bow. 'She is beautiful enough, in my eyes, without any
enchanted aid.'
'Oh, sir!' said Rosalba.
'Take off the ring and try,' said the King, and resolutely drew
the ring off her finger. In HIS eyes she looked just as
handsome as before!
The King was thinking of throwing the ring away, as it was so
dangerous and made all the people so mad about Rosalba; but
being a Prince of great humour, and good humour too, he cast
eyes upon a poor youth who happened to be looking on very
disconsolately, and said--
'Bulbo, my poor lad! come and try on this ring. The Princess
Rosalba makes it a present to you.'
The magic properties of this ring were uncommonly strong, for
no sooner had Bulbo put it on, but lo and behold, he appeared a
personable, agreeable young Prince enough--with a fine
complexion, fair hair, rather stout, and with bandy legs; but
these were encased in such a beautiful pair of yellow morocco
boots that nobody remarked them. And Bulbo's spirits rose up
almost immediately after he had looked in the glass, and he
talked to their Majesties in the most lively, agreeable manner,
and danced opposite the Queen with one of the prettiest maids
of honour, and after looking at Her Majesty, could not help
saying--
'How very odd! she is very pretty, but not so EXTRAORDINARILY
handsome.'
'Oh no, by no means!' says the Maid of Honour.
'But what care I, dear sir,' says the Queen, who overheard
them, 'if YOU think I am good-looking enough?'
His Majesty's glance in reply to this affectionate speech was
such that no painter could draw it. And the Fairy Blackstick
said, 'Bless you, my darling children! Now you are united and
happy; and now you see what I said from the first, that a
little misfortune has done you both good. YOU, Giglio, had you
been bred in prosperity, would scarcely have learned to read or
write--you would have been idle and extravagant, and could not
have been a good King as now you will be. You, Rosalba, would
have been so flattered, that your little head might have been
turned like Angelica's, who thought herself too good for
Giglio.'
'As if anybody could be good enough for HIM,' cried Rosalba.
'Oh, you, you darling!' says Giglio. And so she was; and he
was just holding out his arms in order to give her a hug before
the whole company, when a messenger came rushing in, and said,
'My Lord, the enemy!'
'To arms!' cries Giglio.
'Oh, mercy!' says Rosalba, and fainted of course.
He snatched one kiss from her lips, and rushed FORTH TO THE
FIELD of battle!
The Fairy had provided King Giglio with a suit of armour, which
was not only embroidered all over with jewels, and blinding to
your eyes to look at, but was water-proof, gun-proof, and
sword-proof; so that in the midst of the very hottest battles
His Majesty rode about as calmly as if he had been a British
Grenadier at Alma. Were I engaged in fighting for my country,
_I_ should like such a suit of armour as Prince Giglio wore;
but, you know, he was a Prince of a fairy tale, and they always
have these wonderful things.
Besides the fairy armour, the Prince had a fairy horse, which
would gallop at any pace you pleased; and a fairy sword, which
would lengthen and run through a whole regiment of enemies at
once. With such a weapon at command, I wonder, for my part, he
thought of ordering his army out; but forth they all came, in
magnificent new uniforms, Hedzoff and the Prince's two college
friends each commanding a division, and His Majesty prancing in
person at the head of them all.
Ah! if I had the pen of a Sir Archibald Alison, my dear
friends, would I not now entertain you with the account of a
most tremendous shindy? Should not fine blows be struck?
dreadful wounds be delivered? arrows darken the air? cannon
balls crash through the battalions? cavalry charge infantry?
infantry pitch into cavalry? bugles blow; drums beat; horses
neigh; fifes sing; soldiers roar, swear, hurray; officers shout
out 'Forward, my men!' 'This way, lads!' 'Give it 'em, boys!'
'Fight for King Giglio, and the cause of right!' 'King Padella
for ever!' Would I not describe all this, I say, and in the
very finest language too? But this humble pen does not possess
the skill necessary for the description of combats. In a word,
the overthrow of King Padella's army was so complete, that if
they had been Russians you could not have wished them to be
more utterly smashed and confounded.
