CHAPTER VII.
"Happy as a king." How far kings are happy I cannot say, no more thancould Prince Dolor, though he had once been a king himself. But heremembered nothing about it, and there was nobody to tell him, excepthis nurse, who had been forbidden upon pain of death to let him knowanything about his dead parents, or the king his uncle, or, indeed, anypart of his own history.
Sometimes he speculated about himself, whether he had had a father andmother as other little boys had, what they had been like, and why hehad never seen them. But, knowing nothing about them, he did not missthem--only once or twice, reading pretty stories about little childrenand their mothers, who helped them when they were in difficulty, andcomforted them when they were sick, he, feeling ill and dull andlonely, wondered what had become of his mother, and why she never cameto see him.
Then, in his history lessons, of course, he read about kings andprinces, and the governments of different countries, and the eventsthat happened there. And though he but faintly took in all this, stillhe did take it in, a little, and worried his young brain about it, andperplexed his nurse with questions, to which she returned sharp andmysterious answers, which only set him thinking the more.
He had plenty of time for thinking. After his last journey in thetravelling-cloak, the journey which had given him so much pain, hisdesire to see the world had somehow faded away. He contented himselfwith reading his books, and looking out of the tower windows, andlistening to his beloved little lark, which had come home with him thatday, and never left him again.
True, it kept out of the way; and though his nurse sometimes dimlyheard it, and said, "What is that horrid noise outside?" she never gotthe faintest chance of making it into a lark pie. Prince Dolor had hispet all to himself, and though he seldom saw it, he knew it was nearhim, and he caught continually, at odd hours of the day, and even inthe night, fragments of its delicious song.
All during the winter--so far as there ever was any difference betweensummer and winter in Hopeless Tower--the little bird cheered and amusedhim. He scarcely needed anything more--not even his travelling-cloak,which lay bundled up unnoticed in a corner, tied up in its innumerableknots. Nor did his godmother come near him. It seemed as if she hadgiven these treasures and left him alone--to use them, or lose them,apply them, or misapply them, according to his own choice. That is allwe can do with children, when they grow into big children, old enoughto distinguish between right and wrong, and too old to be forced to doeither.
Prince Dolor was now quite a big boy. Not tall--alas! he never could bethat, with his poor little shrunken legs; which were of no use, only anencumbrance. But he was stout and strong, with great sturdy shoulders,and muscular arms, upon which he could swing himself about almost likea monkey. As if in compensation for his useless lower limbs, nature hadgiven to these extra strength and activity. His face, too, was veryhandsome; thinner, firmer, more manly; but still the sweet face of hischildhood--his mother's own face.
How his mother would have liked to look at him! Perhaps she did--whoknows!
The boy was not a stupid boy either. He could learn almost anythinghe chose--and he did choose, which was more than half the battle. Henever gave up his lessons till he had learnt them all--never thought ita punishment that he had to work at them, and that they cost him a dealof trouble sometimes.
"But," thought he, "men work, and it must be so grand to be a man;--aprince too; and I fancy princes work harder than anybody--except kings.The princes I read about generally turn into kings. I wonder"--theboy was always wondering--"Nurse"--and one day he startled her with asudden question--"tell me--shall I ever be a king?"
The woman stood, perplexed beyond expression. So long a time had passedby since her crime--if it was a crime--and her sentence, that she nowseldom thought of either. Even her punishment--to be shut up for lifein Hopeless Tower--she had gradually got used to. Used also to thelittle lame prince, her charge--whom at first she had hated, though shecarefully did everything to keep him alive, since upon him her own lifehung. But latterly she had ceased to hate him, and, in a sort of way,almost loved him--at least, enough to be sorry for him--an innocentchild, imprisoned here till he grew into an old man--and became a dull,worn-out creature like herself. Sometimes, watching him, she felt moresorry for him than even for herself; and then, seeing she looked a lessmiserable and ugly woman, he did not shrink from her as usual.
He did not now. "Nurse--dear nurse," said he, "I don't mean to vex you,but tell me--what is a king? shall I ever be one?"
