“Toys, indeed! when I'm a big boy,” said the Prince, with disdain1, and would scarcely condescend2 to mount a rocking-horse which had come, somehow or other,—I can't be expected to explain things very exactly,—packed on the back of the other, the great black horse, which stood and fed contentedly4 at the bottom of the tower.
Prince Dolor leaned over and looked at it, and thought how grand it must be to get upon its back—this grand live steed—and ride away, like the pictures of knights5.
“Suppose I was a knight,” he said to himself; “then I should be obliged to ride out and see the world.”
But he kept all these thoughts to himself, and just sat still, devouring6 his new books till he had come to the end of them all. It was a repast not unlike the Barmecide's feast which you read of in the “Arabian Nights,” which consisted of very elegant but empty dishes, or that supper of Sancho Panza in “Don Quixote,” where, the minute the smoking dishes came on the table, the physician waved his hand and they were all taken away.
Thus almost all the ordinary delights of boy-life had been taken away from, or rather never given to this poor little prince.
“I wonder,” he would sometimes think—“I wonder what it feels like to be on the back of a horse, galloping7 away, or holding the reins8 in a carriage, and tearing across the country, or jumping a ditch, or running a race, such as I read of or see in pictures. What a lot of things there are that I should like to do! But first I should like to go and see the world. I'll try.”
Apparently9 it was his godmother's plan always to let him try, and try hard, before he gained anything. This day the knots that tied up his traveling-cloak were more than usually troublesome, and he was a full half-hour before he got out into the open air, and found himself floating merrily over the top of the tower.
Hitherto, in all his journeys, he had never let himself go out of sight of home, for the dreary10 building, after all, was home—he remembered no other; but now he felt sick of the very look of his tower, with its round smooth walls and level battlements.
“Off we go!” cried he, when the cloak stirred itself with a slight, slow motion, as if waiting his orders. “Anywhere anywhere, so that I am away from here, and out into the world.”
As he spoke11, the cloak, as if seized suddenly with a new idea, bounded forward and went skimming through the air, faster than the very fastest railway train.
“Gee-up! gee-up!” cried Prince Dolor in great excitement. “This is as good as riding a race.”
And he patted the cloak as if it had been a horse—that is, in the way he supposed horses ought to be patted—and tossed his head back to meet the fresh breeze, and pulled his coat collar up and his hat down as he felt the wind grow keener and colder—colder than anything he had ever known.
“What does it matter, though?” said he. “I'm a boy, and boys ought not to mind anything.”
Still, for all his good-will, by and by, he began to shiver exceedingly; also, he had come away without his dinner, and he grew frightfully hungry. And to add to everything, the sunshiny day changed into rain, and being high up, in the very midst of the clouds, he got soaked through and through in a very few minutes.
Here he stopped, for already the cloak gave an obedient lurch14, as if it were expecting to be sent home immediately.
“No—I can't—I can't go back! I must go forward and see the world. But oh! if I had but the shabbiest old rug to shelter me from the rain, or the driest morsel15 of bread and cheese, just to keep me from starving! Still, I don't much mind; I'm a prince, and ought to be able to stand anything. Hold on, cloak, we'll make the best of it.”
It was a most curious circumstance, but no sooner had he said this than he felt stealing over his knees something warm and soft; in fact, a most beautiful bearskin, which folded itself round him quite naturally, and cuddled him up as closely as if he had been the cub16 of the kind old mother-bear that once owned it. Then feeling in his pocket, which suddenly stuck out in a marvelous way, he found, not exactly bread and cheese, nor even sandwiches, but a packet of the most delicious food he had ever tasted. It was not meat, nor pudding, but a combination of both, and it served him excellently for both. He ate his dinner with the greatest gusto imaginable, till he grew so thirsty he did not know what to do.
“Couldn't I have just one drop of water, if it didn't trouble you too much, kindest of godmothers?”
For he really thought this want was beyond her power to supply. All the water which supplied Hopeless Tower was pumped up with difficulty from a deep artesian well—there were such things known in Nomansland—which had been made at the foot of it. But around, for miles upon miles, the desolate18 plain was perfectly19 dry. And above it, high in the air, how could he expect to find a well, or to get even a drop of water?
He forgot one thing—the rain. While he spoke, it came on in another wild burst, as if the clouds had poured themselves out in a passion of crying, wetting him certainly, but leaving behind, in a large glass vessel20 which he had never noticed before, enough water to quench21 the thirst of two or three boys at least. And it was so fresh, so pure—as water from the clouds always is when it does not catch the soot22 from city chimneys and other defilements—that he drank it, every drop, with the greatest delight and content.
