Part 16 (1/2)

The day after the appearance of his poem he received that t.i.tular recognition for lack of which a poet laureate must feel that he has lived in vain. And then, all this unchangeableness of things having been thus ratified and sealed with the official seal, the King, his ministers, and the whole political world advanced to the edge of changes such as the country had not seen the like of for the last hundred years.

CHAPTER VIII

PACE-MAKING IN POLITICS

I

Inside the Council, meanwhile, curious and uncomfortable things had been happening. The King's talkativeness had steadily increased; no one could reduce him to reason.

”He reminds me,” said one of his ministers irritably, ”of the school-boy's story of the tea-kettle which discovered locomotion. Off boiled the lid: 'Why!' cries the observant inventor, 'put that upon wheels and it would go!' So he put it upon wheels and it went. He is exactly like that tea-kettle on wheels, miraculously set going without any inside reason to guide him! In my opinion before long there will have to be a regency.” He tapped his skull meaningly, but in the wrong place: he should have tapped the back of it.

”What? Prince Max!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed his auditor; ”I should hardly call that a remedy!”

”Nothing can be worse,” declared the other, ”than things as they are!”

In that he made a mistake; they were going to be much worse. The King's new mental activities were only just getting into their stride; and from a very unexpected quarter he was about to receive aid.

At the Council board, where the King had now found voice, one alone sat humorously interested and amused--the Minister of Fine Arts. He was not an artist himself--had he been he would never have been allowed to occupy that position; he was a Professor of History, Teller by name, and more than any of his fellow-ministers he studied life. Nothing interested him so much as the human machine; and to see this rather humdrum monarch suddenly developing into a tea-kettle on wheels, as his colleague had so happily phrased it, filled him with profound interest and an underlying sympathy.

Dimly the King had become aware that somewhere in that body of adroit shufflers who were supposed to minister to his const.i.tutional needs the confused cry of his conscience had evoked an echo. He saw under a high bald forehead kindly eyes watching him; and it was a kindly voice charged with considerateness which one day, over a matter in which time pressed, begged for a further interview.

International exhibitions had become the vogue; and in putting on its peace paint for the Jubilee, Jingalo had determined to maintain its prestige among the nations by holding a conversazione of the Arts. In matters of that sort his Majesty had no particular taste; but in an art exhibition it was his duty to be interested. If need be he would open it, and would say of art and of its relations to the national life anything that the commissioners required of him. He would also lend any pictures from the royal collection which did not leave too obvious a gap upon the walls. All this was a mere matter of course; but the occasion being important--one of the great events indeed of the Jubilee festivities--it was expected of him that he should give a rather special consideration to the final plans.

Though wearied by the circ.u.mlocutions of his Council which had lasted throughout the morning, he named an hour, and at six o'clock received his minister in private audience.

The Professor began to explain matters in the usual official tone, but before long perceived that the attention paid to him was merely formal.

The King sat depressed, listless, and cold. This renewal of the official routine found him mentally f.a.gged out; it was evident that his thoughts were elsewhere.

Making the matter as short as he could in decency, the Professor folded his memoranda and returned them to his pocket.

Recalled to himself by the ensuing silence the King spoke--

”I really don't know enough about it to say anything,” he murmured. ”No doubt you have arranged everything for the best.” But still he remained seated as though the interview were not ended, and the minister had perforce to remain seated also.

”I fear that to-day we have wearied your Majesty,” he said at last to fill up the pause. ”The Council is sometimes very trying.”

The King lifted forlorn eyes in a sort of grat.i.tude upon this, the least troublesome of all his ministers. ”You, at least,” he answered, ”have not to reproach yourself, for I noticed that you did not speak.”

”I was listening,” answered the Professor; ”I was much struck by your Majesty's line of argument.”

”You agreed?”

”I cannot separate myself from my colleagues,” returned the minister cautiously; ”but I recognized the strength of your Majesty's case. On its own premises, if well put, it becomes unanswerable.”

”I hardly thought that I had put it well.” The King's voice showed despondency.

”To be perfectly frank, sir,” said the Professor, tempering the amiable twinkle of his gaze with a deferential movement of the head, ”you did not. The historical argument requires a knowledge of history.”