As for that usurping monarch, having performed acts of velour
much more considerable than could be expected of a royal
ruffian and usurper, who had such a bad cause, and who was so
cruel to women,--as for King Padella, I say, when his army ran
away, the King ran away too, kicking his first general, Prince
Punchikoff, from his saddle, and galloping away on the Prince's
horse, having, indeed, had twenty-five or twenty-six of his own
shot under him. Hedzoff coming up, and finding Punchikoff
down, as you may imagine, very speedily disposed of HIM.
Meanwhile King Padella was scampering off as hard as his horse
could lay legs to ground. Fast as he scampered, I promise you
somebody else galloped faster; and that individual, as no doubt
you are aware, was the Royal Giglio, who kept bawling out,
'Stay, traitor! Turn, miscreant, and defend thyself! Stand,
tyrant, coward, ruffian, royal wretch, till I cut thy ugly head
from thy usurping shoulders!' And, with his fairy sword, which
elongated itself at will, His Majesty kept poking and prodding
Padella in the back, until that wicked monarch roared with
anguish.
When he was fairly brought to bay, Padella turned and dealt
Prince Giglio a prodigious crack over the sconce with his
battle-axe, a most enormous weapon, which had cut down I don't
know how many regiments in the course of the afternoon. But,
Law bless you! though the blow fell right down on His Majesty's
helmet, it made no more impression than if Padella had struck
him with a pat of butter: his battle-axe crumpled up in
Padella's hand, and the Royal Giglio laughed for very scorn at
the impotent efforts of that atrocious usurper.
At the ill success of his blow the Crim Tartar monarch was
justly irritated. 'If,' says he to Giglio, 'you ride a fairy
horse, and wear fairy armour, what on earth is the use of my
hitting you? I may as well give myself up a prisoner at once.
Your Majesty won't, I suppose, be so mean as to strike a poor
fellow who can't strike again?'
The justice of Padella's remark struck the magnanimous Giglio.
'Do you yield yourself a prisoner, Padella?' says he.
'Of course I do,' says Padella.
'Do you acknowledge Rosalba as your rightful Queen, and give up
the crown and all your treasures to your rightful mistress?'
'If I must, I must,' says Pade
lla, who was naturally very
sulky.
By this time King Giglio's aides-de-camp had come up, whom His
Majesty ordered to bind the prisoner. And they tied his hands
behind him, and bound his legs tight under his horse, having
set him with his face to the tail; and in this fashion he was
led back to King Giglio's quarters, and thrust into the very
dungeon where young Bulbo had been confined.
Padella (who was a very different person in the depth of his
distress, to Padella, the proud wearer of the Crim Tartar
crown), now most affectionately and earnestly asked to see his
son--his dear eldest boy--his darling Bulbo; and that
good-natured young man never once reproached his haughty parent
for his unkind conduct the day before, when he would have left
Bulbo to be shot without any pity, but came to see his father,
and spoke to him through the grating of the door, beyond which
he was not allowed to go; and brought him some sandwiches from
the grand supper which His Majesty was giving above stairs, in
honour of the brilliant victory which had just been achieved.
'I cannot stay with you long, sir,' says Bulbo, who was in his
best ball dress, as he handed his father in the prog, 'I am
engaged to dance the next quadrille with Her Majesty Queen
Rosalba, and I hear the fiddles playing at this very moment.'
So Bulbo went back to the ball-room and the wretched Padella
ate his solitary supper in silence and tears.
All was now joy in King Giglio's circle. Dancing, feasting,
fun, illuminations, and jollifications of all sorts ensued.
The people through whose villages they passed were ordered to
illuminate their cottages at night, and scatter flowers on the
roads during the day. They were requested, and I promise you
they did not like to refuse, to serve the troops liberally with
eatables and wine; besides, the army was enriched by the
immense quantity of plunder which was found in King Padella's
camp, and taken from his soldiers; who (after they had given up
everything) were allowed to fraternise with the conquerors; and
the united forces marched back by easy stages towards King
Giglio's capital, his royal banner and that of Queen Rosalba
being carried in front of the troops. Hedzoff was made a Duke
and a FieldMarshal. Smith and Jones were promoted to be Earls;
the Crim Tartar Order of the Pumpkin and the Paflagonian
decoration of the Cucumber were freely distributed by their
Majesties to the army. Queen Rosalba wore the Paflagonian
Ribbon of the Cucumber across her riding-habit, whilst King
Giglio never appeared without the grand Cordon of the Pumpkin.
