ts from a journal written up every
day by that poor young man, by that poor fool! For it is in the presence
of a fool, gentlemen, that we now find ourselves, and the case is all the
more curious, all the more interesting, seeing that, in many points, it
recalls the insanity of the unfortunate prince who recently died, of the
witless king who reigned platonically over Bavaria. I shall hence
designate this case--poetic folly.

You will readily call to mind all that has been told of that most
singular prince. He caused to be erected amid the most magnificent
scenery his kingdom afforded, veritable fairy castles. The reality even
of the beauty of the things themselves, as well as of the places, did not
satisfy him. He invented, he created, in these improbable manors,
factitious horizons, obtained by means of theatrical artifices, changes
of view, painted forests, fabled empires, in which the leaves of the
trees became precious stones. He had the Alps, and glaciers, steppes,
deserts of sand made hot by a blazing sun; and at nights, under the rays
of the real moon, lakes which sparkled from below by means of fantastic
electric lights. Swans floated on the lakes which glistened with skiffs,
while an orchestra, composed of the finest executants in the world,
inebriated with poetry the soul of the royal fool. That man was chaste,
that man was a virgin. He lived only to dream, his dream, his dream
divine. One evening he took out with him in his boat, a lady, young and
beautiful, a great artiste, and he begged her to sing. Intoxicated
herself by the magnificent scenery, by the languid softness of the air,
by the perfume of flowers, and by the ecstacy of that prince, both young
and handsome, she sang, she sang as women sing who have been touched by
love; then, overcome, trembling, she falls on the bosom of the king in
order to seek out his lips. But he throws her into the lake, and seizing
his oars, rows back to the shore, without concerning himself, whether
anybody has saved her or not.

Gentlemen of the jury, we find ourselves in presence of a case similar in
every way to that. I shall say no more now, except to read some passages
from the journal which we unexpectedly came upon in the drawer of an old
secretary.

* * * * *

How sad and weary is everything; always the same, always hateful. How I
dream of a land more beautiful, more noble, more varied. What a poor
conception they have of their Go