CHAPTER XVII.
THE wedding party returned to Queen Raucacoäxine in much trepidation. No one could feel sure that she would not be angry with him, or with her, for not having done something to prevent the catastrophe or to retrieve it, and there was in every one’s mind both vexation at Daffodil for her, as they considered, clumsy misadventure, and friendly apprehension, on her account, of the form Her Majesty’s indignation might take.
But, to the general surprise, Her Majesty, though terribly disappointed at the rupture of the marriage on which so much depended and which she had planned so carefully in every detail that it had seemed impossible anything could hinder it, showed no indignation at all—excepting indeed against King Grenoulcrawk, whose perfidy in refusing to fulfil his engagement would, she said, be properly punished by an armed invasion of his territory, if it were not that his deposition was undesirable while Prince Brekekex was unmarried. She even showed displeasure when blame was thrown on Daffodil: she did not see, she said, that treading on a person who got himself under your feet was an offence page: 234 against the law of nations, or against decorum, or even against natural grace and elegance. In fact it was evident that it would be just a lady of the highest refinement and dignity who would tumble over Grenoulcrawk. All her hearers, except Daffodil, were considerably perplexed by this view of the case; but they thought it consolatory. And it may well be imagined that Daffodil was greatly relieved by Her Majesty’s favourable expressions.
But, unhappily, Her Majesty’s leniency towards the culprit could not remove the serious political consequences of the act. Who was now to take wifely charge of King Grenoulcrawk and prolong his life by her guidance, obedience, amusingness, scoldings, so that he might not fulfil his apparent destiny and follow his former Queen before Brekekex’s intended wife had got born? Attempts were made to bring the injured monarch to think with equanimity of continuing the marriage ceremony which had been so woefully disturbed: but, as Queen Raucacoäxine had too surely foreboded to her counsellors, while directing them to try all endeavours imaginable to prevail upon him, all endeavours failed. The results were even harmful: King Grenoulcrawk had been all the better in health and serenity for the excitement he had undergone; instead of injuring him, as had naturally been apprehended, it seemed to have acted as a stimulating tonic to his mental and bodily faculties, and he became better than he had been since he had begun to miss his wife. But the alarm raised in his mind by the proposal of bringing him again in contact with the being who had crushed his toes, and the fatigue of under‐ page: 235 going so many arguments and persuasions, soon exhausted and enfeebled him, and he would do nothing but weep and moan over his lost Chachareraroncaxa, his dear old Queen that wouldn’t have let them bring him any wretch to tread on him.
It was evident that all thought of making Daffodil Grenoulcrawk’s Queen must be abandoned, and that he must be reassured on that head as soon as possible. The resolution was fortunately taken in time, and the sufferer, when he became really convinced that he was to see Daffodil no more, began to revive. And now the desperate idea of sacrificing the Princess Royal of Croäxaxica to the Workhouse for Failures began to press on the Queen’s mind. She even went so far as to have the suggestion of this alliance made to Grenoulcrawk. But Grenoulcrawk, who had had his doll given back to him and who, in her society, was recovering somewhat of his natural gaiety, felt the shock of a proposal for yet another marriage so severely that he collapsed and was with difficulty recovered. The Head Royal Physician had no choice but to tell Queen Raucacoäxine that any further effort to prolong the King of Grachidichika’s life by providing him with a consort would make an end of him. The Head Royal Physician had fortunately so thoroughly satisfied Raucacoäxine by his recent services that she felt no anger against him at this grievous communication, and merely listened with the calm of despair.
The King of Croäxaxica, himself, was aroused by the state of affairs. He said “If Brekekex can’t get married before King Grenoulcrawk requires a page: 236 successor, we shall have to let Happypool be King of Grachidichika.”
“Never!” exclaimed Queen Raucacoäxine, clasping her hands.
One night the Private Under‐Princess requested an interview with the Queen, alone. She looked grave and embarrassed. “Your Majesty,” she faltered, “my beloved and venerated Queen, I have something to break to you—something terrible.”
“Go on,” said the Queen, gasping but courageous.
“I am distressed that it is my voice that has to tell you a harsh and irrepressible truth,” Croässaquagha said apologetically. “But loyalty forbids my keeping anything disagreeable from Your Majesty. And, lowly though I be, I love the Royal Family. And the soul of genius abhors keeping a secret.”
“You are quite right, my dear Private Under‐Princess,” replied the Queen; “secrets kept from me are disagreeable. Go on, reveal the worst.”
“Your Majesty, my attendant, Seventy Seven And A Half, one of our Under Royal Wardrobe‐maids, is a great gossip.”
“That is terrible,” said the Queen. “But I can bear it.”
