Part 10
O THOU Especial Little God of Parliaments and Electors, with whom the greater God of the Universe has nothing whatever to do!--I beseech Thee to look upon me, Thy chosen servant, with a tolerant and favourable Eye! Consider with Leniency the singular and capricious Chance which has enabled me to become a Member of the Government, and grant me Thy protection, so that my utter Incapacity for the Post may never be discovered! Enable me, I implore Thee, to altogether dispense with the assistance of a certain Journalist and Press-Reporter in the composition of my Speeches! His Terms are high, and I am not sure of his Discretion! Impart unto me by spiritual telegraphy such Knowledge of the general Situation of Affairs that I may be able to furnish forth an occasional Intelligent Remark to the farmers of this Constituency, whose Loyalty to the Government is as firm as their Trust in the Power of Beer! Give me the grace of such shallow Profundity and Pretension as shall convince Rustic minds of my complete Superiority to them in matters concerning their Interest and Welfare, and teach me to use their Simplicity for the convenient furtherance of my own Cunning! Fill me with such necessary and becoming Arrogance as shall make me overbearingly insolent to Persons of Intellect, while yet retaining that sleek Affability which shall cause me to appear a Fawning Flunkey to Persons of Rank! Enable me to so condescendingly patronize the Electors who gave me their majority that it shall seem I was returned through merit only, and not through Bribes and Beer! And mercifully defend me, O Beneficent little Deity, from all possibility of ever being called upon to address the House! I am no speaker,--and even if I were, I have no Ideas whereon to hang a fustian sentence! Thou Knowest, All-Knowing-One, that I have not so much as an Opinion, save that it is good for me, in respect of Social Advantage, to write M.P. after my name! And surely Thou dost also know that I have paid Two Thousand Pounds for the purchase of this small portion of the Alphabet, making One Thousand Pounds per letter, which may humbly be submitted to Thee, O Calculating Ruler of Parliamentary Elections, as somewhat dear! But I have accepted these Conditions and paid the sum without murmuring; therefore of Thy goodness, be pleased to spare me from the utterance of even one word in the presence of my peers, concerning any Matter for the Advancement of Which I have been elected! For lo,--if I said as much as “Yea,” it might be ill-advised; and yet again, if I said “Nay,” it might be ill-timed! Inasmuch as I am compelled to rely on the Journalist and Press-Reporter before mentioned for whatsoever knowledge of matters political I possess, and it is just possible that he might,--through an extra dose of whisky-soda,--mislead me by erroneous information! O Lord of Press-Agencies and Grub-Street Eating-Houses, if it be possible unto Thee, relieve me of this Man! He charges more, so I am credibly informed, per Hundred Words than any other Inventor of Original Eloquence in the pay of the Unlettered and Inarticulate of the House! And it is much to be feared that he does not always keep his own Counsel! Wherefore, gracious Deity, I would be Released with all convenient Speed from the Exercise of his Power! Rather than be constantly compelled to rely upon this Journalistic Wretch for Advice and Instruction, it will more conduce to my Comfort,--though possibly to my Fatigue,--to commit to Memory such portions of long-forgotten speeches spoken by Defunct Members of the House in the Past, as may be found suitable to the present needs of the Rural Population. The Corn-growing and Cattle-breeding Electors will not know from what Sources I derive my Inspiration, and the Editor of the Local Newspaper has not yet taken a degree in Scholarship. Moreover, the Dead are happily unable to send in any Claim for Damages against the Theft of their Ideas, which are as free to Independent Pilferers as the Original Plots of New and Successful Romances are free to the Dramatizing Robbers in the Stage-Purlieus, thanks to the Admirable Attitude of Dignified Indolence assumed by that Government to which I, one Fool out of Many, have the honour to belong! Finally, O Beneficent Lilliputian Deity which governeth matters Parliamentary,--grant me such a sufficient amount of highly-respectable Mendacity as shall enable me to pass successfully for what I am not, at least, so far as Society in the Country is concerned! Fully aware am I, O Lord, that a Simulation of Ability will not always meet with approval in Town, though it has been occasionally known to do so! Therefore I am well content to sit in the House as one MUM, thus representing through myself an inaudible County! But in the County itself it shall seem to the Uninitiated that my thoughts are too deep for speech, while I retain in my own mind the knowledge of the Fact that my Humbug is too great for Expression!
