CHAPTER IX. – THE ELECTION
BOY was awakened very early the next morning by Caesar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith (called Thomas for short), who remarked with a haughty air while setting the breakfast things, —
“I don’t suppose you will have me to wait upon you to-morrow morning, sir.”
“Why not?” inquired Boy.
“I shall very likely have been made King by that time,” remarked the footman with his nose in the air. “You can still stay at the Palace, though, if you like.”
“Really!” exclaimed Boy. “Have you been elected then?” he asked, forgetting that the Election did not take place till two o’clock in the afternoon.
“Not yet,” admitted the footman, “but I’m pretty sure to be, because of my name, you know.”
“Smith?” inquired Boy.
“No, the others,” said the footman impatiently. “Cæsar was a king, I’ve heard, and so was Augustus, so was Maximilian, and so was Claudius, I believe.”
“No, they were all emperors,” corrected Boy. “Cæsar, Augustus, and Claudius, were emperors of Rome, and Maximilian was Emperor of Germany. We heard all about them in our History class last term.”
“Are you sure, sir?” asked the footman mournfully.
“Yes, quite!” replied Boy decidedly.
“Dear me,” cried the poor man, “I’m afraid that I don’t stand quite as much chance as I thought I did. What a pity! I’ve ordered my crown and things too,” he continued. “Never mind! perhaps I may be elected after all. I suppose, sir, if I offered to vote for you, you wouldn’t vote for me, would you?”
“I don’t see how that would be of much use,” exclaimed Boy.
“Well, every vote helps, you know,” said Cæsar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith (called Thomas for short). “Shall I go and get the polling papers?”
Boy thought that it couldn’t possibly do much harm, so just to please him he told the footman that he might go and get them; and when he returned a few minutes later they were both solemnly filled up and taken back to the Ballot Box. Then Boy finished his breakfast and started for a walk.
The streets were filled with excited groups of people discussing their own prospects of being elected King, and the walls were covered with posters of all shapes and sizes begging for votes. One enterprising man was offering a thousand pounds to every one who would vote for him.
“Why, however can he pay them all?” exclaimed Boy to a person in the street.
“Oh! people are never expected to keep the promises made at elections,” explained the man. “Now I don’t promise anything at all, but you only just vote for me and see what I’ll do for you if I’m made King.”
“I can’t,” said Boy. “I’ve already voted.”
“Oh, bother!” cried the man, “you’re no good to me, then,” and he hurried on to the next person and began to beg for his vote.
Boy was soon surrounded by people bothering him to vote for them and was quite glad to escape down a by-street where there was scarcely any one to be seen, and where his attention was attracted by a curious-looking sign affixed to a house worded like this —
“What a funny sign!” thought Boy. “I wonder what it means?” and he was still wondering when a Butcher’s Bill passed. He was a very tall boy and carried a butcher’s tray on his shoulder. Of course, he was whistling – all butcher boys do – but he stopped when he saw Boy and came up to where he was standing.
“Can you tell me what that means, please?” asked Boy, pointing to the sign.
“Can’t you read?” asked the Butcher’s Bill.
“Not Greek,” replied Boy. “That is Greek, isn’t it?” he asked; for it looked to him very much like an inscription that he had once seen carved over a big building in London, and which his Uncle had told him was Greek.
“Greek! your grandmother!” exclaimed the Butcher’s Bill rudely. “It’s Upside Downish.”
“What’s that?” asked Boy.
“I’ll tell you if you promise me your vote,” said the Butcher’s Bill.
“I’m very sorry,” replied Boy, “but I’ve already given it.”
“Then stand on your head and find out for yourself,” cried the rude Butcher’s Bill, shouldering his tray and walking off again whistling loudly.
“I wonder what he means?” thought Boy, staring at the letters; he could make nothing of them, though, and was just going to walk away when he saw the Advertiser General looking out of one of the windows above the signboard.
“Come in,” he called. “I want to speak to you very particularly.”
Boy pushed the door open and found some steps inside which led up to a large studio, in which he found the Advertiser General and the Public Rhymester.
They both rushed at him as soon as he entered the door and each seized one of his arms.
“Please promise me your vote,” they both exclaimed in one breath.
“Oh dear!” cried Boy, “I’m quite tired of telling everybody I have already voted.”
