Lordship is exceedingly kind; but I am sorry to tell you that I have a
prior attachment to a young gentleman by the name of--Prince Giglio--and
never--never can marry any one but him.’
Who can describe Hogginarmo’s wrath at this remark? Rising up from the
ground, he ground his teeth so that fire flashed out of his mouth, from
which at the same time issued remarks and language, so LOUD,
VIOLENT, AND IMPROPER, that this pen shall never repeat them!
‘R-r-r-r-rr--Rejected! Fiends and perdition! The bold Hogginarmo
rejected! All the world shall hear of my rage; and you, madam, you above
all shall rue it!’ And kicking the two negroes before him, he rushed
away, his whiskers streaming in the wind.
Her Majesty’s Privy Council was in a dreadful panic when they saw
Hogginarmo issue from the royal presence in such a towering rage, making
footballs of the poor negroes--a panic which the events justified. They
marched off from Hogginarmo’s park very crestfallen; and in another
half-hour they were met by that rapacious chieftain with a few of his
followers, who cut, slashed, charged, whacked, banged, and pommelled
amongst them, took the Queen prisoner, and drove the Army of Fidelity to
I don’t know where.
Poor Queen! Hogginarmo, her conqueror, would not condescend to see her.
‘Get a horse-van!’ he said to his grooms, ‘clap the hussy into it, and
send her, with my compliments, to His Majesty King Padella.’
Along with his lovely prisoner, Hogginarmo sent a letter full of servile
compliments and loathsome flatteries to King Padella, for whose life,
and that of his royal family, the HYPOCRITICAL HUMBUG pretended to offer
the most fulsome prayers. And Hogginarmo promised speedily to pay his
humble homage at his august master’s throne, of which he begged leave to
be counted the most loyal and constant defender. Such a WARY old BIRD
as King Padella was not to be caught by Master Hogginarmo’s CHAFF and we
shall hear presently how the tyrant treated his upstart vassal. No, no;
depend on’s, two such rogues do not trust one another.
So this poor Queen was laid in the straw like Margery Daw, and driven
along in the dark ever so many miles to the Court, where King Padella
had now arrived, having vanquished all his enemies, murdered most of
them, and brought some of the richest into captivity with him for the
purpose of torturing them and finding out where they had hidden their
money.
Rosalba heard their shrieks and groans in the dungeon in which she was
thrust; a most awful black hole, full of bats, rats, mice, toads, frogs,
mosquitoes, bugs, fleas, serpents, and every kind of horror. No light
was let into it, otherwise the gaolers might have seen her and fallen in
love with her, as an owl that lived up in the roof of the tower did, and
a cat, you know, who can see in the dark, and having set its green eyes
on Rosalba, never would be got to go back to the turnkey’s wife to whom
it belonged. And the toads in the dungeon came and kissed her feet,
and the vipers wound round her neck and arms, and never hurt her, so
charming was this poor Princess in the midst of her misfortunes.
At last, after she had been kept in this place EVER SO LONG, the door of
the dungeon opened, and the terrible KING PADELLA came in.
But what he said and did must be reserved for another chapter, as we
must now back to Prince Giglio.
XIV. WHAT BECAME OF GIGLIO
The idea of marrying such an old creature as Gruffanuff frightened
Prince Giglio so, that he ran up to his room, packed his trunks,
fetched in a couple of porters, and was off to the diligence office in a
twinkling.
It was well that he was so quick in his operations, did not dawdle over
his luggage, and took the early coach, for as soon as the mistake about
Prince Bulbo was found out, that cruel Glumboso sent up a couple of
policemen to Prince Giglio’s room, with orders that he should be carried
to Newgate, and his head taken off before twelve o’clock. But the coach
was out of the Paflagonian dominions before two o’clock; and I dare say
the express that was sent after Prince Giglio did not ride very quick,
for many people in Paflagonia had a regard for Giglio, as the son of
their old sovereign; a Prince who, with all his weaknesses, was very
much better than his brother, the usurping, lazy, careless, passionate,
tyrannical, reigning monarch. That Prince busied himself with the balls,
fetes, masquerades, hunting-parties, and so forth, which he thought
proper to give on occasion of his daughter’s marriage to Prince Bulbo;
and let us trust was not sorry in his own heart that his brother’s son
had escaped the scaffold.
It was very cold weather, and the snow was on the ground, and
Giglio, who gave his name as simple Mr. Giles, was very glad to get a
comfortable place in the coupe of the diligence, where he sat with the
conductor and another gentleman. At the first stage from Blombodinga,
as they stopped to change horses, there came up to the diligence a very
ordinary, vulgar-looking woman, with a bag under her arm, who asked
for a place. All the inside places were taken, and the young woman was
informed that if she wished to travel, she must go upon the roof; and
the passenger inside with Giglio (a rude person, I should think), put
his head out of the window, and said, ‘Nice weather for travelling
outside! I wish you a pleasant journey, my dear.’ The poor woman coughed
very much, and Giglio pitied her. ‘I will give up my place to her,’
says he, ‘rather than she should travel in the cold air with that horrid
cough.’ On which the vulgar traveller said, ‘YOU’D keep her warm, I am
sure, if it’s a MUFF she wants.’ On which Giglio pulled his nose, boxed
his ears, hit him in the eye, and gave this vulgar person a warning
never to call him MUFF again.
Then he sprang up gaily on to the roof of the diligence, and made
himself very comfortable in the straw.