To Thee, gentle yet capricious Deity, I commend all my Desires, praying Thee to keep the people whom I represent as Dumb and Inert as myself in matters concerning their own Welfare, for if they should chance to consider the Situation by the light of Common Sense, and me by the shrewd Appreciation of a Native Wit, it might occur to them to prefer a Man rather than a Wooden-headed Nonentity to Proclaim their Existence to the King’s faithful Commons! Wherefore, at the next General Election I should lose my Seat,--which would be Disagreeable to me personally, as well as a Cause of Rage in my Wife, to whom my present Condition of a Parliamentary Microbe is much more important and advantageous than it is to the Country! And Thou knowest, O Lord, that when my Wife is moved by the Impetuous Persuasion of a difficult Temper, it is necessary for me, by reason of her Superior Height, Size, and Aggressiveness, to retire from the domestic Fighting-ground, considerably worsted in the unequal Combat. Protect me, merciful Deity, from her Tongue!--which is as a Sword to slay all thoughts of Peace! And, concerning the accursèd ubiquitous Journalist-Reporter-Paragraphist-Correspondent-Attached-to-all-Newspapers Man, who, for my sins, wrote my “speech to the Electors” at a high charge, and agreed,--and therefore expects, to write all my other public utterances on the same terms, I beseech Thee, when he next waits upon me with his Bill, ready to Counsel or to Command, grant me the Strength and Courage to tell a more barefaced Lie than is habitual to me, and to boldly say that I can do Without him!
Amen.
THE CHILDREN’S PAGES
KING BUTTERCUP’S WEDDING HOW JACK BUILT HIS HOUSE THE SWIMMING SHOES CHILDREN’S EVENING HYMN
KING BUTTERCUP’S WEDDING
AN EXTRAVAGANZA
IT is a long time ago since King Buttercup was married, so long that the most venerable Yew in the forest cannot remember anything about it, though it was a very grand Wedding and made a great sensation in the Flower-World. It took place in the beautiful meadows that surround the town of Stratford-on-Avon, where the greatest poet of all the world, Shakespeare, was born,--but it was long ages before either he saw the light or Stratford-on-Avon looked as it does now. Only the West Wind, who was really present at the ceremony, can give any exact account of it, and he told me all about it, just as I shall tell you. If you doubt the truth of the story, you must blame him, not me.
This is how it happened. On a beautiful May morning, just as all the early Spring flowers were awaking from their night’s slumber, a big Bee, splendidly dressed in a costume of brown and yellow velvet, bounced suddenly on a spray of syringa. He was one of the Town Criers in the employ of the Government, whose business it is to fly every morning from blossom to blossom, and relate every event that takes place in Flowerland, where as yet they have no newspapers. With a long, loud buzz, the Bee proclaimed:--
“Important! Special!! Startling news!!! His Gracious Majesty, King Buttercup, Monarch of Meadowland, is about to marry!!!! Marriage of the Monarch of Meadowland!!!!!”
At this, several lazy Forget-me-nots who had before felt inclined to take five minutes’ more nap, became broad awake in a second, and opened their sleepy blue eyes wide in astonishment, while a group of highly cultivated Lilies of the Valley, instead of nodding drowsily on their green stems, drew themselves up with an air of offended dignity,--“The Monarch of Meadowland,” said they; “What is he to us? A common wild flower--a weed--a nobody--called a king merely by courtesy. True, he rules over a small part of our country, but pooh! we would not be seen at his court!”--and they rustled their long leaves haughtily. The Bee rubbed his forelegs together thoughtfully for a second, and then observed--
“You spoke of a _small_ part of our country,--why Meadowland is the largest kingdom in it!”
“Nonsense!” sharply exclaimed the stately Hyacinth. “It is an unexplored wilderness,--its king and people are nothing better than savages! Do not presume to argue with _us_, Sir Bee! _We_ are the aristocracy!”
