Boxen: Childhood Chronicles Before Narnia

For a whole minute the frog stood paralysed with an ungovernable fury. Then taking from his pocket a handkerchief, he flipped the bird in the face, saying as he did so, ‘Meet me on the Bumregis road with what weapons you like at 3 to morrow morning.’

CHAPTER IV

For nearly 3 minutes intense silence hung over the Clique. The Rajah & Bunny gave a faint giggle, Mr Vant mournfully shook his head at Green, Bradshaw coughed, and Lord Big stood still in his rage: the only person who appeared absolutely at his ease was Polonius Green, who presently broke the silence by saying, ‘3 in the morning My Lord, is an hour when all sober and respectable citizens have retired. If you are still gadding about at that time, that’s no reason fer expec’ing others to join you in vulgar brawls.’

This disgraceful speech left every other member of the Clique absolutely astounded: the Little-Master had by this time however sufficiently collected his faculties to reply in these words:

‘Your Majesties, and Gentlemen, Mr Green has accused me of being an alien as a native of Piscia. I could defend myself from this charge, – were I so inclined –, on the gound that I was born in Mouseland, and educated at Danphabel School, never even seeing Piscia untill my twentyeth year. But, Gentlemen, I will not call this up in my defence, because it is the greatest regret of my life that I was not born in my native land, a land of Ruins of the first united Boxonian Parliament House in Piscia which its sons are justly proud as their fatherland. Those of you who know ancient history will remember that the Empire of Piscia was civilized and powerful under its emperor Pau-Amma, 200 years before the Pongeeins invaded Animalland and reduced it to their crude order. In more modern times Piscia is still as brilliant as in the old days. Was she not honoured by being the seat of the first united Parliament of Boxen? And why, do you think was it chosen to be such? Doubtless our feathered friend would tell us, “Because it was part of neither country & therefore favoured neither.” But no, a thousand times no. It was because it was part of both countries & therefore favoured both equally. This island gave birth to Little-Master White, a frog, perhaps the greatest Little Master ever seen by Boxen. Does Mr Green, knowing as he ought to the greatness of Piscia, call me an alien? I do not remonstrate on account of the insult offered to me, but on account of the dirt thrown by a bird on the hitherto clean escutcheon of one of Boxen’s most important states.

‘Gentlemen, if I have wandered somewhat from the actual subject of this debate, I crave your pardon, only pleading as my excuse the human weakness of not being able to sit by and calmly submit to the dastardly insults this member was heaping on me, on my countrymen, & worst of all on Piscia herself. To return to this same member’s motion that Chessmen should sit in the Clique: – Mr Green speaks of the high positions held by this homeless nation of restless vagabonds. I grant you, Mr Green, that Chessmen do hold important offices, but you will grant me that they have been elected to the same by the country. This same country is so used to seeing these aliens in places that should be their own that they fail to realise the monstrous wrong and injustices of it all: so they vote for Chessmen blithely, but not credit to the aliens themselves. Let us sift the matter to the bottom! Who are these Chess? They are a nation without a country, a people without a king, a mighty force without a standing army. Yes! Without a country yet every country in the world is theirs. They live in this land, they do not pay our taxes but they are protected by our laws. They collect money, and give nothing in return. Oh!, have they not enough unmerited privileges, that you would add this one thing more.’

A storm of furious applause shook the Clique Room as the old frog sat down. All eyes naturally turned to the parrot to see what affect the speech had had upon him: he sat with ruffled feathers in one corner glaring at his opponent. No sentiment of the grandeur of the defence influenced him, no shame for his behaviour. Only annoyance at the failure of his motion.

At this juncture Benjamin rose & said, ‘Whereas, we the kings of Boxen, do hereby lodge a formal objection against Polonius Green Esquire, he is no longer a member of the Clique.’

CHAPTER V

To the Little Master, as we have seen, Chessmen were an abomination, as a class. But he was sensible enough not to condemn individual Chess whom he really liked. And none did he like better than Samuel Macgoullah, a knight. This worthy was not a member of Boxonian city society, but he was before everything a gentlemen. Although he dressed in a pea-jacket, although he spoke with a strong Murry accent, although he went to the pit in theatres & took a gladstone-bag full of oranges, although he captained his own little schooner the Bosphorous, Macgoullah was a gentleman. True, some snobs did not recognize the fact because when he became rich and an M.P. he still lived as he always had done. On the evening after the meeting of the new Clique, he would have been found sitting in the Inner of the Schooner Inn (a homely & comfortable hostelry in the docks) with 2 friends.