“But Your Majesty—”
“Never mind the particulars,” interrupted the Queen. “My head and heart are weary already with particulars. This Grachidichikan difficulty is interminable. I trust your general statement on the subject: the only question is how to deal with the offender. I am informed that there arc two vacancies on the Grachidichikan Household staff: why should we not recommend her for one?”
page: 237“But, Your Majesty,” said the Private Under‐Princess, “That is not all. It is something quite different I have to say.”
“Then why did you say that?” said the Queen.
“Your Majesty knows,” said Croässaquagha, going on with her story, “how little likely my mind is to seek tittle‐tattle for its food. I do not permit Seventy Seven And A Half to break my repose with the results of her widespread researches into domestic events. But this morning she touched on a subject which aroused my attention, and, as a duty to my Sovereigns and country, I invited information. I learned that, although betrothed to an attendant of the King of Grachidichika, she has lately, for want of his society, permitted the attentions of a servant of the Duke of Happypool.”
“She shall be dismissed at once, without a character,” said the Queen. “What business has an Under Royal Wardrobe‐maid to keep company with a person of that disgusting kind?”
“Of course I reproved her, Your Majesty. But—”
“Oh don’t tell me any more about the unworthy creature,” broke in the Queen. “Write me out an order to the Dressmaker Plenipotentiary to dismiss her, and I’ll sign it at once.”
“But, Your Majesty, I have not come to the secret,” said the Private Under‐Princess.
“If you know any worse of her, she must be fit for hanging,” said the Queen.
“The companion of her holiday hours,” resumed the Private Under‐Princess, “is the oldest and most confidential servant of the Happypool family—one page: 238 who looks on the Duke as a son and would sacrifice anything to the advancement of his interests, which he feels to be his own. Of course he is trusted with every secret of the house, great or small, and Seventy Seven And A Half may be relied on for having accurate information.”
“Ah!” said the Queen “I won’t dismiss her. It’ll serve Happypool right to have all his private affairs gossiped about, and I am not bound to dismiss a valuable servant to protect him from a little annoyance.”
Croässaquagha continued, “Struck by what she said, I at once gave her leave to go to meadow‐sweet this afternoon at the Duke’s with her admirer—an entertainment not unfamiliar to her—and to bring him to supper in my house—an entertainment, I have reason to believe, not unfamiliar to him. The result is that I have just learned from Seventy Seven And A Half the treachery I come to reveal. Madam, that baby you meant to be born—the wife for Prince Brekekex—something has happened to her. Her existence had been nipped before you had begun to intend her to exist.”
She paused: but the Queen was speechless with curiosity and surprise.
The narrator continued “At the time of the death of Queen Chachareraroncaxa, Madam, the Duke of Happypool perceived, like yourself, the difficulties in the way of Prince Brekekex’s succession. He resolved that, if he should have a daughter, he would hide her away till King Grenoulcrawk died and thus keep himself a good chance of being called to the throne, from Prince Brekekex’s page: 239 not being able to get a wife in time. So when she was born—”
“What!” exclaimed Raucacoäxine “born! The baby I was thinking of really born already!”
“The day before yesterday,” said the Private Under‐Princess.
“And I thought we should have months to wait!” cried the Queen in a transport of joy. And she rushed into the adjacent room in which she had left her two sons, her two eldest daughters, the Professor of Everything, and the Head Royal Physician, who had all of them, according to the present melancholy custom, been talking over everything with her when the Private Under‐Princess arrived.
“Triumph! Victory! Success!” shouted Her Majesty. “Hear, hear the news. Happypool’s second child was born the day before yesterday in a mystery. Brekekex’s wife is at hand already!”
The acclamations with which this communication was received were perfectly riotous. Only, Brekekex added regretfully, “I wish she could have been born a little more grown up. A baby seems a difficult sort of wife to manage.”
“Never mind. It will grow up nicely by and by in Grachidichika,” said the Queen encouragingly. “The thing is to marry it at once and be safe, whatever happens to Grenoulcrawk. But I think we must only have quite a quiet wedding now. And then we can have some grand celebration in a few years’ time when she is older.”
They discussed these wedding arrangements for a while, and then Her Majesty, whose good humour at the unexpected possession of a bride at once for page: 240 Prince Brekekex had kept resentment at its father’s intention of hiding it out of her mind, bethought herself of mentioning the treachery which he had intended. “There is nothing for it, however,” she said, “but to seem not to understand anything but that he wanted to give us a pleasant surprise; for the only other alternative would be to punish his treason by the Boa Constrictor, and then Brekekex could not marry the baby after all, and Zumbarzabulixine would have to give up her husband that is growing up for her, and none could be born for Guachapeara and the others.”