The Bee bowed humbly and was silent.
“Pray,” inquired a dandy Tulip, languidly uncurling his leaves to the sun, “who is the lady destined to be the future Queen of Meadowland?”
“The fair Daisy,” replied the Bee, “and report says she is as good as she is lovely.”
A cluster of brilliantly-attired Crocuses here set up a shrill little laugh of contempt and derision.
“What, Daisy!” they exclaimed,--“that little fright! A dwarf! A model of ugliness! Well, the King’s taste is not very refined!”
The Lilies, Hyacinths, and Tulips, together with some newly-awakened Jonquils, all joined in mockery of King Buttercup’s chosen bride, and the poor Town Crier was losing patience with them, when he heard a sweet voice near him say--
“Good-morning, Sir Bee! Your news delights me. I am always happy when I hear of the good fortune of others. Daisy has long been a dear friend of mine, and I heartily wish her joy. Come and tell me all about it.”
Thus invited, the Bee gladly flew down to a bank of dewy moss, where dwelt the flower who spoke to him, the fair and gentle Violet. The other flowers were silent; they knew that though the Violet was really a native of Meadowland, yet there was no one more honoured at the brilliant court of their Queen, the Rose, than she was, and they dared not speak against Daisy, whom she thus publicly acknowledged as a dear friend. Meanwhile, the Violet, after hospitably giving the Bee some fresh honey for breakfast, listened with great interest to his account of the approaching festivities.
“Two thousand blue butterflies are commissioned by his Majesty,” said he, “to be the bearers of the royal invitations to the marriage. You will no doubt receive yours in the course of the day. One million spiders are employed in weaving a canopy under which the bridal pair will receive their friends. The Daisy is to be attended by one hundred of the whitest Anemones as bridesmaids, and the King will be escorted by the same number of selected Celandines. The Wedding will take place to-morrow at sunrise, in the centre of the green field that slopes down to the river yonder, and after the ceremony there will be a grand Banquet. In the evening a State Ball will be held in the King’s Palace, to which many of the highest aristocracy will come, though the season for them is not yet begun. But many have consented to travel thither to do honour to the King--one Lily in particular is on her way from the Nile, travelling night and day in order to be present.”
Here the Bee paused a moment, and rubbed his forelegs in great excitement. Not only Violet, but all the flowers near him were bending eagerly forward to listen to his account of the morrow’s programme, and he went on--
“I am to be there with all the Worshipful Company of Town Criers,--we are to stand on each side of the path down which the King and his newly-made Queen will pass--and at a signal from our Chief, we shall all buzz together, which will have a grand effect. The Thrush has been asked to sing an anthem, but his voice has been so much admired, that he has become fanciful and conceited, and always has a cold when he is wanted to sing. He says he has heard that if singers can manage to have a cold whenever it suits their caprice, they become more popular. But I must not stay any longer gossiping, or I shall never get through my business. I shall see you among the guests to-morrow. Good-bye!” and away flew the Bee buzzing as loudly as he could, for he felt very fussy, as most people do who have important news to tell. The Violet, left to herself, thought very much of her friend Daisy’s good fortune, and looked forward with eagerness to the forthcoming festivities.
“Are you going to this absurd ceremony, Lady Violet?” inquired the same dandy, Tulip, who had before spoken to the Bee.
“Certainly, if the King invites me,” she replied.
“Oh, we are all sure to be invited!” he exclaimed. “The vulgar little monarch will honour himself by pretending to know us and sending us his invitations; but I, for one, shall not trouble myself to go.”
“Nor we,” said the Lilies.
“Nor we,” chorused the Crocuses.
“Well,” gently said the Violet, “we need not decide what to do till the invitations come.”
