from Canto XIII

21

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.

22

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.

23

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 back a horse, as despots ride a Russian.

24

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 marches with his quality.

25

At Blank-Blank Square;—for we will break no squares
    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.

26

Also there bin 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.

27

‘Tis true, I might have chosen Piccadilly,
    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.

28

At Henry’s mansion then, in Blank-Blank Square,
    Was Juan a recherch, welcome guest,
As many other noble Scions were;
     And some who had but talent for their crest;
Or wealth, which is a passport every where;
     Or even mere fashion, which indeed’s the best
Recommendation;—and to be well drest
Will very often supersede the rest.

29

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;—

30

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.
     ‘Midst many rocks we guard more against wrecks;
And thus with women: howsoe’er it shock some’s
Self-love, there’s safety in a crowd of coxcombs.