Also, as soon as it was empty the rain filled it again, so that he was able to wash his face and hands and refresh himself exceedingly. Then the sun came out and dried him in no time. After that he curled himself up under the bear-skin rug, and though he determined23 to be the most wide-awake boy imaginable, being so exceedingly snug24 and warm and comfortable, Prince Dolor condescended25 to shut his eyes just for one minute. The next minute he was sound asleep.
When he awoke, he found himself floating over a country quite unlike anything he had ever seen before.
Yet it was nothing but what most of you children see every day and never notice it—a pretty country landscape, like England, Scotland, France, or any other land you choose to name. It had no particular features—nothing in it grand or lovely—was simply pretty, nothing more; yet to Prince Dolor, who had never gone beyond his lonely tower and level plain, it appeared the most charming sight imaginable.
First, there was a river. It came tumbling down the hillside, frothing and foaming26, playing at hide-and-seek among the rocks, then bursting out in noisy fun like a child, to bury itself in deep, still pools. Afterward27 it went steadily28 on for a while, like a good grown-up person, till it came to another big rock, where it misbehaved itself extremely. It turned into a cataract29, and went tumbling over and over, after a fashion that made the prince—who had never seen water before, except in his bath or his drinking-cup—clap his hands with delight.
“It is so active, so alive! I like things active and alive!” cried he, and watched it shimmering30 and dancing, whirling and leaping, till, after a few windings31 and vagaries32, it settled into a respectable stream. After that it went along, deep and quiet, but flowing steadily on, till it reached a large lake, into which it slipped and so ended its course.
All this the boy saw, either with his own naked eye or through his gold spectacles. He saw also as in a picture, beautiful but silent, many other things which struck him with wonder, especially a grove33 of trees.
Only think, to have lived to his age (which he himself did not know, as he did not know his own birthday) and never to have seen trees! As he floated over these oaks, they seemed to him—trunk, branches, and leaves—the most curious sight imaginable.
“If I could only get nearer, so as to touch them,” said he, and immediately the obedient cloak ducked down; Prince Dolor made a snatch at the topmost twig34 of the tallest tree, and caught a bunch of leaves in his hand.
Just a bunch of green leaves—such as we see in myriads35; watching them bud, grow, fall, and then kicking them along on the ground as if they were worth nothing. Yet how wonderful they are—every one of them a little different. I don't suppose you could ever find two leaves exactly alike in form, color, and size—no more than you could find two faces alike, or two characters exactly the same. The plan of this world is infinite similarity and yet infinite variety.
Prince Dolor examined his leaves with the greatest curiosity—and also a little caterpillar36 that he found walking over one of them. He coaxed37 it to take an additional walk over his finger, which it did with the greatest dignity and decorum, as if it, Mr. Caterpillar, were the most important individual in existence. It amused him for a long time; and when a sudden gust17 of wind blew it overboard, leaves and all, he felt quite disconsolate38.
“Still there must be many live creatures in the world besides caterpillars39. I should like to see a few of them.”
The cloak gave a little dip down, as if to say “All right, my Prince,” and bore him across the oak forest to a long fertile valley—called in Scotland a strath and in England a weald, but what they call it in the tongue of Nomansland I do not know. It was made up of cornfields, pasturefields, lanes, hedges, brooks40, and ponds. Also, in it were what the prince desired to see—a quantity of living creatures, wild and tame. Cows and horses, lambs and sheep, fed in the meadows; pigs and fowls41 walked about the farm-yards; and in lonelier places hares scudded42, rabbits burrowed43, and pheasants and partridges, with many other smaller birds, inhabited the fields and woods.
Through his wonderful spectacles the Prince could see everything; but, as I said, it was a silent picture; he was too high up to catch anything except a faint murmur44, which only aroused his anxiety to hear more.
“I have as good as two pairs of eyes,” he thought. “I wonder if my godmother would give me a second pair of ears.”
Scarcely had he spoken than he found lying on his lap the most curious little parcel, all done up in silvery paper. And it contained—what do you think? Actually a pair of silver ears, which, when he tried them on, fitted so exactly over his own that he hardly felt them, except for the difference they made in his hearing.
There is something which we listen to daily and never notice. I mean the sounds of the visible world, animate45 and inanimate. Winds blowing, waters flowing, trees stirring, insects whirring (dear me! I am quite unconsciously writing rhyme), with the various cries of birds and beasts,—lowing cattle, bleating46 sheep, grunting47 pigs, and cackling hens,—all the infinite discords48 that somehow or other make a beautiful harmony.
We hear this, and are so accustomed to it that we think nothing of it; but Prince Dolor, who had lived all his days in the dead silence of Hopeless Tower, heard it for the first time. And oh! if you had seen his face.
