Prince Ricardo Crosses the Path of History.
{Hand reaching for a crown with wings: p83.jpg}
"I say, Jack," said Prince Ricardo one morning, "here's a queer letter
for me!"
King Prigio had gone to a distant part of his dominions, on business of
importance, and the young people were sitting in the royal study. The
letter, which Ricardo handed to Jaqueline, was written on a great broad
sheet of paper, folded up without any envelope, as was the custom then,
and was sealed with a huge seal in red wax.
"I don't know the arms," Ricardo said.
"Oh, Ricardo, how you _do_ neglect your Heraldry! Old Green Stocking is
in despair over your ignorance."
Now Green Stocking was the chief herald of Pantouflia, just like Blue
Mantle in England.
"Why, these are the Royal Arms of England, you great ignorant Dick!"
"But Rome isn't in England, is it?--and the post-mark is 'Roma': that's
Rome in some lingo, I expect. It is in Latin, anyhow, I know. _Mortuus
est Romae_--'He died at Rome.' It's in the Latin Grammar. Let's see
what the fellow says, anyhow," added Ricardo, breaking the seal.
"He begins, 'Prins and dear Cousin!' I say, Jaqueline, he spells it
'Prins;' now it is P-R-I-N-C-E. He _must_ be an ignorant fellow!"
"People in glass houses should not throw stones, Dick," said Jaqueline.
"He signs himself 'Charles, P. W.,'" said Ricardo, looking at the end.
"Who on earth can he be? Why does he not put 'P. W. Charles,' if these
are his initials? Look here, it's rather a long letter; you might read
it to us, Jack!"
The princess took the epistle and began:
"How nice it smells, all scented! The paper is gilt-edged, too."
"Luxurious beggar, whoever he is," said Ricardo.
"Well, he says: 'Prins and dear Cousin,--You and me' (oh, what grammar!)
'are much the same age, I being fifteen next birthday, and we should be
better _ackwainted_. All the wurld has herd of the fame of Prins
Ricardo, whose name is _feerd_, and his _sord_ dreded, wherever there are
Monsters and Tirants. Prins, you may be less well informed about my
situation. I have not killed any Dragguns, there being nun of them here;
but I have been _under fiar_, at Gaeta.' Where's Gaeta, Dick?"
"Never heard of it," said Ricardo.
"Well, it is in Italy, and it was besieged lately. He goes on: 'and I am
told that I did not misbehave myself, nor disgrace _the blud of Bruce_.'"
"I've heard of Robert Bruce," said Dick; "he was the man who did not kill
the spider, but he cracked the head of Sir Harry Bohun with one whack of
his axe. I remember _him_ well enough."
"Well, your correspondent seems to be a descendant of his."
"That's getting more interesting," said Dick. "I wish my father would go
to war with somebody. With the Sword of Sharpness I'd make the enemy
whistle! Drive on, Jack."
"'As a prins in distress, I apeal to your valler, so renouned in Europe.
I am kept out of my own; my royal father, King Gems,'--well, this is the
worst spelling I ever saw in my life! He means King _James_,--'my royal
father, King Gems, being druv into exile by a crewl Usurper, the Elector
of Hannover. King Gems is _old_, and likes a quiat life; but I am
determined to make an effort, if I go alone, and Europe shall here of
Prince Charles. Having heard--as who has not?--of your royal Highness's
courage and sordsmanship, I throw myself at your feet, and implore you to
asist a prins in distres. Let our sords be drawn together in the caus of
freedom and an outraged country, my own.
"'I remain,
"'Prins and dear Cuzen,
"'CHARLES, P. W.'
"P. W. means Prince of Wales," added Jaqueline. "He is turned out of
England you know, and lives at Rome with his father."
"I like that chap," said Prince Ricardo. "He does not spell very well,
as you say, but I sometimes make mistakes myself; and I like his spirit.
I've been looking out for an adventure; but the big game is getting shy,
and my sword rusts in his scabbard. I'll tell you what, Jack--I've an
idea! I'll put him on the throne of his fathers; it's as easy as
shelling peas: and as for that other fellow, the Elector, I'll send him
back to Hanover, wherever that may be, and he can go on electing, and
polling his vote in peace and quietness, at home. Just wait till I spot
the places."
The prince ran up to the turret, fetched the magic spy-glass, and looked
up London, Rome, and Hanover, as you would in a map.
