And if he hadn't enough now for a good breakfast, I should like to know
who ever had one?
Giglio, having had his breakfast, popped all the things back into
the bag, and went out looking for lodgings. I forgot to say that this
celebrated university town was called Bosforo.
He took a modest lodging opposite the Schools, paid his bill at the
inn, and went to his apartment with his trunk, carpet-bag, and not
forgetting, we may be sure, his OTHER bag.
When he opened his trunk, which the day before he had filled with his
best clothes, he found it contained only books. And in the first of them
which he opened there was written--
"Clothes for the back, books for the head:
Read, and remember them when they are read."
And in his bag, when Giglio looked in it, he found a student's cap and
gown, a writing-book full of paper, an inkstand, pens, and a Johnson's
dictionary, which was very useful to him, as his spelling had been sadly
neglected.
So he sat down and worked away, very, very hard for a whole year,
during which "Mr. Giles" was quite an example to all the students in the
University of Bosforo. He never got into any riots or disturbances. The
Professors all spoke well of him, and the students liked him too; so
that, when at examination, he took all the prizes, viz.:--
{The Spelling Prize {The French Prize
{The Writing Prize {The Arithmetic Prize
{The History Prize {The Latin Prize
{The Catechism Prize {The Good Conduct Prize,
all his fellow-students said, "Hurrah! Hurray for Giles! Giles is
the boy--the student's joy! Hurray for Giles!" And he brought quite a
quantity of medals, crowns, books, and tokens of distinction home to his
lodgings.
One day after the Examinations, as he was diverting himself at a
coffee-house with two friends--(Did I tell you that in his bag, every
Saturday night, he found just enough to pay his bills, with a guinea
over, for pocket-money? Didn't I tell you? Well, he did, as sure as
twice twenty makes forty-five)--he chanced to look in the Bosforo
Chronicle, and read off, quite easily (for he could spell, read, and
write the longest words now), the following:--
"ROMANTIC CIRCUMSTANCE.--One of the most extraordinary adventures that
we have ever heard has set the neighboring country of Crim Tartary in a
state of great excitement.
"It will be remembered that when the present revered sovereign of Crim
Tartary, his Majesty King PADELLA, took possession of the throne, after
having vanquished, in the terrific battle of Blunderbusco, the late
King CAVOLFIORE, that Prince's only child, the Princess Rosalba, was not
found in the royal palace, of which King Padella took possession, and,
it was said, had strayed into the forest (being abandoned by all her
attendants) where she had been eaten up by those ferocious lions, the
last pair of which were captured some time since, and brought to the
Tower, after killing several hundred persons.
"His Majesty King Padella, who has the kindest heart in the world,
was grieved at the accident which had occurred to the harmless little
Princess, for whom his Majesty's known benevolence would certainly have
provided a fitting establishment. But her death seemed to be certain.
The mangled remains of a cloak, and a little shoe, were found in the
forest, during a hunting-party, in which the intrepid sovereign of
Crim Tartary slew two of the lions' cubs with his own spear. And these
interesting relics of an innocent little creature were carried home
and kept by their finder, the Baron Spinachi, formerly an officer in
Cavolfiore's household. The Baron was disgraced in consequence of his
known legitimist opinions, and has lived for some time in the humble
capacity of a wood-cutter, in a forest on the outskirts of the Kingdom
of Crim Tartary.
"Last Tuesday week Baron Spinachi and a number of gentlemen, attached
to the former dynasty, appeared in arms, crying, 'God save Rosalba,
the first Queen of Crim Tartary!' and surrounding a lady whom report
describes as 'BEAUTIFUL EXCEEDINGLY.' Her history MAY be authentic, IS
certainly most romantic.
