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when there was nobody to look at it (you see he didn't count me as anybody). So he set to work with a stick,
stirring them up, very much as you would stir up tea in a cup, till most of them had at least one great stupid
eye gazing at the stage.
"Oo must come and sit among them, Sylvie," he said in despair, "I've put these two side-by-side, with their
noses the same way, ever so many times, but they do squarrel so!"
CHAPTER 24. 115
So Sylvie took her place as 'Mistress of the Ceremonies,' and Bruno vanished again behind the scenes, to dress
for the first 'Bit.'
"Hamlet!" was suddenly proclaimed, in the clear sweet tones I knew so well. The croaking all ceased in a
moment, and I turned to the stage, in some curiosity to see what Bruno's ideas were as to the behaviour of
Shakespeare's greatest Character.
According to this eminent interpreter of the Drama, Hamlet wore a short black cloak (which he chiefly used
for muffling up his face, as if he suffered a good deal from toothache), and turned out his toes very much as he
walked. "To be or not to be!" Hamlet remarked in a cheerful tone, and then turned head-over-heels several
times, his cloak dropping off in the performance.
I felt a little disappointed: Bruno's conception of the part seemed so wanting in dignity. "Won't he say any
more of the speech?" I whispered to Sylvie.
"I think not," Sylvie whispered in reply. "He generally turns head-over-heels when he doesn't know any more
words."
Bruno had meanwhile settled the question by disappearing from the stage; and the Frogs instantly began
inquiring the name of the next Character.
"You'll know directly!" cried Sylvie, as she adjusted two or three young Frogs that had struggled round with
their backs to the stage. "Macbeth!" she added, as Bruno re-appeared.
Macbeth had something twisted round him, that went over one shoulder and under the other arm, and was
meant, I believe, for a Scotch plaid. He had a thorn in his hand, which he held out at arm's length, as if he
were a little afraid of it. "Is this a dagger?" Macbeth inquired, in a puzzled sort of tone: and instantly a chorus
of "Thorn! Thorn!" arose from the Frogs (I had quite learned to understand their croaking by this time).
"It's a dagger!" Sylvie proclaimed in a peremptory tone. "Hold your tongues!" And the croaking ceased at
once.
Shakespeare has not told us, so far as I know, that Macbeth had any such eccentric habit as turning
head-over-heels in private life: but Bruno evidently considered it quite an essential part of the character, and
left the stage in a series of somersaults. However, he was back again in a few moments, having tucked under
his chin the end of a tuft of wool (probably left on the thorn by a wandering sheep), which made a magnificent
beard, that reached nearly down to his feet.
"Shylock!" Sylvie proclaimed. "No, I beg your pardon!" she hastily corrected herself, "King Lear! I hadn't
noticed the crown." (Bruno had very cleverly provided one, which fitted him exactly, by cutting out the centre
of a dandelion to make room for his head.)
King Lear folded his arms (to the imminent peril of his beard) and said, in a mild explanatory tone, "Ay, every
inch a king!" and then paused, as if to consider how this could best be proved. And here, with all possible
deference to Bruno as a Shakespearian critic, I must express my opinion that the poet did not mean his three
great tragic heroes to be so strangely alike in their personal habits; nor do I believe that he would have
accepted the faculty of turning head-over-heels as any proof at all of royal descent. Yet it appeared that King
Lear, after deep meditation, could think of no other argument by which to prove his kingship: and, as this was
the last of the 'Bits' of Shakespeare ("We never do more than three," Sylvie explained in a whisper), Bruno
gave the audience quite a long series of somersaults before he finally retired, leaving the enraptured Frogs all
crying out "More! More!" which I suppose was their way of encoring a performance. But Bruno wouldn't
appear again, till the proper time came for telling the Story.
CHAPTER 24. 116
[Image...The frogs' birthday-treat]
When he appeared at last in his real character, I noticed a remarkable change in his behaviour.
He tried no more somersaults. It was clearly his opinion that, however suitable the habit of turning
head-over-heels might be to such petty individuals as Hamlet and King Lear, it would never do for Bruno to
sacrifice his dignity to such an extent. But it was equally clear that he did not feel entirely at his ease, standing
all alone on the stage, with no costume to disguise him: and though he began, several times,
"There were a Mouse--," he kept glancing up and down, and on all sides, as if in search of more comfortable
quarters from which to tell the Story. Standing on one side of the stage, and partly overshadowing it, was a tall
foxglove, which seemed, as the evening breeze gently swayed it hither and thither, to offer exactly the sort of
accommodation that the orator desired. Having once decided on his quarters, it needed only a second or two
for him to run up the stem like a tiny squirrel, and to seat himself astride on the topmost bend, where the
fairy-bells clustered most closely, and from whence he could look down on his audience from such a height
that all shyness vanished, and he began his Story merrily.
"Once there were a Mouse and a Crocodile and a Man and a Goat and a Lion." I had never heard the 'dramatis
personae' tumbled into a story with such profusion and in such reckless haste; and it fairly took my breath
away. Even Sylvie gave a little gasp, and allowed three of the Frogs, who seemed to be getting tired of the
entertainment, to hop away into the ditch, without attempting to stop them.
"And the Mouse found a Shoe, and it thought it were a Mouse-trap. So it got right in, and it stayed in ever so
long."
"Why did it stay in?" said Sylvie. Her function seemed to be much the same as that of the Chorus in a Greek
Play: she had to encourage the orator, and draw him out, by a series of intelligent questions.
"'Cause it thought it couldn't get out again," Bruno explained. "It were a clever mouse. It knew it couldn't get
out of traps!"
But why did it go in at all?" said Sylvie.
"--and it jamp, and it jamp," Bruno proceeded, ignoring this question, "and at last it got right out again. And it
looked at the mark in the Shoe. And the Man's name were in it. So it knew it wasn't its own Shoe."
"Had it thought it was?" said Sylvie.
"Why, didn't I tell oo it thought it were a Mouse-trap?" the indignant orator replied. "Please, Mister Sir, will
oo make Sylvie attend?" Sylvie was silenced, and was all attention: in fact, she and I were most of the
audience now, as the Frogs kept hopping away, and there were very few of them left.
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