"Well, Dick, but how do you mean to do it?"
"Do it?--nothing simpler! I just take my Seven-league Boots, run over to
Rome, pick up Prince Charles, put him on the magic carpet, fly to London,
clap the Cap of Darkness on him so that nobody can see him, set him down
on the throne of his fathers; pick up the Elector, carry him over to his
beloved Hanover, and the trick is done--what they call a bloodless
revolution in the history books."
"But if the English don't like Prince Charles when they get him?"
"Like him? they're sure to like him, a young fellow like that! Besides,
I'll take the sword with me in case of accidents."
"But, Dick, it is your father's rule that you are never to meddle in the
affairs of other countries, and never to start on an expedition when he
is not at home."
"Oh, he won't mind this time! There's no kind of danger; and I'm sure he
will approve of the _principle_ of the thing. Kings must stick up for
each other. Why, some electing characters might come here and kick _us_
out!"
"Your father is not the sort of king who is kicked out," said Jaqueline.
But there was no use in talking to Dick. He made his simple
preparations, and announced that he would be back in time for luncheon.
What was poor Jaqueline to do? She was extremely anxious. She knew, as
we saw, what King Prigio had intended about changing the fairy things for
others that would not work. She was certain Dick would get himself into
a scrape; how was she to help him? She made up her mind quickly, while
Dick was putting his things together. She told the queen (it was the
nearest to the truth she could think of) that she "was going for a turn
with Dick." Then she changed herself into a mosquito--a kind of gnat
that bites--and hid herself under a fold of Dick's coat. Of course he
knew nothing about her being there. Then he started off in his Seven-
league Boots, and before you could say "Jack Robinson" he was in Rome, in
the grounds of a splendid palace called the Villa Borghese.
There he saw an elderly gentleman, in a great curled wig, sound asleep on
a seat beneath a tree. The old gentleman had a long, pale, melancholy
face, and across his breast was a broad blue ribbon with a star. Ah! how
changed was King James from the handsome Prince who had loved fair
Beatrix Esmond, thirty years ago! Near him were two boys, not quite so
old as Prince Ricardo. The younger was a pretty dark boy, with a funny
little roundabout white wig. He was splendidly dressed in a light-blue
silk coat; a delicate little lace scarf was tied round his neck; he had
lace ruffles falling about his little ringed hands; he had a pretty
sword, with a gold handle set with diamonds--in fact, he was the picture
of a little dandy. The other lad had a broad Scotch bonnet on, and no
wig; beautiful silky yellow locks fell about his shoulders. He had laid
his sword on the grass. He was dressed in tartan, which Ricardo had
never seen before; and he wore a kilt, which was also new to Ricardo, who
wondered at his bare legs--for he was wearing shoes with no stockings. In
his hand he held a curious club, with a long, slim handle, and a head
made heavy with lead, and defended with horn. With this he was aiming at
a little white ball; and suddenly he swung up the club and sent the ball
out of sight in the air, over several trees.
Prince Ricardo stepped up to this boy, took off his cap, and said:
"I think I have the honour of addressing the Prince of Wales?"
Prince Charles started at the sight of a gentleman in long riding-boots,
girt with a broadsword, which was not then generally worn, and carrying a
Persian rug under his arm.
"That is what I am called, sir," he said, "by those who give me the title
which is mine by right. May I inquire the reason which offers me the
pleasure of this unexpected interview?"
"Oh, I'm Ricardo of Pantouflia!" says Dick. "I had a letter from you
this morning, and I believe you wanted to see me."
"From Pantouflia, sir," said Prince Charles; "why, that is hundreds of
leagues away!"
"It is a good distance," said Dick; "but a mere step when you wear Seven-
league Boots like mine."
"My dear prince," said Charles, throwing himself into his arms with
rapture, and kissing him in the Italian fashion, which Dick did not half
like, "you are, indeed, worthy of your reputation; and these are the
celebrated Seven-league Boots? Harry," he cried to his brother, "come
here at once and let me present you to his Royal Highness, our
illustrious ally, Prince Ricardo of Pantouflia. The Duke of York--Prince
Ricardo of Pantouflia. Gentlemen, know each other!"
The prince bowed in the most stately manner.
"I say," said Dick, who was seldom at all up to the standard of royal
conversation, "what's that game you were playing? It's new to me. You
sent the ball a tremendous long shot."
