king, I needed not this intoxicating draught; once I detested the hot
brandy wine, and quaffed no other fount but nature’s rill. It dashes not
more quickly o’er the rocks than I did, as, with blunderbuss in hand, I
brushed away the early morning dew, and shot the partridge, snipe, or
antlered deer! Ah! well may England’s dramatist remark, ‘Uneasy lies
the head that wears a crown!’ Why did I steal my nephew’s, my young
Giglio’s—? Steal! said I? no, no, no, not steal, not steal. Let me
withdraw that odious expression. I took, and on my manly head I set, the
royal crown of Paflagonia; I took, and with my royal arm I wield, the
sceptral rod of Paflagonia; I took, and in my outstretched hand I hold,
the royal orb of Paflagonia! Could a poor boy, a snivelling, drivelling
boy—was in his nurse’s arms but yesterday, and cried for sugar-plums and
puled for pap—bear up the awful weight of crown, orb, scepter? gird on
the sword my royal fathers wore, and meet in fight the tough Crimean foe?”
And then the monarch went on to argue in his own mind (though we need
not say that blank verse is not argument) that what he had got it was
his duty to keep, and that, if at one time he had entertained ideas of a
certain restitution, which shall be nameless, the prospect by a _certain
marriage_ of uniting two crowns and two nations which had been engaged
in bloody and expensive wars, as the Paflagonians and the Crimeans
had been, put the idea of Giglio’s restoration to the throne out of
the question: nay, were his own brother, King Savio, alive, he would
certainly will away the crown from his own son in order to bring about
such a desirable union.
Thus easily do we deceive ourselves! Thus do we fancy what we wish is
right! The King took courage, read the papers, finished his muffins and
eggs, and rang the bell for his Prime Minister. The Queen, after thinking
whether she should go up and see Giglio, who had been sick, thought, “Not
now. Business first; pleasure afterwards. I will go and see dear Giglio
this afternoon; and now I will drive to the jeweller’s, to look for the
necklace and bracelets.” The Princess went up into her own room, and
made Betsinda, her maid, bring out all her dresses; and as for Giglio,
they forgot him as much as I forget what I had for dinner last Tuesday
twelvemonth.
II
HOW KING VALOROSO GOT THE CROWN, AND PRINCE GIGLIO WENT WITHOUT
[Illustration]
Paflagonia, ten or twenty thousand years ago, appears to have been one
of those kingdoms where the laws of succession were not settled; for
when King Savio died, leaving his brother Regent of the kingdom, and
guardian of Savio’s orphan infant, this unfaithful regent took no sort
of regard of the late monarch’s will; had himself proclaimed sovereign of
Paflagonia under the title of King Valoroso XXIV., had a most splendid
coronation, and ordered all the nobles of the kingdom to pay him homage.
So long as Valoroso gave them plenty of balls at Court, plenty of money
and lucrative places, the Paflagonian nobility did not care who was
king; and as for the people, in those early times, they were equally
indifferent. The Prince Giglio, by reason of his tender age at his royal
father’s death, did not feel the loss of his crown and empire. As long
as he had plenty of toys and sweetmeats, a holiday five times a week,
and a horse and gun to go out shooting when he grew a little older, and,
above all, the company of his darling cousin, the King’s only child,
poor Giglio was perfectly contented; nor did he envy his uncle the royal
robes and scepter, the great hot uncomfortable throne of state, and the
enormous cumbersome crown in which that monarch appeared from morning
till night. King Valoroso’s portrait has been left to us; and I think
you will agree with me that he must have been sometimes _rather tired_
of his velvet, and his diamonds, and his ermine, and his grandeur. I
shouldn’t like to sit in that stifling robe with such a thing as that on
my head.
[Illustration]
No doubt, the Queen must have been lovely in her youth, for though she
grew rather stout in after life, yet her features, as shown in her
portrait, are certainly _pleasing_. If she was fond of flattery, scandal,
cards, and fine clothes, let us deal gently with her infirmities, which,
after all, may be no greater than our own. She was kind to her nephew;
and if she had any scruples of conscience about her husband’s taking the
young Prince’s crown, consoled herself by thinking that the King, though
a usurper, was a most respectable man, and that at his death Prince
Giglio would be restored to his throne, and share it with his cousin,
whom he loved so fondly.
The Prime Minister was Glumboso, an old statesman, who most cheerfully
swore fidelity to King Valoroso, and in whose hands the monarch left all
the affairs of his kingdom. All Valoroso wanted was plenty of money,
plenty of hunting, plenty of flattery, and as little trouble as possible.