How the people cheered them as they rode along side by side!
They were pronounced to be the handsomest couple ever seen:
that was a matter of course; but they really WERE very
handsome, and, had they been otherwise, would have looked so,
they were so happy! Their Majesties were never separated
during the whole day, but breakfasted, dined, and supped
together always, and rode side by side, interchanging elegant
compliments, and indulging in the most delightful conversation.
At night, Her Majesty's ladies of honour (who had all rallied
round her the day after King Padella's defeat) came and
conducted her to the apartments prepared for her; whilst King
Giglio, surrounded by his gentlemen, withdrew to his own Royal
quarters. It was agreed they should be married as soon as they
reached the capital, and orders were dispatched to the
Archbishop of Blombodinga, to hold himself in readiness to
perform the interesting ceremony. Duke Hedzoff carried the
message, and gave instructions to have the Royal Castle
splendidly refurnished and painted afresh. The Duke seized
Glumboso, the Ex-Prime Minister, and made him refund that
considerable sum of money which the old scoundrel had secreted
out of the late King's treasure. He also clapped Valoroso into
prison (who, by the way, had been dethroned for some
considerable period past), and when the Ex-Monarch weakly
remonstrated, Hedzoff said, 'A soldier, sir, knows but his
duty; my orders are to lock you up along with the Ex-King
Padella, whom I have brought hither a prisoner under guard.'
So these two Ex-Royal personages were sent for a year to the
House of Correction, and thereafter were obliged to become
monks of the severest Order of Flagellants, in which state, by
fasting, by vigils, by flogging (which they administered to one
another, humbly but resolutely), no doubt they exhibited a
repentance for their past misdeeds, usurpations, and private
and public crimes.
As for Glumboso, that rogue was sent to the galleys, and never
had an opportunity to steal any more.
XVIII. HOW THEY ALL JOURNEYED BACK TO THE CAPITAL
The Fairy Blackstick, by whose means this young King and Queen
had certainly won their respective crowns back, would come not
unfrequently, to pay them a little visit--as they were riding
in their triumphal progress towards Giglio's capital--change
her wand into a pony, and travel by their Majesties' side,
giving them the very best advice. I am not sure that King
Giglio did not think the Fairy and her advice rather a bore,
fancying it was his own velour and merits which had put him on
his throne, and conquered Padella: and, in fine, I fear he
rather gave himself airs towards his best friend and patroness.
She exhorted him to deal justly by his subjects, to draw mildly
on the taxes, never to break his promise when he had once given
it--and in all respects to be a good King.
'A good King, my dear Fairy!' cries Rosalba. 'Of course he
will. Break his promise! can you fancy my Giglio would ever do
anything so improper, so unlike him? No! never!' And she
looked fondly towards Giglio, whom she thought a pattern of
perfection.
'Why is Fairy Blackstick always advising me, and telling me how
to manage my government, and warning me to keep my word? Does
she suppose that I am not a man of sense, and a man of honour?'
asks Giglio testily. 'Methinks she rather presumes upon her
position.'
'Hush! dear Giglio,' says Rosalba. 'You know Blackstick has
been very kind to us, and we must not offend her.' But the
Fairy was not listening to Giglio's testy observations, she had
fallen back, and was trotting on her pony now, by Master
Bulbo's side, who rode a donkey, and made himself generally
beloved in the army by his cheerfulness, kindness, and
good-humour to everybody. He was eager to see his darling
Angelica. He thought there never was such a charming being.
Blackstick did not tell him it was the possession of the magic
rose that made Angelica so lovely in his eyes. She brought him
the very best accounts of his little wife, whose misfortunes
and humiliations had indeed very greatly improved her; and, you
see, she could whisk off on her wand a hundred miles in a
minute, and be
back in no time, and so carry polite messages
from Bulbo to Angelica, and from Angelica to Bulbo, and comfort
that young man upon his journey.