"The personage calling herself Rosalba states that she was brought out
of the forest, fifteen years since, by a lady in a car drawn by dragons
(this account is certainly IMPROBABLE), that she was left in the Palace
Garden of Blombodinga, where Her Royal Highness the Princess Angelica,
now married to His Royal Highness Bulbo, Crown Prince of Crim Tartary,
found the child, and, with THAT ELEGANT BENEVOLENCE which has always
distinguished the heiress of the throne of Paflagonia, gave the little
outcast a SHELTER AND A HOME! Her parentage not being known, and her
garb very humble, the foundling was educated in the Palace in a menial
capacity, under the name of BETSINDA.
"She did not give satisfaction, and was dismissed, carrying with her,
certainly, part of a mantle and a shoe, which she had on when first
found. According to her statement she quitted Blombodinga about a year
ago, since which time she has been with the Spinachi family. On the
very same morning the Prince Giglio, nephew to the King of Paflagonia,
a young Prince whose character for TALENT and ORDER were, to say truth,
NONE OF THE HIGHEST, also quitted Blombodinga, and has not been since
heard of!"
"What an extraordinary story!" said Smith and Jones, two young students,
Giglio's especial friends.
"Ha! what is this?" Giglio went on, reading:--
"SECOND EDITION, EXPRESS.--We hear that the troop under Baron Spinachi
has been surrounded, and utterly routed, by General Count Hogginarmo,
and the soi-disant Princess is sent a prisoner to the capital.
"UNIVERSITY NEWS.--Yesterday, at the Schools, the distinguished young
student, Mr. Giles, read a Latin oration, and was complimented by
the Chancellor of Bosforo, Dr. Prugnaro, with the highest University
honor--the wooden spoon."
"Never mind that stuff," says GILES, greatly disturbed. "Come home
with me, my friends. Gallant Smith! intrepid Jones! friends of my
studies--partakers of my academic toils--I have that to tell which shall
astonish your honest minds."
"Go it, old boy!" cries the impetuous Smith.
"Talk away, my buck!" says Jones, a lively fellow.
With an air of indescribable dignity, Giglio checked their natural, but
no more seemly, familiarity. "Jones, Smith, my good friends," said the
PRINCE, "disguise is henceforth useless; I am no more the humble student
Giles, I am the descendant of a royal line."
"Atavis edite regibus. I know, old co--" cried Jones. He was going to
say old cock, but a flash from THE ROYAL EYE again awed him.
"Friends," continued the Prince, "I am that Giglio: I am, in fact,
Paflagonia. Rise, Smith, and kneel not in the public street. Jones, thou
true heart! My faithless uncle, when I was a baby, filched from me that
brave crown my father left me, bred me, all young and careless of my
rights, like unto hapless Hamlet, Prince of Denmark; and had I any
thoughts about my wrongs, soothed me with promises of near redress. I
should espouse his daughter, young Angelica; we two indeed should reign
in Paflagonia. His words were false--false as Angelica's heart!--false
as Angelica's hair, color, front teeth! She looked with her skew eyes
upon young Bulbo, Crim Tartary's stupid heir, and she preferred him.
Twas then I turned my eyes upon Betsinda--Rosalba, as she now is. And
I saw in her the blushing sum of all perfection; the pink of maiden
modesty; the nymph that my fond heart had ever woo'd in dreams," &c. &c.
(I don't give this speech, which was very fine, but very long; and
though Smith and Jones knew nothing about the circumstances, my dear
reader does, so I go on.)
The Prince and his young friends hastened home to his apartment,
highly excited by the intelligence, as no doubt by the ROYAL NARRATOR'S
admirable manner of recounting it, and they ran up to his room where he
had worked so hard at his books.
On his writing-table was his bag, grown so long that the Prince could
not help remarking it. He went to it, opened it, and what do you think
he found in it?
A splendid long, gold-handled, red-velvet-scabbarded, cut-and-thrust
sword, and on the sheath was embroidered "ROSALBA FOR EVER!"
He drew out the sword, which flashed and illuminated the whole room, and
called out "Rosalba for ever!" Smith and Jones following him, but quite
respectfully this time, and taking the time from His Royal Highness.
