This is Valoroso XXIV., King of Paflagonia, seated with his Queen and
only child at their royal breakfast-table, and receiving the letter
which announces to his Majesty a proposed visit from Prince Bulbo, heir
of Padella, reigning King of Crim Tartary. Remark the delight upon the
monarch's royal features. He is so absorbed in the perusal of the King
of Crim Tartary's letter, that he allows his eggs to get cold, and
leaves his august muffins untasted.
"What! that wicked, brave, delightful Prince Bulbo!" cries Princess
Angelica; "so handsome, so accomplished, so witty--the conqueror of
Rimbombamento, where he slew ten thousand giants!"
"Who told you of him, my dear?" asks his Majesty.
"A little bird," says Angelica.
"Poor Giglio!" says mamma, pouring out the tea.
"Bother Giglio!" cries Angelica, tossing up her head, which rustled with
a thousand curl-papers.
"I wish," growls the King--"I wish Giglio was. . ."
"Was better? Yes, dear, he is better," says the Queen. "Angelica's
little maid, Betsinda, told me so when she came to my room this morning
with my early tea."
"You are always drinking tea," said the monarch, with a scowl.
"It is better than drinking port or brandy-and-water," replies her
Majesty.
"Well, well, my dear, I only said you were fond of drinking tea," said
the King of Paflagonia, with an effort as if to command his temper.
"Angelica! I hope you have plenty of new dresses; your milliners' bills
are long enough. My dear Queen, you must see and have some parties. I
prefer dinners, but of course you will be for balls. Your everlasting
blue velvet quite tires me: and, my love, I should like you to have a
new necklace. Order one. Not more than a hundred or a hundred and fifty
thousand pounds."
"And Giglio, dear?" says the Queen.
"GIGLIO MAY GO TO THE ----"
"Oh, sir!" screams her Majesty. "Your own nephew! our late King's only
son."
"Giglio may go to the tailor's, and order the bills to be sent in to
Glumboso to pay. Confound him! I mean bless his dear heart. He need want
for nothing; give him a couple of guineas for pocket-money, my dear;
and you may as well order yourself bracelets while you are about the
necklace, Mrs. V."
Her Majesty, or MRS. V., as the monarch facetiously called her (for
even royalty will have its sport, and this august family were very
much attached), embraced her husband, and, twining her arm round her
daughter's waist, they quitted the breakfast-room in order to make all
things ready for the princely stranger.
When they were gone, the smile that had lighted up the eyes of the
HUSBAND and FATHER fled--the pride of the KING fled--the MAN was alone.
Had I the pen of a G. P. R. James, I would describe Valoroso's torments
in the choicest language; in which I would also depict his flashing
eye, his distended nostril--his dressing-gown, pocket-handkerchief, and
boots. But I need not say I have NOT the pen of that novelist; suffice
it to say, Valoroso was alone.
He rushed to the cupboard, seizing from the table one of the many
egg-cups with which his princely board was served for the matin meal,
drew out a bottle of right Nantz or Cognac, filled and emptied the cup
several times, and laid it down with a hoarse "Ha, ha, ha! now Valoroso
is a man again!"
"But oh!" he went on (still sipping, I am sorry to say), "ere I was a
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 sugarplums and
puled for pap--bear up the awful weight of crown, orb, sceptre? 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 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 twelve-month.