The vulgar traveller got down only at the next station, and Giglio took
his place again, and talked to the person next to him. She appeared
to be a most agreeable, well-informed, and entertaining female. They
travelled together till night, and she gave Giglio all sorts of things
out of the bag which she carried, and which indeed seemed to contain the
most wonderful collection of articles. He was thirsty--out there came a
pint bottle of Bass’s pale ale, and a silver mug! Hungry--she took out
a cold fowl, some slices of ham, bread, salt, and a most delicious piece
of cold plum-pudding, and a little glass of brandy afterwards.
As they travelled, this plain-looking, queer woman talked to Giglio on
a variety of subjects, in which the poor Prince showed his ignorance as
much as she did her capacity. He owned, with many blushes, how ignorant
he was; on which the lady said, ‘My dear Gigl--my good Mr. Giles, you
are a young man, and have plenty of time before you. You have nothing to
do but to improve yourself. Who knows but that you may find use for your
knowledge some day? When--when you may be wanted at home, as some people
may be.’
‘Good heavens, madam!’ says he, ‘do you know me?’
‘I know a number of funny things,’ says the lady. ‘I have been at some
people’s christenings, and turned away from other folks’ doors. I have
seen some people spoilt by good fortune, and others, as I hope, improved
by hardship. I advise you to stay at the town where the coach stops for
the night. Stay there and study, and remember your old friend to whom
you were kind.’
‘And who is my old friend?’ asked Giglio.
‘When you want anything,’ says the lady, ‘look in this bag, which I
leave to you as a present, and be grateful to--’
‘To whom, madam?’ says he.
‘To the Fairy Blackstick,’ says the lady, flying out of the window. And
then Giglio asked the conductor if he knew where the lady was?
‘What lady?’ says the man; ‘there has been no lady in this coach, except
the old woman, who got out at the last stage.’ And Giglio thought he
had been dreaming. But there was the bag which Blackstick had given him
lying on his lap; and when he came to the town he took it in his hand
and went into the inn.
They gave him a very bad bedroom, and Giglio, when he woke in the
morning, fancying himself in the Royal Palace at home, called, ‘John,
Charles, Thomas! My chocolate--my dressing-gown--my slippers’; but
nobody came. There was no bell, so he went and bawled out for water on
the top of the stairs.
The landlady came up.
‘What are you a hollering and a bellaring for here, young man?’ says
she.
‘There’s no warm water--no servants; my boots are not even cleaned.’
‘He, he! Clean ‘em yourself,’ says the landlady. ‘You young students
give yourselves pretty airs. I never heard such impudence.’
‘I’ll quit the house this instant,’ says Giglio.
‘The sooner the better, young man. Pay your bill and be off. All my
rooms is wanted for gentlefolks, and not for such as you.’
‘You may well keep the Bear Inn,’ said Giglio. ‘You should have yourself
painted as the sign.’
The landlady of the Bear went away GROWLING. And Giglio returned to his
room, where the first thing he saw was the fairy bag lying on the table,
which seemed to give a little hop as he came in. ‘I hope it has some
breakfast in it,’ says Giglio, ‘for I have only a very little
money left.’ But on opening the bag, what do you think was there? A
blacking-brush and a pot of Warren’s jet, and on the pot was written:
Poor young men their boots must black:
Use me and cork me and put me back.
So Giglio laughed and blacked his boots, and put back the brush and the
bottle into the bag.
When he had done dressing himself, the bag gave another little hop, and
he went to it and took out--
1. A tablecloth and a napkin.
2. A sugar-basin full of the best loaf-sugar.
4, 6, 8, 10. Two forks, two teaspoons, two knives, and a pair of
sugar-tongs, and a butter-knife all marked G.
11, 12, 13. A teacup, saucer, and slop-basin.
14. A jug full of delicious cream.
15. A canister with black tea and green.
16. A large tea-urn and boiling water.
17. A saucepan, containing three eggs nicely done.
18. A quarter of a pound of best Epping butter.
19. A brown loaf.
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 neighbouring 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 soidisant 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
honour--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, colour, 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,’ etc.
etc.
(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 pony, 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 armour.
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,
etc., 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, etc., 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.’
XV. WE RETURN TO ROSALBA
King Padella made very similar proposals to Rosalba to those which she
had received from the various princes who, as we have seen, had fallen
in love with her. His Majesty was a widower, and offered to marry his
fair captive that instant, but she declined his invitation in her usual
polite gentle manner, stating that Prince Giglio was her love, and
that any other union was out of the question. Having tried tears and
supplications in vain, this violent-tempered monarch menaced her with
threats and tortures; but she declared she would rather suffer all these
than accept the hand of her father’s murderer, who left her finally,
uttering the most awful imprecations, and bidding her prepare for death
on the following morning.
All night long the King spent in advising how he should get rid of this
obdurate young creature. Cutting off her head was much too easy a death
for her; hanging was so common in His Majesty’s dominions that it no
longer afforded him any sport; finally, he bethought himself of a pair
of fierce lions which had lately been sent to him as presents, and he
determined, with these ferocious brutes, to hunt poor Rosalba down.
Adjoining his castle was an amphitheatre where the Prince indulged in
bull-baiting, rat-hunting, and other ferocious sports. The two lions
were kept in a cage under this place; their roaring might be heard over
the whole city, the inhabitants of which, I am sorry to say, thronged in
numbers to see a poor young lady gobbled up by two wild beasts.