King Matt the First

by Janusz Korczak

  Everything was going well throughout the land. Construction of the children’s camps was under way, and so the architects, bricklayers, carpenters, tilesetters, plumbers, locksmiths, and glaziers were satisfied because they were earning a lot of money. The brickyards, the sawmills, and the glass factories had orders to fill; a special ice-skate factory was being built, and four large candy and chocolate factories were under construction. Special railroad cars were being manufactured to cage and transport the wild animals; the cars for the elephants and camels were difficult and very expensive to produce, and a special car had to be designed for the giraffes because of their long necks. The zoo was nearing completion, not to mention the two large buildings where delegates from the entire country would gather to deliberate, govern, and make laws.

  One of the parliament buildings was for the grownups, and one for the children. The children’s parliament was just like the grownups’, except that the door handles were lower, so that even the littlest delegates could open the doors themselves; the chairs were low, so their legs wouldn’t dangle in the air, and the windows were lower, too, so the children could look outside if a meeting wasn’t too interesting.

  The craftsmen and workers were happy to have work, the manufacturers were happy to be making profits, and the children were happy that their king cared about them. The children liked having their own newspaper in which anybody could say what he wanted to. Now the children who didn’t know how to read and write were in a rush to learn, because they wanted to know what was going on and to write to their newspaper about what they thought should be done.

  Parents and teachers were happy that the children were studying so hard. And now there were fewer fights in school, because everyone wanted to be liked and be elected a delegate.

  Now practically everyone loved Matt, not just the soldiers. People marveled that so young a king had learned so quickly and ruled so well.

  But people didn’t know what troubles Matt had. And the worst thing of all was that the foreign kings were growing more and more envious of Matt.

  “What’s Matt up to?” they asked. “We’ve already been ruling for a long time. Does he want to surpass us all in a day? It’s no big deal to do good deeds with somebody else’s money. Bum Drum gave him gold, and now Matt orders people around. And is it proper for a civilized king to make friends with cannibals?”

  Matt had learned of all this from his spies. The Minister of Foreign Affairs warned him that there might be another war.

  Matt did not want another war. He did not want to tear himself away from his work. War would mean that the construction crews would have to go back to the trenches and the children’s camps would be left unfinished. Matt wanted the children to spend the next summer in the country, and he also wanted both parliaments, the one for the grownups and the one for the children, to open in the fall.

  “What can be done to avoid another war?” asked Matt, pacing his office, taking long strides, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “If the foreign kings quarreled, and the stronger ones became friends with you, war could be avoided,” said the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

  “Oh, that would be perfect. I think the sad king who plays the violin might become friends with us. He told me that he had no desire to go to war with me the last time, and he suffered the least because his army was kept in reserve. And it was he who advised me to carry out reforms for the children.”

  “What Your Royal Highness is telling me is very important,” said the Minister of Foreign Affairs. “Yes, he might make friends with us. But the other two will always remain our enemies.”

  “Why?” asked Matt.

  “One of them is angry now because the people will govern here.”

  “What does he care?”

  “He cares a lot, because if his people find out, then they’ll want to govern, too, they won’t want him giving them any more orders. And there’ll be a revolution there.”

  “And the other king?”

  “The other one? Hm, you might be able to come to an understanding with him. He’s mostly angry because now the Oriental and African kings love us more than they love him. They used to send him presents, but now they send them to us. We could make an agreement with him—he can be friends with the Oriental kings and we’ll be friends with the African kings.”

  “All right, then, we have to try, because I don’t want another war,” said Matt firmly.

  That same evening, King Matt sat down to write a letter to the sad king who played the violin.

  My spies have informed me that the foreign kings are envious because Bum Drum gave me gold, and are going to attack me. So I am requesting that Your Royal Highness remain my friend and be on my side this time.

  Matt wrote a great deal about his reforms and asked for advice about what to do next. He had so much work, it was so hard to be a king. He told the sad king not to worry if somebody shouted “Down with the king” in parliament—you couldn’t make all of the people happy all of the time.

  It was late at night when Matt put down his pen. He went out onto the royal balcony and looked at his capital. The streetlights were on, but the windows in the houses were dark, because by now everyone was asleep.

  Matt thought: All the children are sleeping peacefully. I am the only one still up. I have to write letters at night so there won’t be a war, so that the camps can be finished in peace and the children can spend this summer there. Children only think about schoolwork and games, but I don’t even have time to study or play, because I have to think about all the children in my country.

  Matt went to his room and looked at his toys, which were all dusty, because he had not played with them for a long time.

  “My little puppet,” said Matt to his puppet, “you must be angry at me for not playing with you for so long. But what can I do? You’re a wooden puppet, and as long as you’re not broken, you don’t need anything. But I have to think about real people who need lots of things.”

  Matt lay down, turned off the light, and was just about asleep, when he remembered that he still hadn’t written a letter to the second king to say that Matt would be friends with the Africans and the second king could keep on receiving presents from the Oriental kings.

