Produced by Dianne Bean and David Widger
THE ROSE AND THE RING
by William Makepeace Thackeray
PRELUDE
It happened that the undersigned spent the last Christmas season in a
foreign city where there were many English children.
In that city, if you wanted to give a child’s party, you could not even
get a magic-lantern or buy Twelfth-Night characters--those funny painted
pictures of the King, the Queen, the Lover, the Lady, the Dandy, the
Captain, and so on--with which our young ones are wont to recreate
themselves at this festive time.
My friend Miss Bunch, who was governess of a large family that lived in
the Piano Nobile of the house inhabited by myself and my young charges
(it was the Palazzo Poniatowski at Rome, and Messrs. Spillmann, two
of the best pastrycooks in Christendom, have their shop on the ground
floor): Miss Bunch, I say, begged me to draw a set of Twelfth-Night
characters for the amusement of our young people.
She is a lady of great fancy and droll imagination, and having looked
at the characters, she and I composed a history about them, which
was recited to the little folks at night, and served as our FIRESIDE
PANTOMIME.
Our juvenile audience was amused by the adventures of Giglio and Bulbo,
Rosalba and Angelica. I am bound to say the fate of the Hall Porter
created a considerable sensation; and the wrath of Countess Gruffanuff
was received with extreme pleasure.
If these children are pleased, thought I, why should not others be
amused also? In a few days Dr. Birch’s young friends will be expected
to reassemble at Rodwell Regis, where they will learn everything that
is useful, and under the eyes of careful ushers continue the business of
their little lives.
But, in the meanwhile, and for a brief holiday, let us laugh and be as
pleasant as we can. And you elder folk--a little joking, and dancing,
and fooling will do even you no harm. The author wishes you a merry
Christmas, and welcomes you to the Fireside Pantomime.
W. M. THACKERAY. December 1854.
CONTENTS
I. SHOWS HOW THE ROYAL FAMILY SATE DOWN TO BREAKFAST
II. HOW KING VALOROSO GOT THE CROWN, AND PRINCE GIGLIO WENT WITHOUT
III. TELLS WHO THE FAIRY BLACKSTICK WAS, AND WHO WERE EVER SO MANY GRAND
PERSONAGES BESIDES
IV. HOW BLACKSTICK WAS NOT ASKED TO THE PRINCESS ANGELICA’S CHRISTENING
V. HOW PRINCESS ANGELICA TOOK A LITTLE MAID
VI. HOW PRINCE GIGLIO BEHAVED HIMSELF
VII. HOW GIGLIO AND ANGELICA HAD A QUARREL
VIII. HOW GRUFFANUFF PICKED THE FAIRY RING UP, AND PRINCE BULBO CAME TO
COURT
IX. HOW BETSINDA GOT THE WARMING-PAN
X. HOW KING VALOROSO WAS IN A DREADFUL PASSION
XI. WHAT GRUFFANUFF DID TO GIGLIO AND BETSINDA
XII. HOW BETSINDA FLED, AND WHAT BECAME OF HER
XIII. HOW QUEEN ROSALBA CAME TO THE CASTLE OF THE BOLD COUNT HOGGINARMO
XIV. WHAT BECAME OF GIGLIO
XV. WE RETURN TO ROSALBA
XVI. HOW HEDZOFF RODE BACK AGAIN TO KING GIGLIO
XVII. HOW A TREMENDOUS BATTLE TOOK PLACE, AND WHO WON IT
XVIII. HOW THEY ALL JOURNEYED BACK TO THE CAPITAL
XIX. AND NOW WE COME TO THE LAST SCENE IN THE PANTOMIME
THE ROSE AND THE RING
I. SHOWS HOW THE ROYAL FAMILY SATE DOWN TO BREAKFAST
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.
II. HOW KING VALOROSO GOT THE CROWN, AND PRINCE GIGLIO WENT WITHOUT
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 sceptre, 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.
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 had 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, Aegean, 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.
Would you not fancy, from this picture, that Gruffanuff must have been a
person of 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 favourite 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 presence; 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 practicing her skill,
whizzing about from one kingdom to another upon her black stick, and
conferring her fairy favours upon this Prince or that. She had scores of
royal godchildren; turned numberless wicked people into beasts, birds,
millstones, clocks, pumps, boot jacks, 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-humoured, 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 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 favour; 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 ballroom
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.
