or spleen?
Dare you suspect me, whom the thought would kill?
Search, then, the room!"-Alfonso said, "I will."
CXLIII.

He search'd, they search'd, and rummaged everywhere, Closet and clothes' press, chest and window-seat, And found much linen, lace, and several pair

Of stockings, slippers, brushes, combs, complete, With other articles of ladies fair,

To keep them beautiful, or leave them neat: Arras they prick'd and curtains with their swords, And wounded several shutters, and some boards.

me that this stanza contains the purée of the whole philosophy of Epicurus."- Lord Byron to Mr. Bowles.]

5 ["To-night, as Countess Guiccioli observed me poring over Don Juan, she stumbled by mere chance on the 137th stanza of the First Canto, and asked me what it meant. I told her, Nothing, but your husband is coming.' As I said this in Italian with some emphasis, she started up in a fright, and said, 'Oh, my God, is he coming?' thinking it was her own. You may suppose we laughed when she found out the mistake. You will be amused, as I was; it happened not three hours ago."- Byron Letters, Nov. 8. 1819.]

6["Ere I the wife of such a man had been!"-MS.] 7["But while this search was making, Julia's tongue." - MS.]

CXLVI.

"Yes, Don Alfonso! husband now no more,

If ever you indeed deserved the name, Is 't worthy of your years?-you have threescore Fifty, or sixty, it is all the same

Is't wise or fitting, causeless to explore

For facts against a virtuous woman's fame ? Ungrateful, perjured, barbarous Don Alfonso, How dare you think your lady would go on so? CXLVII.

"Is it for this I have disdain'd to hold
The common privileges of my sex?
That I have chosen a confessor so old

And deaf, that any other it would vex,
And never once he has had cause to scold,
But found my very innocence perplex
So much, he always doubted I was married-
How sorry you will be when I've miscarried!
CXLVIII.

"Was it for this that no Cortejo1 e'er

I yet have chosen from out the youth of Seville ? Is it for this I scarce went any where,

Except to bull-fights, mass, play, rout, and revel?

Is it for this, whate'er my suitors were,

I favour'd none-nay, was almost uncivil?
Is it for this that General Count O'Reilly,
Who took Algiers 2, declares I used him vilely ?
CXLIX.

"Did not the Italian Musico Cazzani

Sing at my heart six months at least in vain ?
Did not his countryman, Count Corniani,

Call me the only virtuous wife in Spain?
Were there not also Russians, English, many?
The Count Strongstroganoff I put in pain,
And Lord Mount Coffeehouse, the Irish peer,
Who kill'd himself for love (with wine) last year.
CL.

"Have I not had two bishops at my feet?

The Duke of Ichar, and Don Fernan Nunez; And is it thus a faithful wife you treat?

I wonder in what quarter now the moon is: I praise your vast forbearance not to beat

Me also, since the time so opportune is— Oh, valiant man! with sword drawn and cock'd trigger, Now, tell me, don't you cut a pretty figure ?

CLI.

"Was it for this you took your sudden journey, Under pretence of business indispensable With that sublime of rascals your attorney,

Whom I see standing there, and looking sensible Of having play'd the fool? though both I spurn, he Deserves the worst, his conduct's less defensible, Because, no doubt, 't was for his dirty fee, And not from any love to you nor me. CLII.

"If he comes here to take a deposition,

By all means let the gentleman proceed; You've made the apartment in a fit condition: There's pen and ink for you, sir, when you need— Let every thing be noted with precision,

CLIII.

"There is the closet, there the toilet, there
The antechamber-search them under, over;
There is the sofa, there the great arm-chair,

The chimney-which would really hold a lover. 3

I wish to sleep, and beg you will take care
And make no further noise, till you discover
The secret cavern of this lurking treasure-
And when 'tis found, let me, too, have that pleasure.
CLIV.

"And now, Hidalgo! now that you have thrown
Doubt upon me, confusion over all,

Pray have the courtesy to make it known

Who is the man you search for? how d'ye call Him? what's his lineage? let him but be shown— I hope he's young and handsome—is he tall? Tell me and be assured, that since you stain My honour thus, it shall not be in vain. CLV.

"At least, perhaps, he has not sixty years,

At that age he would be too old for slaughter,
Or for so young a husband's jealous fears—
(Antonia ! let me have a glass of water.)
I am ashamed of having shed these tears,

They are unworthy of my father's daughter;
My mother dream'd not in my natal hour,
That I should fall into a monster's power.

CLVI.

"Perhaps 'tis of Antonia you are jealous,

You saw that she was sleeping by my side, When you broke in upon us with your fellows : Look where you please - we've nothing, sir, to hide; Only another time, I trust, you'll tell us,

Or for the sake of decency abide

A moment at the door, that we may be
Drest to receive so much good company.
CLVII.

