THE KING'S NIGHT OUT
I
The King sat in a large square chamber with barred windows, awaiting his
turn to be attended to.
The crowd of prisoners seated on benches round the walls had become
attenuated; only about a score of them now remained. Women had been
dealt with first, the residuum were men; the general charge against
these was pocket-picking.
He had been sitting there for hours. It was now one o'clock.
"Now then, you!" said the voice of the sergeant in charge. His turn had
come.
In an adjoining room he found his two accusers awaiting him. He was led
up to a table where sat an official in uniform making entry of the
names. A charge-sheet, nearly full, was spread on the table before him.
The policeman who had made the arrest gave in the charge.
"Name?" said the sergeant-clerk sharply, suspending the motion of his
pen.
The King, still wearing his cap, took off his snow-glasses and turned
down the collar of his coat.
It was no use. The officer looked at him without recognition.
"Name?" he said again; and the policeman upon his right, giving the King
a rough jog, said, "Tell the sergeant your name!" And so, it appeared,
the useless formality must go on.
The King gave the two essentials--first-christian and surname--out of a
long string of appendices for which half the sovereigns of Europe had
stood as godfathers.
But the three words "John Ganz-Wurst" meant nothing to the official ear.
Over the patronymic he paused in doubt when only halfway through. "Spell
it!" he said, and, at the King's dictation, altered his V into a W.
"Foreigner?" he grunted; Jingalese names he could spell properly.
"Of foreign extraction," said the King, "my great-grandfather came over
to this country and was naturalized."
"Oh, we don't want to hear about your great-grandfather!" said the
sergeant, cutting him short.
At this moment one of the higher inspectors came into the room.
"Address--occupation?" went on his interlocutor, busy with his form.
The King named the dwelling from which he emanated.
"Come, come!" said the official voice, "no nonsense here! What address?"
The inspector was now looking at the prisoner. He touched the sergeant
upon the shoulder, and made a gesture for the two constables to stand
back.
"Will you please to come this way, sir?" he said, in a tone of very
marked respect.
The King followed him to an inner room.
The inspector closed the door. "I beg your Majesty's pardon," he said.
"This is a most regrettable occurrence. Fortunately, none of those men
know."
The King smiled. "I tried not to give myself away before I was obliged
to," he said.
"Your Majesty must think we are all quite mad."
"Not at all. So far as I know, every man I have encountered has merely
done his duty. Your methods of arrest are a little--arbitrary, shall I
say?"
"That is unavoidable, sir, when we have large crowds to deal with."
"I can understand that. A woman was being crushed; I helped her to get
over the railings. I suppose that was wrong?"
The inspector smiled apologetically. "Men have been fined for it, before
now, sir," said he.
"Very well, I will pay my fine," smiled the King. "And then, if you
don't mind, I will go home."
His Majesty's kindly humor won the inspector's gratitude. "I'm sure it's
very good of your Majesty to treat the matter so lightly."
"It was entirely my own fault," said the King. "How was I to be
recognized?"
"You took us off guard, sir. We were not informed that your Majesty
would be going anywhere to-night."
"Is that the rule?"
"It is always our business to inquire."
"I should not have told any one."
"It would still, sir, have been our business to find out."
"You surprise me!" said the King. It had never dawned upon him that he
was so watched. "And so to-night, for the first time, I gave you the
slip?"
"I take the blame, sir," said the inspector; his voice was grave.
"Why should you? No harm has been done. The only question now is how am
I to get back?"
"I can get you a cab, sir, at once. Or would your Majesty rather I sent
word to the palace?"
"No, certainly not. If I have not been missed, nobody need know."
"Your Majesty was missed by us four hours ago. That is what brought me
here."
"You come from the palace?"
"Yes, sir. As head of the special department, I have to be there every
night."
"I'm sorry to have given you so much trouble."
"Oh, not at all, sir."
And then, a cab having been summoned, he led the way out.
No one was by; the street had not a soul in it, and the King knew that
once more foresight and care were watching over him.
"I have paid the cabman, sir," said the inspector, as he closed the
door. "And, sir, would you kindly say where he is to go?"
There was a hint of discretion in the man's tone.
"Ah, yes," said the King, "to be sure--yes. Tell him to stop at the park
gates."
The inspector, saluting, gave the required direction, and the cab drove
off. Arriving a few minutes later at his destination, the King got out,
and passed in through the gates.
The palace was now shrouded in gloom; only in the guard-room, within the
high-railed quadrangle, a light still burned. Dimly through the night a
sentry could be seen pacing up and down.