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 house-maid
came and scrubbed his nose with sandpaper; 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 turn screw. And then
the Queen had a fancy to have the colour 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 Mrs. 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 Mrs. 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 Angelical
‘But you are a darling little angel all the same,’ says the governess.
‘Yes; I know I am,’ said Angelical ‘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.
‘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 Mrs. 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 favourite 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 learn ing; 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 practiced 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 began, 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--
But when it was done, the warrior was like this--
(only handsomer still if possible), and the Princess put her name to the
drawing; and the Court and King and Queen, and above all poor Giglio,
admired the picture of all things, and said, ‘Was there ever a genius
like Angelica?’ So, I am sorry to say, was it with the Princess’s
embroidery and other accomplishments; and Angelica actually believed
that she did these things herself, and received all the flattery of
the Court as if every word of it was true. Thus she began to think that
there was no young woman in all the world equal to herself, and that no
young man was good enough for her. As for Betsinda, as she heard none of
these praises, she was not puffed up by them, and being a most grateful,
good-natured girl, she was only too anxious to do everything which might
give her mistress pleasure. Now you begin to perceive that Angelica
had faults of her own, and was by no means such a wonder of wonders as
people represented Her Royal Highness to be.
VI. HOW PRINCE GIGLIO BEHAVED HIMSELF
And now let us speak about Prince Giglio, the nephew of the reigning
monarch of Paflagonia. It has already been stated, in page seven, that
as long as he had a smart coat to wear, a good horse to ride, and money
in his pocket, or rather to take out of his pocket, for he was very
good-natured, my young Prince did not care for the loss of his crown and
sceptre, being a thoughtless youth, not much inclined to politics or any
kind of learning. So his tutor had a sinecure. Giglio would not
learn classics or mathematics, and the Lord Chancellor of Paflagonia,
SQUARETOSO, pulled a very long face because the Prince could not be got
to study the Paflagonian laws and constitution; but, on the other hand,
the King’s gamekeepers and huntsmen found the Prince an apt pupil;
the dancing-master pronounced that he was a most elegant and assiduous
scholar; the First Lord of the Billiard Table gave the most flattering
reports of the Prince’s skill; so did the Groom of the Tennis Court;
and as for the Captain of the Guard and Fencing Master, the VALIANT and
VETERAN Count KUTASOFF HEDZOFF, he avowed that since he ran the General
of Crim Tartary, the dreadful Grumbuskin, through the body, he never had
encountered so expert a swordsman as Prince Giglio.
I hope you do not imagine that there was any impropriety in the Prince
and Princess walking together in the palace garden, and because Giglio
kissed Angelica’s hand in a polite manner. In the first place they are
cousins; next, the Queen is walking in the garden too (you cannot see
her, for she happens to be behind that tree), and Her Majesty always
wished that Angelica and Giglio should marry: so did Giglio: so did
Angelica sometimes, for she thought her cousin very handsome, brave,
and good-natured: but then you know she was so clever and knew so many
things, and poor Giglio knew nothing, and had no conversation. When they
looked at the stars, what did Giglio know of the heavenly bodies? Once,
when on a sweet night in a balcony where they were standing, Angelica
said, ‘There is the Bear.’ ‘Where?’ says Giglio. ‘Don’t be afraid,
Angelica! if a dozen bears come, I will kill them rather than they shall
hurt you.’ ‘Oh, you silly creature!’ says she; ‘you are very good, but
you are not very wise.’ When they looked at the flowers, Giglio was
utterly unacquainted with botany, and had never heard of Linnaeus.
When the butterflies passed, Giglio knew nothing about them, being as
ignorant of entomology as I am of algebra. So you see, Angelica, though
she liked Giglio pretty well, despised him on account of his ignorance.
I think she probably valued HER OWN LEARNING rather too much; but to
think too well of one’s self is the fault of people of all ages and both
sexes. Finally, when nobody else was there, Angelica liked her cousin
well enough.
