Moliere's Don Juan, Goethe's Faust, Byron's Manfred, Mathurin's
Melmoth--great allegorical figures drawn by the greatest men of
genius in Europe, to which Mozart's harmonies, perhaps, do no
more justice than Rossini's lyre. Terrible allegorical figures
that shall endure as long as the principle of evil existing in
the heart of man shall produce a few copies from century to
century. Sometimes the type becomes half-human when incarnate as
a Mirabeau, sometimes it is an inarticulate force in a Bonaparte,
sometimes it overwhelms the universe with irony as a Rabelais;
or, yet again, it appears when a Marechal de Richelieu elects to
laugh at human beings instead of scoffing at things, or when one
of the most famous of our ambassadors goes a step further and
scoffs at both men and things. But the profound genius of Juan
Belvidero anticipated and resumed all these. All things were a
jest to him. His was the life of a mocking spirit. All men, all
institutions, all realities, all ideas were within its scope. As
for eternity, after half an hour of familiar conversation with
Pope Julius II. he said, laughing:

"If it is absolutely necessary to make a choice, I would rather
believe in God than in the Devil; power combined with goodness
always offers more resources than the spirit of Evil can boast."

"Yes; still God requires repentance in this present world----"

"So you always think of your indulgences," returned Don Juan
Belvidero. "Well, well, I have another life in reserve in which
to repent of the sins of my previous existence."

"Oh, if you regard old age in that light," cried the Pope, "you