The Advertiser General and the Public Rhymester both looked greatly disappointed, and each let go of his arm and went back to his work.
“What are you doing, please?” inquired Boy.
“Can’t you see?” replied the Advertiser General snappishly. “We’re making advertisements. Have you finished that Poem for Watzematta Tea yet?” he asked of the Public Rhymester.
“Very nearly,” he replied with some confusion, hastily screwing up some paper which he held in his hands into a ball.
“What’s that?” demanded the Advertiser General; “let me see.”
The Public Rhymester handed him the ball of paper, which the Advertiser General carefully smoothed out.
“Did any one ever see such rubbish?” he exclaimed after he had read it. “Why, you’ve mixed yourself up so with the tea that one can’t tell which is which. Just read this,” and he handed Boy the crumpled pieces of paper, on which were written the following words:
Delicious Watzematta is a very soothing tea,
And when you’re voting for a King, oh, please remember me.
It’s cheaper far than other sorts; it’s flavour’s full and free —
And that I’d make a charming King, I’m sure you’ll all agree.
“One cup of Watzematta will equal any three
Of other kinds; it is so nice – and so am I, you see.
There never was another King so good as I will be.
Pour boiling water on it (the tea I mean, not me).”
“Well, it certainly is rather mixed,” said Boy when he had finished reading this curious advertisement.
“Oh! I can’t settle down to anything till this Election is over,” complained the Public Rhymester. “How are you getting on?” he asked, walking over to where the Advertiser General was painting an enormous poster. “Why, you are as bad as I am,” he cried. “Look at that!” and he pointed to a part of the poster on which the Advertiser General had painted the words:
“Use Bluntpoint’s Needles. To be had of all
respectable kings.”
“Good gracious, I meant drapers, of course,” cried the Advertiser General, throwing down his brush. “Well, it’s evidently no use trying to work till after the Election; we are all far too excited.”
“I was going to ask you,” said Boy, “what those words outside this house meant.”
“Oh!” said the Advertiser General, “that is a very ingenious advertisement of mine. You see the words are simply turned upside down, so you have to stand on your head to read them properly. It’s a capital idea. You see the great thing in advertising is to impress the advertisement on the public mind, and if one has to stand on his head the whole of the time he is reading it through, he is not likely to forget it in a hurry, is he?
This was the first advertisement ever written in that way,” and the Advertiser General brought from a portfolio a large card bearing these words:
“What is all this nonsense about the Portmanteau?” exclaimed Boy. “I’m always hearing something or other about it. Whose was it?”
“Ah! it may seem nonsense to you, but I assure you it was a very serious matter for us at the time,” said the Advertiser General, while the Public Rhymester nodded his head emphatically.
“You see the King of Limesia and our late sovereign King Robert the Twentieth were very great friends, and the King of Limesia came to Zum on a visit. Oh, it was a grand time, I can tell you. The streets were decorated, and there were speeches and processions, and he was presented with the freedom of the city in a casket made of solid gingerbread gilded over so that it looked like real gold, and which he could eat when he got tired of looking at.”
“I think that’s a very good idea,” interrupted Boy. “I have often read of people being presented with addresses and things in gold caskets, and I always wondered whatever use they could possibly be to them afterwards.”
“Well,” continued the Advertiser General, “things went on swimmingly for a few days till suddenly the King of Limesia’s Portmanteau disappeared very mysteriously. No one had the slightest idea when, where, or how. You would never believe the commotion it caused. Both Kings were furious. King Robert declared that it must and should be found, and had an organised search made in every house in Zum. Not one was passed without having every room ransacked. The King of Limesia declared that he would not remain a single day longer, and went off in a huff, and altogether there was such a set out as you never saw.” #
“What was there in the Portmanteau?” asked Boy.
“Why, all the King’s clean collars, a new toothbrush, a receipt for making toffee and lots of things. Well, I had to prepare a special Poster to be stuck about the town, and by a splendid piece of good fortune I thought of this system of advertising. It was great success and caused an enormous sensation. Just fancy seeing the streets full of people all standing on their heads at the same time reading the advertisement.
The King was delighted and made sure that we should soon find the Portmanteau. We never did, though, to this day,” said the Advertiser General mournfully, “and the King of Limesia and our late King never made up the quarrel about it.”
