The Little Lame Prince and His Travelling Cloak

by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

  CHAPTER II.

  Everybody was very kind to the poor little Prince. I think peoplegenerally are kind to motherless children, whether princes or peasants.He had a magnificent nursery, and a regular suite of attendants, andwas treated with the greatest respect and state. Nobody was allowed totalk to him in silly baby language, or dandle him, or above all to kisshim, though, perhaps, some people did it surreptitiously, for he wassuch a sweet baby that it was difficult to help it.

  It could not be said that the Prince missed his mother; children ofhis age cannot do that; but somehow after she died everything seemedto go wrong with him. From a beautiful baby he became sickly and pale,seeming to have almost ceased growing, especially in his legs, whichhad been so fat and strong. But after the day of his christening theywithered and shrank; he no longer kicked them out either in passion orplay, and when, as he got to be nearly a year old, his nurse tried tomake him stand upon them, he only tumbled down.

  This happened so many times that at last people began to talk about it.A prince, and not able to stand on his own legs! What a dreadful thing!what a misfortune for the country!

  Rather a misfortune to him also, poor little boy! but nobody seemed tothink of that. And when, after a while, his health revived, and theold bright look came back to his sweet little face, and his body grewlarger and stronger, though still his legs remained the same, peoplecontinued to speak of him in whispers, and with grave shakes of thehead. Everybody knew, though nobody said it, that something, impossibleto guess what, was not quite right with the poor little Prince.

  Of course, nobody hinted this to the King his father: it does not do totell great people anything unpleasant. And besides, his Majesty tookvery little notice of his son, or of his other affairs, beyond thenecessary duties of his kingdom. People had said he would not miss theQueen at all, she having been so long an invalid: but he did. Afterher death he never was quite the same. He established himself in herempty rooms, the only rooms in the palace whence one could see theBeautiful Mountains, and was often observed looking at them as if hethought she had flown away thither, and that his longing could bringher back again. And by a curious coincidence, which nobody dared toinquire into, he desired that the Prince might be called, not by anyof the four-and-twenty grand names given him by his godfathers andgodmothers, but by the identical name mentioned by the little old womanin grey,--Dolor, after his mother Dolorez.

  Once a week, according to established state custom, the Prince, dressedin his very best, was brought to the King his father for half-an-hour,but his Majesty was generally too ill and too melancholy to pay muchheed to the child.

  Only once, when he and the Crown Prince, who was exceedingly attentiveto his royal brother, were sitting together, with Prince Dolor playingin a corner of the room, dragging himself about with his arms ratherthan his legs, and sometimes trying feebly to crawl from one chair toanother, it seemed to strike the father that all was not right with hisson.

  "How old is his Royal Highness?" said he suddenly to the nurse.

  "Two years, three months, and five days, please your Majesty."

  _"How old is his Royal Highness?" said he suddenly tothe nurse._]

  "It does not please me," said the King with a sigh. "He ought to be farmore forward than he is now, ought he not, brother? You, who have somany children, must know. Is there not something wrong about him?"

  "Oh, no," said the Crown Prince, exchanging meaning looks with thenurse, who did not understand at all, but stood frightened andtrembling with the tears in her eyes. "Nothing to make your Majesty atall uneasy. No doubt his Royal Highness will outgrow it in time."

  "Outgrow--what?"

  "A slight delicacy--ahem!--in the spine; something inherited, perhaps,from his dear mother."

  "Ah, she was always delicate; but she was the sweetest woman that everlived. Come here, my little son."

  And as the Prince turned round upon his father a small, sweet, graveface--so like his mother's--his Majesty the King smiled and held outhis arms. But when the boy came to him, not running like a boy, butwriggling awkwardly along the floor, the royal countenance cloudedover.

  "I ought to have been told of this. It is terrible--terrible! And for aprince, too! Send for all the doctors in my kingdom immediately."

  They came, and each gave a different opinion, and ordered a differentmode of treatment. The only thing they agreed in was what had beenpretty well known before: that the prince must have been hurt when hewas an infant--let fall, perhaps, so as to injure his spine and lowerlimbs. Did nobody remember?

