The Missing Prince

As soon as they were seated, the old gentleman got out of his box and shuffled forward with some paper, a pot of ink and some pens. These he put into Boy’s hands and muttered something about “fetching a table.”

“What are these for?” inquired Boy.

“Paper for your impressions,” drawled the Clerk. “I suppose you have come to report this meeting, haven’t you?”

“No, indeed I haven’t!” said Boy in alarm.

“Dear me! What have you come for then?” asked the old Clerk in an amazed voice.

“Hush! hush!” called out some one, “His Importance is about to speak,” and the old Clerk hobbled back to his seat, looking more worried than ever, while the gentleman seated at the head of the table, and who Boy found was called The Lord High Adjudicator, arose and made the following speech: —

“Gentlemen, we are met for the purpose of discussing the grave situation caused by the extraordinary absence of His Serene Importance the Crown Prince of Zum – ”

“Hereditary Grand Duke of Grumbleberry Plumbhop, Knight of the Order of – ” began the King’s Exaggerator, when he was interrupted by the Public Persecutor, who inquired, —

“What’s the use of all that, when there is no one but us to hear you?”

“I must perform my official duties,” remarked the King’s Exaggerator.

“You can have no official duties now that there is no King and the Prince has disappeared,” objected the Public Persecutor.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, pray don’t argue,” interrupted the Lord High Adjudicator, “or we shall waste all day in discussion. If the King’s Exaggerator wishes to do a little exaggerating on his own account, I am sure no one will object, but he must do it outside and not here; and now, in order that you may understand it all more clearly, I will call upon His Insignificance the Court Poet to read us ‘The Cause of Dismay.’”

The Court Poet, who was a very curious-looking man, was dressed in a tightly-fitting velvet costume with a deep lace collar, and wore his hair very long. He had most prominent eyes, which he rolled about in a grotesque way as he spoke. When thus called upon he arose, and tragically clutching his hair with one hand, he waved the other about frantically, while he began in a shrill voice: —

THE CAUSE OF DISMAY

“Oh, men of Zum, what shall we do?
Our King has no successor;
The Prince has vanished from our view,
And – and-”

“Well, go on!” shouted several voices.
“vanished from our view,
And – and – ”

repeated the Court Poet, turning very pale.

“Why don’t you proceed?” inquired the Lord High Adjudicator.

“I’m afraid I can’t find a rhyme for successor,” admitted the Court Poet, looking greatly confused.

“Dear me! this is the second time this week you have failed in your rhyming,” exclaimed the Lord High Adjudicator impatiently. “It’s most annoying.”

“It’s unbearable,” declared the Public Persecutor.

“If he can’t do his work properly, we had better reduce his salary,” suggested the Busybody Extraordinary.

“Hear, hear!” shouted several voices at once.

“Oh, please don’t!” pleaded the Court Poet. “My stipend is very small as it is.”

“Six pounds a year is a great deal more than you are worth!” declared the First Lord of the Cash Box emphatically.

“So it is, so it is!” agreed the rest of the Committee.

The poor Court Poet looked very crestfallen, while the two gentlemen sitting near him frowned at him severely, the Kitchen Poker in Waiting looking particularly disgusted.

“Ahem! I should like to suggest,” said the Minister of Experiments, coughing importantly and standing up to address the meeting, “that instead of reducing his salary we should reduce his title, and that, instead of his being known as His Insignificance the Court Poet, he should in future be called His Absolute Nothingness the Public Rhymester.”

This proposal seemed to find favour with the whole company, and, being put to the vote, was carried unanimously; and His Absolute Nothingness the Public Rhymester was told to sit down, which he did very meekly, looking half inclined to burst into tears.

“Now then,” said the Lord Chief Adjudicator when this was all over, “we really must get to business; and as the Public Rhymester is not capable of setting forth ‘The Cause of Dismay’ in verse, as is the custom here, I must try and explain to you in prose. The facts, as you are aware, are as follows: Our late Sovereign, King Robert the Twentieth – King of Zum and Emperor of – ” began the King’s Exaggerator, evidently intending to enumerate all of the late King’s titles; but he was forcibly prevented from doing so by the two gentlemen sitting next to him, one of whom held him down, while the other tied a handkerchief tightly over his mouth.

The Lord High Adjudicator nodded approval and proceeded.

“Our late Sovereign, King Robert the Twentieth, being deceased, and the Crown Prince having mysteriously disappeared some five years since, and there being no legal successor to the throne, what are we to do for a King? As you are aware, this land has always been governed by a hereditary absolute Monarchy, and His late never-to-be-sufficiently-lamented Majesty left absolutely no relations whatever; what are we to do about the government of the country? That is the question, gentlemen, which we have met here to discuss to-day.”

Almost before the Lord High Adjudicator had finished, every member of the Committee got up excitedly and began to unfold his own particular plan for the government of the land, each trying to drown the other’s voice. The noise was deafening, and the poor old Clerk was so alarmed at the uproar, that he collapsed into his box and was found after the meeting still sitting on the floor with his fingers pressed to his ears and trembling with fright.

For some time the utmost confusion reigned, but at last the Lord High Adjudicator stood up in his chair and motioned them all to sit down, which, after a time, they did.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is disgraceful!” cried the Lord High Adjudicator when order was somewhat restored. “We shall never get on at this rate. Now, one at a time, please.”

The Busybody Extraordinary at once got up and began as follows: —

“I have been preparing a little scheme for the government of Zum, which is bound, I think, to meet with the approval of every one here – it is so delightfully simple, and at the same time so effective. There is no King. Very good, we will govern the land; we will form ourselves into a Council for the management of everybody’s business in the kingdom, with the power to take over all property, public and private, have control of everything and everybody in the land. Think what a benefit it would be to the Public not to have to worry about anything at all, simply to do as we told them, and think how delightful it would be for us!”

“But would the Public agree to all this?” inquired the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee dubiously.

“The Public,” said the Busybody Extraordinary contemptuously, “will do just whatever we wish it to. It may grumble a little at first, but it will do it all the same.”

“But what shall we be called?” asked the Public Persecutor, who seemed greatly interested in the scheme.

“Well, I was going to propose that we should call ourselves Public Councillors,” replied the Busybody Extraordinary. “Of course, we should have to give up our present Official Titles and simply use our ordinary names with the letters P.C. added. Thus I should be known as Ebenezer Smith, P.C., and you would be Sir Peter Grumble, P.C., and so on.”

“But how would it be possible to manage everybody’s affairs?” inquired another.

“My dear sir,” replied the Busybody Extraordinary, “that is the great point of the whole system – it is as easy as A.B.C. We should of course begin by commanding that nothing whatever should be done without our sanction; that would simplify matters to start with. Then we should turn our attention to public improvements; for instance, we should begin by pulling down this building and erect for our use some fine Municipal Buildings on a very large and handsome scale, with portraits of ourselves painted on all the windows.”

“But who would pay for them?” objected the First Lord of the Cash Box.

“The Public, of course,” said the Busybody Extraordinary. “What a silly question!”

“But supposing they refused?” persisted the First Lord of the Cash Box.

“The Public refuse to pay rates and taxes?” exclaimed the Busybody Extraordinary. “Who ever heard of such a thing? Really, my dear sir, you are most childish in your remarks. Then,” he continued, “we should pull down all those buildings opposite and make a wide, handsome road, with trees on either side, with a large park at the end of it, beautifully laid out with lakes, etc., where we could drive in the afternoon. Of course, it would have to be railed in or we should have the Public trespassing in it.”