Le Don Juan de Lord Byron (1788-1824), est un poème satirique et pamphlétaire de dix-sept chants, dans lequel il brosse une satire mordante, cynique et bachique de l’état de l’Europe post-Napoléonienne de son temps. Pour servir de fil à cet exposé, l’auteur prend pour prétexte les pérégrinations involontaires et mésaventureuses d’un Don Juan de pacotille, velléitaire, naïf, totalement à l’opposé de son modèle, et qu’il promène de naufrages en enlèvements d’Espagne vers la Grèce, la Turquie, la Russie pour le faire finalement échouer en Angleterre. Au lieu du personnage prométhéen, intelligent, brave, séduisant, dangereux, maléfique de Tirso ou de Molière, on n’a plus qu’une espèce de mauviette falote que l’auteur prend un malin plaisir de rendre la victime d’amours que lui portent des femmes ridicules.Chaque étape de cette Odyssée sans but est l’occasion de se moquer copieusement des travers supposés des locaux, véhiculés par les poncifs les plus éculés, avec un bonheur plus ou moins grand. Mais c’est surtout l’occasion pour l’auteur pour faire des plaisanteries et de s’évader dans de longues digressions folles, pétulantes et débridées : critique littéraire, il éreinte sans prendre de gants les auteurs qui lui déplaisent, il déchire avec rage la nouvelle Europe qui a partout réinstallé les tyrans sur leurs trônes, avec la bénédiction d’une Angleterre qu’il aurait préférée amie de la liberté plutôt que des despotes ; il s’en prend enfin au conservatisme moral et à l’hypocrisie qui a fait des progrès considérable à cette époque.J’ai beaucoup aimé le premier quart du roman qui m’a tenu en haleine par sa nouveauté: le mélange des genre, les passages du grave au doux, du sévère au badin. Même si sa pudeur naturelle l’empêchait de trop verser dans le pathétique, et qu’il s’enfuie dans quelque pirouette vers un ton railleur, comme s'il craignait de montrer quelque faiblesse à son armure, on sentait une âme sensible capable d’émouvoir sublimement. Il me semblait que Byron pouvait tenir la longueur, mais à partir du retour du père de Haïdée, le tout tourne franchement à la farce , et je n’ai plus suivi le reste de la lecture que d’un œil à demi indifférent : l’aventure avec la sultane dans le harem est grotesque, les plaisanteries sur la guerre russo-ottomane pénibles, les invectives acharnées contre l’Angleterre usantes. Il n’y a de place que pour l’exubérance féroce de Byron, qui arrive heureusement à nous tirer de temps en temps l’impression désagréable où il nous cantonne par quelque pointes et traits d’esprits piquants, mais cette mélancolie désespérée que cachent mal des agitations de cabotin et ce ton ironique constant finissent par accabler plutôt que divertir. Aussi, je lui en veut un peu de ce qu'il fait de Don Juan, réduit à un bellâtre insipide privé de toute dimension subversive. Mon impression est donc mitigée, arrivé bout de cette lecture : à la fois j’admire les qualités d’esprit de l’auteur, son engagement sincère pour la liberté et sa juste indignation, ses qualités poétiques et son invention, mais son humour inégal devient intempestif, son dépit fâcheux, et ses incessantes criailleries le rendent peu à peu monocorde, et font finir le poème en eau de boudin.