  No, nobody. Indignantly, all the nurses denied that any such accidenthad happened, was possible to have happened, until the faithful countrynurse recollected that it really had happened, on the day of thechristening. For which unluckily good memory all the others scolded herso severely that she had no peace of her life, and soon after, by theinfluence of the young lady nurse who had carried the baby that fatalday, and who was a sort of connection of the Crown Prince, being hiswife's second cousin once removed, the poor woman was pensioned off,and sent to the Beautiful Mountains, from whence she came, with ordersto remain there for the rest of her days.

  But of all this the King knew nothing, for, indeed, after the firstshock of finding out that his son could not walk, and seemed neverlikely to walk, he interfered very little concerning him. The wholething was too painful, and his Majesty had never liked painful things.Sometimes he inquired after Prince Dolor, and they told him his RoyalHighness was going on as well as could be expected, which really wasthe case. For after worrying the poor child and perplexing themselveswith one remedy after another, the Crown Prince, not wishing to offendany of the differing doctors, had proposed leaving him to nature; andnature, the safest doctor of all, had come to his help, and done herbest. He could not walk, it is true; his limbs were mere uselessadditions to his body; but the body itself was strong and sound. Andhis face was the same as ever--just his mother's face, one of thesweetest in the world!

  Even the King, indifferent as he was, sometimes looked at the littlefellow with sad tenderness, noticing how cleverly he learned to crawl,and swing himself about by his arms, so that in his own awkward way hewas as active in motion as most children of his age.

  "Poor little man! he does his best, and he is not unhappy; not halfso unhappy as I, brother," addressing the Crown Prince, who was moreconstant than ever in his attendance upon the sick monarch. "Ifanything should befall me, I have appointed you as Regent. In case ofmy death, you will take care of my poor little boy?"

  "Certainly, certainly; but do not let us imagine any such misfortune. Iassure your Majesty--everybody will assure you--that it is not in theleast likely."

  He knew, however, and everybody knew, that it was likely, and soonafter it actually did happen. The King died, as suddenly and quietlyas the Queen had done--indeed, in her very room and bed; and PrinceDolor was left without either father or mother--as sad a thing as couldhappen, even to a Prince.

  He was more than that now, though. He was a king. In Nomansland, as inother countries, the people were struck with grief one day and revivedthe next. "The king is dead--long live the king!" was the cry that rangthrough the nation, and almost before his late Majesty had been laidbeside the queen in their splendid mausoleum, crowds came throngingfrom all parts of the royal palace, eager to see the new monarch.

  They did see him--the Prince Regent took care they should--sittingon the floor of the council-chamber, sucking his thumb! And whenone of the gentlemen-in-waiting lifted him up and carried him--fancy,carrying a king!--to the chair of state, and put the crown on his head,he shook it off again, it was so heavy and uncomfortable. Sliding downto the foot of the throne, he began playing with the golden lions thatsupported it, stroking their paws and putting his tiny fingers intotheir eyes, and laughing--laughing as if he had at last found somethingto amuse him.

  "There's a fine king for you!" said the first lord-in-waiting, a friendof the Prince Regent's (the Crown Pr
ince that used to be, who, in thedeepest mourning, stood silently beside the throne of his young nephew.He was a handsome man, very grand and clever looking). "What a king!who can never stand to receive his subjects, never walk in processions,who, to the last day of his life, will have to be carried about like ababy. Very unfortunate!"

  "Exceedingly unfortunate," repeated the second lord. "It is always badfor a nation when its king is a child; but such a child--a permanentcripple, if not worse."

  "Let us hope not worse," said the first lord in a very hopeless tone,and looking towards the Regent, who stood erect and pretended tohear nothing. "I have heard that these sort of children with verylarge heads and great broad foreheads and staring eyes, are----well,well, let us hope for the best and be prepared for the worst. In themeantime----"

  "I swear," said the Crown Prince, coming forward and kissing the hiltof his sword--"I swear to perform my duties as regent, to take allcare of his Royal Highness--his Majesty, I mean," with a grand bow tothe little child, who laughed innocently back again. "And I will domy humble best to govern the country. Still, if the country has theslightest objection----" But the Crown Prince being generalissimo, andhaving the whole army at his beck and call, so that he could have beguna civil war in no time; the country had, of course, not the slightestobjection.