  What to do now? Both letters had to be sent at the same time. It couldn’t wait—otherwise, war might be declared before the letters arrived.

  So Matt got up, even though his head ached from weariness, and he wrote a long letter to the second foreign king, which took until dawn.

  And then, after a night without any sleep, he did a whole day’s work again. That was a very hard day for Matt, because a telegram arrived from the seaport. It said that King Bum Drum had sent him a whole boatful of wild animals and gold, but one of the foreign kings would not allow it to be transported across his country.

  The foreign kings’ ambassadors arrived and said that they didn’t want presents from cannibals to be transported across their countries and that just because they allowed it once didn’t mean that they had to do whatever Matt wanted. Matt was taking too many liberties. Matt had defeated them once, but that didn’t mean anything, because they had bought new cannons and weren’t in the least afraid of Matt.

  All in all, they spoke as if they wanted to start an argument. One of them even stamped his foot. The master of ceremonies remarked that etiquette did not permit people to stamp their feet when talking with a king.

  At first, Matt flushed red with anger, because the blood of Henryk the Hasty flowed in his veins, and when they said they weren’t afraid of Matt, he almost shouted: And I’m not afraid of you, either! We can have another go at it, and then we’ll see what’s what.

  But a moment later Matt had regained his composure and began to speak as if he had no idea what they were up to.

  “My dear ambassadors, there’s no reason for your kings to be afraid of me. Just last night, I wrote them letters saying that I want to be friends with them. Please hand me those letters. There are only two let
ters, but I’ll write to the third king right away. I’ll be glad to pay if you don’t want Bum Drum’s presents shipped across your countries for nothing. I didn’t know it was causing your kings any unhappiness.”

  The ambassadors didn’t know what Matt had written to their kings, because the envelopes were closed and sealed with the royal seal, and so they said no more. They only muttered under their breath and went away.

  Matt had a meeting with the journalist, another with Felek, and then one with the ministers. And then an audience, followed by the signing of papers. Then he inspected the troops, because it was the anniversary of the battle won by the royal army during the time of Witold the Conqueror.

  In the evening, Matt was so tired and pale that the doctor was very worried.

  “You have to respect your health,” said the doctor. “Your Royal Highness is working a lot, and eating and sleeping very little. Your Royal Highness is still growing and could fall ill with tuberculosis and start spitting blood.”

  “I was spitting blood yesterday,” said Matt.

  The doctor became even more frightened. He examined Matt, but it turned out not to be tuberculosis; Matt had just lost a tooth, and that was why he had been spitting blood.

  “Where is the tooth?” asked the master of ceremonies.

  “I threw it in the wastepaper basket.”

  The master of ceremonies didn’t say anything, but thought to himself: Fine times these are, when a king’s teeth are thrown out with the trash.

  Court etiquette required that when a royal tooth fell out it was to be set in gold and placed in a diamond-studded box that was kept in the treasury.

  A MEETING OF the kings had become an absolute must. First, Matt had been their guest, and so now he should invite them to visit his country. Second, the parliaments should be opened with great ceremony and with all the kings attending. Furthermore, they had to be shown the new zoo. And, most important, they had to discuss whether they wanted to live in friendship or not.

  Letter after letter, telegram after telegram was sent, the ministers were always on the move. It was an important issue: either there would be friendship, peace, and prosperity—or another war.

  There were meetings day and night, both at Matt’s palace and at those of the foreign kings.

  One ambassador came and said: “My king wants to live in friendship with Matt.”

  “But why is your king recruiting troops and building new fortresses? You don’t build new fortresses unless you’re thinking about war.”

  “My king,” said the ambassador, “lost the last war, and so now he must be on his guard, but that doesn’t mean that he intends to attack Matt.”

  But Matt’s spies had reported that the first king posed the greatest threat.

  Actually, the king did not want a war, because he was old and tired. But his eldest son, the heir to the throne, wanted war with Matt.

  Matt’s spies had even overheard a conversation between the old king and his son.

  “Father, you’re old and weak now,” said the son. “It would be best for you to hand the throne over to me so I can deal with Matt.”

  “What harm did Matt do to you? He’s very nice, and I like him very much.”

  “You like him, but so what? He wrote a letter to the sad king telling him to leave us and be friends with him. He wants to give the second king all the Oriental kings and keep Bum Drum and the African kings for himself. And who will be with us then, who will send us gold and presents? Then we’ll be all alone and they’ll be friends with Matt and so all three of them will attack us. We must build two new fortresses and draft more soldiers.”

  The old king’s son knew everything, because he had his own spies who reported to him.

  The old king had to agree to draft more men and to build one more fortress, for he was afraid that if there was a war and they lost again, his son would say: “Didn’t I tell you, Father, it would turn out like this? You should have given me the throne and the crown so this wouldn’t have happened.”

  And it went on like that all through the fall and winter, no one knowing who would be friends with whom.

  It was only when Matt sent out the letters inviting them all to be his guests that they were forced to show their true colors—would they come to see him or not?

