Part 8
The herald having completed the reading of the proclamation, evidently expected that, the proper time having now arrived, his trumpeters would blow a vigorous flourish, as in duty bound; but instead of this there was dead silence, all the trumpeters standing stock-still, with their hands hanging at their sides, and mouths wide open. At this the herald got white with passion, the choler rose so at his throat that he could bear it no longer, but cut up rough, the cuffs flying from him in showers, till at last he burst the bladder with a terrific bang on the nose of No. 1, who took no more notice than if he had been made of gutta-percha. The herald calmed down as suddenly as he had flared up, and after looking at the motionless figures for a moment, quietly remarked, “Oh, I’m in no hurry, I can wait,” produced from the pocket of one of his many trouser-legs a copy of ‘Enquire within upon Everything’—a book much studied in Blunderland—and commenced reading, evidently in the hope that he might in course of time come upon a receipt that would enable him to settle the hash of his saucy attendants. The trumpeters could have borne any amount of violence, but the herald’s tactics were too much for them; so before he could get his spectacles adjusted to commence reading, they all placed their trumpets to their mouths, and blew a most elegant tootle-ootle, at which the herald, smiling sweetly, turned and said, “Thanks, thanks, my children!” and producing a box from another pocket, handed each of them a stick of barley-sugar. Now no one will think it surprising that the sight of a free distribution of barley-sugar should be rather exciting to three small boys like our heroes. And although they had been well taught that little men should not thrust themselves on people to ask for things, still, being in Blunderland, it is not strange that they should be a little infected by the character of the country, and do what would have been not at all good manners anywhere else. So Jaques, taking advantage of his long arms, unwound one of them, and passing it round to the back of the trumpeters, thrust it out between two of them. The herald, quite unsuspecting, placed in it a stick of barley-sugar, when it was instantly withdrawn, and Jaques handed the barley-sugar to his elder brother. Repeating the process, he succeeded in getting sticks for Ranulf and for himself, the herald being in great astonishment, as he found that though he had given out more than six sticks, and the trumpeters were all sucking away furiously, there was always an empty hand stretched out from some quarter or another for more. Looking behind the trumpeters, all he could see was what he took to be a garden watering-pipe lying on the ground, but which was in reality Jaques’ arm. Not to be beaten, he muttered to himself that he would go on till he found it out; so, to the boys’ great delight, kept putting sticks into Jaques’ hand, until his box was empty and their pockets full. They felt, however, when all was over, that while it might not be of great consequence, still, to be little gentlemen as they ought, they must not leave matters unexplained; so, after a short consultation how it was to be done, Jaques’ hand again appeared between the trumpeters holding all the sticks of barley-sugar, minus one little bit that Ranulf, with a haste excusable at six years, but no longer, had nibbled off, and a voice behind the herald said, “Please sir, may we have them?” Turning round, he saw the three boys, and gazing at them with their coils, exclaimed in amazement—
“Why, you must be three rolls of endless wax-taper out for a walk!”
[Sidenote: WHAT’S YOUR LITTLE GAME?]
[Illustration]
“Oh no; we aren’t tapirs,” said Ranulf, who, having a recollection of a beast with a long snout in his animals-book, thought this was a reflection on his nose. He felt very much inclined to put his fingers to it; but a sense of propriety, and a difficulty in finding the point of it among the folds, combined to restrain him.
“Then if you’re not tapers,” said the herald, “you must be sons of a gun, built on the coil system—Armstrong’s patent, eh? or perhaps you are in the still line?”
“Nurse never thinks so,” said Jaques. “She says she would like to see a little more of the still about us—that we are too full of good spirits.”
[Sidenote: A POSER.]
“And what is the still business for, except to produce good spirits; but,” said the herald, suddenly assuming a tremendous air of official dignity, “we must tarry no longer; the games are about to commence.”
“Oh, but please, sir, may we keep the barley-sugar?”