“Well,” said Boy, “I think it was rather silly to make all that fuss about an old Portm – ”
But before he could finish the sentence cries of “Haste to the poll,”
“Haste to the poll” were heard in the street, and on looking out of the window they saw people rushing frantically towards the House of Words. Hastily snatching up their caps the Advertiser General and the Public Rhymester rushed down the stairs and out into the road, and were soon lost to sight in the crowd. Boy followed as quickly as he could, for he wanted to hear who had been elected King. He could not get near the House of Words because of the crowd, but he could see by a clock in the street that it was nearly two, so the suspense would soon be over.
“Do you think that I stand any chance, sir?” inquired a melancholy-looking person standing near Boy.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied he.
“Because if I do I don’t know however I shall be able to afford a crown and sceptre. Are they very expensive, do you know?”
“Why, I should think they would be provided for you if you were elected King, wouldn’t they?” asked Boy.
“I’m sure I don’t know. I wish I hadn’t gone in for it at all,” replied the man; “I’m a shoemaker by trade, and my wife she said to me, ‘What a fine thing it would be if you were elected King!’ so I voted for myself. I am rather sorry I did so now, because I don’t know anything about reigning, and I’m afraid I sha’n’t make a very good King if I am elected.”
Before Boy could reply there was a great shout, and two o’clock struck from the clock tower above the House of Words.
“Now we shall soon know,” said Boy; and sure enough in a few moments the Lord High Adjudicator came to the top of the steps, and with a very white face announced that everybody had the same number of votes, so that they were all elected Kings; and it turned out afterwards that everybody but Boy and Caesar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith (called Thomas for short) had voted for themselves, and as those two had voted for each other it came to the same thing.
It was very comical to see the airs the people at once began to give themselves when they realised what had happened, and even the poor Shoemaker King stared in a haughty way at Boy, and did not deign even to say good-day as he hurried home to tell his wife the news.
Boy was heartily amused, and the more so when he heard the very Butcher’s Bill that he had seen in the morning say to another Bill of about the same age as himself, —
“Look here, Your Majesty, if I have any more of Your Majesty’s cheek I shall have to punch Your Majesty’s royal nose, and if Your Majesty wishes to fight, come on.”
To which the other boy, who had previously been a Grocer’s Bill, replied, —
“Your Majesty may be a King, but you are no gentleman, and I would not bemean myself by condescending to fight with Your Majesty;” and with a scornful look the late Grocer’s Bill passed on.
“Well, I expect there will be a pretty muddle presently if all these people are to be Kings,” thought Boy, quite forgetting that he was a King himself under these circumstances; and it was not until he had tried to buy a penny bun, and had been told by the baker’s wife that “His Majesty had given up business,” that he realised how very awkward it might become.
CHAPTER X. – “KINGS AND QUEENS GALORE.”
HURRYING back to the Palace Boy found a great crowd of people on the steps at the principal entrance – most of them carried bundles and parcels, and some even had articles of furniture on their heads.
“Why, whatever is happening now?” he thought, and on inquiry he found that these were some of the newly elected Kings coming to take possession of the Palace.
King Cæsar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith (now called King Smith I.), whose crown had not yet arrived, had ingeniously contrived a temporary one of alternate silver forks and spoons stuck in the band of his hat, and, with a velvet pile table-cloth from one of the drawing-room tables thrown over his shoulder, looked quite imposing as he stood at the door and explained to the people that he was now as much a King as the rest of them, and intended to keep the Palace for himself.
“You may come in, though,” he said, catching sight of Boy, and as soon as he had entered, King Smith I. closed and bolted the door, and the other disappointed Kings had to carry their bundles and parcels home again.
“How do you like being a King, Your Majesty?” asked King Smith I. pleasantly, when they had reached one of the state apartments in which he had established himself.
“Well, I don’t know,” laughed Boy, “I don’t feel any different at present.”
“Ah! that’s because you haven’t a crown and sceptre, Your Majesty; we must see what we can find for you. You are sure to be treated with disrespect if you don’t maintain your kingly dignity. The late Lord High Adjudicator, who is now King Joshua Dobbs, seized the regalia as soon as he knew that he was elected King, and so the rest of us will have to make shift with such crowns and things as we can manufacture for ourselves. Now let’s see. What can we make you a crown out of? Oh! I know. There are some packets of tea downstairs with some beautiful silver paper around them; suppose we make you a crown of that, and twist some around a stick for a sceptre.”