  Matt received one reply to the invitation, which said: “Of course, we will be glad to come, but on the condition that Matt does not invite Bum Drum. We are civilized kings and we do not wish to sit at the same table with cannibals. Our fine breeding and our royal honor does not permit us to socialize with savages.”

  That answer hurt poor Matt’s feelings, because it seemed to say that he was not well-bred and had no royal honor. The Minister of Foreign Affairs advised him to pretend that he had not noticed the insult, but Matt would not agree.

  “I don’t want to pretend that I didn’t notice it. And I won’t. Not only have they offended me, they have insulted my friend who has sworn to be true to me in danger, who is ready to go through fire for me, and who wanted to be eaten by me as proof of his great love. It’s too bad that he’s so uncivilized, but he wants to change his ways. He is my true friend, he trusts me, and we do not have spies in each other’s countries. But those civilized kings are false and treacherous. And I am going to write them all this.”

  The Minister of Foreign Affairs was very frightened. “Your Royal Highness does not want war, but a reply like that means war. You can write them, but not like that.”

  Again, Matt did not sleep the whole night. He composed his reply with the aid of his ministers. It read: “King Matt made friends with Bum Drum precisely so that Bum Drum would stop being a cannibal. Bum Drum promised Matt that he would not eat people any more. If Bum Drum has not kept his word, that is only because he is afraid that the witch doctors would poison him because they do not want their people to stop being cannibals. Besides, Matt is prepared to check whether Bum Drum has stopped being a cannibal or not and to let you know.”

  At the end of the letter, Matt wrote: “And I assure Your Royal Highnesses that both my honor and that of my African friend are dear to me and I am prepared to defend that honor at the cost of my own life and blood.”

  That meant that the foreign kings should beware, for Matt would not allow himself to be offended, and though he did not want war, he wasn’t afraid of one, either.

  The foreign kings wrote back: “All right, if Bum Drum has ceased being a cannibal, he can come to see Matt along with us.”

  The foreign kings, actually only the first one, wanted to delay things because his new fortress was not ready yet. This is what they thought: If Matt writes us that Bum Drum is no longer a cannibal, we’ll reply that African kings break their word and can’t be trusted. And for that reason we don’t accept his invitation.

  What they didn’t expect was that Matt would outfox them again.

  As soon as he received their answer, Matt declared: “I will go by airplane to see King Bum Drum to make certain that he is no longer eating human flesh.”

  The ministers advised Matt against such a dangerous journey, but to no avail. The wind could make the plane crash, the pilot could get lost, they could run out of fuel, something could go wrong with the motor.

  Even the manufacturer who was to build the airplane, and would of course earn a lot of money from it, advised Matt against it. “I can’t guarantee that the airplane won’t have any problem during five days in the air. Airplanes usually fly in the cooler countries, and we still don’t know whether heat can cause anything to go wrong. A part might break, and there aren’t any mechanics in the desert.”

  Besides, the airplane could carry only the pilot and Matt. And how would Matt communicate with Bum Drum without the professor who knew fifty languages?

  Matt nodded his head that yes, he understood that it was a very difficult and dangerous journey, that he really might die in the desert sands, that it would be very difficult to communicate with Bum Drum without the professor, but in spite of everyt
hing, he had made up his mind to go and go he would.

  He urged the manufacturer to spare no expense, to hire only master craftsmen, to use the best equipment and materials, and to make the best airplane possible as fast as he could.

  The manufacturer set all other work aside; the best mechanics worked three shifts, day and night. The chief engineer at the factory did so many calculations that he went out of his mind and had to spend two months in the hospital. Matt would go to the factory every day in the royal car and spend a few hours there, carefully examining every hose and every screw.

  It’s not difficult to imagine the impression this made both at home and abroad. The newspapers wrote about practically nothing but the king’s journey. Matt was called “King of the Air,” “King of the Desert,” “Matt the Great,” and “Mad Matt.”

  “It’s curtains for him this time,” said some spiteful people. “Matt pulled off two good ones, but he won’t succeed this time.”

  Matt spent a long time searching for a pilot. Two people applied for the job. One was an older man who had no legs and only one eye. Felek was the other applicant.

  The legless pilot was actually the senior mechanic who had assembled the plane. He had been flying since the early days of aviation, when airplanes were rickety and crashed often. He had crashed seven times, been seriously hurt four times, but had lived through it all. Once he lost an eye, once his legs were mashed, and once he broke two ribs and his brain was so badly shaken that he was in the hospital for a year, unable to speak. He still did not speak very clearly. His last accident had made him reluctant to fly, but he loved airplanes so much that he took a job at the factory so he could work on them and be around them, even though he could no longer fly them.

  But he would go with King Matt. He had powerful hands, and one good eye was enough.

  Felek understood that he couldn’t be compared with such an experienced pilot, and at heart he was glad not to be going. He thought the same thing as everyone else—you could go on a journey like that, but coming back was another story.