The First Newspaper WHEN I told the king I was going out disguised as a petty freeman to scour the country and familiarize myself with the humbler life of the people,he was all afire with the novelty of the thing in a minute,and was bound to take a chance in the adventure himself --nothing should stop him --he would drop everything and go along --it was the prettiest idea he had run across for many a day.He wanted to glide out the back way and start at once;but I showed him that that wouldn't answer.You see,he was billed for the king's-evil --to touch for it,I mean --and it wouldn't be right to disappoint the house and it wouldn't make a delay worth considering,anyway,it was only a one-night stand.And I thought he ought to tell the queen he was going away.He clouded up at that and looked sad.I was sorry I had spoken,especially when he said mournfully:
"Thou forgettest that Launcelot is here;and where Launcelot is,she noteth not the going forth of the king,nor what day he returneth."Of course,I changed the Subject.Yes,Guenever was beautiful,it is true,but take her all around she was pretty slack.I never meddled in these matters,they weren't my affair,but I did hate to see the way things were going on,and I don't mind saying that much.Many's the time she had asked me,"Sir Boss,hast seen Sir Launcelot about?"but if ever she went fretting around for the king I didn't happen to be around at the time.
There was a very good lay-out for the king's-evil business --very tidy and creditable.The king sat under a canopy of state;about him were clustered a large body of the clergy in full canonicals.Conspicuous,both for location and personal outfit,stood Marinel,a hermit of the quack-doctor species,to introduce the sick.All abroad over the spacious floor,and clear down to the doors,in a thick jumble,lay or sat the scrofulous,under a strong light.It was as good as a tableau;in fact,it had all the look of being gotten up for that,though it wasn't.There were eight hundred sick people present.The work was slow;it lacked the interest of novelty for me,because I had seen the ceremonies before;the thing soon became tedious,but the proprieties required me to stick it out.The doctor was there for the reason that in all such crowds there were many people who only imagined something was the matter with them,and many who were consciously sound but wanted the immortal honor of fleshly contact with a king,and yet others who pretended to illness in order to get the piece of coin that went with the touch.
Up to this time this coin had been a wee little gold piece worth about a third of a dollar.When you consider how much that amount of money would buy,in that age and country,and how usual it was to be scrofulous,when not dead,you would understand that the annual king's-evil appropriation was just the River and Harbor bill of that government for the grip it took on the treasury and the chance it afforded for skinning the surplus.So I had privately concluded to touch the treasury itself for the king's-evil.
I covered sixsevenths of the appropriation into the treasury a week before starting from Camelot on my adventures,and ordered that the other seventh be inflated into fivecent nickels and delivered into the hands of the head clerk of the King's Evil Department;a nickel to take the place of each gold coin,you see,and do its work for it.It might strain the nickel some,but I judged it could stand it.As a rule,I do not approve of watering stock,but I considered it square enough in this case,for it was just a gift,anyway.Of course,you can water a gift as much as you want to;and I generally do.The old gold and silver coins of the country were of ancient and unknown origin,as a rule,but some of them were Roman;they were ill-shapen,and seldom rounder than a moon that is a week past the full;they were hammered,not minted,and they were so worn with use that the devices upon them were as illegible as blisters,and looked like them.