By a subconscious instinct the King was returning along the same route
that he had come. Only as he approached the postern in the wall did it
occur to him that it would almost certainly be locked; and yet for no
other door had he a key. Attended constantly by servants, and leading a
scrupulously regular life, requiring neither secret passages nor late
hours, he had never possessed a latch-key of his own.
How, then, was he to get in now without attracting attention?
Having come so far, however, he went forward on chance and tested the
door. The attendant policeman was no longer there, the road-lamp had
been turned low, giving only a glimmer.
He tried the handle, but found that it would not respond. A figure
glided forward and inserted a key. "Allow me, sir," came the inspector's
voice.
"You?" exclaimed the King, surprised.
"It was my duty to see your Majesty safe home."
"Very kind of you, I'm sure." He passed in, and the inspector followed.
"Pardon me for asking, sir. Was this the way your Majesty came out?"
"Yes."
"Ah, that accounts for it! We never thought of your Majesty coming this
way, and the man put here was only on beat, not on point duty."
"He was here when I came out," said the King.
"He did not report, sir."
"Are they all bound to?"
"Oh, yes, sir, of course we have to know."
The King smiled. "I suppose he did not recognize me. Remember, I was not
quite myself."
"All the same, sir, he should have known. It's what he is trained for."
The King's surprise grew. "I never guessed that I had to be guarded like
this."
"Of course, sir, we try to keep it out of sight as much as possible. It
isn't pleasant always to feel yourself watched."
"I make you my compliments," said the King; "I had not the remotest
idea. Whereabouts are we now?"
The walls of the palace loomed black above them; the night was dark.
"Small stair entrance on the north side, sir. If your Majesty is without
a key----"
"I have no key at all."
"Then kindly allow me, sir." And again to the inspector's pass-key a
door opened.
The King entered, and the inspector still accompanied him. "There may be
others locked inside," he said, by way of explanation.
They passed through a short corridor and ascended stairs; a small
electric pocket-lamp of the inspector's showing them the way. Three
doors he unfastened in turn. Having opened the last he switched on the
light, then respectfully drew back, presuming to come no further. "This
is where your Majesty's private apartments begin," said he; an
indication that his task as conductor was over.
"Ah, yes," replied the King, "now at last I know where I am. Till this
moment I felt myself a stranger. I have to thank you, Mr. Inspector, for
the kind way in which you have done me the honors of my own house; and,"
he added, "of the police-station."
"I am very sorry, sir, that any such thing should have happened. I can
promise it won't occur again."
"No," said the King, smiling, "I suppose not. But pray do not be sorry!
I have seldom spent a more interesting time; or--thanks to you and
others--had more things given me to think about."
The inspector did not reply; he stood looking down, pensive and
resigned--tired, perhaps, now that the anxieties of the last few hours
were over.
"Good-night," said the King.
"Good-night, sir," replied the inspector. He withdrew and the King heard
him locking the door after him.
II
The King went into his study, turned on a light, and sat down. He had,
as he had told his guide, many things to think about. It was no use
going to bed, for he knew that he could not sleep.
These last few hours had been the most wonderful, and the most
crowded--yes, quite literally the most crowded--that he had ever
experienced. At last he had really taken part in the life of his people,
and had come into direct contact with things very diverse and
contradictory, representing the popular will. He had talked with street
urchins, and visionaries, had rubbed shoulders with men of brutal habit
and vile character,--with knaves, cowards, fools; he had been shut up
with drunkards and pickpockets, policemen's thumbs had left bruises upon
his arms, and all his mind was one great bruise from the bureaucratic
police system which had him fast within its grip.
Now at last he knew that he knew nothing; for only now did he realize
it. To what was going on outside his ears had been stopped with official
lies; morally, intellectually, and physically he was a prisoner, just as
much as when, to the cry of "Old Goggles," from a jeering crowd, he had
marched captive to the police-station. He knew now that even his private
life was watched and spied on--always, of course, with the most
benevolent intentions. This was the price he paid for modern kingship;
and what was it all worth?
Out of his pocket he drew a small sheet of crumpled paper. In order to
get this to him, a poor, timid woman had gone out into a raging crowd,
had borne its brutality for hours, and then, a piteous bundle of broken
nerves, had by sheer accident accomplished that which hundreds of
others, braver, abler, more confident, and more deserving, had tried to
do and failed. Morally this small slip of paper had upon it the blood,
and the tears, the sweat, the agony, and the despair of all the rest;
and only by accident had he ever come to know of it!