When she began to think less of herself and more of the child, thewoman's courage increased. The idea came to her--what harm would it be,even if he did know his own history? Perhaps he ought to know it--forthere had been various ups and downs, usurpations, revolutions, andrestorations in Nomansland, as in most other countries. Something mighthappen--who could tell? Changes might occur. Possibly a crown wouldeven yet be set upon those pretty, fair curls--which she began to thinkprettier than ever when she saw the imaginary coronet upon them.
She sat down, considering whether her oath, never to "say a word" toPrince Dolor about himself, would be broken, if she were to take apencil and write what was to be told. A mere quibble--a mean, miserablequibble. But then she was a miserable woman, more to be pitied thanscorned.
After long doubt, and with great trepidation, she put her finger to herlips, and taking the Prince's slate--with the sponge tied to it, readyto rub out the writing in a minute--she wrote--
"You are a king."
"_After long doubt ... she put her finger to her lips,and taking the Prince's slate ... wrote--'You are a king.'_"]
Prince Dolor started. His face grew pale, and then flushed all over;his eyes glistened; he held himself erect. Lame as he was, anybodycould see he was born to be a king.
"Hush!" said his nurse, as he was beginning to speak. And then,terribly frightened all the while--people who have done wrong alwaysare frightened--she wrote down in a few hurried sentences his history.How his parents had died--his uncle had usurped his throne, and senthim to end his days in this lonely tower.
"I, too," added she, bursting into tears. "Unless, indeed, you couldget out into the world, and fight for your rights like a man. And fightfor me also, my prince, that I may not die in this desolate place."
"Poor old nurse!" said the boy compassionately. For somehow, boy as hewas, when he heard he was born to be a king, he felt like a man--like aking--who could afford to be tender because he was strong.
He scarcely slept that night, and even though he heard his little larksinging in the sunrise, he barely listened to it. Things more seriousand important had taken possession of his mind.
"Suppose," thought he, "I were to do as she says, and go out into theworld, no matter how it hurts me--the world of people, active people,as active as that boy I saw. They might only laugh at me--poor helplesscreature that I am; but still I might show them I could do something.At any rate, I might go and see if there was anything for me to do.Godmother, help me!"
It was so long since he had asked her help, that he was hardlysurprised when he got no answer--only the little lark outside thewindow sang louder and louder, and the sun rose, flooding the room withlight.
Prince Dolor sprang out of bed, and began dressing himself which washard work, for he was not used to it--he had always been accustomed todepend upon his nurse for everything.
"But I must now learn to be independent," thought he. "Fancy a kingbeing dressed like a baby!"
So he did the best he could--awkwardly but cheerily--and then he leapedto the corner where lay his travelling-cloak, untied it as before,and watched it unrolling itself--which it did rapidly, with a heartygood-will, as if quite tired of idleness. So was Prince Dolor--or feltas if he was. He jumped into the middle of it, said his charm, and wasout through the skylight immediately.
"Good-bye, pretty lark!" he shouted, as he passed it on the wing, stillwarbling its carol to the newly-risen sun. "You have been my pleasu
re,my delight; now I must go and work. Sing to old nurse till I come backagain. Perhaps she'll hear you--perhaps she won't--but it will do hergood all the same. Good-bye!"
But, as the cloak hung irresolute in air, he suddenly remembered thathe had not determined where to go--indeed, he did not know, and therewas nobody to tell him.
"Godmother," he cried, in much perplexity, "you know what I want--atleast, I hope you do, for I hardly do myself--take me where I ought togo; show me whatever I ought so see--never mind what I like to see,"as a sudden idea came into his mind that he might see many painful anddisagreeable things. But this journey was not for pleasure--as before.He was not a baby now, to do nothing but play--big boys do not alwaysplay. Nor men neither--they work. Thus much Prince Dolor knew--thoughvery little more. And as the cloak started off, travelling fasterthan he had ever known it to do--through sky-land and cloud-land,over freezing mountain-tops, and desolate stretches of forest, andsmiling cultivated plains, and great lakes that seemed to him almost asshoreless as the sea--he was often rather frightened. But he croucheddown, silent and quiet; what was the use of making a fuss? and,wrapping himself up in his bear-skin, waited for what was to happen.
After some time he heard a murmur in the distance, increasing moreand more till it grew like the hum of a gigantic hive of bees. And,stretching his chin over the rim of his cloak, Prince Dolor saw--far,far below him, yet with his gold spectacles and silver ears on, hecould distinctly hear and see--What?
