Upon: for there are very few things wearier
Than solitary Pride’s oppressive weight,
Which mortals generously would divide,
By bidding others carry while they ride.
XX
In birth, in rank, in fortune likewise equal,
O’er Juan he could no distinction claim;
In years he had the advantage of Time’s sequel;
And, as he thought, in country much the same—
Because bold Britons have a tongue and free quill,
At which all modern nations vainly aim;
And the Lord Henry was a great debater,
So that few Members kept the House up later.
XXI
These were advantages: and then he thought—
It was his foible, but by no means sinister—
That few or none more than himself had caught
Court mysteries, having been himself a minister:
He liked to teach that which he had been taught,
And greatly shone whenever there had been a stir;
And reconciled all qualities which grace man,
Always a patriot—and, sometimes, a placeman.
XXII
He liked the gentle Spaniard for his gravity;
He almost honoured him for his docility;
Because, though young, he acquiesced with suavity,
Or contradicted but with proud humility.
He knew the World, and would not see depravity
In faults which sometimes show the soil’s fertility,
If that the weeds o’erlive not the first crop—
For then they are very difficult to stop.
XXIII
And then he talked with him about Madrid,
Constantinople, and such distant places;
Where people always did as they were bid,
Or did what they should not with foreign graces.
Of coursers also spake they: Henry rid
Well, like most Englishmen, and loved the races;
And Juan, like a true-born Andalusian,
Could back996 a horse, as Despots ride a Russian.
XXIV
And thus acquaintance grew, at noble routs,
And diplomatic dinners, or at other—
For Juan stood well both with Ins and Outs,
As in freemasonry a higher brother.
Upon his talent Henry had no doubts;
His manner showed him sprung from a high mother,
And all men like to show their hospitality
To him whose breeding matches with his quality.
XXV
At Blank-Blank Square;—for we will break no squares997
By naming streets: since men are so censorious,
And apt to sow an author’s wheat with tares,
Reaping allusions private and inglorious,
Where none were dreamt of, unto Love’s affairs,
Which were, or are, or are to be notorious,
That therefore do I previously declare,
Lord Henry’s mansion was in Blank-Blank Square.
XXVI
Also there bin998 another pious reason
For making squares and streets anonymous;
Which is, that there is scarce a single season
Which doth not shake some very splendid house
With some slight heart-quake of domestic treason—
A topic Scandal doth delight to rouse:
Such I might stumble over unawares,
Unless I knew the very chastest squares.
XXVII
’Tis true, I might have chosen Piccadilly,999
A place where peccadillos are unknown;
But I have motives, whether wise or silly,
For letting that pure sanctuary alone.
Therefore I name not square, street, place, until I
Find one where nothing naughty can be shown,
A vestal shrine of Innocence of Heart:
Such are—but I have lost the London Chart.
XXVIII
At Henry’s mansion then, in Blank-Blank Square,
Was Juan a recherché, welcome guest,
As many other noble scions were;
And some who had but Talent for their crest;
Or Wealth, which is a passport everywhere;
Or even mere Fashion, which indeed’s the best
Recommendation; and to be well dressed
Will very often supersede the rest.
XXIX
And since “there’s safety in a multitude
Of counsellors,” as Solomon has said,
Or some one for him, in some sage, grave mood;—
Indeed we see the daily proof displayed
In Senates, at the Bar, in wordy feud,
Where’er collective wisdom can parade,
Which is the only cause that we can guess
Of Britain’s present wealth and happiness;—
XXX
But as “there’s safety” grafted in the number
“Of counsellors,” for men—thus for the sex
A large acquaintance lets not Virtue slumber;
Or should it shake, the choice will more perplex—
Variety itself will more encumber.1000
’Midst many rocks we guard more against wrecks—
And thus with women: howsoe’er it shocks some’s
Self-love, there’s safety in a crowd of coxcombs.
XXXI
But Adeline had not the least occasion
For such a shield, which leaves but little merit
To Virtue proper, or good education.
Her chief resource was in her own high spirit,
Which judged Mankind at their due estimation;
And for coquetry, she disdained to wear it—
Secure of admiration: its impression
Was faint—as of an every-day possession.
XXXII
To all she was polite without parade;
To some she showed attention of that kind
Which flatters, but is flattery conveyed
In such a sort as cannot leave behind
A trace unworthy either wife or maid;—
A gentle, genial courtesy of mind,1001
To those who were, or passed for meritorious,
Just to console sad Glory for being glorious;
XXXIII
Which is in all respects, save now and then,
A dull and desolate appendage. Gaze
Upon the shades of those distinguished men
Who were or are the puppet-shows of praise,
The praise of persecution. Gaze again
On the most favoured; and amidst the blaze
Of sunset halos o’er the laurel-browed,
What can ye recognise?—a gilded cloud.
XXXIV
There also was of course in Adeline
That calm patrician polish in the address,
Which ne’er can pass the equinoctial line
Of anything which Nature would express;
Just as a Mandarin finds nothing fine—
At least his manner suffers not to guess,
That anything he views can greatly please:
Perhaps we have borrowed this from the Chinese—1002
XXXV
Perhaps from Horace: his “Nil admirari”
Was what he called the “Art of Happiness”—
An art on which the artists greatly vary,
And have not yet attained to much success.
However, ’tis expedient to be wary:
Indifference, certes, don’t produce distress;
And rash Enthusiasm in good society
Were nothing but a moral inebriety.
XXXVI
But Adeline was not indifferent: for
(Now for a common-place!) beneath the snow,
As a Volcano holds the lava more
Within—et caetera. Shall I go on?—No!
I hate to hunt down a tired metaphor,
So let the