Meanwhile the Private Under‐Princess had been left alone in the room in which she had had an interview with the Queen. She waited for some time expecting that Her Majesty would return to her, or that she should be called. At last, finding that she was forgotten, and feeling the necessity of putting Her Majesty in possession of all the facts before any course of action was irrevocably decided, she appeared, unsummoned, among the rejoicing party. “Forgive my intrusion, Your Majesty,” she said. “But my story is not done.”
“Good gracious!” said the Queen. “Well, do get on with it. You had got to the Duke of Happypool’s daughter being born the day before yesterday.”
“I had, Your Majesty. And here comes the fatal part of the narrative. When she was born, it turned out that she was a son.”
One mighty groan arose simultaneously and filled the air with a roar. It was some time before any of Croässaquagha’s hearers could speak.
page: 241“The infant traitor shall pay for his crime with his life,” said the Queen, at last.
“Why, no, that won’t do,” said the Crown Prince. “We shall want him for a husband.”
“Yes, to be sure he will be of some use,” said the Queen, brightening up a little. “Appalling as this catastrophe is, there is comfort in that.”
“My story has to be concluded,” said the Private Under‐Princess, “May I go on?”
“For goodness sake, go on and come to the end,” replied Her Majesty.
“She has ceased to live,” said the Private Under‐Princess. “Whether because she found she was a son instead of the daughter required by Your Majesty, Prince Brekekex, Croäxaxica, and Grachidichika, or whether from constitutional moroseness, she did nothing but cry. The nurse imprudently gave her mussels to quiet her; they disagreed with her, and, in fact, choked her.”
“But, if it was not a daughter after all, why has Happypool gone on making a secret of it?” asked the Queen. “Brekekex couldn’t have it for his wife if it was a boy and died.”
“He thinks, as he might incur suspicion for the concealment that has been practised, that, the child being dead, he may as well keep the whole matter secret still,” answered Croässaquagha. “And also he is desirous of your continuing to lose time in waiting for his daughter for Prince Brekekex.”
“Stop,” said the Queen. “Nobody can go to bed now. We must devise something to baffle that atrocious conspirator.”
But nobody could devise anything to get Brekekex a wife, which was the great point. They were at last about to break up their midnight council in despair, when Croässaquagha said timidly, but with resolution, “Let it be allowed to my insignificance to give vent to a daring proposal which has been in my mind.”
“Pray do,” said everybody, with enthusiasm.
“Your Majesty, illustrious Princes and Princesses, and Regius Professor of Everything, and Royal Head Physician,” said the Private Under‐Princess, “My weak mind has been inspired with the scheme that can make Prince Brekekex’s future crown secure and give him a Queen to take with him to Grachidichika when he gets it. But, ere I speak, let me hear from the Head Royal Physician whether I have understood him rightly that King Grenoulcrawk cannot live till another baby is born for Prince Brekekex in place of the one who has gone wrong.”
“I can only repeat what I have already had the honour of regretfully stating to Her Majesty so many times this evening,” said the Head Royal Physician. “It is wholly impossible.”
“Then, hear me, all,” said Croässaquagha, and became silent. Everybody felt sure she was going to say something, but could not think what it could be.
“Let Prince Brekekex marry Daffodil, the Dressmaker Plenipotentiary of Croäxaxica.”
There was a pause. The proposal was so sudden page: 243 that all needed time to recover from the shock. Then “He can’t.” “He can.” “It is within the law.” “Such a thing was never heard of!” “Too bold a step.” “Not a bad idea,” went buzzing about backwards and forwards.
“Shall I retire?” asked Croässaquagha, who thought she might be an intruder on the council.
“No; stay and help us to consult,” answered the Queen. “Your suggestion is altogether so remarkable that one does not know what to make of it all at once. Has any one anything to say?”
“It’s a come‐down for Brekekex, in his position,” said the Crown Prince. “But, as Dressmaker Plenipotentiary, she seems to be legally eligible, when one comes to think of it. And, then, she’s ready at once. It’s queer; but we might do it.”
“It’s queer,” said Prince Brekekex. “But I’ve been making up my mind that I should like it. She and I are very congenial.”
“It is queer,” said the Princess Royal. “But she is stylish‐looking and striking in her way, though she is so unfortunately plain. And, if Brekekex likes it and there is no other marriage he can make, I don’t see why he shouldn’t do it.”
“It isn’t so very very queer, when you come to think of it,” said the Princess Guachapeara. “A Dressmaker Plenipotentiary is somebody. As, at the very best, Brekekex could only have a Happypool wife, not a Royal Princess, I don’t see why Daffodil shouldn’t be counted good enough, now he can get no one else.”