Here, almost within a stone's throw of his palace, he had seen something
taking place which to-morrow the papers would deride, and of which the
official world would deny him all cognizance. Whether these women had
truly a grievance, any just and reasonable cause for complaint, he did
not know. But he knew now that, with the most desperate earnestness and
conviction, that was their belief, and that in getting their petition to
his hands they saw the beginning of a remedy.
He spread out the paper before him, and for the first time read the
words--
"Humbly showeth that by your Majesty's Ministers law and justice are
delayed, and prayeth that your Gracious Majesty will so order and govern
that your faithful subjects' grievances may forthwith be sought and
inquired into, and remedy granted thereto by Act of Parliament. And your
petitioners will ever pray."
That was all. What the grievances might be was not stated. He knew that
to hear argument for or against a given case was outside the functions
of the Crown; but he knew equally well that to order inquiry to be made
lay still within his right, though every minister in the Cabinet except
one would seek to deny it to him. And so he sat looking at the crumpled
sheet which meant so much to so many thousands of lives; and slowly the
night went by.
Long before the first chitter of awakening birds, and before the first
hint of light had crept into the east, he heard outside the slow stir of
the city's life breaking back from short uneasy slumber. With stiffened
limbs he got up from his chair, for the room had grown cold and his body
ached with all the strain and exertion it had so recently undergone.
Slowly he moved off towards his own sleeping apartment, in case the
Queen, when she awoke, should send to inquire after him. And on his way,
as a short cut, he crossed the minstrel gallery, which divided one from
the other the two state drawing-rooms,--a broad half-story colonnade,
with central opening and corners draped into shade.
Halfway across this elevation he paused to look down into the vast
chamber below. At some point among its chandeliers burned a small
pinhole of light that revealed in a strange dimness various forms of
furniture, showing monstrous and uncouth in their night attire.
Night-gowns rather than pajamas seemed the general wear; only a few legs
were to be seen. In this, its sleeping aspect, the place was certainly
more harmonious and more chaste than by day; mirrors and pictures loomed
from the white walls with a mystery that would disappear when the
lusters contained their light; and the King lingered to take in the
pleasant strangeness of it all, and to wonder what was this new quality
which so attracted him.
As he did so his ear caught from without a faint reverberation of
muffled sound; even and regular in its beat, it drew near.
At the far end a door was thrown open; a flush of light entered the
chamber, and there came following it a troop of men wearing felt
slippers and long linen aprons, and bearing upon their shoulders brooms,
feather-heads, wash-leathers, brushes, dusters, steps, vacuum-cleaners,
and other mysterious instruments of an uninterpretable form.
With the regularity and precision of a drilled army, and with no word
spoken, they moved forward to the attack. Curtains were drawn, cords
pulled, blinds raised, steps mounted. Lusters jingled to the touch of
feathers, cornices shed down their minute particles of dust to the
Charybdian maw of traveling gramophone. Over the carpet metallic
cow-catchers wheezed and groaned with a loud trundling of wheels, and
departed processionally to the chamber beyond. Then by a triple process,
simultaneously conducted, the furniture-sheets were lifted, drawn off,
and folded; a large wicker-table on wheels received and bore them away.
A cloud of light skirmishers followed after; and over every cushion and
seat and polished surface plied their manicurist skill. Then a
storming-party escaladed the gallery from below and the King, to avoid
the embarrassment of an encounter with a body of servitors who had not
the pleasure of his acquaintance, was at last obliged to retire.
But what a wonderful machine had been here revealed to his
gaze--manipulated without a word, marshaled by signs, and composed
entirely of strangers! And to think that all this insect-like marvel of
industry, so expeditious, and done on so huge a scale, had been going on
daily under his own roof, and he had known nothing of it! So this was
how his palace was cleaned for him, and why it never showed a sign of
wear or the marks of muddy boots? Yet never before had any thought on
the matter occurred to him. And what if some fine day those insects,
fired by revolutionary zeal, had taken it to heart to rise up in their
dozens by those escalading ladders to the first story and rush the
private apartments, and murder him in his morning bath or in his bed!
What a surprising and unexplained apparition it would have been! But
now, and for the future, he would know that daily about this time a
large ant-like colony was running about under him, very strong of arm,
very active of leg; and what protection, he wondered, from peril of
sudden inroad was that search under his bed on the ninth day of every
November? Did that really meet and counter modern methods of conspiracy
and assassination, or the growing dangers of labor unrest? He very much
doubted it.
