CHAPTER VII.
THE Queen of Croäxaxica was no ordinary person, even if she had not been a Queen. She could not do anything three times in the same way, like persons of less originality. She had given Daffodil audience in the Throne Room on two occasions; it was, therefore, indispensable that the interview now should be a private one. Moreover, Her Majesty wished for a Sociable Evening, such as she sometimes unbent to enjoy, when her guests—among whom she was careful on such occasions to have some of the most renowned philosophers, authors, and wits of Croäxaxica—were allowed to listen to her conversation with her family, and even, from time to time, when she looked as if she intended it, themselves to offer a remark or a reply. These Sociable Evenings, which their infrequency, their freedom from ceremony, and the choice brilliancy of the company, rendered celebrated as the highest intellectual recreation in the world, had, when Her Majesty first began them, been looked on a little doubtfully by the Prime Minister, who feared they might give the irreverent a perverted idea of Her Majesty as one to be looked on as an agreeable hostess: and later, when he was sacrificing page: 85 his loyalty to his ambition, he characterised them as Orgies of condescension. But it proved that the impressiveness of the Queen and the Royal Family on the minds of the Croäxaxicans was augmented, rather than lessened, by the reports of these unostentatious festivities, in which, without the protection of guards, excepting one simple policeman behind each Royal seat, they stooped as near as they could to the level of the subjects around them, and inspired them with the greater awe by their affable attempts.
It had struck the Queen all at once that she had not given a Sociable Evening for an unusually long time, and that the interview she meant to grant the human being would be an excellent occasion for one. She had, thereupon, sent orders to suitable guests to have the honour of enjoying themselves in her presence that evening, and, when Daffodil, at the appointed moment by the clock, was led by the Dressmaker Plenipotentiary into the splendidly decorated room which was known as the Queen’s Royal Sociability Drawing‐room, a hundred frogs of those most distinguished in Croäxaxica for rank, wealth, fashion, beauty, dancing, singing, genius, learning, leaping, swimming and architecture, were sitting and standing in orderly rows, gazing at the Queen, the Crown Prince, Prince Brekekex, and the four of the Royal Princesses who were old enough to be allowed to appear. The King was not present: he never came to any but State entertainments.
The Royal Family were seated together at the upper and broadest end of the apartment—which was of the shape of an egg with its small end elongated and narrowed almost into a point. Behind the Royal page: 86 Family, their Lords and Ladies in Waiting were ranged along the curve of the wall—apparently standing, but in fact it was so managed by the shape and height of their seats that they should have the advantage of sitting while they looked as if they were bolt upright on their feet. This arrangement was the result of the kindly thoughtfulness of the Queen herself, in consequence of the Lords and Ladies in Waiting having been perpetually fainting away while she required them to stand so many hours as her Sociable Evenings usually lasted. She had regrets that she could not provide them with chairs; but power has its limits and that, she felt, was impossible even to the Queen of the inimitable Croäxaxicans: for, if Lords and Ladies in Waiting quietly sat down and looked comfortable, how could they be in waiting more than the guests? At last it flashed upon her one evening, when thirteen Lords and two Ladies had been carried out in swoons, that, if somebody could make some sort of contrivance to enable these distinguished attendants to be seated without betraying it by their attitude, a stop might be put to their fainting. So she ordered all the upholsterers in the kingdom to meet in council and carry out her invention. This matter of the seats won the Queen great applause, because, as all the Croäxaxican newspapers pointed out, it showed that, though she was a Queen, she felt a sympathy for her sex, and all the Ladies in Waiting ought to be ready to give their lives for such a mistress. The Ladies in Waiting gave her a magnificent diadem of snail‐shells in memory of her goodness, and the Lords in Waiting came to the presentation of it and unanimously delivered a speech page: 87 in which they heaped praises on her for her Royal and tender consideration for their colleagues in office, the Ladies in Waiting. The Queen was so pleased that she had ever since been looking for something to do for her sex again.