“Yes,” said he, and was going to add “but” something, only he did not get time, for his Yes was instantly followed by three Thank-yous, and three enormous bites at the barley-sugar.
“Stop, stop, stop!” he cried. “I thought you wanted to keep it.”
The boys knew that they should not speak with their mouths full; and having as much in them as good manners allow, they were compelled to nod.
“And how can you both eat your lollypop and keep it? There’s a poser for you,” said the herald, folding his arms, throwing back his head, and planting his right foot forward in a manner which plainly meant, “I poses for a reply.”
[Sidenote: CONFLICTING DUTIES.]
It was a poser in one way, for no answer could be given to it by nod or shake; and as the mouths were still full, it remained unanswered, the boys wavering between—
“Speak when you are spoken to” and “Don’t speak with your mouth full.”
The herald’s notion of his own dignity seemed to be greatly increased by there being apparently no answer to his question, which was just as well, for as he got full of importance he got empty of everything else (on the well-known principle of natural philosophy, that two things cannot occupy the same space at the same time), and so forgot all about his question.
While he was still posing, a mounted disorderly galloped on to the ground, shouting—
“Here, hi, hollo, you there! What’s yer name? How long d’ye mean to keep the king waiting?”
[Sidenote: TAKEN ABACK.]
In a moment all the herald’s dignity was gone. He trembled till his trouser-legs were fluttering all round him, like a cock’s feathers when he shakes himself, and cried—
“The king waiting! oh, oh dear!” gathered his trouser-legs about him, and fled through the gateway, like an old woman running in a shower of rain.
The trumpeters, thus relieved of the dread of the gilded bladder, blew a tremendous flourish, threw their trumpets in the air, and then the end one giving a back, they set off in leap-frog after the herald.
[Sidenote: RACE-COURSE NOT COARSE.]
[Sidenote: DELICATE SHADE.]
[Illustration]
The boys made after them as fast as they could, soon outstripping them with their young legs, and on passing through the gate found the people assembled for the games. It was indeed a lovely sight. Unlike such gatherings among those who do not blunder, there were no thimble-riggers; no dismal niggers; no men with two black cards and a red; no shouts of four to one, bar one; no little girls with careworn faces and work-worn tights, faded and patched, performing on stilts to a consumptive drum and a time-defying flageolet; no display of paint, false hair, and falser smiles; no pouring in of sparkling gooseberry; no pouring out of wild and wicked words; no reeling and staggering; no shouting and brawling; no fingers in other people’s pockets, and fists in other people’s eyes. Such things are only to be witnessed in countries where the people have grown out of the condition of blundering, and have reached an advanced stage of civilisation and intelligence. Here in this yet unenlightened country things were quite different. The sight was lovely. The ladies and gentlemen whom the boys had seen before on the lawn, were here assembled, along with a host of other people of humbler rank, the rich costumes of the ladies and gentlemen contrasting with the less costly dresses of the lower classes, grouped as they were with the most charming harmony and accommodation of colours too beautiful for description, forming a sight never to be forgotten. The effect was made still more charming by the flowers that had sheltered the groups on the lawn being formed into a vast sun-shade above—a gigantic white lily, with its bell turned downwards, being the centre, and the circles going out from it in the most delicate gradations of colour through all the tints of the rainbow; the edges of this gigantic and gorgeous _ombrelle_ being formed of enormous bright fern-leaves, the points of which, bending towards the ground, were by some unseen means kept gently waving, wafting the air charged with the fragrance of the flowers in delicious coolness over the whole assemblage.
In rather incongruous contrast to the elegance and luxurious refinement of the scene was the conduct of one individual, who, although he had a crown on his head, was rushing about with an apron on and a napkin under his arm, carrying dishes and bottles in all directions.
[Sidenote: WEIGHTY.]
“_Waiter!_” shouted a voice on one side.
_The King._ “Yessir.”
“Four sausage rolls, a hice, and three pops.”
[Illustration]
_The King._ “Yessir.”