As long as he had his sport, this monarch cared little how his people
paid for it: he engaged in some wars, and of course the Paflagonian
newspapers announced that he gained prodigious victories: he had statues
erected to himself in every city of the empire; and of course his
pictures placed everywhere, and in all the print-shops: he was Valoroso
the Magnanimous, Valoroso the Victorious, Valoroso the Great, and so
forth—for even in these early times courtiers and people knew how to
flatter.
This royal pair had one only child, the Princess Angelica, who, you may
be sure, was a paragon in the courtiers’ eyes, in her parents’, and in
her own. It was said she had the longest hair, the largest eyes, the
slimmest waist, the smallest foot, and the most lovely complexion of
any young lady in the Paflagonian dominions. Her accomplishments were
announced to be even superior to her beauty; and governesses used to
shame their idle pupils by telling them what Princess Angelica could
do. She could play the most difficult pieces of music at sight. She
could answer any one of “Mangnall’s Questions.” She knew every date in
the history of Paflagonia, and every other country. She knew French,
English, Italian, German, Spanish, Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Cappadocian,
Samothracian, Ægean and Crim Tartar. In a word, she was a most
accomplished young creature; and her governess and lady-in-waiting was
the severe Countess Gruffanuff.
[Illustration]
Would you not fancy, from this picture, that Gruffanuff must have been
a person of the highest birth? She looks so haughty that I should have
thought her a Princess at the very least, with a pedigree reaching as
far back as the Deluge. But this lady was no better born than many other
ladies who give themselves airs; and all sensible people laughed at
her absurd pretensions. The fact is, she had been maid-servant to the
Queen when Her Majesty was only Princess and her husband had been head
footman; but after his death or _disappearance_, of which you shall hear
presently, this Mrs. Gruffanuff, by flattering, toadying, and wheedling
her royal mistress, became a favorite with the Queen (who was rather
a weak woman), and Her Majesty gave her a title, and made her nursery
governess to the Princess.
And now I must tell you about the Princess’s learning and
accomplishments, for which she had such a wonderful character. Clever
Angelica certainly was, but as _idle as possible_. Play at sight, indeed!
she could play one or two pieces, and pretend that she had never seen
them before; she could answer half a dozen “Mangnall’s Questions”; but
then you must take care to ask the _right_ ones. As for her languages,
she had masters in plenty, but I doubt whether she knew more than a few
phrases in each, for all her pretence; and as for her embroidery and her
drawing, she showed beautiful specimens, it is true, but _who did them_?
This obliges me to tell the truth, and to do so I must go back ever so
far, and tell you about the Fairy Blackstick.
III
TELLS WHO THE FAIRY BLACKSTICK WAS, AND WHO WERE EVER SO MANY GRAND
PERSONAGES BESIDES
Between the kingdoms of Paflagonia and Crim Tartary, there lived a
mysterious personage, who was known in those countries as the Fairy
Blackstick, from the ebony wand or crutch which she carried; on which
she rode to the moon sometimes, or upon other excursions of business or
pleasure, and with which she performed her wonders.
When she was young, and had been first taught the art of conjuring
by the necromancer, her father, she was always practising her skill,
whizzing about from one kingdom to another upon her black stick, and
conferring her fairy favors upon this Prince or that. She had scores of
royal godchildren; turned numberless wicked people into beasts, birds,
millstones, clocks, pumps, bootjacks, umbrellas, or other absurd shapes;
and, in a word, was one of the most active and officious of the whole
College of fairies.
But after two or three thousand years of this sport, I suppose Blackstick
grew tired of it. Or perhaps she thought, “What good am I doing by
sending this Princess to sleep for a hundred years? by fixing a black
pudding on to that booby’s nose? by causing diamonds and pearls to drop
from one little girl’s mouth, and vipers and toads from another’s? I
begin to think I do as much harm as good by my performances. I might as
well shut my incantations up, and allow things to take their natural
course.
“There were my two young goddaughters, King Savio’s wife, and Duke
Padella’s wife, I gave them each a present, which was to render them
charming in the eyes of their husbands, and secure the affection of those
gentlemen as long as they lived. What good did my Rose and my Ring do
these two women? None on earth. From having all their whims indulged by
their husbands, they became capricious, lazy, ill-humored, absurdly vain,
and leered and languished, and fancied themselves irresistibly beautiful,
when they were really quite old and hideous, the ridiculous creatures!
