A quarter of a mile the other side of Hohenfliess might already be seen jogging on her Gibbon, well known among all natural historians—not among the politicians—by the long arms which this owner of the Moluccas and Ape notoriously carries. "Where is my Gibbon?" the Princess usually asked (even supposing she had in her hand, at the moment, the English namesake,—the historian with long nails and short sentences against the Christians) when she wanted her Longimanus.
At last she came prancing along—all plumed and in riding-habit—on the finest English steed,—a tall, majestic figure, who, indifferent to her court-retinue, although freighted with relatives, would much rather have looked a welcome to the blue morning sun behind a rearing horse's and swan's neck. She gave the Bridegroom's-coat with propriety greeting and kiss, but neither with emotion nor dissimulation nor embarrassment, but freely and frankly and cordially, too far exalted above the ridiculousness of her genealogical disproportion to do otherwise; yes, even above every thought of that disproportion which necessity or tyranny created. In her otherwise fairly built—rather than finely drawn—face, her nose alone was not so, but angularly cut and presenting more bones than cartilage in contrast to the commonplace character of regents. With women, marked, irregular noses, e. g. with deep indenture of the bridge, or with concave or convex archings, or with facettes at the knob, &c., signify far more for talent than with men; and—except in the case of a few whom I myself have seen—beauty must always sacrifice something to genius, although not so much as afterward the genius of others sacrifices to beauty, as we men in general have, unfortunately perhaps, done.
The Count was presented to the Princess; she had not known him,—although she had heard of him and seen his father so long,—but had rather fancied him to resemble the Bridegroom's-coat. The coat could not—or should not—have failed to be flattered by this blooming likeness. The likeness entirely explains the beautiful interest which she now must needs take in both, because it always takes a couple of people to make a resemblance.
She spoke with the son without any embarrassment about the Knight of the Fleece having been presented by her and her Court with a (flower-) basket,[[4]] and extolled his knowledge of art. "Art," said she, "makes in the end all lands alike and agreeable. When that is once had, one thinks of nothing further. At Dresden, in the inner gallery, I really believed I was in joyous Italy. Yes, if one should go to Italy itself, one would forget even Italy in the midst of all that one finds there." Albano answered, "I know, I too shall one day intoxicate myself with the old wine of art, and glow under it; but for the present it is to me merely a beautiful, blooming vineyard, whose powers I certainly know beforehand, without as yet feeling them." The Princess won his esteem so exceedingly, that he put the question to her, when the Prince, a few steps onward, was surveying from the window the swelling flood of the Pestitz escort, how the German ceremonies of her rank struck her artistic taste. "Tell me," said she, lightly, "what station among us has not full as many, and where, in the whole range of situations, do not priests and advocates play their part? Just look for once at the marriages of the imperial cities. The Germans are herein no better nor worse than any other nation, old or new, wild or polished. Think of Louis Fourteenth. Once for all, such is man; but I do not, of course, respect him for that."
The Prince reminded them now of the hour of march; and the Princess mustered together, by way of attiring herself for the grand entrée, more, dressing-maids and toilet-boxes than Albano, according to her words, or we, according to the cartilages of her nose,—which seemed spiritual wing-bones,—should have expected. Her hurrying people followed her with more dread than reverence for her rank or character; and some, who occasionally ran by out of the dressing-chamber, had downcast faces.
At last she appeared again, but much fairer than before. There must surely belong to the manliest woman more charming womanliness than we think, since such a one gains by female finery, by which the most effeminate man would only lose. "Rank," said she to Albano, showing a great candor in opinions, which easily consists with a quite as great reserve in emotions, "oppresses and confines a great soul oftentimes less than sex." Her calling herself a great soul could not but strike the Count, because he now saw before him the first example—another man knows innumerable examples—of the fact, that distinguished women praise themselves outright, and far more than distinguished men.
The grand movement began. On a boundary bridge, which, like the printer's hyphen, was at once sign of separation and of connection between the two principalities, half Hohenfliess already sat halting in carriages and on horseback, until an upset, shabby old vehicle, with village comedians, could be raised again on the fourth wheel, and the mythological household furniture which they had in hand packed in. But when the Princess made her way by main force on to the bridge, suddenly passengers and packers converted themselves into muses, gods of music, gods of love, and a pretty little Hymen, and, in theatrical decoration and apparatus, flooded the encircled bride with their poetic effusions, representing the war of the other gods against the virgin-stealer Hymen. The son of the muses who had versified the matter acted a part himself, as father of the muses. I dare say that this original invention of the Minister was very favorably received, as well by Haarhaar as by Hohenfliess.
Froulay, all prinked and powdered, as if he were stretching himself out on the bed of state between funeral-gueridons,[[5]] marched out before her as spokesman of the country, which wished to testify its happy participation in her marriage to the Bridegroom's-coat. The Princess abridged and clipped short all festal lying with a fine pair of ladies' scissors.
Froulay had, among other carriages, brought with him also one containing several trumpeters and kettle-drummers, levied from all quarters, in which, for joke's sake, Schoppe stood, too, who did not often stay away from great processions of men, for this reason, because men never looked more ridiculous than when they did anything in mass and multitude. By way of bringing salt to the solemnities, he set up in his carriage the hypothesis that they were doing all this merely, with the best intention, for the sake of driving the bride back again to where she had come from, partly by way of sparing her the sham- and stage-marriage, partly by way of sparing the land the new court-state. Her ear, he assumed, when the cannon drawn up on the surrounding hills mingled with the trumpeting of his thunder-car, and three postmasters, with fifteen postilions, who had not been posted there for nothing, with their best horns and lungs, blew their horns at the same moment,—her ear must be very much tortured, and she somewhat repelled, by such a welcome. Hence they even send empty state-coaches with the rest, just for the sake of the rattling, even as, in the province of Anspach, the farmer, merely by frightful screaming, without ammunition or dogs, drives the stags from his crops.[[6]] As ships do in the fog by lanterns and drums, so would states fain keep themselves apart by illumination and firing.
She still, however, I see, moves onward, said he, on the way,—sometimes taking into his hands with profit the diphthong of the kettle-drum,—and we must all accordingly follow after; but perhaps her ear is already dead, and she is now only to be come at through the eye. In this hope he was exceedingly delighted with the dapple uniform of the assembled officers and feather scarecrows of the court-liveries. Now there is still to come, he predicted, joyfully, the gold-spangled, triumphal arch, with vases and pipers, through which she must directly pass; and do not people scare away sparrows from the cherry trees, then, with gold leaf and Selzer pitchers?