For some mysterious reason the King had a great affection for hanging about in the Court Journal office, smoking a morning cigarette and looking over files. Like all ingrainedly idle men, he was very fond of lounging and chatting in places where other people were doing work. But one would have thought that, even in the prosaic3 England of his day, he might have found a more bustling4 centre.
On this particular morning, however, he came out of Kensington Palace with a more alert step and a busier air than usual. He wore an extravagantly5 long frock-coat, a pale-green waistcoat, a very full and dégagé black tie, and curious yellow gloves. This was his uniform as Colonel of a regiment6 of his own creation, the 1st Decadents7 Green. It was a beautiful sight to see him drilling them. He walked quickly across the Park and the High Street, lighting8 his cigarette as he went, and flung open the door of the Court Journal office.
“You’ve heard the news, Pally — you’ve heard the news?” he said.
The Editor’s name was Hoskins, but the King called him Pally, which was an abbreviation of Paladium of our Liberties.
“Well, your Majesty9,” said Hoskins, slowly (he was a worried, gentlemanly looking person, with a wandering brown beard)—“well, your Majesty, I have heard rather curious things, but I—”
“You’ll hear more of them,” said the King, dancing a few steps of a kind of negro shuffle10. “You’ll hear more of them, my blood-and-thunder tribune. Do you know what I am going to do for you?”
“No, your Majesty,” replied the Paladium, vaguely11.
“I’m going to put your paper on strong, dashing, enterprising lines,” said the King. “Now, where are your posters of last night’s defeat?”
“I did not propose, your Majesty,” said the Editor, “to have any posters exactly —”
“Paper, paper!” cried the King, wildly; “bring me paper as big as a house. I’ll do you posters. Stop, I must take my coat off.” He began removing that garment with an air of set intensity12, flung it playfully at Mr. Hoskins’ head, entirely13 enveloping14 him, and looked at himself in the glass. “The coat off,” he said, “and the hat on. That looks like a sub-editor. It is indeed the very essence of sub-editing. Well,” he continued, turning round abruptly15, “come along with that paper.”
The Paladium had only just extricated16 himself reverently17 from the folds of the King’s frock-coat, and said bewildered —
“I am afraid, your Majesty —”
“Oh, you’ve got no enterprise,” said Auberon. “What’s that roll in the corner? Wall-paper? Decorations for your private residence? Art in the home, Pally? Fling it over here, and I’ll paint such posters on the back of it that when you put it up in your drawing-room you’ll paste the original pattern against the wall.” And the King unrolled the wall-paper, spreading it over the whole floor. “Now give me the scissors,” he cried, and took them himself before the other could stir.
He slit18 the paper into about five pieces, each nearly as big as a door. Then he took a big blue pencil, and went down on his knees on the dusty oil-cloth and began to write on them, in huge letters —
“FROM THE FRONT.
GENERAL BUCK19 DEFEATED.
DARKNESS, DANGER, AND DEATH.
WAYNE SAID TO BE IN PUMP STREET.
FEELING IN THE CITY.”
He contemplated20 it for some time, with his head on one side, and got up, with a sigh.
“Not quite intense enough,” he said —“not alarming. I want the Court Journal to be feared as well as loved. Let’s try something more hard-hitting.” And he went down on his knees again. After sucking the blue pencil for some time, he began writing again busily. “How will this do?” he said —
WAYNE’S WONDERFUL VICTORY.”
“I suppose,” he said, looking up appealingly, and sucking the pencil —“I suppose we couldn’t say ‘wictory’—‘Wayne’s wonderful wictory’? No, no. Refinement21, Pally, refinement. I have it.”
“WAYNE WINS.
ASTOUNDING22 FIGHT IN THE DARK.
The gas-lamps in their courses fought against Buck.“
“(Nothing like our fine old English translation.) What else can we say? Well, anything to annoy old Buck;” and he added, thoughtfully, in smaller letters —
“Rumoured Court-martial on General Buck.”
“Those will do for the present,” he said, and turned them both face downwards23. “Paste, please.”
The Paladium, with an air of great terror, brought the paste out of an inner room.
The King slabbed it on with the enjoyment24 of a child messing with treacle25. Then taking one of his huge compositions fluttering in each hand, he ran outside, and began pasting them up in prominent positions over the front of the office.
“And now,” said Auberon, entering again with undiminished vivacity26 —“now for the leading article.”
He picked up another of the large strips of wall-paper, and, laying it across a desk, pulled out a fountain-pen and began writing with feverish27 intensity, reading clauses and fragments aloud to himself, and rolling them on his tongue like wine, to see if they had the pure journalistic flavour.