King Valoroso was very delicate in health, and withal so fond of good
dinners (which were prepared for him by his French cook Marmitonio),
that it was supposed he could not live long. Now the idea of anything
happening to the King struck the artful Prime Minister and the designing
old lady-in-waiting with terror. For, thought Glumboso and the Countess,
‘when Prince Giglio marries his cousin and comes to the throne, what a
pretty position we shall be in, whom he dislikes, and who have always
been unkind to him. We shall lose our places in a trice; Mrs. Gruffanuff
will have to give up all the jewels, laces, snuff-boxes, rings, and
watches which belonged to the Queen, Giglio’s mother; and Glumboso will
be forced to refund two hundred and seventeen thousand millions nine
hundred and eighty-seven thousand four hundred and thirty-nine pounds,
thirteen shillings, and sixpence halfpenny, money left to Prince Giglio
by his poor dear father.’
So the Lady of Honour and the Prime Minister hated Giglio because they
had done him a wrong; and these unprincipled people invented a hundred
cruel stories about poor Giglio, in order to influence the King, Queen,
and Princess against him; how he was so ignorant that he could not spell
the commonest words, and actually wrote Valoroso Valloroso, and spelt
Angelica with two l’s; how he drank a great deal too much wine at
dinner, and was always idling in the stables with the grooms; how he
owed ever so much money at the pastry-cook’s and the haberdasher’s; how
he used to go to sleep at church; how he was fond of playing cards with
the pages. So did the Queen like playing cards; so did the King go
to sleep at church, and eat and drink too much; and, if Giglio owed
a trifle for tarts, who owed him two hundred and seventeen thousand
millions nine hundred and eighty-seven thousand four hundred and
thirty-nine pounds, thirteen shillings, and sixpence halfpenny, I should
like to know? Detractors and tale-bearers (in my humble opinion) had
much better look at HOME. All this backbiting and slandering had effect
upon Princess Angelica, who began to look coldly on her cousin, then to
laugh at him and scorn him for being so stupid, then to sneer at him for
having vulgar associates; and at Court balls, dinners, and so forth,
to treat him so unkindly that poor Giglio became quite ill, took to his
bed, and sent for the doctor.
His Majesty King Valoroso, as we have seen, had his own reasons for
disliking his nephew; and as for those innocent readers who ask why?--I
beg (with the permission of their dear parents) to refer them to
Shakespeare’s pages, where they will read why King John disliked Prince
Arthur. With the Queen, his royal but weak-minded aunt, when Giglio was
out of sight he was out of mind. While she had her whist and her evening
parties, she cared for little else.
I dare say TWO VILLAINS, who shall be nameless, wished Doctor Pildrafto,
the Court Physician, had killed Giglio right out, but he only bled
and physicked him so severely that the Prince was kept to his room for
several months, and grew as thin as a post.
Whilst he was lying sick in this way, there came to the Court of
Paflagonia a famous painter, whose name was Tomaso Lorenzo, and who was
Painter in Ordinary to the King of Crim Tartary, Paflagonia’s neighbour.
Tomaso Lorenzo painted all the Court, who were delighted with his works;
for even Countess Gruffanuff looked young and Glumboso good-humoured
in his pictures. ‘He flatters very much,’ some people said. ‘Nay!’ says
Princess Angelica, ‘I am above flattery, and I think he did not make my
picture handsome enough. I can’t bear to hear a man of genius unjustly
cried down, and I hope my dear papa will make Lorenzo a knight of his
Order of the Cucumber.’
The Princess Angelica, although the courtiers vowed Her Royal Highness
could draw so BEAUTIFULLY that the idea of her taking lessons was
absurd, yet chose to have Lorenzo for a teacher, and it was wonderful,
AS LONG AS SHE PAINTED IN HIS STUDIO, what beautiful pictures she made!
Some of the performances were engraved for the Book of Beauty: others
were sold for enormous sums at Charity Bazaars. She wrote the
SIGNATURES under the drawings, no doubt, but I think I know who-did
the pictures--this artful painter, who had come with other designs on
Angelica than merely to teach her to draw.
One day, Lorenzo showed the Princess a portrait of a young man in
armour, with fair hair and the loveliest blue eyes, and an expression at
once melancholy and interesting.
‘Dear Signor Lorenzo, who is this?’ asked the Princess.