"And now, sir, I have done, and say no more;
The little I have said may serve to show
The guileless heart in silence may grieve o'er
The wrongs to whose exposure it is slow :—

I leave you to your conscience as before,
'T will one day ask you why you used me so ?
God grant you feel not then the bitterest grief! —
Antonia! where's my pocket-handkerchief?"

CLVIII.

She ceased, and turn'd upon her pillow; pale

She lay, her dark eyes flashing through their tears, Like skies that rain and lighten; as a veil,

Waved and o'ershading her wan cheek, appears Her streaming hair; the black curls strive, but fail, To hide the glossy shoulder, which uprears Its snow through all; - her soft lips lie apart, And louder than her breathing beats her heart. CLIX.

The Senhor Don Alfonso stood confused;

Antonia bustled round the ransack'd room,
And, turning up her nose, with looks abused
Her master, and his myrmidons, of whom
Not one, except the attorney, was amused;
He, like Achates, faithful to the tomb,
So there were quarrels, cared not for the cause,
Knowing they must be settled by the laws.

CLX.
With prying snub-nose, and small eyes, he stood,
Following Antonia's motions here and there,
With much suspicion in his attitude;

For reputations he had little care;
So that a suit or action were made good,

Small pity had he for the young and fair,
And ne'er believed in negatives, till these
Were proved by competent false witnesses.
CLXI.

But Don Alfonso stood with downcast looks,
And, truth to say, he made a foolish figure;
When, after searching in five hundred nooks,

And treating a young wife with so much rigour,
He gain'd no point, except some self-rebukes,
Added to those his lady with such vigour
Had pour'd upon him for the last half-hour,
Quick, thick, and heavy-as a thunder-shower.
CLXII.

At first he tried to hammer an excuse,

To which the sole reply was tears, and sobs,
And indications of hysterics, whose

Prologue is always certain throes, and throbs,
Gasps, and whatever else the owners choose :
Alfonso saw his wife, and thought of Job's;
He saw too, in perspective, her relations,
And then he tried to muster all his patience.

CLXIII.

He stood in act to speak, or rather stammer,
But sage Antonia cut him short before
The anvil of his speech received the hammer,

With "Pray, sir, leave the room, and say no more,
Or madam dies."- Alfonso mutter'd, "D-n her,"
But nothing else, the time of words was o'er;
He cast a rueful look or two, and did,
He knew not wherefore, that which he was bid.
CLXIV.

With him retired his ". posse comitatus,"
The attorney last, who linger'd near the door
Reluctantly, still tarrying there as late as

Antonia let him not a little sore

At this most strange and unexplain'd "hiatus"
In Don Alfonso's facts, which just now wore
An awkward look; as he revolved the case,
The door was fasten'd in his legal face.

CLXVII.

And, secondly, I pity not, because

He had no business to commit a sin, Forbid by heavenly, fined by human laws, At least 't was rather early to begin; But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws

So much as when we call our old debts in At sixty years, and draw the accompts of evil, And find a deuced balance with the devil.?

CLXVIII.

Of his position I can give no notion :

"T is written in the Hebrew Chronicle, How the physicians, leaving pill and potion,

Prescribed, by way of blister, a young belle, When old King David's blood grew dull in motion, And that the medicine answer'd very well; Perhaps 't was in a different way applied, For David lived, but Juan nearly died.

CLXIX.

What's to be done? Alfonso will be back
The moment he has sent his fools away.
Antonia's skill was put upon the rack,

But no device could be brought into play
And how to parry the renew'd attack ?

Besides, it wanted but few hours of day:
Antonia puzzled; Julia did not speak,
But press'd her bloodless lip to Juan's cheek.
CLXX.

He turn'd his lip to hers, and with his hand
Call'd back the tangles of her wandering hair;
Even then their love they could not all command,
And half forgot their danger and despair:
Antonia's patience now was at a stand

"Come, come, 't is no time now for fooling there," She whisper'd, in great wrath - "I must deposit This pretty gentleman within the closet:

CLXXI.

"Pray, keep your nonsense for some luckier night-
Who can have put my master in this mood?
What will become on 't - I'm in such a fright,
The devil's in the urchin, and no good-

Is this a time for giggling? this a plight?
Why, don't you know that it may end in blood?
You'll lose your life, and I shall lose my place,
My mistress all, for that half-girlish face.

CLXXII.

"Had it but been for a stout cavalier

Of twenty-five or thirty- — (come, make haste) But for a child, what piece of work is here! I really, madam, wonder at your taste — (Come, sir, get in) — my master must be near : There, for the present, at the least, he 's fast, And if we can but till the morning keep Our counsel (Juan, mind, you must not sleep.)"

CLXXIII.