The sun was now high in the heavens, and all the fields and gardens were bright with life and activity. The birds warbled gaily on the budding green boughs, and hosts of gay insects with rainbow-tinted wings fluttered and danced in the fresh breeze. Many butterflies passed to and fro, some pure white, others pale yellow, others crimson, and some beautifully variegated; but as the messengers of King Buttercup were to be recognized by their blue costume, the other members of the tribe did not attract as much attention from the Flowers as usual. The hours passed on, and yet not a single blue butterfly appeared. Now, though Lilies, Crocuses, and Hyacinths had all derided King Buttercup and his bride, they were in secret very anxious to be invited to the wedding, which they knew well enough would be a grand affair, and they kept sharp watch for the first glimpse of the Royal ambassadors. At last, a faint flicker of pale blue wings appeared in the distance, and then the long expected procession of butterflies came floating swiftly through the air. Very brilliant and lovely they looked in the broad blaze of sunshine, and a linnet, perched up in a hawthorn tree, was so charmed with the sight that he composed a song about it and sang it then and there with all his heart in it. The beautiful butterflies did not stop in their graceful flight for the Lilies, or the Crocuses, or any other aristocratic flower; they descended to the Forget-me-nots, rose again lightly and went on to the Violet, where three of them rested an instant, then on again, now and then fluttering down to give invitations to some modest field flowers almost hidden in the grass--sometimes poising on the white blossoms of the blackthorn, sometimes disappearing in the scented cups of early bluebells--away they flew bearing King Buttercup’s message to his chosen guests, and in a few seconds they had left far behind them the brilliant cluster of cultivated flowers that had sneered so unkindly at the Monarch of Meadowland. The Hyacinths trembled with anger, and the complexions of the Crocuses grew even yellower in the extremity of their disappointment. But they said nothing, they knew well enough they had deserved the slight they had received.
The day passed, and the young May moon smiled radiantly down on sleeping Flowerland. The Violet, who had been greatly excited by receiving a royal invitation, and the Forget-me-nots also, could scarcely close their eyes all night, and therefore they saw a party of the Fungus Elves practising their dances for the next evening. A pretty sight it was to see them all troop out from under the cover of the funguses which are their houses, and then to watch them gracefully skipping about in the moonshine. They were all dressed in brown and silver, and wore crowns of dewdrops, and nothing could exceed the activity and ease of their motions. Ten glow-worms lit up the grass on which they danced, and altogether it was a charming sight. Violet looked on at their fantastic capers till she fell unconsciously into a sound slumber from which she did not awake till the first streak of morning appeared in the east. A great noise of booming and buzzing then aroused her, and opening her dark blue eyes she saw that the Town Criers were all passing her dwelling on their way to the wedding. Looking around her, she observed the coquettish Forget-me-nots busily engaged in dressing themselves for the occasion, and what a fuss they made to be sure! They washed all their leaves, and were most particular to arrange a dewdrop in the centre of each one of their blossoms. They certainly would have been the latest arrivals at the King’s Palace had they not been reminded how time was going by a cross old grasshopper with a squeaky voice, who was hurrying off to the wedding as fast as he could go.
