The Victorian Fairy Tale Book (The Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library)
Page 12
The party of Fidelity was in truth composed of very feeble old fogies for the most part; they went about the country waving their old swords and flags, and calling “God save the Queen!” and King Padella happening to be absent upon an invasion, they had their own way for little, and to be sure the people were very enthusiastic whenever they saw the Queen; otherwise the vulgar took matters very quietly, for they said, as far as they could recollect, they were pretty well as much taxed in Cavolfiore’s time, as now in Padella’s.
XIII
How Queen Rosalba Came to the Castle of the Bold Count Hogginarmo
Her Majesty, having indeed nothing else to give, made all her followers Knights of the Pumpkin, and Marquises, Earls, and Baronets; and they had a little court for her, and made her a little crown of gilt paper, and a robe of cotton velvet; and they quarrelled about the places to be given away in her court, and about rank and precedence and dignities;—you can’t think how they quarrelled! The poor Queen was very tired of her honours before she had had them a month, and I dare say sighed sometimes even to be a lady’s-maid again. But we must all do our duty in our respective stations, so the Queen resigned herself to perform hers.
We have said how it happened that none of the usurper’s troops came out to oppose this Army of Fidelity: it pottered along as nimbly as the gout of the principal commanders allowed: it consisted of twice as many officers as soldiers: and at length passed near the estates of one of the most powerful noblemen of the country, who had not declared for the Queen, but of whom her party had hopes, as he was always quarrelling with King Padella.
When they came close to his park gates, this nobleman sent to say he would wait upon her Majesty: he was a most powerful warrior, and his name was Count Hogginarmo, whose helmet it took two strong negroes to carry. He knelt down before her and said “Madam and leige lady! it becomes the great nobles of the Crimean realm to show every outward sign of respect to the wearer of the Crown, whoever that may be. We testify to our own nobility in acknowledging yours. The bold Hogginarmo bends the knee to the first of the aristocracy of his country.”
Rosalba said, “The bold Count of Hogginarmo was uncommonly kind.” But she felt afraid of him, even while he was kneeling, and his eyes scowled at her from between his whiskers, which grew up to them.
“The first Count of the Empire, madam,” he went on, “salutes the Sovereign. The Prince addresses himself to the not more noble lady! Madam, my hand is free, and I offer it, and my heart and my sword to your service! My three wives lie buried in my ancestral vaults. The third perished but a year since; and this heart pines for a consort! Deign to be mine, and I swear to bring to your bridal table the head of King Padella, the eyes and nose of his son Prince Bulbo, the right hand and ears of the usurping Sovereign of Paflagonia, which country shall thenceforth be an appanage to your—to our Crown! Say yes; Hogginarmo is not accustomed to be denied. Indeed I cannot contemplate the possibility of a refusal; for frightful will be the result; dreadful the murders; furious the devastations; horrible the tyranny; tremendous the tortures, misery, taxation, which the people of this realm will endure, if Hogginarmo’s wrath be aroused! I see consent in your Majesty’s lovely eyes—their glances fill my soul with rapture!”
“O, sir!” Rosalba said, withdrawing her hand in great fright. “Your 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-r-r—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, on 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’t, 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, mosquitos, 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 could 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 go 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 daresay 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, fětes, 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 on the coupé 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-lo
oking 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 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 when 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 the waiter at the top of the stairs.
The landlady came up, looking—looking like this—
“What are you a hollaring and 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 tea-cup, 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 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 examinations 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, “Hurray! 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 coffeehouse 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 feroci
ous 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 woodcutter, 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.