And now his trunk opened with a sudden pong, and out there came three
ostrich feathers in a gold crown, surrounding a beautiful shining steel
helmet, a cuirass, a pair of spurs, finally a complete suit of armor.
The books on Giglio's shelves were all gone. Where there had been some
great dictionaries, Giglio's friends found two pairs of jack-boots
labelled, "Lieutenant Smith," "---- Jones, Esq.," which fitted them to
a nicety. Besides, there were helmets, back and breast plates, swords,
&c., just like in Mr. G. P. R. James's novels; and that evening three
cavaliers might have been seen issuing from the gates of Bosforo, in
whom the porters, proctors, &c., never thought of recognising the young
Prince and his friends.
They got horses at a livery stable-keeper's, and never drew bridle
until they reached the last town on the frontier before you come to Crim
Tartary. Here, as their animals were tired, and the cavaliers hungry,
they stopped and refreshed at an hostel. I could make a chapter of this
if I were like some writers, but I like to cram my measure tight down,
you see, and give you a great deal for your money, and, in a word, they
had some bread and cheese and ale upstairs on the balcony of the inn.
As they were drinking, drums and trumpets sounded nearer and nearer,
the marketplace was filled with soldiers, and His Royal Highness looking
forth, recognised the Paflagonian banners, and the Paflagonian national
air which the bands were playing.
The troops all made for the tavern at once, and as they came up Giglio
exclaimed, on beholding their leader, "Whom do I see? Yes!--no! It
is, it is!--Phoo!--No, it can't be! Yes! it is my friend, my gallant
faithful veteran, Captain Hedzoff! Ho, Hedzoff! Knowest thou not thy
Prince, thy Giglio? Good Corporal, methinks we once were friends. Ha,
Sergeant, an my memory serves me right, we have had many a bout at
singlestick."
"I' faith, we have, a many, good my Lord," says the Sergeant.
"Tell me, what means this mighty armament," continued His Royal Highness
from the balcony, "and whither march my Paflagonians?"
Hedzoff's head fell. "My Lord," he said, "we march as the allies of
great Padella, Crim Tartary's monarch."
"Crim Tartary's usurper, gallant Hedzoff! Crim Tartary's grim tyrant,
honest Hedzoff!" said the Prince, on the balcony, quite sarcastically.
"A soldier, Prince, must needs obey his orders: mine are to help his
Majesty Padella. And also (though alack that I should say it!) to seize
wherever I should light upon him--"
"First catch your hare! ha, Hedzoff!" exclaimed His Royal Highness.
"--On the body of GIGLIO, whilome Prince of Paflagonia" Hedzoff went on,
with indescribable emotion. "My Prince, give up your sword without ado.
Look! we are thirty thousand men to one!"
"Give up my sword! Giglio give up his sword!" cried the Prince; and
stepping well forward on to the balcony, the royal youth, WITHOUT
PREPARATION, delivered a speech so magnificent, that no report can do
justice to it. It was all in blank verse (in which, from this time, he
invariably spoke, as more becoming his majestic station). It lasted for
three days and three nights, during which not a single person who heard
him was tired, or remarked the difference between daylight and dark.
The soldiers only cheering tremendously, when occasionally, once in nine
hours, the Prince paused to suck an orange, which Jones took out of the
bag. He explained, in terms which we say we shall not attempt to convey,
the whole history of the previous transaction, and his determination not
only not to give up his sword, but to assume his rightful crown; and
at the end of this extraordinary, this truly GIGANTIC effort, Captain
Hedzoff flung up his helmet, and cried, "Hurray! Hurray! Long live King
Giglio!"
Such were the consequences of having employed his time well at College!
When the excitement had ceased, beer was ordered out for the army, and
their Sovereign himself did not disdain a little! And now it was with
some alarm that Captain Hedzoff told him his division was only the
advanced guard of the Paflagonian contingent, hastening to King
Padella's aid; the main force being a day's march in the rear under His
Royal Highness Prince Bulbo.
"We will wait here, good friend, to beat the Prince," his Majesty said,
"and THEN will make his royal father wince."