They used actually to patronise me when I went to pay them a visit—_me_,
the Fairy Blackstick, who knows all the wisdom of the necromancers,
and who could have turned them into baboons, and all their diamonds
into strings of onions, by a single wave of my rod!” So she locked up
her books in her cupboard, declined further magical performances, and
scarcely used her wand at all except as a cane to walk about with.
So when Duke Padella’s lady had a little son (the Duke was at that
time only one of the principal noblemen in Crim Tartary), Blackstick,
although invited to the christening, would not so much as attend;
but merely sent her compliments and a silver papboat for the baby,
which was really not worth a couple of guineas. About the same time
the Queen of Paflagonia presented His Majesty with a son and heir; and
guns were fired, the capital illuminated, and no end of feasts ordained
to celebrate the young Prince’s birth. It was thought the Fairy, who
was asked to be his godmother, would at least have presented him with
an invisible jacket, a flying horse, a Fortunatus’s purse, or some
other valuable token of her favor; but instead, Blackstick went up to
the cradle of the child Giglio, when everybody was admiring him and
complimenting his royal papa and mamma, and said, “My poor child, the
best thing I can send you is a little _misfortune_”; and this was all
she would utter, to the disgust of Giglio’s parents, who died very soon
after, when Giglio’s uncle took the throne, as we read in Chapter I.
In like manner, when Cavolfiore, King of Crim Tartary, had a christening
of his only child, Rosalba, the Fairy Blackstick, who had been invited,
was not more gracious than in Prince Giglio’s case. Whilst everybody was
expatiating over the beauty of the darling child, and congratulating
its parents, the Fairy Blackstick looked very sadly at the baby and its
mother, and said, “My good woman (for the Fairy was very familiar, and no
more minded a Queen than a washerwoman)—my good woman, these people who
are following you will be the first to turn against you; and as for this
little lady, the best thing I can wish her is a _little misfortune_.”
So she touched Rosalba with her black wand, looked severely at the
courtiers, motioned the Queen an adieu with her hand, and sailed slowly
up into the air out of the window.
When she was gone, the Court people, who had been awed and silent
in her presence, began to speak. “What an odious Fairy she is (they
said)—a pretty Fairy, indeed! Why, she went to the King of Paflagonia’s
christening, and pretended to do all sorts of things for that family; and
what has happened—the Prince, her godson, has been turned off his throne
by his uncle. Would we allow our sweet Princess to be deprived of her
rights by any enemy? Never, never, never, never!”
And they all shouted in a chorus, “Never, never, never, never!”
Now, I should like to know, and how did these fine courtiers show
their fidelity? One of King Cavolfiore’s vassals, the Duke Padella
just mentioned, rebelled against the King, who went out to chastise
his rebellious subject. “Any one rebel against our beloved and august
Monarch!” cried the courtiers; “any one resist _him_? Pooh! He is
invincible, irresistible. He will bring home Padella a prisoner, and tie
him to a donkey’s tail, and drive him round the town, saying, ‘This is
the way the Great Cavolfiore treats rebels.’”
The King went forth to vanquish Padella; and the poor Queen, who was a
very timid, anxious creature, grew so frightened and ill, that I am sorry
to say she died; leaving injunctions with her ladies to take care of the
dear little Rosalba. Of course they said they would. Of course they vowed
they would die rather than any harm should happen to the Princess. At
first the _Crim Tartar Court Journal_ stated that the King was obtaining
great victories over the audacious rebel: then it was announced that the
troops of the infamous Padella were in flight: then it was said that the
royal army would soon come up with the enemy, and then—then the news
came that King Cavolfiore was vanquished and slain by His Majesty, King
Padella the First!
At this news, half the courtiers ran off to pay their duty to the
conquering chief, and the other half ran away, laying hands on all the
best articles in the palace; and poor little Rosalba was left there quite
alone—quite alone; and she toddled from one room to another, crying,
“Countess! Duchess!” (only she said “Tountess, Duttess,” not being
able to speak plain) “bring me my mutton sop; my Royal Highness hungy!
Tountess! Duttess!” And she went from the private apartments into the
throne room and nobody was there—and thence into the ball-room and nobody
was there—and thence into the pages’ room and nobody was there—and she
toddled down the great staircase into the hall and nobody was there—and
the door was open, and she went into the court, and into the garden, and
thence into the wilderness, and thence into the forest where the wild
beasts live and was never heard of any more!