MEETING OF FRIENDS IN ‘THE SCHOONER.’

One of these was Mr Green, and the other needs some comment. He was a bear clad in the uniform of a naval chief steward, or as he liked to call it ‘purser’. He was short and inclined to corpulence, good-humoured, and self-satisfied: in fact he was Jas. Bar Purser of H.M. gunboat Thrush. One cannot say more!

Green was talking to both loudly. ‘This d – d toad, & these two fellows ye call kings have had the impudence to turn me out of their Clique.’

‘Never mind, Polonius,’ said Macgoullah consolingly, ‘its no great loss.’

Bar had been one of the many who had tried 3 months ago to get a place in the new Clique, but without success: consequently he had no sympathy with the bird.

‘’Pon my word Green,’ he cried, ‘your hard to please. You’ve been in the Clique for 3 months, & I havn’t had a day! But I’m not making a song about it.’

‘Three months, you little scugy! And only had one meeting.’

‘Ah well,’ put in Macgoullah, ‘the only thing to do is to try & get another Clique formed.’

‘Billocks!! I want personal revenge on the toad & his 2 young friends –’

‘No!’ shouted the Chessknight, ‘Not a word against their majesties, they’ve always been good friends to me.’

‘Lot of use their friendship to you is to me, you sloppy mule! But I’ll go for the toad!’

‘A duel?’ said Bar.

‘A duel,’ said the bird with scorn, ‘what d’ye take me fer? No, some little scheme: think of something.’

Bar was silent for some seconds & then cried ‘I have it,’ & burst into laughter.

‘What is it?’

But Bar only rocked to & from with aching sides & streaming eyes.

‘What is it?’ reiterated his friends. At last when Bar was able to explain his plan all 3 began a hearty guffaw at the scheme. It was as follows: to buy (at the Little-Master’s expence) 500 golf balls, with which they would (by the connivance of the palace servants) stuff his matress: if the plan was not sanguinary enough to suit Green, he at any rate kept that view to himself.

At this moment a servant entered and handed envelopes to Bar and Macgoullah: tearing his open the latter found the following missive: –

It is not everyone who is invited to a royal ball so our worthy Macgoullah was pleased. Bar’s was the same & they both announced the fact.

Green was annoyed.

CHAPTER VI

Great was the preparation of Bar and Macgoullah when the eventful evening arrived. Bar had hired a handsome to be ready for them both outside the ‘Schooner’ where they had arranged to meet.

As they drew near the palace, Regency Street became a mass of moving lights dancing to the music of horses’ hoofs and the powerful purr of motors: and it was not without difficulty that the hireling Jehu navigated them to the portals of Regency St Palace. Stepping out they were conducted by suave domestics to the cloak room, which, as is usually the case on these occasions, was crowded with knots of whispering guests fiddling with their gloves. There of course is Puddiphat immaculately clad; there is Reginald Pig the Shipowner dressed in solid and plain evening dress; there is Quicksteppe looking finer than ever as the electric light catches his glossy curling locks; there is Colonel Chutney, formerly head of the war office, but now removed to give place to Fortescue who is also present. After some time of nervous fumbling and brushing, Pig, the most couragious person present, led a sort of forlorn hope to the salon where their Majesties were recieving their guests and where stout domestics dispensed tea etc. The two kings were throwing all their histrionic powers into an imitation of enjoyment, and behind them stood the Little-Master looking rather worried. The boys kept up a continual flow of conversation: –

‘Good evening, My dear Pig! How are the ships? Ah, Viscount Puddiphat, very glad you came.’

‘Good evening Your Majesties. Ah my dear Little-Master I see you’ve been having busy times in the Clique.’

‘Yes,’ said Big drily.

The Duchess of Penzly came up, a heavy woman whom they all abominated.

‘Good evening Duchess. Hasn’t Miss Penzly – oh! Influenza? I am very sorrey to hear that.’ The Duchess passed on to Big. ‘Ah, Lord Big, this is a pleasure. How delighted I was to hear you had had some excitement in politics, it does liven things up so, doesn’t it?’