So with some paste and cardboard and this silver paper, which King Smith I. brought up from downstairs, they soon made quite a respectable-looking crown, and particularly as King Smith I. had found some fancy buttons, which he fastened into it, to look like jewels. Another small table-cloth, pinned to Boy’s shoulders for a cloak, completed his costume, and he felt quite proud of his appearance when he saw his reflection in the looking-glass at the end of the room.
“Will there be any meeting in the House of Words to-day?” asked Boy, “and if so who will sit on the Throne? I expect there will be a rare scramble for it, won’t there?”
King Smith I. laughed. “The Busybody Extraordinary,” he said, “took possession of it immediately he heard that he had been elected King and won’t leave it on any consideration whatever. He has sat in it ever since the Election and at first declared that he would carry it about with him wherever he went, and when he found that it was too heavy to move, he sent for his wife and family, and they have taken up their residence on the dais on which it is placed, and intend to remain there. The First Lord of the Cash Box has the best of it, though, for he has all the money – he absolutely refuses to part with a penny; and although I tried to persuade him that I ought to have an allowance made me as I was now a King, he wouldn’t see it He said that if he made every one who was elected an allowance he would have no money left for himself.”
“What time do we dine to-day?” asked Boy, who began to feel rather hungry.
“Well, you see,” explained King Smith, “all the other servants have left, and I expect we shall have to manage for ourselves; fortunately there is plenty of food in the larder, but who’s to set the table? I don’t think, now that I am a King, I ought to have to do that sort of thing, you know.”
“Oh! I don’t mind helping to set the table,” suggested Boy, “if you will show me where the things are.”
“Very well, Your Majesty,” said King Smith I.; “one King is as good as another, and if you don’t mind helping we will soon have a nice little dinner party all to ourselves.”
So Boy and he went down into the great empty kitchens, and brought up plates and dishes and laid them in great state in the Banqueting Hall, and with the pies and pasties which they found in the pantry they had quite a feast.
After they had enjoyed their dinner, King Smith I. washed the dishes, and Boy wiped them and put them away, and then he thought that he would like to stroll into the town and see what was going on. He found the streets full of Kings and Queens dressed with the most ridiculous attempts at royal grandeur; the Queens wore long court trains made of table-cloths and window-curtains, and any other old finery that they could scrape together at such short notice, while the Kings did their best to appear grand with such odds and ends as were left.
Dish-covers and fireirons were very fashionable substitutes for crowns and sceptres, which, of course, were necessary for everybody.
Boy’s crown of tinsel paper was evidently much admired, and many of the Kings and Queens cast envious glances at it as he walked through the streets. On the whole, though, they all seemed pretty well satisfied with themselves, and treated each other with a considerable amount of hauteur.
Boy called in at the House of Words just out of curiosity to see the Busybody Extraordinary, and found him, looking very dignified indeed, seated on the great gilded throne at one end of the Hall; the effect was rather marred, though, by the dais being littered with all kinds of household furniture which had been hastily brought across from his old home. Her Majesty the Queen, his wife, was busy making up a bed for the baby on one of the lower steps, and the Princess, his daughter, and the Crown Prince, his son, were squabbling as to who should wash up the dinner plates in a tin pail at the back of the throne.
They received Boy in great state, however, for when they perceived him coming towards them the King arose and the Queen and the Prince and Princess formed a group around him, with their noses in the air in a very superior style, and the Queen informed Boy that “he might kiss her hand if he wished.”
Boy, however, said, “it didn’t matter, thank you, and he had only called to see how they liked living on the dais.”
“Oh, of course,” said the King with a grand air, “it’s only for a very short time – until I have an opportunity of re-organising my Kingdom. It’s rather awkward, at present, you see, there being so many other Kings and Queens about.”
“Yes, I should think so,” laughed Boy.
The King got down from the throne, and coming close to Boy, whispered in his ear, —
“Would you mind calling me ‘Your Majesty’ when you speak to me, please?” and then went back to his throne again.
“What nonsense!” replied Boy. “I can’t keep addressing everybody as ‘Your Majesty,’ you know, and, besides, I’m as much of a King as you are.”
The Queen looked very severe.
“What shall we do about it, my dear?” asked the King anxiously.
