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.'

'Not at all, Mr. Chancellor. I do but ask a question.'

'You fence. Your question was dictated by impatience.'

'Yes, for the facts and elucidations!

'For the romance, that