* * * * *
A piece of her torn mantle and one of her shoes were found in the wood in
the mouths of two lionesses’ cubs, whom King Padella and a royal hunting
party shot—for he was King now, and reigned over Crim Tartary. “So the
poor little Princess is done for,” said he; “well, what’s done can’t be
helped. Gentlemen, let us go to luncheon!” And one of the courtiers took
up the shoe and put it in his pocket. And there was an end of Rosalba!
IV
HOW BLACKSTICK WAS NOT ASKED TO THE PRINCESS ANGELICA’S CHRISTENING
When the Princess Angelica was born, her parents not only did not ask
the Fairy Blackstick to the christening party, but gave orders to their
porter absolutely to refuse her if she called. This porter’s name
was Gruffanuff, and he had been selected for the post by their Royal
Highnesses because he was a very tall fierce man, who could say “Not
at home” to a tradesman or an unwelcome visitor with a rudeness which
frightened most such persons away. He was the husband of that Countess
whose picture we have just seen, and as long as they were together they
quarrelled from morning till night. Now this fellow tried his rudeness
once too often, as you shall hear. For the Fairy Blackstick coming to
call upon the Prince and Princess, who were actually sitting at the open
drawing-room window, Gruffanuff not only denied them, but made the most
_odious vulgar sign_ as he was going to slam the door in the Fairy’s
face! “Git away, hold Blackstick!” said he. “I tell you, Master and
Missis ain’t at home to you;” and he was, as we have said, _going_ to
slam the door.
But the Fairy, with her wand, prevented the door being shut; and
Gruffanuff came out again in a fury, swearing in the most abominable way,
and asking the Fairy “whether she thought he was a going to stay at that
there door hall day?”
“You _are_ going to stay at that door all day and all night, and for many
a long year,” the Fairy said, very majestically; and Gruffanuff, coming
out of the door, straddling before it with his great calves, burst out
laughing, and cried “Ha, ha, ha! this _is_ a good un! Ha—ah—what’s this?
Let me down—O—o—H’m!” and then he was dumb!
For, as the Fairy waved her wand over him, he felt himself rising off
the ground, and fluttering up against the door, and then, as if a screw
ran into his stomach, he felt a dreadful pain there, and was pinned
to the door; and then his arms flew up over his head; and his legs,
after writhing about wildly, twisted under his body; and he felt cold,
cold, growing over him, as if he was turning into metal; and he said,
“O—o—H’m!” and could say no more, because he was dumb.
[Illustration]
He _was_ turned into metal! He was, from being _brazen_, _brass_! He was
neither more nor less than a knocker! And there he was, nailed to the
door in the blazing summer day, till he burned almost red-hot; and there
he was, nailed to the door all the bitter winter nights, till his brass
nose was dropping with icicles. And the postman came and rapped at him,
and the vulgarest boy with a letter came and hit him up against the door.
And the King and Queen (Princess and Prince they were then) coming home
from a walk that evening, the King said, “Hullo, my dear! you have had
a new knocker put on the door. Why, it’s rather like our porter in the
face! What has become of that boozy vagabond?” And the housemaid came and
scrubbed his nose with sand-paper; and once, when the Princess Angelica’s
little sister was born, he was tied up in an old kid glove; and, another
night, some _larking_ young men tried to wrench him off, and put him to
the most excruciating agony with a turnscrew. And then the Queen had a
fancy to have the color of the door altered; and the painters dabbed
him over the mouth and eyes, and nearly choked him, as they painted him
pea-green. I warrant he had leisure to repent of having been rude to the
Fairy Blackstick!
* * * * *
As for his wife, she did not miss him; and as he was always guzzling beer
at the public-house, and notoriously quarrelling with his wife, and in
debt to the tradesmen, it was supposed he had run away from all these
evils, and emigrated to Australia or America. And when the Prince and
Princess chose to become King and Queen, they left their old house, and
nobody thought of the porter any more.
V
HOW PRINCESS ANGELICA TOOK A LITTLE MAID
One day, when the Princess Angelica was quite a little girl, she was
walking in the garden of the palace, with Mrs. Gruffanuff, the governess,
holding a parasol over her head, to keep her sweet complexion from the
freckles, and Angelica was carrying a bun, to feed the swans and ducks in
the royal pond.
They had not reached the duck-pond, when there came toddling up to them
such a funny little girl! She had a great quantity of hair blowing about
her chubby little cheeks, and looked as if she had not been washed or
combed for ever so long. She wore a ragged bit of a cloak, and had only
one shoe on.
“You little wretch, who let you in here?” asked Gruffanuff.
“Div me dat bun,” said the little girl, “me vely hungy.”
“Hungry! what is that?” asked Princess Angelica, and gave the child the
bun.