I have digressed to relate this celebrated episode in the history of Croäxaxica. I must return to what met Daffodil’s eyes. Of what met her ears there is nothing to describe, for it happened that the conversation just then was between the two youngest Princesses, and they were whispering. The Royal Family, then, were seated in mere arm‐chairs placed in a semicircle. The Queen herself sat unpretentiously in the middle chair, without dais or canopy. She had, as her custom was on Sociable Evenings, sent away her sceptre as soon as she had taken her seat, and she wore her crown a little on one side—an assumed mark of carelessness which was understood to express the informality of the occasion. She was lying back in a pensive and easy posture, and might have been thought asleep, if she had not been languidly stroking a pet oyster on her lap. The room was ablaze with fountains and canals of a dozen different tints variegating the light, and the whole of the walls and ceiling sparkled with luminous drops.
“The light is like fairyland,” whispered Daffodil.
“Hush!” the Plenipotentiary whispered back. “Don’t say fairy. The Queen is practical and she gets angry at any visionary talk.”
“I’ll take care,” Daffodil returned. “But don’t you feel as if fairies had made these lights?”
“Croäxaxicans do not approve of fairies; because page: 88 there are none,” said the Plenipotentiary, severely. “And hush! for we’re getting within hearing. Now, mind what I told you: don’t open your lips unless the Queen wants you to say something.”
When the Plenipotentiary had arrived at the seat reserved for her, which, in right of her being the highest subject in the kingdom, was straight opposite the Queen and a little nearer her than any one else’s, she stood by it silently, as was the proper etiquette, waiting till the Queen should perceive her. She was puzzled what to do with her charge—for whom there was no precedent—so she took the plan she had so successfully devised for dressing her, and let her manage for herself. And Daffodil, therefore, to the amazement of the assembly, was beheld quietly standing side by side with the first frog of the Croäxaxican aristocracy, as if she were her equal and entitled to a like recognition from Royalty.
After a minute or so the Queen looked at the Plenipotentiary, and nodded. Then the Plenipotentiary, folding her hands on her breast, sank gently into her seat. Daffodil, having no seat to sink into, was perplexed for a moment; but, recovering her presence of mind, she imitated the Plenipotentiary’s action by setting herself on the floor at her feet.
“Ah, what was it you were saying, my dear boy?” said the Queen presently, breaking the silence. “My dancing, was it?”
“I wasn’t saying a word,” replied the Crown Prince, whom she had addressed.
“My dancing,” murmured the Queen. “Ah, well! perhaps I could dance once. But Royalty has scant time for practising its steps.”
page: 89“Oh Mother, prance, entrance, elegance, enhance by chance the glance of dance,” exclaimed Prince Brekekex emphatically.
It had been arranged that the Crown Prince should suggest the Queen’s dancing, and that Prince Brekekex should urge it in a burst of poetry. But the Crown Prince had forgotten what the Queen had told him to do and had missed her signal. And Prince Brekekex had not had time enough given for him to complete a poem. The Queen had only told him about it a little while before the party began, and moreover she had said it would be after her reception of the new creature: so, although he had been preparing his speech in his mind ever since the Sociable Evening began, he had only been able to get ready the rhymes. Called on in a hurry, he was equal to the occasion, and poured forth the rhymes in an eloquent flow. Their effect was electrical. “Dance,” said everybody. “Glance. Entrance us! Oh! if Her Majesty would but do it! Prance, prance! The very word! Oh! let Her Majesty enhance her elegance, and dance!”
The Queen smiled, and arose. And she danced. Words cannot describe that dancing. With grave composure she sprang and shuffled and hopped and pirouetted. She made twenty steps in an inch, she made strides of thrice her height. Nobody could dance like the Queen of Croäxaxica.
