Byron: The Last Phase Part 28

X.

'Her bright eyes will be imaged in thy stream.

Yes, they will meet the wave I gaze on now: Mine cannot witness, even in a dream, That happy wave repa.s.s me in its flow!

XI.

'The wave that bears my tears returns no more: Will she return by whom that wave shall sweep?

Both tread thy banks, both wander on thy sh.o.r.e, I near thy source, she by the dark-blue deep.[56]

XII.

'A stranger loves the Lady of the land, Born far beyond the mountains, but his blood Is all meridian, as if never fanned By the bleak wind that chills the polar flood.

XIII.

"Tis vain to struggle--let me perish young-- Live as I lived, and love as I have loved; To dust if I return, from dust I sprung, And then, at least, my heart can ne'er be moved.'

In the first stanza, Byron says that when his lady-love walks by the river's brink 'she may perchance recall a faint and fleeting memory' of him. Those words, which might have been applicable to Mary Chaworth, whom he had not seen for at least three years, could not possibly refer to a woman from whom he had been parted but two short months, and with whom he had since been in constant correspondence. Only a few days before these verses were written, Countess Guiccioli had told him by letter that she had prepared all her relatives and friends to expect him at Ravenna. There must surely have been something more than 'a faint and fleeting' memory of Byron in the mind of the ardent Guiccioli. In the second stanza, Byron, in allusion to the river he had in his thoughts, says:

'She will look on thee--_I have looked on thee_, full of that thought: _and from that moment_ ne'er thy waters could I dream of, _name, or see_, without the inseparable sigh for her.'

Now, while there was nothing whatever to connect the River Po with tender recollections, there was Byron's a.s.sociation in childhood with the River Trent, a memory inseparable from his boyish love for Mary Chaworth.

'But in his native stream, the Guadalquivir, Juan to lave his youthful limbs was wont; And having learnt to swim in that sweet river Had often turned the art to some account.'

In the fourth stanza we perceive that the poet, while thinking of the Trent, 'betrays his thoughts' to the Po, a river as wild and as swift as his native stream.

The ninth stanza has puzzled commentators exceedingly. It has been pointed out that the River Po does not sweep beneath the walls of Ravenna. That is, of course, indisputable. But Byron, in all probability, did not then know the exact course of that river, and blindly followed Dante's geographical description, and almost used his very words:

'Siede la terra, _dove nata fui, Su la marina dove il Po discende_, Per aver pace co' seguaci sui.'

It is, of course, well known that the Po branches off into two streams to the north-west of Ferrara, and flows both northward and southward of that city. The southern portion--the Po di Primaro--is fed by four affluents--the Rheno, the Savena, the Santerno, and the Lamone--and flows into the Adriatic south of Comachio, about midway between that place and Ravenna. It was obviously to the _Po di Primaro_ that Dante referred when he wrote _seguaci sui_.

Unless Francesca was born close to the mouth of the Po, which is not impossible, Byron erred in good company. In any case, we may fairly plead poetic licence. That Byron crossed the Po di Primaro as well as the main river admits of no doubt.

In the eleventh stanza Byron is wondering what will be the result of his journey? Will the Guiccioli return to him? Will all be well with the lovers, or will he return to Venice alone? In his fancy they are both wandering on the banks of that river. He is near its source, where the Po di Primaro branches off near Pontelagascuro, while she was on the sh.o.r.e of the Adriatic.

The twelfth stanza would perhaps have been clearer if the first and second lines had been,

'A stranger, born far beyond the mountains, Loves the Lady of the land,'

which was Byron's meaning. The poet excuses himself for his fickleness on the plea that 'his blood is all meridian'--in short, that he cannot help loving someone. But we plainly see that his love for Mary Chaworth was still paramount. 'In spite of tortures ne'er to be forgot'--tortures of which we had a glimpse in 'Manfred'--he was still her slave. Finally, Byron tells us that it was useless to struggle against the misery his heart endured, and that all his hopes were centred on an early death.

The episode of Francesca and Paolo had made a deep impression on Byron. He likened it to his unfortunate adventure with Mary Chaworth in June and July, 1813. In 'The Corsair'--written after their intimacy had been broken off--Byron prefixes to each canto a motto from 'The Inferno' which seemed to be appropriate to his own case. In the first canto we find:

'Nessun maggior dolore, Che ricordarsi del tempo felice Nella miseria.'

In the second canto:

'Conoscesti i dubbiosi desire?'

In the third canto:

'Come vedi--ancor non m' abbandona.'

That Byron had Francesca in his mind when he wrote the stanzas to the Po seems likely; and in the letter which he wrote to Mary from Venice, in the previous month, he compares their misfortunes with those of Paolo and Francesca in plain words.[57]

'Don Juan' was begun in the autumn of 1818. That poem, Byron tells us, was inspired almost entirely by his own personal experience. Perhaps he drew a portrait of Mary Chaworth when he described Julia:

'And she Was married, charming, chaste, and twenty-three.'

When they parted in 1809, that was exactly Mary's age.

'Her eye was large and dark, suppressing half its fire until she spoke. Her glossy hair was cl.u.s.tered over a brow bright with intelligence. Her cheek was purple with the beam of youth, mounting at times to a transparent glow; and she had an uncommon grace of manner.

She was tall of stature. Her husband was a good-looking man, neither much loved nor disliked. He was of a jealous nature, though he did not show it. They lived together, as most people do, suffering each other's foibles.'

On a summer's eve in the month of June, Juan and Julia met:

'How beautiful she looked! her conscious heart Glowed in her cheek, and yet she felt no wrong.'

For her husband she had honour, virtue, truth, and love. The sun had set, and the yellow moon arose high in the heavens:

'There is a dangerous silence in that hour, A stillness which leaves room for the full soul.'

Several weeks had pa.s.sed away:

'Julia, in fact, had tolerable grounds,-- Alfonso's loves with Inez were well known.'

Then came the parting note:

'They tell me 'tis decided you depart: 'Tis wise--'tis well, but not the less a pain; I have no further claim on your young heart, Mine is the victim, and would be again: To love too much has been the only art I used.'

Julia tells Juan that she loved him, and still loves him tenderly:

'I loved, I love you, for this love have lost State, station, Heaven, mankind's, my own esteem, And yet cannot regret what it hath cost, So dear is still the memory of that dream.'

'All is o'er For me on earth, except some years to hide My shame and sorrow deep in my heart's core.'

The seal to this letter was a sunflower--_Elle vous suit partout_. It may be mentioned here that Byron had a seal bearing this motto.

When Juan realized that the parting was final, he exclaims:

'No more--no more--oh! never more, my heart, Canst thou be my sole world, my universe!

Once all in all, but now a thing apart, Thou canst not be my blessing or my curse: The illusion's gone for ever.'

In the third canto we have a hint of Byron's feelings after his wife had left him:

'He entered in the house no more his home, A thing to human feelings the most trying, And harder for the heart to overcome, Perhaps, than even the mental pangs of dying; To find our hearthstone turned into a tomb, And round its once warm precincts palely lying The ashes of our hopes.'