“_Waiter!_” cried another.
_The King._ “Yessir.”
“Two ’alfs ’alf-and-’alf, an’ ’alf a sandwich.”
[Sidenote: THE CORRECT TIP.]
_The King._ “Yessir.”
“_Waiter!_” roared a third.
_The King._ “Yessir.”
“Cold beef and pickles, two brandies, and a split.”
_The King._ “Yessir.”
“Come along, king,” said a fourth, “attend to the comforts of your subjects.”
_The King._ “Yessir.”
“Two churchwardens and a screw of tobacco.”
_The King._ “Yessir.”
The poor king did his very best, and rushed about most energetically. He managed, like a good waiter, to keep up a considerable fire of chaff. A man having offered him a tip of 2s. 6d., he exclaimed, “Oh, sir, you cannot give a king less than a crown!” To a party who gave him 15s., he objected, “This won’t do, sir; I must have five more.”
“Why?”
“Three crowns is the Pope’s allowance. It takes four to make a real sovereign, sir.”
[Sidenote: NO SPEAKING BACK.]
But although trying to be as merry and lively as possible, he found it very hard work, and the moment the herald appeared, dropped his napkin, six plates of lamb and salad and eight pewter pots he was carrying, tore off his apron, changed a crown, and picking up his robe of state and his sceptre and ball, gave a royal wave of his hand.
[Illustration]
The herald was at once seized and brought forward, and, addressing him, the king said, “What, ho, thou caitiff! say, how hast thou dared so long to keep thy sovereign waiting?”
[Sidenote: 10 CARRIED FORWARD.]
If the herald had been a log, he could not have remained more stolidly immovable. There was dead silence for a few moments, and then the king again spoke, “’Tis well thou knowest thou shouldest not dare to answer back to a king, for this is half thine offence pardoned. Canst thou bring forward anything why punishment should not overtake thee for the other half?” At this the herald did bring something forward, for he brought up one hand, and placing the thumb to the end of his nose, he slowly extended the fingers as far out as he could, and waggled them about, then he placed the thumb of the other hand to the little finger already stretched out, and extending his other fingers, waggled them too. The boys were aghast at thus seeing a subject making a long nose at a king, and still more when he finished by bringing his hand sharply up against his open mouth, producing a sound like the popping of a well-fitted cork.
[Illustration]
The king, however, seemed not at all struck in the way they were by the herald’s conduct, but turning to an attendant said, “Bring forward the whys man, that we may get the interpretation of these heraldic emblems.”
[Sidenote: VERY QUEER EH?]
The whys man was, as might have been expected, the querist man that ever was seen. Nobody could fail to see that he was a man of mark of interrogation, for when you looked at him you saw a great deal of curl at the head, and when you reached his feet he came to a stop.[9]
[Illustration]
“Your Majesty, come and I obey,” said the seer.
The boys thought this bad grammar, and very rude on the part of a subject (not knowing that he meant, “Command, I obey”); for, as Norval said to Jaques, a subject giving dictation, instead of a subject being given in dictation, was contrary to all their school experience. But they were beginning not to be surprised at anything.
“Didst thou behold the mysterious signs just made by our herald? What mean they?” said the king.
[Sidenote: AVERSE TO PROSE.]
“Will your Majesty deign to say whether you desire to be answered with rhyme and reason or without rhyme or reason?”
“Whichever seemeth best unto thee, oh seer!”
“Then, seriously speaking, I would say that if a point of view be taken, such as those who take points of view, with a view to getting the point of view, that brings best into view the true view of the point, which ought to be kept in view, in the view of getting at the point——”
“Oh, stop, stop, stop!” cried the king; “which is that—‘with’ or ‘without’?”
“‘Without,’ sire,” answered the seer.
[Sidenote: VAIN SOOTHE SAYING.]
“Then, for pity’s sake, let us have with, if it will save us from being compassed with so many points. I feel pricked all over.”