  So the king and queen slept together in peace, and Prince Dolor reignedover the land--that is, his uncle did; and everybody said what afortunate thing it was for the poor little Prince to have such a cleveruncle to take care of him. All things went on as usual; indeed, afterthe Regent had brought his wife and her seven sons, and establishedthem in the palace, rather better than usual. For they gave suchsplendid entertainments and made the capital so lively, that traderevived, and the country was said to be more flourishing than it hadbeen for a century.

  Whenever the Regent and his sons appeared, they were received withshouts--"Long live the Crown Prince!" "Long live the Royal family!"And, in truth, they were very fine children, the whole seven of them,and made a great show when they rode out together on seven beautifulhorses, one height above another, down to the youngest, on his tinyblack pony, no bigger than a large dog.

  "_And, in truth, they were very fine children, the wholeseven of them._"]

  "_They made a great show when they rode out together onseven beautiful horses._"]

  As for the other child, his Royal Highness Prince Dolor--for somehowpeople soon ceased to call him his Majesty, which seemed such aridiculous title for a poor little fellow, a helpless cripple, withonly head and trunk, and no legs to speak of--he was seen very seldomby anybody.

  Sometimes, people daring enough to peer over the high wall of thepalace garden, noticed there, carried in a footman's arms, or drawn ina chair, or left to play on the grass, often with nobody to mind him, apretty little boy, with a bright intelligent face, and large melancholyeyes--no, not exactly melancholy, for they were his mother's, and shewas by no means sad-minded, but thoughtful and dreamy. They ratherperplexed people, those childish eyes; they were so exceedinglyinnocent and yet so penetrating. If anybody did a wrong thing, tolda lie for instance, they would turn round with such a grave silentsurprise--the child never talked much--that every naughty person in thepalace was rather afraid of Prince Dolor.

  He could not help it, and perhaps he did not even know it, being nobetter a child than many other children, but there was something abouthim which made bad people sorry, and grumbling people ashamed ofthemselves, and ill-natured people gentle and kind. I suppose, becausethey were touched to see a poor little fellow who did not in the leastknow what had befallen him, or what lay before him, living his babylife as happy as the day was long. Thus, whether or not he was goodhimself, the sight of him and his affliction made other people good,and, above all, made everybody love him. So much so, that his uncle theRegent began to feel a little uncomfortable.

  Now, I have nothing to say against uncles in general. They are usuallyvery excellent people, and very convenient to little boys and girls.

  Even the "cruel uncle" of "The Babes in the Wood" I believe to be quitean exceptional character. And this "cruel uncle" of whom I am tellingwas, I hope, an exception too.

  He did not mean to be cruel. If anybody had called him so, he wouldhave resented it extremely: he would have said that what he did wasdone entirely for the good of the country. But he was a man whohad been always accustomed to consider himself first and foremost,believing that whatever he wanted was sure to be right, and, therefore,he ought to have it. So he tried to get it, and got it too, as peoplelike him very often do. Whether they enjoy it when they have it, isanother question.

  Therefore, he went one day to the council-chamber, determined on makinga speech and informing the ministers and the country at large thatthe young King was in failing health, and that it would be advisableto send him for a time to the Beautiful Mountains. Whether he reallymeant to do this; or whether it occurred to him afterwards that therewould be an easier way of attaining his great desire, the crown ofNomansland, is a point which I cannot decide.

  But soon after, when he had obtained an order in council to send theKing away--which was done in great state, with a guard of honourcomposed of two whole regiments of soldiers--the nation learnt, withoutmuch surprise, that the poor little Prince--nobody ever called him kingnow--had gone on a much longer journey than to the Beautiful Mountains.

  He had fallen ill on the road and died within a few hours; at least, sodeclared the physician in attendance, and the nurse who had been sentto take care of him. They brought his coffin back in great state, andburied it in the mausoleum with his parents.

  So Prince Dolor was seen no more. The country went into deep mourningfor him, and then forgot him, and his uncle reigned in his stead. Thatillustrious personage accepted his crown with great decorum, and woreit with great dignity, to the last. But whether he enjoyed it or not,there is no evidence to show.