The frogs were carried away with enthusiasm. Their applause, at first soft sighs and spasms of delight, grew louder and stronger into jubilant shouts; then they clapped their hands and feet together, and at last some of them even began to dance, themselves. page: 90 But the Queen, who had all the while retained the air of thoughtful dignity habitual to her and who was not in the least excited by the approbation and flattering uproar, as soon as she saw that the limits of decorum were being passed, gave one bound into her chair from ten feet off and said, in a clear quiet voice, “I am glad you like that step, Brekekex; it was impromptu.” And, conversation being thus re‐established, there was an instant hush.
“You have a little anecdote to tell me, I think,” said the Queen to the Crown Prince, after a pause.
The Crown Prince was in his heart uneasy about being at the Sociable Evenings at all. He thought that, as a future King, he could not isolate himself too early, and he was only induced to be present, and to take some part in the conversation, by his necessary obedience to Her Majesty and his strong desire to be popular. So it was in a curt and surly tone that he answered “I heard that the Regius Professor of Everything heard two soldiers talking, and one boasted that he had an oyster which was the biggest and tamest in Croäxaxica, and the other said ‘I suppose he likes his master.’” He could not help bursting into a laugh as he ended, although he tried hard not to do so; and his laugh was echoed and re‐echoed in louder and louder bursts throughout the assembly. But the Regius Professor of Everything, who was one of the guests, took advantage of the noise to keep saying to his neighbours “That wasn’t the point: what the other frog said to the soldier was ‘I suppose he is like his master.’ And you know big soldiers ought not to be tame.” However, every one was too busy laughing to listen to him.
page: 91After the enjoyment of the Crown Prince’s anecdote had subsided, there was a long interval of conversation again. The Queen made a remark every ten minutes or so, usually to a member of her Royal Family, and the person addressed answered it in the affirmative. The Crown Prince seemed asleep, but he was only imitating his Royal Father’s demeanour; Prince Brekekex seemed asleep, but he was preparing answers, as he had to speak in verse; the Princesses tittered together and seemed amused—all but the youngest one and she did really keep falling asleep. She was always betraying the accident by a gurgling in her nose, and then one of her sisters would sedately give her a secret pinch which immediately revived her.
At last the Queen, arousing herself from a rather long caressing of her oyster, observed “We have had quite a long conversation this time: I am sure it must have lasted over three hours.”
“I am sure it must,” assented the Head Royal Physician; for it was to him the Queen had looked; “Five hours, I should say.”
“Sir!” exclaimed Her Majesty.
The Head Royal Physician saw that he had somehow not said what Her Majesty meant. He was forced to have a cough, and, when the cough had once begun, it set up an irritation in his windpipe and he was half choked before he could stop. That gave him time for reflection, and he resumed his sentence thus: “Five hours, for the impressions it will leave on my enriched mind; two hours, in point of brevity and absence of fatigue.”
“A graceful flattery,” said the Queen, with a smile. page: 92 “But you, inestimably talented friend, must not learn to play the compliment‐maker: we look to you for grave sincerity. The time, by my watch, was three hours, one minute.” Then, turning, still with an affable sprightliness, to an enormously fat frog who had volunteered, somewhat against etiquette, the observation “True! Most true!” to the last speech of the Head Royal Physician, she said “I know that the ears of the first musician of the world are pining for sweet sounds.”
The frog to whom she spoke was renowned throughout Croäxaxica, not only as the greatest of musical composers, but as unequalled as an instrumentalist—his instrument being, of course, the big drum. And, although his voice had somewhat lost its youthful volume, his singing was still remarkable. He was an accomplished courtier and much in favour with the Queen, who was fond of performing to him on his own instrument, on which she had considerable skill. He hesitated at present, for he did not wish to say his ears were pining for anything but what they had been hearing, and yet he must wish for the Queen’s music. But he saw his way. He threw his arms in the air, gazed upwards with emotion, and ejaculated “Oh, soul of music! Oh, Her Majesty on the drum!”