‘I never saw anyone so handsome,’ says Countess Gruffanuff (the old
humbug).
‘That,’ said the painter, ‘that, Madam, is the portrait of my august
young master, his Royal Highness Bulbo, Crown Prince of Crim Tartary,
Duke of Acroceraunia, Marquis of Poluphloisboio, and Knight Grand Cross
of the Order of the Pumpkin. That is the order of the Pumpkin glittering
on his manly breast, and received by His Royal Highness from his august
father, His Majesty King PADELLA I., for his gallantry at the battle
of Rimbombamento, when he slew with his own princely hand the King
of Ograria and two hundred and eleven giants of the two hundred and
eighteen who formed the King’s bodyguard. The remainder were destroyed
by the brave Crim Tartar army after an obstinate combat, in which the
Crim Tartars suffered severely.’
What a Prince! thought Angelica: so brave--so calm-looking--so
young--what a hero!
‘He is as accomplished as he is brave,’ continued the Court Painter.
‘He knows all languages perfectly: sings deliciously: plays every
instrument: composes operas which have been acted a thousand nights
running at the Imperial Theatre of Crim Tartary, and danced in a ballet
there before the King and Queen; in which he looked so beautiful, that
his cousin, the lovely daughter of the King of Circassia, died for love
of him.’
‘Why did he not marry the poor Princess?’ asked Angelica, with a sigh.
‘Because they were FIRST COUSINS, Madam, and the clergy forbid these
unions,’ said the Painter. ‘And, besides, the young Prince had given his
royal heart ELSEWHERE.’
‘And to whom?’ asked Her Royal Highness.
‘I am not at liberty to mention the Princess’s name,’ answered the
Painter.
‘But you may tell me the first letter of it,’ gasped out the Princess.
‘That Your Royal Highness is at liberty to guess,’ said Lorenzo.
‘Does it begin with a Z?’ asked Angelica.
The Painter said it wasn’t a Z; then she tried a Y; then an X; then a W,
and went so backwards through almost the whole alphabet.
When she came to D, and it wasn’t D, she grew very excited; when she
came to C, and it wasn’t C, she was still more nervous; when she came
to B, AND IT WASN’T B, ‘O dearest Gruffanuff,’ she said, ‘lend me your
smelling-bottle!’ and, hiding her head in the Countess’s shoulder, she
faintly whispered, ‘Ah, Signor, can it be A?’
‘It was A; and though I may not, by my Royal Master’s orders, tell Your
Royal Highness the Princess’s name, whom he fondly, madly, devotedly,
rapturously loves, I may show you her portrait,’ says this slyboots:
and leading the Princess up to a gilt frame, he drew a curtain which was
before it.
O goodness! the frame contained A LOOKING-GLASS! and Angelica saw her
own face!
VII. HOW GIGLIO AND ANGELICA HAD A QUARREL
The Court Painter of His Majesty the King of Crim Tartary returned to
that monarch’s dominions, carrying away a number of sketches which he
had made in the Paflagonian capital (you know, of course, my dears, that
the name of that capital is Blombodinga); but the most charming of all
his pieces was a portrait of the Princess Angelica, which all the Crim
Tartar nobles came to see. With this work the King was so delighted,
that he decorated the Painter with his Order of the Pumpkin (sixth
class) and the artist became Sir Tomaso Lorenzo, K.P., thenceforth.
King Valoroso also sent Sir Tomaso his Order of the Cucumber, besides a
handsome order for money, for he painted the King, Queen, and principal
nobility while at Blombodinga, and became all the fashion, to the
perfect rage of all the artists in Paflagonia, where the King used to
point to the portrait of Prince Bulbo, which Sir Tomaso had left behind
him, and say ‘Which among you can paint a picture like that?’
It hung in the royal parlour over the royal sideboard, and Princess
Angelica could always look at it as she sat making the tea. Each day it
seemed to grow handsomer and handsomer, and the Princess grew so fond
of looking at it, that she would often spill the tea over the cloth, at
which her father and mother would wink and wag their heads, and say to
each other, ‘Aha! we see how things are going.’