And so, with his head very full of the wonder, the order, and the
underlying disturbance of it all, he passed on to his own inner chamber,
and had now something to tell the Queen as to how their immediate
domestic affairs were conducted which should entirely put aside all
awkward questions as to what he had been doing the evening before and
where he had spent the night.
But, as a matter of fact, sleek officialdom had sheltered the Queen from
all anxiety, and she had not a notion that the King had been anywhere
except to some consultation with ministers, and thence late to bed.
In order that his valet might find him there he got into it, and when, a
couple of hours later, he greeted her Majesty he found that sanguine
mind looking eagerly ahead and concerning itself very little over things
which were past.
"Remember, my dear," she said, looking up from her letters, "that in
three days' time the Prince of Schnapps-Wasser comes. I do hope, while
he is here, that you will be fairly free."
"Not so free as I thought I should be," said the King, and he sighed
heavily.
III
His Majesty had a good many things that day to discuss with the Prime
Minister when at a later hour they met. He began on the matter which was
most regular and formal; had he been at all likely to forget it the
Queen's observation would have reminded him.
"By the way, Mr. Premier," he said, "as you already know, the Prince of
Schnapps-Wasser arrives in a day or two; and there are certain possible
eventualities arising out of his visit which we must be prepared for.
Hitherto the Princess Charlotte has had no definite grant made to her.
While she was still living with us, without an establishment of her own,
I preferred to let the matter stand over. But now--well, now a change
may be necessary."
The Prime Minister's face beamed with congratulatory smiles. "Your
Majesty may be sure that the matter shall have immediate attention."
"There will be no difficulty?"
"Oh, none whatever."
"I will leave all question of the amount to be discussed later. I
believe that it is etiquette, in the case of a reigning Prince, for him
also to be consulted."
"That is so, sir."
"The Prince himself is very wealthy; and I think that you will find him
disinterested. Still there is, of course, a certain balance to be
observed."
"Oh, quite."
"I leave the matter, then, entirely in your hands."
The Prime Minister bowed.
And then the conversation changed.
"You know what happened to me last night, I suppose," said the King.
"Ah, yes, indeed, sir! You will pardon my silence; I was most horrified.
But I thought that perhaps your Majesty did not wish to speak of it."
"On the contrary," replied the King, "I have got a great deal to say."
And then, with much detail and particularity, he narrated his
experience--all those hours which he had spent in the crowd; and the
Prime Minister listened, saying nothing.
"Well," said the King, when he had done, "that is what I have seen; and
you cannot tell me it is something that does not matter."
"By no means, sir; I admit that it is very serious."
"I was never told so before."
"We did not wish unnecessarily to trouble your Majesty. This is hardly a
case for Cabinet intervention; the Home Office does its duty, takes
preventive measures as far as is possible, and puts down the
disturbances when they arise."
"Yes, yes," said the King, "but is nothing going to be done?"
The Prime Minister raised his eyebrows, as though asked to reply once
more to a question already answered.
"Everything possible is being done, sir."
"Legislatively, I mean."
"Oh, sir," exclaimed the head of Government in a tone of the most
deferential protest, "that surely is a matter for the Cabinet."
"Quite so," said the King. "That is why I ask."
So then the Premier explained circumstantially and at great length why,
in that sense, nothing whatever could be done. We need not go into it
here--those who read Jingalese history will find the Prime Minister's
reasons published elsewhere; and it all really came only to this: "It is
the duty of a government to keep in power; and if it cannot do justice
without endangering its party majority, then justice cannot be done."
You could not have a more satisfactory, a more logical, or a more
unanswerable argument than that. And at all events--whether you agree
with it or not--it is the argument that all ministers act upon
now-a-days, even when, in the House of Legislature which sits
subservient to their will, there is a majority ready and waiting which
thinks differently of the matter, but fears to act lest it should lose
touch with the loaves and fishes. For now it is on the life not of a
Parliament but of a Cabinet that losses are counted. And the reason is
plain; for every member of a Cabinet has to think of saving for himself
some £5,000 a year together with an enormous amount of departmental
power and patronage; while an ordinary private member of Parliament has
only his few hundreds to think about and his rapidly diminishing right
to any independence at all. The life and death struggles of a ministry
are bound, therefore, to be more desperate, more unscrupulous, and more
pecuniarily corrupt than those of any other branch of the legislature.
And, of course, when we put all the leading strings into fingers so
buttered with gold, political corruption is the necessary and inevitable
result, and such incidental things as mere justice must wait.
