from Canto XI

31

Into one of the sweetest of hotels,
     Especially for foreigners—and mostly
For those whom favour or whom fortune swells,
     And cannot find a bill’s small items costly.
There many an envoy either dwelt or dwells,
     (The den of many a diplomatic lost lie)
Until to some conspicuous square they pass,
And blazon o’er the door their names in brass.

32

Juan, whose was a delicate commission,
     Private, though publicly important, bore
No title to point out with due precision
     The exact affair on which he was sent o’er.
‘Twas merely known that on a secret mission
     A foreigner of rank had graced our shore,
Young, handsome, and accomplished, who was said
(In whispers) to have turned his Sovereign’s head.

33

Some rumour also of some strange adventures
     Had gone before him, and his wars and loves;
And as romantic heads are pretty painters,
    And, above all, an Englishwoman’s roves
Into the excursive, breaking the indentures
    Of sober reason, wheresoe’er it moves,
He found himself extremely in the fashion,
Which serves our thinking people for a passion.

34

I don’t mean that they are passionless, but quite
     The contrary; but then ‘tis in the head;
Yet as the consequences are as bright
     As if they acted with the heart instead,
What after all can signify the site
    Of ladies’ lucubrations? So they lead
In safety to the place for which you start,
What matters if the road be head or heart?

35

Juan presented in the proper place,
    To proper placemen, every Russ credential;
And was received with all the due grimace,
     By those who govern in the mood potential;
Who, seeing a handsome stripling with smooth face,
     Thought (what in state affairs is most essential)
That they as easily might do the youngster,
As hawks may pounce upon a woodland songster.

36

They erred, as aged men will do; but by
     And by we’ll talk of that; and if we don’t,
‘Twill be because our notion is not high
     Of politicians and their double front,
Who live by lies, yet dare not boldly lie:
     Now what I love in women is, they won’t
Or can’t do otherwise than lie, but do it
So well, the very truth seems falsehood to it.

37

And, after all, what is a lie? ‘Tis but
     The truth in masquerade; and I defy
Historians, heroes, lawyers, priests to put
     A fact without some leaven of a lie.
The very shadow of true Truth would shut
     Up annals, revelations, poesy,
And prophecy—except it should be dated
Some years before the incidents related.

38

Praised be all liars and all lies! Who now
    Can tax my mild Muse with misanthropy?
She rings the world’s “Te Deum,” and her brow
     Blushes for those who will not:—but to sigh
Is idle; let us like most others bow,
     Kiss hands, feet, any part of Majesty,
After the good example of “Green Erin,”
Whose Shamrock now seems rather worse for wearing.

39

Don Juan was presented, and his dress
     And mien excited general admiration—
I don’t know which was most admired or less:
     One monstrous diamond drew much observation,
Which Catherine in a moment of “ivresse”
     (In love or brandy’s fervent fermentation)
Bestowed upon him, as the public learned;
And, to say truth, it had been fairly earned.

40

Besides the Ministers and underlings,
     Who must be courteous to the accredited
Diplomatists of rather wavering kings,
     Until their royal riddle’s fully read,
The very clerks,—those somewhat dirty springs
     Of office, or the House of Office, fed
By foul corruption into streams,—even they
Were hardly rude enough to earn their pay.