She kept a journal, where his faults were noted, And opened certain trunks of books and letters,[38] 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. XXIX. 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 killed, 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 exclaimed, "What magnanimity!" XXX. No doubt this patience, when the world is damning us, Is philosophic in our former friends; 'T is also pleasant to be deemed magnanimous, The more so in obtaining our own ends; And what the lawyers call a _"malus animus"_ Conduct like this by no means comprehends: Revenge in person's certainly no virtue, But then 't is not _my_ fault, if _others_ hurt you. 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: And Science profits by this resurrection-- Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection. XXXII. Their friends had tried at reconciliation,[e] Then their relations, 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,[f] But scarce a fee was paid on either side Before, unluckily, Don José died. XXXIII. He died: and most unluckily, because, According to all hints I could collect From Counsel learnéd 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 To public feeling, which on this occasion Was manifested in a great sensation. XXXIV. 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 asked the doctors after his disease-- He died of the slow fever called the tertian, And left his widow to her own aversion. XXXV.