Your Majesty shall be obeyed, Although in sooth I am afraid, A pointless rhyme is not the thing To lay before so great a king. You fain would know why herald’s nose By aid of fingers longer grows, And why by slap upon his mug He makes a hollow sound like “jug.” Methinks he by these signs would say, ’Twas well he stayed so long away. By sound of cork he first would tell, How waiting long, you waited well. Fired by desire for subjects’ weal, You ran about with plates of veal And ham, hot kidneys, bottled stout; In short, you wildly flew about, The slave of all, though monarch great, Good lesson in the cares of state. He next the royal attention draws, To all the tips on nose and paws, By which he plainly means to in dicate how ’twould have been a sin Had he by quick return to you Deprived you of the tips you drew, While you were waiting on your p- eople drawing corks and serving tea. Indeed he’d say, by him your pop ularity is now tip-top. He therefore claims a pardon free. The seer hath spoken.
[Sidenote: WHINES FROM LOW SPIRITS.]
“Fiddle-dee-dee!” cried the king; “to such defence I cannot listen. It may be with rhyme, but is certainly without reason. If it comes to anything it comes to this, that he kept me waiting so long in order that I might get tips, eh? That is seeking to give the king the sack. I would be mad ere I accepted such a mumm sham penitence. I declare it brand’ed as a shabbily-concocted whine; so turn from it, and laugh it to scorn. He shall have his mead. Summon the headsman, and let him whisk it off.”
The executioner at once appeared, set his block in front of the throne, felt the edge of his axe, advanced to the herald, and began to drag him forward.
“Friend,” said the herald (he had turned quaker at the sight of the block), “why dost thou draw this way?”
“Because my business is funny cuts,” said the executioner, giving him a sudden pull.
“Don’t ketch me up so if thou art a Jack in the box wood way; thou shouldst not put such hard lines on a fellow.”
“I call you rather knave than fellow,” replied the executioner, getting somewhat surly, “I don’t need you to tell me how to make the cuts on my block.”
[Sidenote: HEADS OR TAILS.]
[Illustration]
The boys began to feel rather uncomfortable at the idea of seeing a head cut off. They were somewhat relieved, however, to notice that the executioner and attendants, on getting the herald to the block, did not apply his neck to it, but made him sit down. They then began searching among the many trouser-legs that hung behind him, and were so long at this operation that Jaques, who, being a schoolboy, had an impression of his own as to what they were after, suddenly exclaimed—
“Instead of fumbling that way, why don’t you take dow——”
But care-taker Norval stopped Jaques’ mouth with his hand before he could get anything unmentionable out.
“We can’t find them, your Majesty,” said the executioner.
“Nonsense!” replied the king; “Darwin has put it in a book, and therefore there must be. Besides, the Family Herald has lots of tales; and what a Family Herald has, surely a Royal Herald can have too!”
[Sidenote: TAIL-KETCHING.]
At last they found them—two very small swallow tails indeed—one of which was duly chopped off, but the other spared, as the king had forgiven half the fault; and the executioner, taking his stand on the form used at Charles the 1st’s execution, lifted up the tail and solemnly said, “This is the end of a cratur.”
[Sidenote: ONE LEFT ON, THE OTHER RIGHT OFF.]
The herald looked very disconsolate, and the executioner, clapping him on the shoulder as he sat on the block, said to him—
[Illustration]
“How do you feel now, old boy?”
“No thanks to you for axing; your chop’s a very cruel kind of cut let’s say no more about it.”
“Pooh, my good fellow! you’re not so badly off; you’ve one all right.”
“No, I’ve one left—it’s the right one that’s gone.”
“Well, well, but you don’t need to have it left so; they’ll right you at any retail place in no time.”
“Enough of chops, and cutlets, and tails,” suddenly shouted the king; “now for the royal stakes—is that course ready?”
[Sidenote: RACY ENTREES.]
