Along the aspect, whether smooth or rough,
Of him who, in the language of his station,
Then held that “high official situation.”
XLIX
O gentle ladies! should you seek to know
The import of this diplomatic phrase,
Bid Ireland’s Londonderry’s Marquess780 show
His parts of speech, and in the strange displays
Of that odd string of words, all in a row,
Which none divine, and every one obeys,
Perhaps you may pick out some queer no meaning—
Of that weak wordy harvest the sole gleaning.
L
I think I can explain myself without
That sad inexplicable beast of prey—
That Sphinx, whose words would ever be a doubt,
Did not his deeds unriddle them each day—
That monstrous hieroglyphic—that long spout
Of blood and water—leaden Castlereagh!
And here I must an anecdote relate,
But luckily of no great length or weight.
LI
An English lady asked of an Italian,
What were the actual and official duties
Of the strange thing some women set a value on,
Which hovers oft about some married beauties,
Called “Cavalier Servente?”781—a Pygmalion
Whose statues warm (I fear, alas! too true ’tis)
Beneath his art:782—the dame, pressed to disclose them,
Said—“Lady, I beseech you to suppose them.”
LII
And thus I supplicate your supposition,
And mildest, matron-like interpretation,
Of the imperial favourite’s condition.
’Twas a high place, the highest in the nation
In fact, if not in rank; and the suspicion
Of any one’s attaining to his station,
No doubt gave pain, where each new pair of shoulders,
If rather broad, made stocks rise—and their holders.
LIII
Juan, I said, was a most beauteous boy,
And had retained his boyish look beyond
The usual hirsute seasons which destroy,
With beards and whiskers, and the like, the fond
Parisian aspect, which upset old Troy
And founded Doctors’ Commons:783—I have conned
The history of divorces, which, though chequered,
Calls Ilion’s the first damages on record.
LIV
And Catherine, who loved all things (save her Lord,
Who was gone to his place), and passed for much,
Admiring those (by dainty dames abhorred)
Gigantic gentlemen, yet had a touch
Of sentiment: and he she most adored
Was the lamented Lanskoi, who was such
A lover as had cost her many a tear,
And yet but made a middling grenadier.
LV
Oh thou “teterrima causa” of all “belli”—784
Thou gate of Life and Death—thou nondescript!
Whence is our exit and our entrance—well I
May pause in pondering how all souls are dipped
In thy perennial fountain:—how man fell I
Know not, since Knowledge saw her branches stripped
Of her first fruit; but how he falls and rises
Since—thou hast settled beyond all surmises.
LVI
Some call thee “the worst cause of War,” but I
Maintain thou art the best:—for after all,
From thee we come, to thee we go, and why
To get at thee not batter down a wall,
Or waste a World? since no one can deny
Thou dost replenish worlds both great and small:
With—or without thee—all things at a stand785
Are, or would be, thou sea of Life’s dry land!786
LVII
Catherine, who was the grand Epitome
Of that great cause of War, or Peace, or what
You please (it causes all the things which be,
So you may take your choice of this or that)—
Catherine, I say, was very glad to see
The handsome herald, on whose plumage sat787
Victory; and, pausing as she saw him kneel
With his despatch, forgot to break the seal.
LVIII
Then recollecting the whole Empress, nor
Forgetting quite the Woman (which composed
At least three parts of this great whole), she tore
The letter open with an air which posed
The Court, that watched each look her visage wore,
Until a royal smile at length disclosed
Fair weather for the day. Though rather spacious,
Her face was noble, her eyes fine, mouth gracious.788
LIX
Great joy was hers, or rather joys: the first
Was a ta’en city, thirty thousand slain:
Glory and triumph o’er her aspect burst,
As an East Indian sunrise on the main:—
These quenched a moment her Ambition’s thirst—
So Arab deserts drink in Summer’s rain:
In vain!—As fall the dews on quenchless sands,
Blood only serves to wash Ambition’s hands!
LX
Her next amusement was more fanciful;
She smiled at mad Suwarrow’s rhymes, who threw
Into a Russian couplet rather dull
The whole gazette of thousands whom he slew:
Her third was feminine enough to annul
The shudder which runs naturally through
Our veins, when things called Sovereigns think it best
To kill, and Generals turn it into jest.
LXI
The two first feelings ran their course complete,
And lighted first her eye, and then her mouth:
The whole court looked immediately most sweet,
Like flowers well watered after a long drouth:—
But when on the Lieutenant at her feet
Her Majesty, who liked to gaze on youth
Almost as much as on a new despatch,
Glanced mildly—all the world was on the watch.
LXII
Though somewhat large, exuberant, and truculent,
When wroth—while pleased, she was as fine a figure
As those who like things rosy, ripe, and succulent,
Would wish to look on, while they are in vigour.
She could repay each amatory look you lent
With interest, and, in turn, was wont with rigour
To exact of Cupid’s bills the full amount
At sight, nor would permit you to discount.
LXIII
With her the latter, though at times convenient,
Was not so necessary; for they tell
That she was handsome, and though fierce looked lenient,
And always used her favourites too well.
If once beyond her boudoir’s precincts in ye went,
Your “fortune” was in a fair way “to swell
A man” (as Giles says);789 for though she would widow all
Nations, she liked Man as an individual.
LXIV
What a strange thing is Man! and what a stranger
Is Woman! What a whirlwind is her head,
And what a whirlpool full of depth and danger
Is all the rest about her! Whether wed,
Or widow—maid—or mother, she can change her
Mind like the wind: whatever