“Oh, Princess!” says Gruffanuff, “how good, how kind, how truly angelical
you are! See, your Majesties,” she said to the King and Queen, who now
came up, along with their nephew, Prince Giglio, “how kind the Princess
is! She met this little dirty wretch in the garden—I can’t tell how she
came in here, or why the guards did not shoot her dead at the gate!—and
the dear darling of a Princess has given her the whole of her bun!”
“I didn’t want it,” said Angelica.
“But you are a darling little angel all the same,” says the governess.
“Yes; I know I am,” said Angelica. “Dirty little girl, don’t you think
I am very pretty?” Indeed, she had on the finest of little dresses and
hats; and, as her hair was carefully curled, she really looked very well.
[Illustration]
“Oh, pooty, pooty!” says the little girl, capering about, laughing, and
dancing, and munching her bun; and as she ate it she began to sing, “Oh,
what fun to have a plum bun! how I wis it never was done!” At which, and
her funny accent, Angelica, Giglio, and the King and Queen began to laugh
very merrily.
“I can dance as well as sing,” says the little girl. “I can dance, and I
can sing, and I can do all sorts of ting.”
And she ran to a flower-bed, and pulling a few polyanthuses,
rhododendrons, and other flowers, made herself a little wreath, and
danced before the King and Queen so drolly and prettily, that everybody
was delighted.
“Who was your mother—who were your relations, little girl?” said the
Queen.
The little girl said, “Little lion was my brudder; great big lioness my
mudder; neber heard of any udder.” And she capered away on her one shoe,
and everybody was exceedingly diverted.
So Angelica said to the Queen, “Mamma, my parrot flew away yesterday out
of its cage, and I don’t care any more for any of my toys; and I think
this funny little dirty child will amuse me. I will take her home, and
give her some of my old frocks.”
“Oh, the generous darling!” says Gruffanuff.
“Which I have worn ever so many times, and am quite tired of,” Angelica
went on; “and she shall be my little maid. Will you come home with me,
little dirty girl?” The child clapped her hands, and said, “Go home with
you—yes! You pooty Princess!—Have a nice dinner, and wear a new dress!”
And they all laughed again, and took home the child to the palace,
where, when she was washed and combed, and had one of the Princess’s
frocks given to her, she looked as handsome as Angelica, almost. Not
that Angelica ever thought so; for this little lady never imagined
that anybody in the world could be as pretty, as good, or as clever as
herself. In order that the little girl should not become too proud and
conceited, Mrs. Gruffanuff took her old ragged mantle and one shoe, and
put them into a glass box, with a card laid upon them, upon which was
written, “These were the old clothes in which little Betsinda was found
when the great goodness and admirable kindness of her Royal Highness the
Princess Angelica received this little outcast.” And the date was added,
and the box locked up.
For a while little Betsinda was a great favorite with the Princess,
and she danced, and sang, and made her little rhymes, to amuse her
mistress. But then the Princess got a monkey, and afterwards a little
dog, and afterwards a doll, and did not care for Betsinda any more, who
became very melancholy and quiet, and sang no more funny songs, because
nobody cared to hear her. And then, as she grew older, she was made a
little lady’s-maid to the Princess; and though she had no wages, she
worked and mended, and put Angelica’s hair in papers, and was never
cross when scolded, and was always eager to please her mistress, and was
always up early and to bed late, and at hand when wanted, and in fact
became a perfect little maid. So the two girls grew up, and, when the
Princess came out, Betsinda was never tired of waiting on her; and made
her dresses better than the best milliner, and was useful in a hundred
ways. Whilst the Princess was having her masters, Betsinda would sit and
watch them; and in this way she picked up a great deal of learning; for
she was always awake, though her mistress was not, and listened to the
wise professors when Angelica was yawning or thinking of the next ball.
And when the dancing-master came, Betsinda learned along with Angelica;
and when the music-master came, she watched him, and practised the
Princess’s pieces when Angelica was away at balls and parties; and when
the drawing-master came, she took note of all he said and did; and the
same with French, Italian, and all other languages—she learned them from
the teacher who came to Angelica. When the Princess was going out of an
evening she would say, “My good Betsinda, you may as well finish what I
have begun.” “Yes, miss,” Betsinda would say, and sit down very cheerful,
not to _finish_ what Angelica begun, but to _do_ it. For instance, the
Princess would begin a head of a warrior, let us say, and when it was
begun it was something like this—
[Illustration]
But when it was done, the warrior was like this—
[Illustration]