“The news of the disaster to our forces in Notting Hill, awful as it is — awful as it is —(no, distressing29 as it is), may do some good if it draws attention to the what’s -his-name inefficiency30 (scandalous inefficiency, of course) of the Government’s preparations. In our present state of information, it would be premature31 (what a jolly word!)— it would be premature to cast any reflections upon the conduct of General Buck, whose services upon so many stricken fields (ha, ha!), and whose honourable32 scars and laurels33, give him a right to have judgment34 upon him at least suspended. But there is one matter on which we must speak plainly. We have been silent on it too long, from feelings, perhaps of mistaken caution, perhaps of mistaken loyalty35. This situation would never have arisen but for what we can only call the indefensible conduct of the King. It pains us to say such things, but, speaking as we do in the public interests (I plagiarise from Barker’s famous epigram), we shall not shrink because of the distress28 we may cause to any individual, even the most exalted36. At this crucial moment of our country, the voice of the People demands with a single tongue, ‘Where is the King?’ What is he doing while his subjects tear each other in pieces in the streets of a great city? Are his amusements and his dissipations (of which we cannot pretend to be ignorant) so engrossing37 that he can spare no thought for a perishing nation? It is with a deep sense of our responsibility that we warn that exalted person that neither his great position nor his incomparable talents will save him in the hour of delirium38 from the fate of all those who, in the madness of luxury or tyranny, have met the English people in the rare day of its wrath39.”
“I am now,” said the King, “going to write an account of the battle by an eye-witness.” And he picked up a fourth sheet of wall-paper. Almost at the same moment Buck strode quickly into the office. He had a bandage round his head.
“I was told,” he said, with his usual gruff civility, “that your Majesty was here.”
“And of all things on earth,” cried the King, with delight, “here is an eye-witness! An eye-witness who, I regret to observe, has at present only one eye to witness with. Can you write us the special article, Buck? Have you a rich style?”
Buck, with a self-restraint which almost approached politeness, took no notice whatever of the King’s maddening geniality40.
“I took the liberty, your Majesty,” he said shortly, “of asking Mr. Barker to come here also.”
As he spoke41, indeed, Barker came swinging into the office, with his usual air of hurry.
“What is happening now?” asked Buck, turning to him with a kind of relief.
“Fighting still going on,” said Barker. “The four hundred from West Kensington were hardly touched last night. They hardly got near the place. Poor Wilson’s Bayswater men got cut about, though. They fought confoundedly well. They took Pump Street once. What mad things do happen in the world. To think that of all of us it should be little Wilson with the red whiskers who came out best.”
The King made a note on his paper —
“Romantic Conduct of Mr. Wilson.”
“Yes,” said Buck; “it makes one a bit less proud of one’s h’s .”
The King suddenly folded or crumpled42 up the paper, and put it in his pocket.
“I have an idea,” he said. “I will be an eye-witness. I will write you such letters from the Front as will be more gorgeous than the real thing. Give me my coat, Paladium. I entered this room a mere43 King of England. I leave it, Special War Correspondent of the Court Journal. It is useless to stop me, Pally; it is vain to cling to my knees, Buck; it is hopeless, Barker, to weep upon my neck. ‘When duty calls’— the remainder of the sentiment escapes me. You will receive my first article this evening by the eight-o’clock post.”
And, running out of the office, he jumped upon a blue Bayswater omnibus that went swinging by.
“Well,” said Barker, gloomily, “well.”
“Barker,” said Buck, “business may be lower than politics, but war is, as I discovered last night, a long sight more like business. You politicians are such ingrained demagogues that even when you have a despotism you think of nothing but public opinion. So you learn to tack44 and run, and are afraid of the first breeze. Now we stick to a thing and get it. And our mistakes help us. Look here! at this moment we’ve beaten Wayne.”
“Beaten Wayne,” repeated Barker.
“Why the dickens not?” cried the other, flinging out his hands. “Look here. I said last night that we had them by holding the nine entrances. Well, I was wrong. We should have had them but for a singular event — the lamps went out. But for that it was certain. Has it occurred to you, my brilliant Barker, that another singular event has happened since that singular event of the lamps going out?”
“What event?” asked Barker.
“By an astounding coincidence, the sun has risen,” cried out Buck, with a savage45 air of patience. “Why the hell aren’t we holding all those approaches now, and passing in on them again? It should have been done at sunrise. The confounded doctor wouldn’t let me go out. You were in command.”
Barker smiled grimly.
“It is a gratification to me, my dear Buck, to be able to say that we anticipated your suggestions precisely46. We went as early as possible to reconnoitre the nine entrances. Unfortunately, while we were fighting each other in the dark, like a lot of drunken navvies, Mr. Wayne’s friends were working very hard indeed. Three hundred yards from Pump Street, at every one of those entrances, there is a barricade47 nearly as high as the houses. They were finishing the last, in Pembridge Road, when we arrived. Our mistakes,” he cried bitterly, and flung his cigarette on the ground. “It is not we who learn from them.”
There was a silence for a few moments, and Barker lay back wearily in a chair. The office clock ticked exactly in the stillness.
At length Barker said suddenly —
“Buck, does it ever cross your mind what this is all about? The Hammersmith to Maida Vale thoroughfare was an uncommonly48 good speculation49. You and I hoped a great deal from it. But is it worth it? It will cost us thousands to crush this ridiculous riot. Suppose we let it alone?”