"The game is called golf, and is the favourite pastime of my loyal
Scottish subjects," said Prince Charles. "For that reason, that I may be
able to share the amusements of my people, whom I soon hope to lead to a
glorious victory, followed by a peaceful and prosperous reign, I am
acquiring a difficult art. I'm practising walking without stockings,
too, to harden my feet," he said, in a more familiar tone of voice. "I
fancy there are plenty of long marches before me, and I would not be a
spear's length behind the hardiest Highlander."
"By Jove! I respect you," said Dick, with the greatest sincerity; "but I
don't think, with me on your side, you will need to make many marches. It
will all be plain sailing."
"Pray explain your plan," said Prince Charles. "The task of conquering
back the throne of my fathers is not so simple as you seem to suppose."
"I've done a good many difficult things," said Dick, modestly.
"The conqueror of the magician, Gorgonzola, and the Giant Who never Knew
when he had Enough, need not tell me that," said Prince Charles, with a
courteous allusion to two of Ricardo's most prodigious adventures.
"Oh! I've very little to be proud of, really," said Dick, blushing;
"anyone could do as much with my fairy things, of which, no doubt, you
have heard. With a Sword of Sharpness and a Cap of Darkness, and so
forth, you have a great pull over almost anything."
"And you really possess those talismans?" said the prince.
"Certainly I do. You see how short a time I took in coming to your call
from Pantouflia."
"And has Holy Church," asked the Duke of York, with anxiety, "given her
sanction and her blessing to those instruments of an art, usually, in her
wisdom, forbidden?"
"Oh, never mind Holy Church, Harry!" said Prince Charles. "This is
_business_. Besides, the English are Protestants."
"I pray for their conversion daily," said the Duke of York.
"The end justifies the means, you know," answered Prince Charles. "All's
fair in love and war."
"I should think so," said Ricardo, "especially against those brutes of
Electors; they give trouble at home sometimes."
"You, too, are plagued with an Elector?" asked Prince Charles.
"_An_ Elector? thousands of them!" answered Dick, who never could
understand anything about politics.
Prince Charles looked puzzled, but requested Dick to explain his great
plan.
They sat down on the grass, and Ricardo showed them how he meant to
manage it, just as he had told Jaqueline. As he said, nothing could be
simpler.
"Let's start at once," he said, and, inducing Prince Charles to sit down
on the magic carpet, he cried:
"England! St. James's Palace!"
But nothing happened!
The carpet was not the right magic carpet, but the one which King Prigio
had put in its place.
"Get on! England, I said!" cried Dick.
But there they remained, under the chestnut tree, sitting on the carpet
above the flowery grass.
{But there they remained: p99.jpg}
Prince Charles leaped to his feet; his face like fire, his eyes glowing.
"Enough of this fooling, sir!" he said. "It is easy, but cowardly, to
mock at an unfortunate prince. Take your carpet and be off with you, out
of the gardens, or your shoulders shall taste my club."
"There has been some mistake," Ricardo said; "the wrong carpet has been
brought by accident, or the carpet has lost its power."
"In this sacred city, blessed by the presence of his Holiness the Pope,
and the relics of so many martyrs and saints, magic may well cease to be
potent," said the Duke of York.
"Nonsense! You are an impostor, sir! Leave my presence!" cried Prince
Charles, lifting his golf-club.
Dick caught it out of his hand, and broke across his knee as fine a
driver as ever came from Robertson's shop at St. Andrew's.
"The quarrels of princes are not settled with clubs, sir! Draw and
defend yourself!" he said, kicking off his boots and standing in his
socks on the grass.
Think of the horror of poor Jaqueline, who witnessed this terrible scene
of passion from a fold in Prince Ricardo's dress! What could the girl do
to save the life of two princes, the hopes of one nation, and of a
respectable minority in another?
In a moment Prince Charles's rapier was shining in the sunlight, and he
fell on guard in the most elegant attitude, his left hand gracefully
raised and curved.
Dick drew his sword, but, as suddenly, threw it down again.
"Hang it!" he exclaimed, "I can't hit you with _this_! This is the Sword
of Sharpness; it would cut through your steel and your neck at a touch."
He paused, and thought.
"Let me beseech your Royal Highness," he said to the Duke of York, who
was in a terrible taking, "to lend your blade to a hand not less royal
than your own."