“There you are!” he grumbled, “dressing yourselves and muddling about, just as women always do. When are you going to start, pray? I suppose you’ll arrive just as the ceremony is ended!”--And on he hopped faster than ever. The Forget-me-nots now hurried the finishing of their toilette, and the Violet hastily arose from her mossy couch. Putting on her richest purple robe, she summoned a fly (you can hire flies in Flowerland as you can in our world, only you do not pay them so much), and seating herself on his back, away she went to the marriage festival, and succeeded in reaching the meadow just as the King entered. What a scene it was to be sure! Such a vast concourse of flowers had never been seen assembled in one field before. They were all packed together as closely as they could stand, and all pressed eagerly towards one spot, where the spider-woven canopy was erected. And a wonderful canopy it was, finer than silk, and studded thickly with dewdrops of all sizes that glittered like the rarest diamonds. Under it, King Buttercup sat on his throne waiting the approach of his bride. He was the cynosure of all eyes, and in truth he was a handsome little fellow. He wore a robe of cloth of gold, and on his head was placed a golden crown, and his bright face shone with happiness. Beside him stood his attendant groomsmen, the Celandines, together with several other distinguished Flower-people, many of whom bore titles of distinction. There was Count Dandelion, one of the handsomest soldiers in Meadowland, who had travelled in many countries, and, it was said, had saved many lives at the risk of losing his own. He looked very gorgeous in his showy uniform of pale green and gold, and he was engaged in what seemed to be a very interesting conversation with the beautiful Lady Pimpernel, who was one of the greatest belles and coquettes of the court. Then there was the Grand Duke of Borage who was flirting desperately with the young Duchess Eye-bright, and the gallant nobleman Lord Fox-Glove was busy paying most devoted attention to the graceful and fascinating Marchioness Meadowsweet. There were knights and nobles in abundance, and in short all the rank, wealth and beauty of Meadowland had gathered to King Buttercup’s wedding. Many were curious to see the bride, as few persons present knew what she was like, and all they had heard was that she was very small and shy and timid. But now there was heard a great clash of armour, and a brilliant regiment of Rose Beetles splendidly attired in green coats of mail appeared on the field and formed in two lines, one on each side of the King. Then came the Bees or Town Criers, and took their places;--after which a strain of sweet melody was heard, and lo! a skylark rose into the air, fluttering his pretty wings and singing as only skylarks can sing, with a clear joyous voice that made the very heavens ring with music. And perhaps it is because he sang so beautifully on this occasion, that ever since that time the skylarks that live in the fields and woodlands round about Shakespeare’s Town are famous for their lovely clear voices, which break forth in a chorus of the most joyous melody in the world every year when Spring colours the trees green, and fills the meadows with flowers. They are, as they certainly must be, the descendants of that special bird which carolled so merrily on the morning King Buttercup was married. He warbled the “Wedding Anthem” instead of the conceited thrush, and as he sang, all the blossoms rustled their leaves expectantly, for it was time for the bride to appear. A few seconds more of suspense and anxiety, and then a deepening murmur of applause and admiration ran through the dense crowd of Flowers as the fair Daisy entered. What a lovely little creature she was!--So simple, so pure and innocent;--so shy and sweet she looked in her snow-white robes, with her little golden bodice and crown! She was followed by her fair bridesmaids, the Anemones, but beautiful though they were, simple little Daisy outshone them all. King Buttercup rose from his throne and advanced to meet her--all the Bees buzzed, the Rose Beetles clashed their swords, and the Skylark sang louder and louder, hovering, like a living jewel in the sunshine, just above the Royal Canopy. Now as the little Daisy approached her kingly bridegroom, her great happiness and honour seemed more than she could bear, and a faint beautiful rose-blush tinged her tiny white petals. That is the reason why so many daisies are pink-tipped to this very hour. The King bowed low and led her to his throne,--then, turning to his courtiers and friends, said in a small voice as clear as a bell,--
“Loving subjects!--It has seemed good to us that in order to maintain the honour and position of our Kingdom and State, we should take upon ourselves the solemn duty of matrimony. In choosing a partner for our Throne, we have not considered rank and wealth so much as virtue and goodness, and in all our search we have been unable to find a fairer or more modest maiden flower than the Daisy, whom we now have the honour to present to you as your future Queen. We feel confident that the many beauties of her mind and the sweetness and constancy of her character will enhance the value of our Throne and increase the happiness and prosperity of our Kingdom. Moreover, it has been made known to us that in days to come, that portion of Flowerland whereon we now grow and flourish will be made valuable and beloved to all the rest of the world by the presence of a far greater King than ourselves,--one who will lead the thoughts of men even as we lead the first golden blossoming-out of Spring. Therefore it shall be our duty to make this centre of our realm beautiful with all the fairest thoughts of love and grace and innocence which can charm a Poet’s fancy, and we here decree that these fields by the river shall be the beginning of all lovely fields in all lovely lands. None shall be more peaceful and pure,--none shall be more full of gold and silver bloom,--none shall be more delicately fragrant, or more sweetly surrounded by the singing of birds. Subjects, behold your Queen! Before you all, I proudly declare my love for her;--and from henceforth shall Buttercup and Daisy dwell together in loving hope to make the world brighter and happier for their blossoming!”