In the meantime poor Giglio lay upstairs very sick in his chamber,
though he took all the doctor’s horrible medicines like a good young
lad; as I hope YOU do, my dears, when you are ill and mamma sends for
the medical man. And the only person who visited Giglio (besides his
friend the captain of the guard, who was almost always busy or on
parade), was little Betsinda the housemaid, who used to do his bedroom
and sitting-room out, bring him his gruel, and warm his bed.
When the little housemaid came to him in the morning and evening, Prince
Giglio used to say, ‘Betsinda, Betsinda, how is the Princess Angelica?’
And Betsinda used to answer, ‘The Princess is very well, thank you, my
Lord.’ And Giglio would heave a sigh, and think, if Angelica were sick,
I am sure _I_ should not be very well.
Then Giglio would say, ‘Betsinda, has the Princess Angelica asked for
me today?’ And Betsinda would answer, ‘No, my Lord, not today’; or, ‘she
was very busy practicing the piano when I saw her’; or, ‘she was writing
invitations for an evening party, and did not speak to me’; or make some
excuse or other, not strictly consonant with truth: for Betsinda was
such a good-natured creature that she strove to do everything to prevent
annoyance to Prince Giglio, and even brought him up roast chicken and
jellies from the kitchen (when the Doctor allowed them, and Giglio was
getting better), saying, ‘that the Princess had made the jelly, or the
bread-sauce, with her own hands, on purpose for Giglio.’
When Giglio heard this he took heart and began to mend immediately;
and gobbled up all the jelly, and picked the last bone of the
chicken--drumsticks, merry-thought, sides’-bones, back, pope’s nose,
and all--thanking his dear Angelica; and he felt so much better the next
day, that he dressed and went downstairs, where, whom should he meet
but Angelica going into the drawing-room? All the covers were off the
chairs, the chandeliers taken out of the bags, the damask curtains
uncovered, the work and things carried away, and the handsomest albums
on the tables. Angelica had her hair in papers: in a word, it was
evident there was going to be a party.
‘Heavens, Giglio!’ cries Angelica: ‘YOU here in such a dress! What a
figure you are!’
‘Yes, dear Angelica, I am come downstairs, and feel so well today,
thanks to the FOWL and the JELLY.’
‘What do I know about fowls and jellies, that you allude to them in that
rude way?’ says Angelica.
‘Why, didn’t--didn’t you send them, Angelica dear?’ says Giglio.
‘I send them indeed! Angelica dear! No, Giglio dear,’ says she, mocking
him, ‘_I_ was engaged in getting the rooms ready for His Royal Highness
the Prince of Crim Tartary, who is coming to pay my papa’s Court a
visit.’
‘The--Prince--of--Crim--Tartary!’ Giglio said, aghast.
‘Yes, the Prince of Crim Tartary,’ says Angelica, mocking him. ‘I dare
say you never heard of such a country. What DID you ever hear of? You
don’t know whether Crim Tartary is on the Red Sea or on the Black Sea, I
dare say.’
‘Yes, I do, it’s on the Red Sea,’ says Giglio, at which the Princess
burst out laughing at him, and said, ‘Oh, you ninny! You are so
ignorant, you are really not fit for society! You know nothing but about
horses and dogs, and are only fit to dine in a mess-room with my Royal
father’s heaviest dragoons. Don’t look so surprised at me, sir: go
and put your best clothes on to receive the Prince, and let me get the
drawing-room ready.’
Giglio said, ‘Oh, Angelica, Angelica, I didn’t think this of you. THIS
wasn’t your language to me when you gave me this ring, and I gave you
mine in the garden, and you gave me that k--’
But what k was we never shall know, for Angelica, in a rage, cried,
‘Get out, you saucy, rude creature! How dare you to remind me of your
rudeness? As for your little trumpery twopenny ring, there, sir, there!’
And she flung it out of the window.
‘It was my mother’s marriage-ring,’ cried Giglio.
‘_I_ don’t care whose marriage-ring it was,’ cries Angelica. ‘Marry the
person who picks it up if she’s a woman; you shan’t marry ME. And give
me back MY ring. I’ve no patience with people who boast about the things
they give away! _I_ know who’ll give me much finer things than you ever
gave me. A beggarly ring indeed, not worth five shillings!’