"Give him it, Hal!" said Prince Charles, who was standing with the point
of his sword on the ground, and the blade bent. "He seems to believe in
his own nonsense."
The duke yielded his sword; Dick took it, made a nourish, and rushed at
Prince Charles.
Now Ricardo had always neglected his fencing lessons. "Where's the good
of it," he used to ask, "all that stamping, and posture-making, and ha-
haing? The Sword of Sharpness is enough for _me_."
But now he could not, in honour, use the Sword of Sharpness; so on he
came, waving the rapier like a claymore, and made a slice at Prince
Charles's head.
The prince, very much surprised, parried in prime, riposted, and touched
Dick on the hand.
At this moment the Princess Jaqueline did what she should have thought of
sooner. She flew out of Dick's coat, and stung old King James on his
royal nose. The king wakened, nearly crushed the princess (so dangerous
is the practice of magic to the artist), and then leaped up, and saw
Dick's blade flying through the air, glittering in the sun. The prince
had disarmed him.
"Hullo! what's all this? _A moi_, _mes gardes_!" cried the old king, in
French and English; and then he ran up, just in time to hear Prince
Charles say:
"Sir, take your life! I cannot strike an unarmed man. A prince you may
be, but you have not learned the exercises of gentlemen."
"What is all this, Carluccio?" asked the old king. "Swords out! brawling
in my very presence! blood drawn!" for Dick's hand was bleeding a good
deal.
Prince Charles, as briefly as possible, explained the unusual nature of
the circumstances.
"A king must hear both sides," said King James. "What reply have you,
sir, to make to his Royal Highness's statements?"
"The carpet would not work, sir," said Dick. "It never happened before.
Had I used my own sword," and he explained its properties, "the Prince of
Wales would not be alive to tell his story. I can say no more, beyond
offering my apology for a disappointment which I could not have foreseen.
A gentleman can only say that he is sorry. But wait!" he added; "I can
at least prove that my confidence in some of my resources is not
misplaced. Bid me bring you something--anything--from the ends of the
earth, and it shall be in your hands. I can't say fairer."
King James reflected, while Prince Ricardo was pulling on the
Seven-league Boots, which he had kicked off to fight more freely, and
while the Duke of York bandaged Dick's hand with a kerchief.
"Bring me," said his Majesty, "Lord Lovat's snuff-mull."
"Where does he live?" said Dick.
"At Gortuleg, in Scotland," answered King James.
Dick was out of sight before the words were fairly spoken, and in ten
minutes was back, bearing a large ram's-horn snuff-box, with a big
cairngorm set in the top, and the Frazer arms.
"Most astonishing!" said King James.
"A miracle!" said the Duke of York.
"You have entirely cleared your character," said the king. "Your honour
is without a stain, though it is a pity about the carpet. Your nobility
in not using your magical sword, under the greatest provocation,
reconciles me to this fresh blighting of my hopes. All my allies fail
me," said the poor king with a sigh; "you alone have failed with honour.
Carluccio, embrace the prince!"
They fell into each other's arms.
"Prince," said Dick, "you have taught me a lesson for which I shall not
be ungrateful. With any blade a gentleman should be able to hold his own
in fair fight. I shall no longer neglect my fencing lessons."
"With any blade," said Prince Charles, "I shall be happy to find Prince
Ricardo by my side in a stricken field. We shall not part till I have
induced you to accept a sword which I can never hope to draw against
another adversary so noble. In war, my weapon is the claymore."
Here the prince offered to Ricardo the ruby-studded hilt of his rapier,
which had a beautiful white shark-skin sheath.
"You must accept it, sir," said King James; "the hilt holds the rubies of
John Sobieski."
"Thank you, prince," said Ricardo, "for the weapon, which I shall learn
to wield; and I entreat you to honour me by receiving this fairy
gift--which _you_ do not need--a ring which makes all men faithful to the
wearer."
The Prince of Wales bowed, and placed the talisman on his finger.
Ricardo then, after a few words of courtesy on both parts, picked up his
useless carpet, took his farewell of the royal party, and, with Jaqueline
still hidden under his collar, returned at full speed, but with a heavy
heart, to Pantouflia, where the palace gong was just sounding for
luncheon.
Ricardo never interfered in foreign affairs again, but his ring proved
very useful to Prince Charles, as you may have read in history.