But the Prince was not one of the weepers. His eyes shone with a lustre that told of the high thoughts that filled his soul, and his steadfast heart feared nothing. When he came out of the cathedral, and cast his eyes over its proportions, there was a smile upon his lips, though he knew how probable it was that he had seen the building for the last time.
All the way to Dover crowds of people attended him or flocked near to get a glimpse of his benignant face. When at last the sea was in sight he was glad, for the lengthened strain was beginning to tell upon him.
The ship was decorated with flags, and some girls came forward to strew flowers in his path.
The Prince thanked the soldiers for their escort, and urged them to give the weight of their influence to the peace party. “Men are wanted,” he said, “for other things than to slay and be slain. If the armies were disbanded, and the soldiers would learn the arts of peace, a better day would dawn for the world. You could go home. God bless the homes of England!”
Never was vessel watched by so many eyes as this, which seemed to fly across the Channel. Other ships hastened after it, and a thousand prayers went up that the Prince might come again to the people who loved him, and that the battle might be decided in his favour.
They were asking the same in France for their Bayard, who had suddenly become their hero.
But is not this prayer, “God be on my side,” characteristic of every fight?
CHAPTER XXXV.
WAS IT EXPEDIENT THAT ONE SHOULD DIE?
Our story has dealt with the people rather than with the upper classes; but when a detailed history of these times shall be written, one of the foremost places will certainly be given to the Prince. He had worked quietly (the Society journals had kindly left him very much alone), and he was, besides, only a young man, but his influence amongst the aristocratic classes of England had been immeasurably great. His mother was of the Royal family, but his father was a commoner, and he seemed to have been born to such a heritage of sympathy as could not be confined to any class. He had a passion for philanthropy, but his love of justice was even stronger still. He regarded the rights of others, as he did his own; and nothing could make him believe that England ought, or was obliged, to have within her borders a million of people in poverty. But the way out was by the gate of work and wages, and not alms; and so sure was he of this that it was frequently remarked of him, “The Prince gives nothing away.” What he gave, how he gave it, and to whom, were his own secrets, and he kept them; but every one knew that in the length and breadth of the land none was more really a friend to the poor than he. Nor had any done more to convince his class that they who owned much of the wealth of the land had no right to satisfy their consciences by gifts of soup and coals to the poor, but that it was their duty to find work and pay wages. He was a doughty champion who was always ready to fight for the lowest; and his own people loved him the more because he spoke the truth to them in tones that there was no mistaking.
The age, that was rich in valiant young men, had none more true, and honourable, and kingly than this man who had craved so earnestly to be allowed to die for his country.