CHAPTER VIII
What, I wonder, would be people's idea of a king? What was PrinceDolor's?
Perhaps a very splendid personage, with a crown on his head and ascepter in his hand, sitting on a throne and judging the people. Alwaysdoing right, and never wrong--"The king can do no wrong" was a lawlaid down in olden times. Never cross, or tired, or sick, or suffering;perfectly handsome and well dressed, calm and good-tempered, ready tosee and hear everybody, and discourteous to nobody; all things alwaysgoing well with him, and nothing unpleasant ever happening.
This, probably, was what Prince Dolor expected to see. And what did hesee? But I must tell you how he saw it.
"Ah," said the magpie, "no levee to-day. The King is ill, though hisMajesty does not wish it to be generally known--it would be so veryinconvenient. He can't see you, but perhaps you might like to go andtake a look at him in a way I often do? It is so very amusing."
Amusing, indeed!
The prince was just now too much excited to talk much. Was he not goingto see the king his uncle, who had succeeded his father and dethronedhimself; had stepped into all the pleasant things that he, Prince Dolor,ought to have had, and shut him up in a desolate tower? What was helike, this great, bad, clever man? Had he got all the things he wanted,which another ought to have had? And did he enjoy them?
"Nobody knows," answered the magpie, just as if she had been sittinginside the prince's heart, instead of on the top of his shoulder. "He isa king, and that's enough. For the rest nobody knows."
As she spoke, Mag flew down on to the palace roof, where the cloakhad rested, settling down between the great stacks of chimneys ascomfortably as if on the ground. She pecked at the tiles with herbeak--truly she was a wonderful bird--and immediately a little holeopened, a sort of door, through which could be seen distinctly thechamber below.
"Now look in, my Prince. Make haste, for I must soon shut it up again."
But the boy hesitated. "Isn't it rude?--won't they think us intruding?"
"Oh, dear no! there's a hole like this in every palace; dozens of holes,indeed. Everybody knows it, but nobody speaks of it. Intrusion! Why,though the royal family are supposed to live shut up behind stone wallsever so thick, all the world knows that they live in a glass house whereeverybody can see them and throw a stone at them. Now pop down on yourknees, and take a peep at his Majesty."
His Majesty!
The Prince gazed eagerly down into a large room, the largest room he hadever beheld, with furniture and hangings grander than anything he couldhave ever imagined. A stray sunbeam, coming through a crevice of thedarkened windows, struck across the carpet, and it was the loveliestcarpet ever woven--just like a bed of flowers to walk over; only nobodywalked over it, the room being perfectly empty and silent.
"Where is the King?" asked the puzzled boy.
"There," said Mag, pointing with one wrinkled claw to a magnificent bed,large enough to contain six people. In the center of it, just visibleunder the silken counterpane,--quite straight and still,--with its headon the lace pillow, lay a small figure, something like wax-work, fastasleep--very fast asleep! There was a number of sparkling rings on thetiny yellow hands, that were curled a little, helplessly, like a baby's,outside the coverlet; the eyes were shut, the nose looked sharp andthin, and the long gray beard hid the mouth and lay over the breast.A sight not ugly nor frightening, only solemn and quiet. And so verysilent--two little flies buzzing about the curtains of the bed being theonly audible sound.
"Is that the King?" whispered Prince Dolor.
"Yes," replied the bird.
He had been angry--furiously angry--ever since he knew how his uncle hadtaken the crown, and sent him, a poor little helpless child, to be shutup for life, just as if he had been dead. Many times the boy had feltas if, king as he was, he should like to strike him, this great, strong,wicked man.
Why, you might as well have struck a baby! How helpless he lay, with hiseyes shut, and his idle hands folded: they had no more work to do, bador good.
"What is the matter with him?" asked the Prince.
"He is dead," said the Magpie, with a croak.
No, there was not the least use in being angry with him now. On thecontrary, the Prince felt almost sorry for him, except that he lookedso peaceful with all his cares at rest. And this was being dead? So evenkings died?
"Well, well, he hadn't an easy life, folk say, for all his grandeur.Perhaps he is glad it is over. Good-by, your Majesty."
With another cheerful tap of her beak, Mistress Mag shut down the littledoor in the tiles, and Prince Dolor's first and last sight of his unclewas ended.
He sat in the center of his traveling-cloak, silent and thoughtful.
"What shall we do now?" said the magpie. "There's nothing much more tobe done with his majesty, except a fine funeral, which I shall certainlygo and see. All the world will. He interested the world exceedingly whenhe was alive, and he ought to do it now he's dead--just once more.And since he can't hear me, I may as well say that, on the whole, hismajesty is much better dead than alive--if we can only get somebodyin his place. There'll be such a row in the city presently. Suppose wefloat up again and see it all--at a safe distance, though. It will besuch fun!"
"What will be fun?"
"A revolution."
Whether anybody except a magpie would have called it "fun" I don't know,but it certainly was a remarkable scene.
As soon as the cathedral bell began to toll and the minute-guns tofire, announcing to the kingdom that it was without a king, the peoplegathered in crowds, stopping at street corners to talk together. Themurmur now and then rose into a shout, and the shout into a roar. WhenPrince Dolor, quietly floating in upper air, caught the sound of theirdifferent and opposite cries, it seemed to him as if the whole city hadgone mad together.
"Long live the king!" "The king is dead--down with the king!" "Down withthe crown, and the king too!" "Hurrah for the republic!" "Hurrah for nogovernment at all!"
Such were the shouts which traveled up to the traveling-cloak. And thenbegan--oh, what a scene!
When you children are grown men and women--or before--you will hear andread in books about what are called revolutions--earnestly I trust thatneither I nor you may ever see one. But they have happened, and mayhappen again, in other countries besides Nomansland, when wicked kingshave helped to make their people wicked too, or out of an unrighteousnation have sprung rulers equally bad; or, without either of thesecauses, when a restless country has fancied any change better than nochange at all.
For me, I don't like changes, unless pretty sure that they are for good.And how good can come out of absolute evil--the horrible evil that wenton this night under Prince Dolor's very eyes--soldiers shooting downpeople by hundreds in the streets, scaffolds erected, and heads droppingoff--houses burned, and women and children murdered--this is more than Ican understand.
But all these things you will find in history, my children, and mustby and by judge for yourselves the right and wrong of them, as far asanybody ever can judge.
Prince Dolor saw it all. Things happened so fast one after another thatthey quite confused his faculties.
"Oh, let me go home," he cried at last, stopping his ears and shuttinghis eyes; "only let me go home!" for even his lonely tower seemed home,and its dreariness and silence absolute paradise after all this.
"Good-by, then," said the magpie, flapping her wings. She had beenchatting incessantly all day and all night, for it was actually thuslong that Prince Dolor had been hovering over the city, neither eatingnor sleeping, with all these terrible things happening under his veryeyes. "You've had enough, I suppose, of seeing the world?"
"Oh, I have--I have!" cried the prince, with a shudder.
"That is, till next time. All right, your royal highness. You don't knowme, but I know you. We may meet again some time."
She looked at him with her clear, piercing eyes, sharp enough to seethrough everything, and it seemed as if they changed from bird's eyesto human ey
es--the very eyes of his godmother, whom he had not seen forever so long. But the minute afterward she became only a bird, and witha screech and a chatter, spread her wings and flew away.
Prince Dolor fell into a kind of swoon of utter misery, bewilderment,and exhaustion, and when he awoke he found himself in his ownroom--alone and quiet--with the dawn just breaking, and the long rim ofyellow light in the horizon glimmering through the window-panes.