He listened, listened, as if he could never have done listening. And he looked and looked, as if he could not gaze enough. Above all, the motion of the animals delighted him: cows walking, horses galloping, little lambs and calves49 running races across the meadows, were such a treat for him to watch—he that was always so quiet. But, these creatures having four legs, and he only two, the difference did not strike him painfully.
Still, by and by, after the fashion of children,—and I fear, of many big people too,—he began to want something more than he had, something fresh and new.
“Godmother,” he said, having now begun to believe that, whether he saw her or not, he could always speak to her with full confidence that she would hear him—“Godmother, all these creatures I like exceedingly; but I should like better to see a creature like myself. Couldn't you show me just one little boy?”
There was a sigh behind him,—it might have been only the wind,—and the cloak remained so long balanced motionless in air that he was half afraid his godmother had forgotten him, or was offended with him for asking too much. Suddenly a shrill50 whistle startled him, even through his silver ears, and looking downward, he saw start up from behind a bush on a common, something——
Neither a sheep nor a horse nor a cow—nothing upon four legs. This creature had only two; but they were long, straight, and strong. And it had a lithe51, active body, and a curly head of black hair set upon its shoulders. It was a boy, a shepherd-boy, about the Prince's own age—but, oh! so different.
Not that he was an ugly boy—though his face was almost as red as his hands, and his shaggy hair matted like the backs of his own sheep. He was rather a nice-looking lad; and seemed so bright and healthy and good-tempered—“jolly” would be the word, only I am not sure if they have such a one in the elegant language of Nomansland—that the little Prince watched him with great admiration52.
“Might he come and play with me? I would drop down to the ground to him, or fetch him up to me here. Oh, how nice it would be if I only had a little boy to play with me.”
But the cloak, usually so obedient to his wishes, disobeyed him now. There were evidently some things which his godmother either could not or would not give. The cloak hung stationary53, high in air, never attempting to descend3. The shepherd-lad evidently took it for a large bird, and, shading his eyes, looked up at it, making the Prince's heart beat fast.
However, nothing ensued. The boy turned round, with a long, loud whistle—seemingly his usual and only way of expressing his feelings. He could not make the thing out exactly—it was a rather mysterious affair, but it did not trouble him much—he was not an “examining” boy.
Then, stretching himself, for he had been evidently half asleep, he began flopping54 his shoulders with his arms to wake and warm himself; while his dog, a rough collie, who had been guarding the sheep meanwhile, began to jump upon him, barking with delight.
“Down, Snap, down: Stop that, or I'll thrash you,” the Prince heard him say; though with such a rough, hard voice and queer pronunciation that it was difficult to make the words out. “Hollo! Let's warm ourselves by a race.”
They started off together, boy and dog—barking and shouting, till it was doubtful which made the more noise or ran the faster. A regular steeplechase it was: first across the level common, greatly disturbing the quiet sheep; and then tearing away across country, scrambling55 through hedges and leaping ditches, and tumbling up and down over plowed56 fields. They did not seem to have anything to run for—but as if they did it, both of them, for the mere57 pleasure of motion.
And what a pleasure that seemed! To the dog of course, but scarcely less so to the boy. How he skimmed along over the ground—his cheeks glowing, and his hair flying, and his legs—oh, what a pair of legs he had!
Prince Dolor watched him with great intentness, and in a state of excitement almost equal to that of the runner himself—for a while. Then the sweet, pale face grew a trifle paler, the lips began to quiver, and the eyes to fill.
“How nice it must be to run like that!” he said softly, thinking that never—no, never in this world—would he be able to do the same.
Now he understood what his godmother had meant when she gave him his traveling-cloak, and why he had heard that sigh—he was sure it was hers—when he had asked to see “just one little boy.”
“I think I had rather not look at him again,” said the poor little Prince, drawing himself back into the center of his cloak, and resuming his favorite posture58, sitting like a Turk, with his arms wrapped round his feeble, useless legs.
“You're no good to me,” he said, patting them mournfully. “You never will be any good to me. I wonder why I had you at all. I wonder why I was born at all, since I was not to grow up like other boys. Why not?”
A question so strange, so sad, yet so often occurring in some form or other in this world—as you will find, my children, when you are older—that even if he had put it to his mother she could only have answered it, as we have to answer many as difficult things, by simply saying, “I don't know.” There is much that we do not know and cannot understand—we big folks no more than you little ones. We have to accept it all just as you have to accept anything which your parents may tell you, even though you don't as yet see the reason of it. You may sometime, if you do exactly as they tell you, and are content to wait.
Prince Dolor sat a good while thus, or it appeared to him a good while, so many thoughts came and went through his poor young mind—thoughts of great bitterness, which, little though he was, seemed to make him grow years older in a few minutes.
