The Victorian Fairy Tale Book (Pantheon Fairy Tale & Folklore Library) (17 page)
Read The Victorian Fairy Tale Book (Pantheon Fairy Tale & Folklore Library) Online
Authors: Michael Patrick Hearn
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—
“R
OMANTIC
C
IRCUMSTANCE
.—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 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.
“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:
“S
ECOND
E
DITION
, E
XPRESS
.—We hear that the troop under Baron Spinachi has been surrounded, and utterly routed, by General Count Hogginarmo, and the
soi-disant
Princess is sent a prisoner to the capital “U
NIVERSITY
N
EWS
.—Yesterday, at the Schools, the distinguished young student, Mr. Giles, read a Latin oration, and was complimented by the Chancellor of Bosforo, Doctor 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 shall astonish your honest minds.”
“Go it, old boy!” cried 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 P
RINCE
, “disguise is henceforth useless; I am no more the humble student Giles, I am the descendent 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,” &c, &c.
(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 “R
OSALBA FOR
E
VER
!”
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 pong, 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, &c., 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, &c., never thought of recognizing 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 market-place was filled with soldiers, and his Royal Highness looking forth, recognized 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
, whilom 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 betweem 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 righful 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.”
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.