“The Princesses shall grant your request and sing for you,” said the Queen. “And this evening it shall be no new fashionable bravura such as they generally use for my guests’ delight, but they are going to sing our old immortal national song. My guests can tell Croäxaxica that they have heard the words known to the humblest of our subjects upon the lips of the children of Royalty.”
page: 93Daffodil was produced. The Queen had known very well she was there, but the fact was her dressing had been so successful that Her Majesty, on seeing her had resolved in her own mind that she was of sufficient importance to have an impression made upon her, and therefore, instead of proceeding to hold the investigation concerning her when, at the time appointed, she arrived for the purpose, had set about first dazzling her with the brilliancy of the entertainment and Her own Royal accomplishments. Thus Her Majesty had become too tired for the searching inquiry into all Daffodil’s history, origin, laws, manners, customs, intentions, education, and general opinions, which she had meant to pursue to the admiration of her guests and attendants. She contented herself with obtaining the information that Daffodil was really a human being, as her acuteness had already surmised, and that she had accidentally entered Croäxaxica while in search of another country. “That is satisfactory enough,” said she, interrupting Daffodil’s story. “But, now you are here, page: 96 what can I do with you? It is impossible to let you stay here unofficially. Everybody in this Court is understood to be in our Royal Service. What can you do to serve us?”
Daffodil could not think of anything.
“Can you make jokes?” said the Queen.
Daffodil had never tried much, but she supposed anybody could do that that tried hard enough.
“Not at all,” replied the Queen. “I couldn’t. I should not think of degrading myself by being able to make a joke. We don’t make jokes in Croäxaxica. But in very ancient times Royal Persons had people of an odd and deformed appearance to make jokes for them: and I think I will revive the office for you.”
“I shouldn’t like the appointment at all, your Majesty,” said Daffodil.
“Never mind,” replied the Queen: “I will waive your liking it. The question is can you make jokes?”
“Not unless I were to try,” answered Daffodil.
“Well, it is of no consequence,” said the Queen. “I could not be troubled with listening to jokes. So that is settled. You are hereby appointed My Majesty’s Private Royal Jester. Your mark of office will be a band of green and orange grass round the left arm, with a heart of carved fish‐bone lettered H.M.P.R.J. for clasp.”
The Plenipotentiary here asked to be allowed to show Daffodil’s first attempt at needlework. The Queen was greatly struck by it. “Let her,” said she, “be entrusted with the making of my third best pocket‐handkerchiefs. They shall be henceforth called jokes; and thus she will make jokes and fill page: 97 her new post appropriately.” And, being now tired and sleepy, she gave a nod to the room for good‐night, and hurried off so suddenly that the Lords and Ladies in Waiting could not get off their seats in time to overtake her. The fact was she was seized by a fit of yawning, and, as she had an unusually small mouth—the one defect in what would have otherwise been a strikingly perfect countenance—the operation of yawning was difficult and unbecoming to her, and she did not choose to be seen in it.
At once, on Her Majesty’s departure, the Princes and Princesses nodded as she had done and rushed after her. The policemen behind the Royal Chairs advanced in a line and said to the assembly “Move on, this meeting has become illegal,” and everybody hurried off as fast as possible.
“Her Majesty’s Private Royal Jester, where do you pass the night?” said the Plenipotentiary.
“Oh, I’m sure I don’t know,” said Daffodil distractedly. “What’s the use of making such an appointment as that and not giving me so much as a bed to sleep in? Can’t I be with the third best pocket‐handkerchiefs?”
“A good idea,” replied the kindly great lady—relieved, for she had been thinking her duty would be to leave Daffodil to the policemen to take in charge. “Your duties to the Royal Pocket‐handkerchiefs put you on my staff and allow me to lodge you near them. Come with me.”
And thus Daffodil obtained a rank at the Court of Croäxaxica, and, as the Queen approved of the arrangement of the Plenipotentiary, a home in the apartments of the Royal Wardrobe.