“Send him to the deepest dungeon beneath the Castle Moat,” replied the Queen, waving her hand tragically.
“Yes, we shall really have to do something of that sort, if you don’t treat us with proper respect,” remarked the King warningly.
“What rubbish!” laughed Boy. “Why, you haven’t got a castle moat, or a dungeon either,” and he walked away while the King sat down on the throne with a great air of offended dignity, and the rest of the Royal family resumed their domestic duties.
Out in the town Boy found all the shops closed; for, you see, none of the Kings and Queens would think of working, and so everything was at a standstill.
After hunting about for a little time Boy found the house where the Advertiser General had lived, and thought he would call on him. He found him seated at one end of the long studio while the Public Rhymester sat at the other; they had each arranged a chair on the top of a table to look something like a throne, and the Advertiser General had really made a very regal-looking cloak out of a large piece of calico, by painting one side red and drawing little black tails on the other to look like ermine. They seemed very miserable, though, and explained to Boy that they had not been able to get anything to eat.
“We went out a little while ago,” complained the Advertiser General, “but His Majesty the butcher was most rude when I commanded him to send me some meat for dinner, and Her Majesty his wife asked me if I knew who I was talking to?’
“It was just the same with His Majesty the grocer. He was seated in state on a sugar-barrel at one end of his shop, which he now calls the Palace, and would no more think of serving me with a pound of tea than if he had been the Emperor of China himself.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what will become of us,” chimed in the Public Rhymester. “I am thinking of emigrating and letting myself out on hire at people’s houses in some country where Kings and Queens are not quite so plentiful as they are here. I have drawn up a little Prospectus. You might like to see it, and if you could recommend me to a good family where they know how to treat a King properly I should be much obliged,” and the late Public Rhymester handed Boy the following: —
HIS MAJESTY THE KING OF ZUM
ATTENDS PARTIES
REASONABLE TERMS. DISTANCE NO OBJECT
“Oh! kings are plentiful to-day;
And if you want one, step this way,
My modest terms to hear.
You hire me by the day or week,
Eightpence an hour is all I seek,
My washing and my beer
“Suburban dinner parties, hops,
The Opera and ‘Monday Pops’ —
Why, I’m the very man.
You really seldom have the chance
Your social status to advance
By such an easy plan.
“Just think how Smith and Jones will stare,
And Robinson and Brown will glare,
If to your house they come,
And you with easy, careless grace
Can introduce us face to face,
My friend the King of Zum.’
“And then when nobody’s about
There’s heaps of little things, no doubt,
That I could find to do.
It’s seldom that you find a King
So handy about everything,
And yet so regal too.
“When in my Royal Robes I’m drest,
I’ll be most gracious to each guest,
Attending your ‘At Home.’
And when they’ve gone I will not scorn
To mend your children’s clothes, if torn,
Or hair to brush and comb.
“You give a Dinner – just so – look —
I’ll help the Footman – Butler – Cook,
Before the guests arrive.
In fact, I humbly claim to be,
Without the slightest question, the
Most useful King alive.”
“Can you suggest any improvement?” he asked when Boy had finished reading the Prospectus.
“No,” replied he, “I think it reads very well indeed, and I hope that you will soon get an engagement.”
“I intend going into trade,” remarked the late Advertiser General from the throne at the other end of the room. “So many of the nobility now open shops that I don’t see why Kings should not do so too. I intend to establish some Stores at Zum, and call it the ‘Royal Service Supply Association for providing Kings and Queens and other members of Royal families with the necessaries of life!’ You see something of the kind must be done or we shall all starve.”
“Yes, I think that is a capital idea,” said Boy. “I will ask King Smith I. to deal with you when I get back to the Palace; but I must be going now. Good-afternoon, Your Majesties,” and Boy bowed politely, and was just going out of the door when he heard both of the Kings hurriedly scrambling down from their thrones. He waited to see what they wanted, and when they reached him, each King caught hold of one of his arms, and whispered in his ear, —
“Would you mind inviting me home to tea?”
“Oh! certainly, come by all means, if you like,” said Boy, remembering that there were lots of things left in the larder.
“Thank you awfully,” said the Advertiser King.
“Much obliged,” echoed the other, and hurrying down the stairs and out into the street the three Kings went arm-in-arm to the Palace.