“Technically speaking, she is eligible, there being no one else,” said the Regius Professor of Everything.
page: 244“There are points in favour of this sole candidate’s being chosen as a future Queen for Prince Brekekex, as well as points against it,” said the Head Royal Physician.
“Well,” said Her Majesty, “you all argue powerfully in favour of this unequal marriage for Brekekex, and I don’t like to stand against such earnest persuasion. Still, aren’t we rather straining the law to let her in? It can only have been for such a very junior Prince that it was intended that a person with no Royal Blood,—even so high a person as a Dressmaker Plenipotentiary—should be eligible.”
“That is true, Your Majesty,” said the Regius Professor of Everything, not discerning that the Queen was willing to have her objection removed. “It was for the tenth son of the eighth son of a reigning King that the law was made, and there has been no second instance of a Dressmaker Plenipotentiary not of Royal Blood being admitted into the Royal Family, by Marriage.”
“Perhaps you have found second instances of Happypools being allowed to manage to become Kings for want of wives for the proper Prince,” replied Her Majesty witheringly.
The Professor resumed his speech. “But, if I may express my belief of the view which will be taken of this matter by the nation, the world, and the writers of Croäxaxican history, the present circumstances render the proposed bride, not merely eligible, but exceptionally eligible for promotion to be the consort of His Royal Highness. She is in fact indispensable.”
On this the Queen began to see so many diffi‐ page: 245 culties and grave objections that to decide in favour of the marriage seemed growing impossible. It was Croässaquagha who brought back the discussion to firm ground. “One argument has been overlooked by every one,” she remarked. “The marriage of the present Dressmaker Plenipotentiary to Prince Brekekex, even if it were not held sufficient warrant for her resigning her office now, would require her doing so ere long when she became Queen of Grachidichika.”
“It will be quite proper for her to resign now, on her marriage,” said the Queen eagerly. “An excellent notion! And she can invent all the dresses without any one knowing and do lots of things in secret instead of Guachapeara, until Guachapeara has got quite used to having great ideas.”
“That would be nice for her!” exclaimed Guachapeara enthusiastically.
“I shan’t let her always be doing Guachapeara’s work, however,” said Prince Brekekex. “I shall want her to help me, you know.”
“But you must not be selfish and stand in the way of your sister’s getting a genius” remonstrated the Queen.
“And she will have more time a great deal to help you than she has now, for she won’t be sitting in the Plenipotentiary Chair of State, nor giving audiences to any one. She will only get ready ideas for Guachapeara privately at odd moments,” said the Queen. “And, now that’s settled,” she continued, page: 246 addressing everybody in general, “the next thing we ought to decide before we go to bed is whether the marriage must be a compressed one or whether we can have it at full length.”
“That seems to depend altogether on King Grenoulcrawk,” said the Crown Prince. “What does the Head Royal Physician say?”
“I think the full nine days’ wedding without compression of days feasible in King Grenoulcrawk’s present state,” replied the Head Royal Physician. “He is likely to go on as he is for some weeks if nothing disturbs him again, although the least chance may end him suddenly. Unless an unexpected emergency arrives, the nine days will be able each to have its full length and every ceremony due to the exalted bridegroom. But, for fear of an unexpected emergency, I would urge that the wedding, however long it lasts, should begin at the earliest possible moment.”
“And that depends only on the white water‐lilies,” said Her Majesty. “So we shall not be forced to lose much time.”
“There are some capital buds just in a state to be made suit,” Guachapeara observed, with the authority of her technical instruction. “But the full‐blown flowers are past use just now. I am afraid it must take a week before there can be a wedding dress.”
Guachapeara’s verdict on the dress‐growing possibilities might reasonably be considered final, so it was at once decided that Prince Brekekex and Daffodil should be married that day week. This left but scant time for the preparations for an event of such great public importance; but every moment of page: 247 delay was fraught with the danger of Brekekex’s becoming King before his marriage. The Lord Chamberlain was sent for, late as it was; the King, who had long gone to bed, was waked up to give his consent—which he did with surprising alacrity, saying before he fell asleep again “It’s the only way, and I was wondering Raucacoäxine didn’t think of it”—and, the King’s consent having warranted immediate action, the Lord Chamberlain received instructions to start the rejoicings on the Prince’s betrothal at once. Heralds were to be sent out at earliest day, with music and flags, to announce all over Croäxaxica the happy news and invite all loyal citizens to be overjoyed and to show it. There were to be waterworks in the evening, and there was to be a Court Ball—only, the Lord Chamberlain was to see that all the guests invited to the Court Ball were made to understand that they were not to come. There was not time to prepare for such an entertainment, if people came to it; and so it could only take place in that manner. There were not to be other festivities for the wedding: but, to make up to Prince Brekekex for that, and on the ground of his being heir‐apparent to the throne of Grachidichika, the marriage festivities—and the honeymoon festivities too, if, which seemed impossible, King Grenoulcrawk should live long enough for those to take place in Croäxaxica—were to be on almost the same scale as those for a Crown Prince of Croäxaxica.
