"Nor life, without romance, either," said Gwendoline.
"Oh! Do you think so ? " exclaimed Lady Brenda. " I am sure I know many people who are not at all romantic but whose lives are very interesting to themselves."
"People who make money an object," answered Augustus. " But they have a romance nevertheless, and a very pretty one — the story of the loves of the pound, the shilling and the penny, told in many manuscript volumes with a detail worthy of M. Zola."
"Yes," said Heine with a smile, " the love of a Hamburg banker for a dollar is wonderful, passing the love of women."
"The sense of romance must be instinctive," said Diana. " We distinguish at a glance between what is romantic and what is not, as we distinguish between black and white. For instance Alexander the Great is a romantic character; Julius Caesar is not. I do not see that in those cases the explanation is true which ascribes romance to the traditions of knights-errant, troubadours and tournaments."
"That is true," said Chopin. " Just as the primeval song of the Arab or the Hindoo peasant is romantic, while Chinese music is not."
"Judas Maccabseus was a romantic character," put in Heine. " Moses was not, though he was a greater man. Judas Maccabaeus was the Cromwell of the Jews, and it is impossible to read his history without a thrill of enthusiasm. I suppose that is why the early Church instituted the feast of the Maccabean martyrs, on the first of August, though they were Jews, put to death before the birth of Christ for the Jewish faith by Antiochus Epiphanes — a mother and her seven sons. Judas Maccabseus was undoubtedly a hero."
"Then our whole theory of romance falls to the ground," said Lady Brenda.
"I think not," answered Augustus. " It is enough to extend it a little, and to say that all men and women who have acted nobly under the influence of strong and good passions have been romantic characters."
"That is not enough, either," objected Heine. "I do not think that they need have acted nobly, nor necessarily under the influence of good passions. Alexander, burning Persepolis under the influence of Thais's smiles and Timotheus's song is a romantic character enough. But the action was not noble, nor the passion good."
"But was he romantic in that case? " asked Lady Brenda. "It was rather like Nero burning Rome, you know."
"Perhaps there is a doubt on the subject," replied the poet. " It may be a question of individual taste.
Take another instance, out of more recent times. Was Giovanna of Naples, the first — the daughter of Robert — a romantic character or not ? "
"Of course," answered Lady Brenda.
"Was her love for Luigi of Taranto a romantic passion ? "
"I suppose so," admitted the lady.
"Then the murder of her husband, Andreas of Hungary, which she planned and caused to be executed out of her love for Luigi, her cousin, was romantic. There is no doubt of it. Many murders have a strong romantic colour. Christina of Sweden causing Monaldeschi to be killed at Fontainebleau, is another instance. There was nothing noble or good about either of those cases."
"I yield," said Augustus. " Then suppose we say that men and women acting under the influence of strong passions are romantic characters."
"There is more truth in that," replied Heine; " but it does not include enough."
"It does not tell me why I feel that the Arab is romantic while the Chinaman is not," remarked Chopin.
"My dear friend," said the other, " we know very little about Chinamen, and their appearance does not suggest romantic thoughts."
"True. But why?" insisted the composer, who felt that there was something in his question.
"It appears," said Augustus, " that some races are fundamentally excluded from all connection with our ideas of romance. But I believe that is because we cannot get so near to them, being by nature so different from them, as to be able to understand their feelings and passions."
"I have heard that Chinese music has sixty-six keys," remarked Chopin. " That would account for their music not being comprehensible to us. Then it follows that unless people and their feelings come readily within our understanding we cannot connect them with any idea of romance."
"Yes," answered Heine, " and the more we know them, the more we appreciate the romantic element. No schoolboy thinks Achilles half as romantic as Rob Roy. And yet Achilles is one of the most romantic characters in all epic poetry."
"Then the Iliad is a romance ?" inquired Gwendoline.
"It is the big romance, with a big hero, in big times, which we call an epic," replied the poet. " And it is written in magnificent verse. The modern romance is an infinitesimal epic of which Tom is the hero, Sarah Jane the heroine,' and a little modern house with green blinds and an iron railing is the scene of the action. But Tom and Jane love each other almost as much as Achilles and Briseis and are a great deal happier; and if the little house catches fire when Tom is out, and he comes back just in time to plunge through the flames and carry off Sarah Jane, with the loss of his eyebrows and beard and at the risk of his life, he is just as much of a hero as Achilles when he put on his new armour and went to kill Hector and the Trojans. For a man cannot do more than risk his life with his eyes open for the sake of what he loves, whether he be Achilles or Tom. The essential part of the romance is something which shall call out the strongest qualities in the natures of the actors in it; because all strong actions interest us, and if they are also good they rouse our admiration. And if those strong actions are done for the sake of love, or of what we call honour, or to free a nation from slavery they strike us as romantic."
"Because all those things," remarked Augustus, "are closely associated with modern romance from its beginning. The mediseval knight was the impersonation of love, honour and patriotism."
"Also, because those are the feelings most deeply felt by the human heart, and in spite of all that realism can do, stories of love, honour and patriotism will always and to the end of all time, appeal to every one who has a soul. The realists, of course, say that there is no soul, and that love, honour and patriotism are conventional terms, as right and wrong are conventional conceptions. That is paltry stuff. But the actions may be bad and yet be romantic, where love is the subject, and as that is the most usual subject for romance, it follows that men have endeavoured to treat it in the greatest variety of situations. Bad or good, it always interests. Our sympathy for fair Rosamund is at least as great as that we feel for Anne Boleyn."
" I fancy it is not certain whether the most romantic characters excite the most sympathy," said Lady Brenda.
"After they are dead they generally do," answered the poet, with a smile. " When we think of a romantic character we always fancy to ourselves that it must have been very charming to be the hero or heroine of all the thrilling scenes in which he or she took part. In fiction the romantic character has been worn out, partly because fiction is never so extraordinary- as reality; the result is that in modern books we are often most drawn towards some minor character of whom we feel at the end of the book that we have not seen enough, simply, because we have not been bored by him. But the romance of history does not wear out. There is the same difference between people in history and people in fiction which exists between a real king and a stage king with a tinsel crown. It is easy enough to dress an actor in royal robes, and to tell people that the crown is of real gold, eighteen carats fine; it is quite another matter to find words for the sham king to speak, and kingly actions for him to perform. For the construction of a good epic you must have both, or must find both; and that is a little hard when one has but a little acquaintance with kings. It is not everybody