Most of us have sometime or other visited a great metropolis--havewandered through its network of streets--lost ourselves in its crowdsof people--looked up at its tall rows of houses, its grand publicbuildings, churches and squares. Also, perhaps, we have peeped into itsmiserable little back alleys, where dirty children play in gutters allday and half the night--or where men reel tipsy and women fight--whereeven young boys go about picking pockets, with nobody to tell them itis wrong, except the policeman; and he simply takes them off to prison.And all this wretchedness is close behind the grandeur--like the twosides of the leaf of a book.
An awful sight is a large city, seen anyhow, from anywhere. But,suppose you were to see it from the upper air; where, with your eyesand ears open, you could take in everything at once? What would it looklike? How would you feel about it? I hardly know myself. Do you?
Prince Dolor had need to be a king--that is, a boy with a kinglynature--to be able to stand such a sight without being utterlyovercome. But he was very much bewildered--as bewildered as a blindperson who is suddenly made to see.
He gazed down on the city below him, and then put his hand over hiseyes.
"I can't bear to look at it, it is so beautiful--so dreadful. And Idon't understand it--not one bit. There is nobody to tell me about it.I wish I had somebody to speak to."
"Do you? Then pray speak to me. I was always considered good atconversation."
The voice that squeaked out this reply was an excellent imitation ofthe human one, though it came only from a bird. No lark this time,however, but a great black and white creature that flew into the cloak,and began walking round and round on the edge of it with a dignifiedstride, one foot before the other, like any unfeathered biped you couldname.
"I haven't the honour of your acquaintance, sir," said the boy politely.
"_One half the people seemed so happy and busy._" _Page90._]
"_The other half were so wretched and miserable._" _Page90._]
"Ma'am, if you please. I am a mother bird, and my name is Mag, andI shall be happy to tell you everything you want to know. For I knowa great deal; and I enjoy talking. My family is of great antiquity;we have built in this palace for hundreds--that is to say, dozens ofyears. I am intimately acquainted with the King, the Queen, and thelittle princes and princesses--also the maids of honour, and all theinhabitants of the city. I talk a good deal, but I always talk sense,and I dare say I should be exceedingly useful to a poor little ignorantboy like you."
"I am a prince," said the other gently.
"All right. And I am a magpie. You will find me a most respectablebird."
"I have no doubt of it," was the polite answer--though he thought inhis own mind that Mag must have a very good opinion of herself. But shewas a lady and a stranger, so, of course, he was civil to her.
She settled herself at his elbow, and began to chatter away, pointingout with one skinny claw while she balanced herself on the other,every object of interest,--evidently believing, as no doubt all itsinhabitants did, that there was no capital in the world like the greatmetropolis of Nomansland.
I have not seen it, and therefore cannot describe it, so we will justtake it upon trust, and suppose it to be, like every other fine city,the finest city that ever was built. "Mag" said so--and of course sheknew. Nevertheless, there were a few things in it which surprisedPrince Dolor--and, as he had said, he could not understand them at all.One half the people seemed so happy and busy--hurrying up and downthe full streets, or driving lazily along the parks in their grandcarriages, while the other half were so wretched and miserable.
"Can't the world be made a little more level? I would try to do it ifI were the king."
"But you're not the king: only a little goose of a boy," returned themagpie loftily. "And I'm here not to explain things, only to show them.Shall I show you the royal palace?"
It was a very magnificent palace. It had terraces and gardens,battlements and towers. It extended over acres of ground, and had init rooms enough to accommodate half the city. Its windows looked inall directions, but none of them had any particular view--except asmall one, high up towards the roof, which looked on to the BeautifulMountains. But since the Queen died there, it had been closed, boardedup, indeed, the magpie said. It was so little and inconvenient, thatnobody cared to live in it. Besides, the lower apartments, which had noview, were magnificent--worthy of being inhabited by his Majesty theKing.
"_It had terraces and gardens, battlements and towers... and had in it rooms enough to accommodate half the city._"]
"_Its windows looked in all directions ... except asmall one, high up towards the roof, which looked on to the BeautifulMountains._"]
"I should like to see the King," said Prince Dolor.
But what followed was so important that I must take another chapter totell it in.