But Brekekex, who had at first joined with even more glee than the others in the discussion on the coming season of splendours and stately revels, had page: 248 grown silent as the talk went on, and became pale and thoughtful. It was only when the Queen, in high good humour, cried “Come, come, we have settled everything and talked enough, and now we must really break up and go to bed and dream about the fine time coming,” that he roused from his absorbed musing. “It can’t be, it can’t,” he cried. “I strive in vain. I cannot marry the Dressmaker Plenipotentiary.”
“What do you mean? Not marry after all this! And when the Lord Chamberlain has gone, and, no doubt, has given the necessary orders for to‐morrow! Don’t be so ridiculous,” said the Queen angrily. “We have no time for nonsense.”
“It isn’t nonsense. It’s woeful, fatal earnest,” said Brekekex ruefully. “Do listen. Do you think I can possibly marry without making the offer in one of the most beautiful love poems that was ever written? Could I, now, without ignominy?”
“Certainly not,” said the Queen: “but what difficulty is there in that? You must sit up to‐night and write it. It’s a pity to lose your sleep, but it can’t be helped.”
“But I can’t make the poem and leave her out of it,” said Brekekex.
“Of course not: put her in. As we accept her for your wife it is only decent to waive her inferiority and treat her exactly as you would a bride of Royal Blood. Put her into the poem.”
“But there isn’t a rhyme for Dressmaker Plenipotentiary! And it won’t go into blank verse!” said, or rather groaned, Prince Brekekex, in his despair.
page: 249“This is fearful!” cried Queen Raucacoäxine. “Are all our plans to be overthrown! Is Happypool to be king!” She wrung her hands. Everybody gasped, groaned, or said “Good gracious!”
Presently the Queen recovered herself. She rose with dignity, and addressed Prince Brekekex. “Go from my presence, unworthy son,” she said. And Prince Brekekex fled.
But, while the Queen, the Crown Prince, the Princesses Zumbarzabulixine and Guachapeara, the Private Under‐Princess, the Regius Professor of Everything, and the Head Royal Physician, were still gloomily repining over the sudden collapse of the marriage scheme, Prince Brekekex reappeared radiant. “I have done it!” he cried, “I have done it! My marriage is sure, and my genius is proved greater than ever! Hullaboloo! Kekebrex King and troubadour too!”
“Well, but what have you done?” asked everybody eagerly.
The rapture with which this successful effort was received may be imagined. “Ah,” said Brekekex, page: 250 when the applause had subsided, “you are kind to praise me so. But I cannot but own that I do feel I have indeed achieved something. No other poet who ever lived could have made her come into the poem. The rest of it will be easy you know—about her loving me and my being a poet and a King: but to have got her into rhyme!”
“How did so splendid a thought flash upon you?” asked Croässaquagha admiringly.
“Ah!” said he “It isn’t always one knows the very moment of one’s inspirations; but I do this time. I went to consult her herself, without letting her know what it was for. I made the servants that waked her up merely tell her I begged to see her on important and urgent business, and, when she came down, I just asked her how she thought one could get Dressmaker Plenipotentiary into a poem, if one ever happened to want to do it. She thought it was for my tragedy in decimalets, and said I needn’t have a Dressmaker Plenipotentiary in it, as the rhyme was impossible. I argued the point with her, and then she said, ‘Cut it up into syllables, and rhyme to any of them that suit.’ She said ‘Poison the Dressmaker Plen‐:’ that was the specimen she gave of what she meant. And all at once, on nothing but that trifling hint, I felt what I was going to do, and I wished her good‐night as fast as possible that I might get by myself to work out my conception.”
“That is how genius seizes on some insignificant circumstance and, starting from it, springs to its distant goal,” said Croässaquagha.
“Isn’t it?” said Brekekex sympathisingly.
page: 251All obstacles having now been removed, the little council could separate rejoicing in the prospect of a speedy and final settlement of the Grachidichikan question. And, next morning, while Daffodil, all unconscious of the purpose for which her assistance had been given, was still quietly sleeping, the heralds had begun to inform Croäxaxica of her betrothal.