But the Prime Minister did not explain matters to the King in such
plain and understandable terms as these; and, as a consequence, his
explanation being incomplete, his Majesty's mind remained unsatisfied.
"Very well," said he, when the ministerial apologia was concluded; "I
will consider what you say, and when I have quite made up my mind I will
send a message to Council with recommendations; I still have that right
under the Constitution."
The Prime Minister stiffened. Here was conflict in Council cropping up
again; it must be put down.
"That right, sir," said he, "has not been exercised for nearly a hundred
years."
"I beg your pardon," said the King, "I exercised it only two months ago,
when I sent in the message of my abdication."
"Which your Majesty has been wise enough not to act upon."
"Which, nevertheless, you were forced to accept, and would have had to
give effect to, ultimately, by Act of Parliament."
That was true.
"By the way," went on the King, "arising out of that withdrawal of my
abdication which you say was so wise, there has come a difficulty I had
not foreseen. Believing that by now my son would be upon the throne
instead of me, I gave my consent to his marriage with the daughter of
the Archbishop. Yes, Mr. Premier, you may well start: I am just as much
perturbed about it as you; for the Prince now comes to me and claims the
fulfilment of my promise."
"Impossible, sir!" exclaimed the Prime Minister.
"That is what I tell him. He does not think so."
"But, your Majesty, this is absolutely unheard of. The whole position
would be intolerable!"
"I indorse all your adjectives and your statements," said the King
coldly; "but the fact remains."
"Then, sir, I must see the Prince, immediately."
"It is no use, no use whatever," replied his Majesty. "Besides--the
matter is still rather at a private stage. You had much better wait till
the Prince comes to you; otherwise he may accuse me of having been
premature."
"But what does the Archbishop say?" cried the Premier, aghast.
"That is the point; I believe he does not yet know. Technically
speaking, the engagement is scarcely a day old. The Prince's note
claiming my promise reached me only this morning, and I imagine it is
only now that the Archbishop will have to be informed. Hitherto the
matter has been in suspension. You will understand it was dependent--on
my abdication, I might say."
"In that case, sir, the conditions are not fulfilled."
"I fear they are," said the King; "the Prince has my promise in writing;
and abdication is not mentioned. You see, it was the bomb that made all
the difference. Very provoking that it should have happened just then;
it upset all my plans!"
The Prime Minister began to look very uncomfortable.
"Oh, no," went on the King, observing his change of countenance, "don't
think that I am blaming you. What you said was quite true; abdication
after that became impossible; I am only saying it as an excuse for the
position in which I now find myself. It was not I who made the mistake,
it was that poor misguided person who threw the bomb; he ought to have
killed me. I am confident that, had the Prince been actually on the
throne, the situation would have been radically altered, that he would
not have persisted--that he would have seen, as you say, how impossible
the position would be. Very unfortunate--very--but there we are!"
"But again I say, sir, that even now, though the Prince is not on the
throne--and long may your Majesty be spared!--the whole thing is
absolutely and utterly impossible."
"I quite agree," said the King; "but that is the situation. Before now I
have found myself in similar ones, and have tried to get out of them;
yet I have seldom succeeded."
"But this, sir," persisted the Prime Minister, "is politically
impossible. Things could not go on."
"And yet, Mr. Premier, you know that they will have to; that is the very
essence of politics."
"I tell your Majesty that rather than admit such a possibility the
Ministry would resign."
"Very well--then it must," said the King. "But you will find that the
Prince will not regard my inability to secure an alternative Government
as any reason why he should not marry the lady of his choice. I may as
well tell you, for your information, that he has revolutionary ideas,
and this is one of them."
"I am confident," exclaimed the Prime Minister, with a gleam of hope,
"that the Archbishop himself will forbid it."
"Very likely," replied his Majesty; "but I am not sure that he will
succeed. I wish he could; but from all I hear the lady herself is of a
rather determined character. Women are very determined now-a-days."
He thought of Charlotte and sighed; and yet, in his heart, he could not
help admiring and envying her.
"We will talk of this all again some other time," he went on, tired of
the profitless discussion. "After all the marriage is not going to take
place the day after to-morrow."
"Sir," said the Premier, "over a matter of this sort any delay is
impossible--the risk is too great. I must see the Prince myself."
"Very well," said the King, "do as you like. After all I ought to be
glad that it is with the Prince you will have to discuss the matter, and
not with me."
And he smiled to himself, for he very much liked the thought of the
Prime Minister tackling Max.