When the Royal party arrived at the last stage before you reach
Blombodinga, who should be in waiting, in her carriage there
with her lady of honour by her side, but the Princess Angelica!
She rushed into her husband's arms, scarcely stopping to make a
passing curtsey to the King and Queen. She had no eyes but for
Bulbo, who appeared perfectly lovely to her on account of the
fairy ring which he wore; whilst she herself, wearing the magic
rose in her bonnet, seemed entirely beautiful to the enraptured
Bulbo.
A splendid luncheon was served to the Royal party, of which the
Archbishop, the Chancellor, Duke Hedzoff, Countess Gruffanuff,
and all our friends partook, the Fairy Blackstick being seated
on the left of King Giglio, with Bulbo and Angelica beside her.
You could hear the joy-bells ringing in the capital, and the
guns which the citizens were firing off in honour of their
Majesties.
'What can have induced that hideous old Gruffanuff to dress
herself up in such an absurd way? Did you ask her to be your
bridesmaid, my dear?' says Giglio to Rosalba. 'What a figure
of fun Gruffy is!'
Gruffy was seated opposite their Majesties, between the
Archbishop and the Lord Chancellor, and a figure of fun she
certainly was, for she was dressed in a low white silk dress,
with lace over, a wreath of white roses on her wig, a splendid
lace veil, and her yellow old neck was covered with diamonds.
She ogled the King in such a manner that His Majesty burst out
laughing.
'Eleven o'clock!' cries Giglio, as the great Cathedral bell of
Blombodinga tolled that hour. 'Gentlemen and ladies, we must
be starting. Archbishop, you must be at church, I think,
before twelve?'
'We must be at church before twelve,' sighs out Gruffanuff in a
languishing voice, hiding her old face behind her fan.
'And then I shall be the happiest man in my dominions,' cries
Giglio, with an elegant bow to the blushing Rosalba.
'Oh, my Giglio! Oh, my dear Majesty!' exclaims Gruffanuff; 'and
can it be that this happy moment at length has arrived--'
'Of course it has arrived,' says the King.
'--and that I am about to become the enraptured bride of my
adored Giglio!' continues Gruffanuff. 'Lend me a
smelling-bottle, somebody. I certainly shall faint with joy.'
'YOU my bride?' roars out Giglio.
'YOU marry my Prince?' cried poor little Rosalba.
'Pooh! Nonsense! The woman's mad!' exclaims the King. And all
the courtiers exhibited by their countenances and expressions,
marks of surprise, or ridicule, or incredulity, or wonder.
'I should like to know who else is going to be married, if I am
not?' shrieks out Gruffanuff. 'I should like to know if King
Giglio is a gentleman, and if there is such a thing as justice
in Paflagonia? Lord Chancellor! my Lord Archbishop! will your
Lordships sit by and see a poor, fond, confiding, tender
creature put upon? Has not Prince Giglio promised to marry his
Barbara? Is not this Giglio's signature? Does not this paper
declare that he is mine, and only mine?' And she handed to his
Grace the Archbishop the document which the Prince signed that
evening when she wore the magic ring, and Giglio drank so much
champagne. And the old Archbishop, taking out his eyeglasses,
read-- "'This is to give notice, that I, Giglio, only son of
Savio, King of Paflagonia, hereby promise to marry the charming
Barbara Griselda, Countess Gruffanuff, and widow of the late
Jenkins Gruffanuff, Esq."
'H'm,' says the Archbishop, 'the document is certainly a--a
document.'
'Phoo!' says the Lord Chancellor, 'the signature is not in His
Majesty's handwriting.' Indeed, since his studies at Bosforo,
Giglio had made an immense improvement in caligraphy.
'Is it your handwriting, Giglio?' cries the Fairy Blackstick,
with an awful severity of countenance.
'Y--y--y--es,' poor Giglio gasps out, 'I had quite forgotten
the confounded paper: she can't mean to hold me by it. You
old wretch, what will you take to let me off? Help the Queen,
some one--Her Majesty has fainted.'
'Chop her head off!'} exclaim the impetuous