Then he fancied the cloak began to rock gently to and fro, with a soothing59 kind of motion, as if he were in somebody's arms: somebody who did not speak, but loved him and comforted him without need of words; not by deceiving him with false encouragement or hope, but by making him see the plain, hard truth in all its hardness, and thus letting him quietly face it, till it grew softened60 down, and did not seem nearly so dreadful after all.
Through the dreary silence and blankness, for he had placed himself so that he could see nothing but the sky, and had taken off his silver ears as well as his gold spectacles—what was the use of either when he had no legs with which to walk or run?—up from below there rose a delicious sound.
You have heard it hundreds of times, my children, and so have I. When I was a child I thought there was nothing so sweet; and I think so still. It was just the song of a skylark, mounting higher and higher from the ground, till it came so close that Prince Dolor could distinguish his quivering wings and tiny body, almost too tiny to contain such a gush62 of music.
“Oh, you beautiful, beautiful bird!” cried he; “I should dearly like to take you in and cuddle you. That is, if I could—if I dared.”
But he hesitated. The little brown creature with its loud heavenly voice almost made him afraid. Nevertheless, it also made him happy; and he watched and listened—so absorbed that he forgot all regret and pain, forgot everything in the world except the little lark61.
It soared and soared, and he was just wondering if it would soar out of sight, and what in the world he should do when it was gone, when it suddenly closed its wings, as larks63 do when they mean to drop to the ground. But, instead of dropping to the ground, it dropped right into the little boy's breast.
What felicity! If it would only stay! A tiny, soft thing to fondle and kiss, to sing to him all day long, and be his playfellow and companion, tame and tender, while to the rest of the world it was a wild bird of the air. What a pride, what a delight! To have something that nobody else had—something all his own. As the traveling-cloak traveled on, he little heeded64 where, and the lark still stayed, nestled down in his bosom65, hopped66 from his hand to his shoulder, and kissed him with its dainty beak67, as if it loved him, Prince Dolor forgot all his grief, and was entirely68 happy.
But when he got in sight of Hopeless Tower a painful thought struck him.
“My pretty bird, what am I to do with you? If I take you into my room and shut you up there, you, a wild skylark of the air, what will become of you? I am used to this, but you are not. You will be so miserable69; and suppose my nurse should find you—she who can't bear the sound of singing? Besides, I remember her once telling me that the nicest thing she ever ate in her life was lark pie!”
The little boy shivered all over at the thought. And, though the merry lark immediately broke into the loudest carol, as if saying derisively70 that he defied anybody to eat him, still, Prince Dolor was very uneasy. In another minute he had made up his mind.
“No, my bird, nothing so dreadful shall happen to you if I can help it; I would rather do without you altogether. Yes, I'll try. Fly away, my darling, my beautiful! Good-by, my merry, merry bird.”
Opening his two caressing71 hands, in which, as if for protection, he had folded it, he let the lark go. It lingered a minute, perching on the rim72 of the cloak, and looking at him with eyes of almost human tenderness; then away it flew, far up into the blue sky. It was only a bird.
But some time after, when Prince Dolor had eaten his supper—somewhat drearily73, except for the thought that he could not possibly sup off lark pie now—and gone quietly to bed, the old familiar little bed, where he was accustomed to sleep, or lie awake contentedly thinking—suddenly he heard outside the window a little faint carol—faint but cheerful—cheerful even though it was the middle of the night.
The dear little lark! it had not flown away, after all. And it was truly the most extraordinary bird, for, unlike ordinary larks, it kept hovering74 about the tower in the silence and darkness of the night, outside the window or over the roof. Whenever he listened for a moment, he heard it singing still.
He went to sleep as happy as a king.
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1
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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2
condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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6
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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8
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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9
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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10
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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12
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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13
abracadabra
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| n.咒语，胡言乱语 | |
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14
lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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cub
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| n.幼兽，年轻无经验的人 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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18
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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quench
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| vt.熄灭，扑灭；压制 | |
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soot
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| n.煤烟，烟尘；vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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25
condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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26
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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31
windings
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| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
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32
vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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caterpillar
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| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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37
coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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38
disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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39
caterpillars
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| n.毛虫( caterpillar的名词复数 )；履带 | |
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40
brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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41
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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42
scudded
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| v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
burrowed
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的过去式和过去分词 )；翻寻 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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animate
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| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
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bleating
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| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的现在分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
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grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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discords
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| 不和（discord的复数形式） | |
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49
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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50
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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51
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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52
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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54
flopping
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| n.贬调v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的现在分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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55
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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56
plowed
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| v.耕( plow的过去式和过去分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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58
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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61
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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62
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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63
larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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67
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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68
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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71
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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72
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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74
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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