he besought me to coincide in his excuses of a widely
charming young archduchess, for whom no estimable
husband of a fitting rank could anywhere be discovered,
so she had to be bestowed upon an archducal imbecile;
and hence—and hence—Oh, certainly!
Generous youth and benevolent age joined hands of
exoneration over her. The princess of Satteberg
actually married, under covert, a colonel of Uhlans
at the age of seventeen; the marriage was quashed,
the colonel vanished, the princess became the scandalous
Duchess of Ilm-Ilm, and was surprised one infamous
night in the outer court of the castle by a soldier
on guard, who dragged her into the guard-room and
unveiled her there, and would have been summarily shot
for his pains but for the locket on his breast, which
proved him to be his sovereign’s son.—A
perfect romance, Mr. Chancellor. We will say the
soldier son loved a delicate young countess in attendance
on the duchess. The countess spies the locket,
takes it to the duchess, is reprimanded, when behold!
the locket opens, and Colonel von Bein appears as in
his blooming youth, in Lancer uniform.—Young
sir, your piece of romance has exaggerated history
to caricature. Romances are the destruction of
human interest. The moment you begin to move
the individuals, they are puppets. ’Nothing
but poetry, and I say it who do not read it’—(Chancellor
von Redwitz is the speaker)’nothing but poetry
makes romances passable: for poetry is the everlastingly
and embracingly human. Without it your fictions
are flat foolishness, non-nourishing substance—a
species of brandy and gruel!—diet for craving
stomachs that can support nothing solider, and must
have the weak stuff stiffened. Talking of poetry,
there was an independent hereditary princess of Leiterstein
in love with a poet!—a Leonora d’Este!—This
was no Tasso. Nevertheless, she proposed to come
to nuptials. Good, you observe? I confine
myself to the relation of historical circumstances;
in other words, facts; and of good or bad I know not.’
Chancellor von Redwitz smoothed the black silk stocking
of his crossed leg, and set his bunch of seals and
watch-key swinging. He resumed, entirely to amuse
me,
’The Princess Elizabeth of Leiterstein promised
all the qualities which the most solicitous of paternal
princes could desire as a guarantee for the judicious
government of the territory to be bequeathed to her
at his demise. But, as there is no romance to
be extracted from her story, I may as well tell you
at once that she did not espouse the poet.’
’On the contrary, dear Mr. Chancellor, I am
interested in the princess. Proceed, and be as
minute as you please.’
’It is but a commonplace excerpt of secret historical
narrative buried among the archives of the Family,
my good Mr. Richmond. The Princess Elizabeth
thoughtlessly pledged her hand to the young sonneteer.
Of course, she could not fulfil her engagement.’
‘Why not?’
‘You see, you are impatient for romance, young
gentleman.’