“Yes, your Majesty,” said the Secretary of Steak; “the entries are just over, and so the beef-eaters can come on now.” They soon got through the removes necessary, and the game course cleared; whereupon the king’s and queen’s suites were set in their places, including the cream of society, and a following which was quite the cheese.
“Now,” said the king, “every man shall have his desert. Go on with the heats,”—heats being apparently the Blunderland substitute for ices.
[Sidenote: VERY DISTONGUEE.]
This injunction made the officials warm to their work, so that all was quickly ready, and the competitors came running up to take their places. They were a funny-looking set altogether. There was a fast young gentleman, who looked as if he had not been in bed all night, but had just come out of a bandbox. There was a scarlet-runner, who was the pink of condition; a post-runner, who of course was clad in a mail suit; a fore-runner, who went sometimes on his fore legs, and sometimes on his four legs; and an old woman, who said she would warrant her tongue to go faster, and to run on longer, than anybody on the ground. A solemn discussion arose among the judges, upon the question whether a tongue could be allowed to enter for the race; and it was at last decided that it must not, as the race was a flat one, while the old woman’s tongue was more than usually sharp.
[Illustration]
The aged dame was very angry at this, her much-despised member going on at such a rate, that she, when told to hold it, excused herself on the ground that it was going too fast to be caught up without a stretch of imagination, which, at her age, was quite beyond her powers. So, as her tongue could not be stopped, the police took a homœopathic process, and simply ordered her and the offender to “move on;” whereupon, with female contradiction, she did the very opposite, and moved off.
“That woman’s tongue is equal to any two,” said the clerk of the course; “so, if a couple more would like to come forward and take its place, they may do so.”
[Sidenote: A PAIR OF SCREWS.]
Thus invited, Norval and Jaques stepped out. Their appearance, with their coils wound round them, was that of a pair of screws, and this led the other competitors to look on them with contempt, apparently thinking that such well-hooped casks could never run.
But the boys paid no attention to the sneers. They intended to run for the sport of it—to win if possible, and to take it cheerfully if they could not; which is the proper spirit for all boys, young or old, when they are going in for a contest.
[Sidenote: ELONGATED PROJECTILE.]
[Sidenote: OVERREACHING.]
On the start taking place, the fore-runner was soon left behind, the post-runner found his mail suit rather heavy, the scarlet-runner proved to be only a creeper, and there were none left except the fast young man and the two boys. At first Norval and Jaques with their young legs got a good start, as the fast youth, not having been in bed, had forgotten to wind up his watch, and being unaccustomed to get on without tick, had to stop till he got it wound. But as the race was a long one, he soon made up for lost time, and it looked as if the boys would get the worst of it, for at the third round of the course, Jaques was many yards behind, and his brother also losing ground; when, to the surprise of everybody, Norval suddenly shouted “Neck or nothing!” uncoiled his neck, and collared his opponent by shooting it out to the winning-post. This feat was received with deafening cheers, which were redoubled when Jaques, taking the hint, threw his long arms out over the head of the fast young man, and vaulting on his hands, flew over him, far past the winning-post, and got in a second before him.
[Sidenote: LOUD YET DISALLOWED.]
[Illustration]
The fast young man lodged a protest, maintaining, in a style even louder than the style of his trousers, that Norval had won by neck-romantic arts; and that Jaques, instead of going on foot, had taken a fly, and so cabalistically over-reached him by craft. After the judges had looked very wise for ever so long—in fact, as long as Norval’s neck itself—they decided that the neck being a neck, it did not matter whether it was romantic or not; and as it could not be alleged that Jaques had used any other craft than handicraft, his using feats of arms for feats of feet was quite allowable, he having only availed himself of his own handy capacity; and that as to his taking a fly, it was not a handsome thing to call it cabalistic, and an argument that only a for weal or woe begone growler would think it fair to take his hackneyed stand on. Norval was therefore declared first, and Jaques second, amid loud applause; and the fast young man, with his views dissipated, went off a bad third.