Now, Don Alfonso entering, but alone,
Closed the oration of the trusty maid:
She loiter'd, and he told her to be gone,
An order somewhat sullenly obey'd;
However, present remedy was none,

And no great good seem'd answer'd if she staid:
Regarding both with slow and sidelong view,
She snuff'd the candle, curtsied, and withdrew.

2 ["And reckon up our balance with the devil."— MS.]

CLXXIV.

Alfonso paused a minute — then begun

Some strange excuses for his late proceeding; He would not justify what he had done,

To say the best, it was extreme ill-breeding; But there were ample reasons for it, none

Of which he specified in this his pleading:
His speech was a fine sample, on the whole,
Of rhetoric, which the learn'd call "rigmarole."
CLXXV.

Julia said nought; though all the while there rose
A ready answer, which at once enables
A matron, who her husband's foible knows,
By a few timely words to turn the tables,
Which, if it does not silence, still must pose,
Even if it should comprise a pack of fables;
'T is to retort with firmness, and when he
Suspects with one, do you reproach with three.

CLXXVI.

Julia, in fact, had tolerable grounds,

Alfonso grappled to detain the foe,

And Juan throttled him to get away, And blood ('t was from the nose) began to flow; At last, as they more faintly wrestling lay, Juan contrived to give an awkward blow,

And then his only garment quite gave way: He fled, like Joseph, leaving it; but there, I doubt, all likeness ends between the pair

CLXXXVII.

Lights came at length, and men, and maids, who found
An awkward spectacle their eyes before;
Antonia in hysterics, Julia swoon'd,

Alfonso leaning, breathless, by the door;
Some half-torn drapery scatter'd on the ground,
Some blood, and several footsteps, but no more:
Juan the gate gain'd, turn'd the key about,
And liking not the inside, lock'd the out.
CLXXXVIII.

Here ends this canto. -Need I sing, or say,

How Juan, naked, favour'd by the night, Who favours what she should not, found his way, 1 And reach'd his home in an unseemly plight? The pleasant scandal which arose next day,

The nine days' wonder which was brought to light,
And how Alfonso sued for a divorce,
Were in the English newspapers, of course.
CLXXXIX.

If you would like to see the whole proceedings,
The depositions, and the cause at full,
The names of all the witnesses, the pleadings
Of counsel to nonsuit, or to annul,

There's more than one edition, and the readings
Are various, but they none of them are dull:
The best is that in short-hand ta'en by Gurney, 2
Who to Madrid on purpose made a journey.

CXC.

But Donna Inez, to divert the train

Of one of the most circulating scandals That had for centuries been known in Spain, At least since the retirement of the Vandals, 3 First vow'd (and never had she vow'd in vain) To Virgin Mary several pounds of candles: And then, by the advice of some old ladies, She sent her son to be shipp'd off from Cadiz.

CXCI.

She had resolved that he should travel through
All European climes, by land or sea,
To mend his former morals, and get new,
Especially in France and Italy,

(At least this is the thing most people do.)
Julia was sent into a convent: she
Grieved, but, perhaps, her feelings may be better
Shown in the following copy of her Letter:-
CXCII.

"They tell me 't is decided; you depart:

'Tis wise-'t is well, but not the less a pain; I have no further claim on your young heart, Mine is the victim, and would be again;

? [William Brodie Gurney, Esq., the eminent short-hand writer to the houses of parliament.]

3 ["Since Roderick's Goths, or older Genseric's Vandals." - MS.]

"Que les hommes sont heureux d'aller à la guerre, d'exposer leur vie, de se livrer à l'enthousiasme de l'honneur et du danger! Mais il n'y a rien au dehors qui soulage les femmes."-Corinne.]

3 ["To mourn alone the love which has undone.'. Or,

To lift our fatal love to God from man.'

Take that which, of these three, seems the best prescription." - B.]

[We have an indelicate, but very clever scene, of the young Juan's concealment in the bed of an amorous matron,

"I have no more to say, but linger still, And dare not set my seal upon this sheet, And yet I may as well the task fulfil,

My misery can scarce be more complete;

[meet,

I had not lived till now, could sorrow kill;
Death shuns the wretch who fain the blow would
And I must even survive this last adieu,
And bear with life, to love and pray for you!"

and of the torrent of rattling and audacious eloquence with which she repels the too just suspicions of her jealous lord. All this is merely comic, and a little coarse:- but then the poet chooses to make this shameless and abandoned woman address to her young gallant an epistle breathing the very spirit of warm, devoted, pure, and unalterable love-thus profaning the holiest language of the heart, and indirectly associating it with the most hateful and degrading sensualism. Thus are our notions of right and wrong at once confounded - our confidence in virtue shaken to the foundation- and our reliance on truth and fidelity at an end for ever. Of this it is that we complain. - JEFFREY.]