Don Juan is a somewhat-scathing, exceedingly witty, epic social commentary that was told by a revolutionary mind with great skill and reverence for the crafting of words. In Lord Byron's cantos of this poem, I see "social networking" centuries before its time with Byron's 'asides' about his contemporaries. And his protagonist, young unfortunate Don Jewan, is tossed about haphazardly from country to country by the strangest events, narrating a dissection of every society he comes upon... which, unfortunately, we read only a fraction of what Lord Byron was planning for the character before the poet's untimely death, leaving the poem unfinished, and yet still one of the best writings ever put to paper. Timeless.Byron's worldview was notably pessimistic, but it was damned eye-opening. For example, on *shrugh* "nationalism" I suppose, in Canto IV, Stanza 101:Hell yeah, the boy spoke some truths that I daresay still flips the world on its side (can you imagine China or America being merely a legend one day, as scoffed about then as Atlantis is today?). And his 'rivals' or critics wanted to 'save' him. But Byron argued (paraphrasing) that his was the MOST MORAL poem of the day. Moral, yes; and why? Because it was truthful.I have it listed in my Top 5, which should include the Bible, Inferno/Purgatorio, Dosty's Brothers K, and probably a Kafka; and Good God I hate to mention Paradise Lost... but! as another reviewer here put it, while Milton's work attempted to tell God's side to humanity, Lord Byron told humanity's side to God. (Successfully, though.) And we're the lucky ones who glimpsed at least some of Byron's tellings before he died. Yes, I find it very moral, AND it keeps me rolling on the floor, laughing.And being a Catholic Anglican Christian type (or so I like to think), it is my sincere hope that we'll hear the remainder of Don Juan in Heaven one day, where I'm sure Lord Byron entertains the angels. (*not that way!*)
What do You think about Don Juan (2005)?
Assigned reading for a university module. I really enjoyed the story involving Don Juan, despite the decreasing presence of it as the poem progressed. It flowed smoothly, and fascinated. It was blunt, simple and spontaneous; a living tale, rather than a pre-planned, awkward poem, forced into form without consideration for content. Byron will certainly be one of my favourites from now on. This is definitely worth a read, if you can spare the time (and a fair deal of patience). It missed out on a higher rating with me because of its informality, and Byron's deviation from the story. It reached such drastic limits towards the end that I struggled to finish.
—Charlotte
'Tis sweet to win, no matter how, one'slaurels,By blood or ink; 'tis sweet to put and endTo strife; 'tis sometimes sweet to have ourquarrels,Particularly with a tiresome friend:Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels;Dear is the helpless creature we defend Against the world; and dear is the schoolboyspotWe ne'er forget, though there we are forgot.- Canto I CXXVII have generally been taking it slow with Byron, as I find him to be just a tad more difficult to read in comparison to the likes of Keats. However, I must admit that "Don Juan" is a pleasant surprise among other works that sometimes border on insipid and simply dripping with classical allusions that get old so, so fast. As a satirical work, this poem does its job really well- it is clever but not too wordy, funny but not low-brow, and insightful but not rambling. In other words, I am very glad that "Don Juan" is the last work I saved to read in my summer of Byron, so to speak. It leaves a good impression on a poet that I have a harder time enjoying. Essentially, "Don Juan" is a collection of adventures that the titular character embarks on, spanning from his birth to his young adulthood to his full-fledged adulthood. The work is characterized by an enjoyable Spanish flair, almost reminiscent of the likes of Don Quixote. All in all, it is pleasantly funny because of what I have already mentioned as well as the fact that Byron really tends to insert himself into the narrative with little quips against poets from time to time, particularly attacking Wordsworth. Despite the upsides of "Don Juan", I fear that my former difficulties in reading Byron sort of got in the way of me truly enjoying myself. I'm not sure if I can put a finger on it or not, but there's just something about Byron that is off-putting. I find that he has some serious strokes of genius from time to time, but there's a lot of Greek allusions to wade through. He can be funny and insightful, but I find that the flow of his poems is not as fluid as I would like. In short, I wish I could like "Don Juan" more, but as it stands, I thought it was alright.
—Sarah
I have a problem reading narrative poems in iambic pentameter especially if they rhyme. Within a page or two I realise I have totally become absorbed the rhythm of the poem and have stopped reading for meaning. Consequently I have to keep pinching myself, whilst writing copious notes and reading/ re-reading very very slowly. So although I have ploughed through this for work and can admire the poem in principle, I struggle to remember much beyond the painful reading experience. Reading or pleasure this was not! Give me Chaucer anyday!
—Anna