“And be thrashed in public by a red-haired madman whom any two doctors would lock up?” cried out Buck, starting to his feet. “What do you propose to do, Mr. Barker? To apologise to the admirable Mr. Wayne? To kneel to the Charter of the Cities? To clasp to your bosom50 the flag of the Red Lion? To kiss in succession every sacred lamp-post that saved Notting Hill? No, by God! My men fought jolly well — they were beaten by a trick. And they’ll fight again.”
“Buck,” said Barker, “I always admired you. And you were quite right in what you said the other day.”
“In what?”
“In saying,” said Barker, rising quietly, “that we had all got into Adam Wayne’s atmosphere and out of our own. My friend, the whole territorial51 kingdom of Adam Wayne extends to about nine streets, with barricades52 at the end of them. But the spiritual kingdom of Adam Wayne extends, God knows where — it extends to this office, at any rate. The red-haired madman whom any two doctors would lock up is filling this room with his roaring, unreasonable53 soul. And it was the red-haired madman who said the last word you spoke.”
Buck walked to the window without replying. “You understand, of course,” he said at last, “I do not dream of giving in.”
The King, meanwhile, was rattling54 along on the top of his blue omnibus. The traffic of London as a whole had not, of course, been greatly disturbed by these events, for the affair was treated as a Notting Hill riot, and that area was marked off as if it had been in the hands of a gang of recognised rioters. The blue omnibuses simply went round as they would have done if a road were being mended, and the omnibus on which the correspondent of the Court Journal was sitting swept round the corner of Queen’s Road, Bayswater.
The King was alone on the top of the vehicle, and was enjoying the speed at which it was going.
“Forward, my beauty, my Arab,” he said, patting the omnibus encouragingly, “fleetest of all thy bounding tribe. Are thy relations with thy driver, I wonder, those of the Bedouin and his steed? Does he sleep side by side with thee —”
His meditations55 were broken by a sudden and jarring stoppage. Looking over the edge, he saw that the heads of the horses were being held by men in the uniform of Wayne’s army, and heard the voice of an officer calling out orders.
KING AUBERON DESCENDED56 FROM THE OMNIBUS WITH DIGNITY.
King Auberon descended from the omnibus with dignity.
King Auberon descended from the omnibus with dignity. The guard or picket57 of red halberdiers who had stopped the vehicle did not number more than twenty, and they were under the command of a short, dark, clever-looking young man, conspicuous58 among the rest as being clad in an ordinary frock-coat, but girt round the waist with a red sash and a long seventeenth-century sword. A shiny silk hat and spectacles completed the outfit59 in a pleasing manner.
“To whom have I the honour of speaking?” said the King, endeavouring to look like Charles I., in spite of personal difficulties.
The dark man in spectacles lifted his hat with equal gravity.
“My name is Bowles,” he said. “I am a chemist. I am also a captain of O company of the army of Notting Hill. I am distressed60 at having to incommode you by stopping the omnibus, but this area is covered by our proclamation, and we intercept61 all traffic. May I ask to whom I have the honour — Why, good gracious, I beg your Majesty’s pardon. I am quite overwhelmed at finding myself concerned with the King.”
Auberon put up his hand with indescribable grandeur62.
“Not with the King,” he said; “with the special war correspondent of the Court Journal.”
“I beg your Majesty’s pardon,” began Mr. Bowles, doubtfully.
“Do you call me Majesty? I repeat,” said Auberon, firmly, “I am a representative of the press. I have chosen, with a deep sense of responsibility, the name of Pinker. I should desire a veil to be drawn63 over the past.”
“Very well, sir,” said Mr. Bowles, with an air of submission64, “in our eyes the sanctity of the press is at least as great as that of the throne. We desire nothing better than that our wrongs and our glories should be widely known. May I ask, Mr. Pinker, if you have any objection to being presented to the Provost and to General Turnbull?”
“The Provost I have had the honour of meeting,” said Auberon, easily. “We old journalists, you know, meet everybody. I should be most delighted to have the same honour again. General Turnbull, also, it would be a gratification to know. The younger men are so interesting. We of the old Fleet Street gang lose touch with them.”
“Will you be so good as to step this way?” said the leader of O company.
“I am always good,” said Mr. Pinker. “Lead on.”
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1
journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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2
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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3
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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5
extravagantly
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| adv.挥霍无度地 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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7
decadents
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| n.颓废派艺术家（decadent的复数形式） | |
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8
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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9
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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10
shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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11
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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12
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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13
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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14
enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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15
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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16
extricated
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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18
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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19
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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20
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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21
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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22
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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23
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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24
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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treacle
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| n.糖蜜 | |
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vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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28
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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29
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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30
inefficiency
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| n.无效率，无能；无效率事例 | |
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31
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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32
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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33
laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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34
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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35
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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36
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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engrossing
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| adj.使人全神贯注的，引人入胜的v.使全神贯注( engross的现在分词 ) | |
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38
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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40
geniality
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| n.和蔼，诚恳；愉快 | |
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41
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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42
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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45
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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46
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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47
barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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49
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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50
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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territorial
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| adj.领土的，领地的 | |
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52
barricades
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| 路障，障碍物( barricade的名词复数 ) | |
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53
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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54
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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55
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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56
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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57
picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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58
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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59
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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60
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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61
intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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62
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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63
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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