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Literature Post > MacDonald, George > The Light Princess > Chapter 8

The Light Princess by MacDonald, George - Chapter 8

8. Try a Drop of Water.


Perhaps the best thing for the princess would have been to fall in
love. But how a princess who had no gravity could fall into
anything is a difficulty--perhaps THE difficulty.

As for her own feelings on the subject, she did not even know that
there was such a beehive of honey and stings to be fallen into. But
now I come to mention another curious fact about her.

The palace was built on the shores of the loveliest lake in the
world; and the princess loved this lake more than father or mother.
The root of this preference no doubt, although the princess did not
recognise it as such, was, that the moment she got into it, she
recovered the natural right of which she had been so wickedly
deprived--namely, gravity. Whether this was owing to the fact that
water had been employed as the means of conveying the injury, I do
not know. But it is certain that she could swim and dive like the
duck that her old nurse said she was. The manner in which this
alleviation of her misfortune was discovered was as follows.

One summer evening, during the carnival of the country, she had
been taken upon the lake by the king and queen, in the royal barge.
They were accompanied by many of the courtiers in a fleet of little
boats. In the middle of the lake she wanted to get into the lord
chancellor's barge, for his daughter, who was a great favourite
with her, was in it with her father. Now though the old king rarely
condescended to make light of his misfortune, yet, Happening on
this occasion to be in a particularly good humour, as the barges
approached each other, he caught up the princess to throw her into
the chancellor's barge. He lost his balance, however, and, dropping
into the bottom of the barge, lost his hold of his daughter; not,
however, before imparting to her the downward tendency of his own
person, though in a somewhat different direction; for, as the king
fell into the boat, she fell into the water. With a burst of
delighted laughter she disappeared in the lake. A cry of horror
ascended from the boats. They had never seen the princess go down
before. Half the men were under water in a moment; but they had
all, one after another, come up to the surface again for breath,
when--tinkle, tinkle, babble, and gush! came the princess's laugh
over the water from far away. There she was, swimming like a swan.
Nor would she come out for king or queen, chancellor or daughter.
She was perfectly obstinate.

But at the same time she seemed more sedate than usual. Perhaps
that was because a great pleasure spoils laughing. At all events,
after this, the passion of her life was to get into the water, and
she was always the better behaved and the more beautiful the more
she had of it. Summer and winter it was quite the same; only she
could not stay so long in the water when they had to break the ice
to let her in. Any day, from morning till evening in summer, she
might be descried--a streak of white in the blue water--lying as
still as the shadow of a cloud, or shooting along like a dolphin;
disappearing, and coming up again far off, just where one did not
expect her. She would have been in the lake of a night, too, if she
could have had her way; for the balcony of her window overhung a
deep pool in it; and through a shallow reedy passage she could have
swum out into the wide wet water, and no one would have been any
the wiser. Indeed, when she happened to wake in the moonlight she
could hardly resist the temptation. But there was the sad
difficulty of getting into it. She had as great a dread of the air
as some children have of the water. For the slightest gust of wind
would blow her away; and a gust might arise in the stillest moment.
And if she gave herself a push towards the water and just failed of
reaching it, her situation would be dreadfully awkward,
irrespective of the wind; for at best there she would have to
remain, suspended in her nightgown, till she was seen and angled
for by someone from the window.

"Oh! if I had my gravity," thought she, contemplating the water, "I
would flash off this balcony like a long white sea-bird, headlong
into the darling wetness. Heigh-ho!"

This was the only consideration that made her wish to be like other
people.

Another reason for her being fond of the water was that in it alone
she enjoyed any freedom. For she could not walk out without a
cortege, consisting in part of a troop of light horse, for fear of
the liberties which the wind might take with her. And the king grew
more apprehensive with increasing years, till at last he would not
allow her to walk abroad at all without some twenty silken cords
fastened to as many parts of her dress, and held by twenty
noblemen. Of course horseback was out of the question. But she bade
good-by to all this ceremony when she got into the water.

And so remarkable were its effects upon her, especially in
restoring her for the time to the ordinary human gravity, that
Hum-Drum and Kopy-Keck agreed in recommending the king to bury her
alive for three years; in the hope that, as the water did her so
much good, the earth would do her yet more. But the king had some
vulgar prejudices against the experiment, and would not give his
consent. Foiled in this, they yet agreed in another recommendation;
which, seeing that one imported his opinions from China and the
other from Thibet, was very remarkable indeed. They argued that, if
water of external origin and application could be so efficacious,
water from a deeper source might work a perfect cure; in short,
that if the poor afflicted princess could by any means be made to
cry, she might recover her lost gravity.

But how was this to be brought about? Therein lay all the
difficulty--to meet which the philosophers were not wise enough. To
make the princess cry was as impossible as to make her weigh. They
sent for a professional beggar; commanded him to prepare his most
touching oracle of woe; helped him out of the court charade box, to
whatever he wanted for dressing up, and promised great rewards in
the event of his success. But it was all in vain. She listened to
the mendicant artist's story, and gazed at his marvellous make up,
till she could contain herself no longer, and went into the most
undignified contortions for relief, shrieking, positively
screeching with laughter.

When she had a little recovered herself, she ordered her attendants
to drive him away, and not give him a single copper; whereupon his
look of mortified discomfiture wrought her punishment and his
revenge, for it sent her into violent hysterics, from which she was
with difficulty recovered.

But so anxious was the king that the suggestion should have a fair
trial, that he put himself in a rage one day, and, rushing up to
her room, gave her an awful whipping. Yet not a tear would flow.
She looked grave, and her laughing sounded uncommonly like
screaming--that was all. The good old tyrant, though he put on his
best gold spectacles to look, could not discover the smallest cloud
in the serene blue of her eyes.