Merlin's Tower INASMUCH as I was now the second personage in the Kingdom,as far as political power and authorty were concerned,much was made of me.My raiment was of silks and velvets and cloth of gold,and by consequence was very showy,also uncomfortable.But habit would soon reconcile me to my clothes;Iwas aware of that.I was given the choicest suite of apartments in the castle,after the king's.They were aglow with loud-colored silken hangings,but the stone floors had nothing but rushes on them for a carpet,and they were misfit rushes at that,being not all of one breed.As for conveniences,properly speaking,there weren't any.I mean LITTLE conveniences;it is the little conveniences that make the real comfort of life.The big oaken chairs,graced with rude carvings,were well enough,but that was the stopping place.There was no soap,no matches,no looking-glass --except a metal one,about as powerful as a pail of water.And not a chromo.I had been used to chromos for years,and I saw now that without my suspecting it a passion for art had got worked into the fabric of my being,and was become a part of me.It made me homesick to look around over this proud and gaudy but heartless barrenness and remember that in our house in East Hartford,all unpretending as it was,you couldn't go into a room but you would find an insurance-chromo,or at least a three-color God-Bless-Our-Home over the door;and in the parlor we had nine.But here,even in my grand room of state,there wasn't anything in the nature of a picture except a thing the size of a bedquilt,which was either woven or knitted (it had darned places in it),and nothing in it was the right color or the right shape;and as for proportions,even Raphael himself couldn't have botched them more formidably,after all his practice on those nightmares they call his "celebrated Hampton Court cartoons."Raphael was a bird.We had several of his chromos;one was his "Miraculous Draught of Fishes,"where he puts in a miracle of his own --puts three men into a canoe which wouldn't have held a dog without upsetting.I always admired to study R.'s art,it was so fresh and unconventional.
There wasn't even a bell or a speaking-tube in the castle.I had a great many servants,and those that were on duty lolled in the anteroom;and when I wanted one of them I had to go and call for him.There was no gas,there were no candles;a bronze dish half full of boarding-house butter with a blazing rag floating in it was the thing that produced what was regarded as light.A lot of these hung along the walls and modified the dark,just toned it down enough to make it dismal.If you went out at night,your servants carried torches.There were no books,pens,paper or ink,and no glass in the openings they believed to be windows.It is a little thing --glass is --until it is absent,then it becomes a big thing.But perhaps the worst of all was,that there wasn't any sugar,coffee,tea,or tobacco.I saw that I was just another Robinson Crusoe cast away on an uninhabited island,with no society but some more or less tame animals,and if I wanted to make life bearable I must do as he did --invent,contrive,create,reorganize things;set brain and hand to work,and keep them busy.
Well,that was in my line.
One thing troubled me along at first --the immense interest which people took in me.Apparently the whole nation wanted a look at me.It soon transpired that the eclipse had scared the British world almost to death;that while it lasted the whole country,from one end to the other,was in a pitiable state of panic,and the churches,hermitages,and monkeries overflowed with praying and weeping poor creatures who thought the end of the world was come.Then had followed the news that the producer of this awful event was a stranger,a mighty magician at Arthur's court;that he could have blown out the sun like a candle,and was just going to do it when his mercy was purchased,and he then dissolved his enchantments,and was now recognized and honored as the man who had by his unaided might saved the globe from destruction and its peoples from extinction.Now if you consider that everybody believed that,and not only believed it,but never even dreamed of doubting it,you will easily understand that there was not a person in all Britain that would not have walked fifty miles to get a sight of me.Of course I was all the talk --all other subjects were dropped;even the king became suddenly a person of minor interest and notoriety.Within twentyfour hours the delegations began to arrive,and from that time onward for a fortnight they kept coming.The village was crowded,and all the countryside.I had to go out a dozen times a day and show myself to these reverent and awe-stricken multitudes.It came to be a great burden,as to time and trouble,but of course it was at the same time compensatingly agreeable to be so celebrated and such a center of homage.It turned Brer Merlin green with envy and spite,which was a great satisfaction to me.But there was one thing Icouldn't understand --nobody had asked for an autograph.I spoke to Clarence about it.By George!I had to explain to him what it was.Then he said nobody in the country could read or write but a few dozen priests.Land! think of that.
