WELL, the little prince grew up. I think I’ve told you that his name was
Prigio--did I not? Well, that _was_ his name.
You cannot think how clever he was. He argued with his nurse as soon as
he could speak, which was very soon. He argued that he did not like to
be washed, because the soap got into his eyes. However, when he was told
all about the _pores of the skin_, and how they could not be healthy
if he was not washed, he at once ceased to resist, for he was very
reasonable. He argued with his father that he did not see why there
should be kings who were rich, while beggars were poor; and why the
king--who was a little greedy--should have poached eggs and plum-cake
at afternoon tea, while many other persons went without dinner. The king
was so surprised and hurt at these remarks that he boxed the prince’s
ears, saying, “I ‘ll teach you to be too clever, my lad.” Then he
remembered the awful curse of the oldest fairy, and was sorry for the
rudeness of the queen. And when the prince, after having his ears boxed,
said that “force was no argument,” the king went away in a rage.
Indeed, I cannot tell you how the prince was hated by all! He would
go down into the kitchen, and show the cook how to make soup. He would
visit the poor people’s cottage, and teach them how to make the beds,
and how to make plum pudding out of turnip-tops, and venison cutlets
out of rusty bacon. He showed the fencing-master how to fence, and the
professional cricketer how to bowl, and instructed the rat-catcher in
breeding terriers. He set sums to the Chancellor of the Exchequer,
and assured the Astronomer Royal that the sun does not go round the
earth--which, for my part, I believe it does. The young ladies of the
court disliked dancing with him, in spite of his good looks, because he
was always asking, “Have you read this?” and “Have you read that?”--and
when they said they hadn’t, he sneered; and when they said they _had_,
he found them out.
He found out all his tutors and masters in the same horrid way;
correcting the accent of his French teacher, and trying to get his
German tutor not to eat peas with his knife. He also endeavoured to
teach the queen-dowager, his grandmother, an art with which she had long
been perfectly familiar! In fact, he knew everything better than anybody
else; and the worst of it was that he _did_: and he never was in the
wrong, and he always said, “Didn’t I tell you so?” And, what was more,
he _had!_
[Illustration: page 12]
As time went on, Prince Prigio had two younger brothers, whom everybody
liked: They were not a bit clever, but jolly. Prince Alphonso, the
third son, was round, fat, good-humoured, and as brave as a lion. Prince
Enrico, the second, was tall, thin, and a “little sad, but _never_
too clever.” Both were in love with two of their own cousins (with the
approval of their dear parents); and all the world said, “What nice,
unaffected princes they are!” But Prigio nearly got the country into
several wars by being too clever for the foreign ambassadors. Now, as
Pantouflia was a rich, lazy country, which hated fighting, this was very
unpleasant, and did not make people love Prince Prigio any better.
[Illustration: Chapter Three]