The King strove to correct what he fancied was a mistake on the part of the chief, and to direct his attention to the heir apparent, the fit object of such homage. But the Highlander heeded not those hints; he continued to gaze upon and to address the infant Charles; saying that he knew to whom he addressed himself. “This child,” he exclaimed, “will be greater than his elder brother, and will convey his father’s name and title to succeeding generations.” “This,” said Dr. Pernichief, Charles’s tutor, “was conceived to be dotage; but the event gave it the credit of a prophecy, and confirmed that some long experienced souls in the world, before their dislodging, arrive to the height of prophetical spirits.”[134] A long period of fragility seemed to throw doubt upon the gratuitous prophecy of the aged chief. Fortunately, Sir Robert Carey, to whom the charge of the drooping child was entrusted, was an estimable person, incapable of anything deceitful, or unjust—a “plain, honest gentleman.”[135] Those who wished ill to him and to his wife rejoiced at this selection, for they were certain that the prince would never be reared. Footnote 134: Kennet’s Hist. England. Footnote 135: Goodman’s Life, vol. i., p. 7. The weakly Charles was four years of age when consigned to the care of Sir Robert Carey. He could not, at this age even, stand alone; his ancles appeared to be out of joint. The King, with his characteristic conceit and want of gentle feeling, was disposed to use the most violent remedies and measures to cure the defects at which his pride was offended. The nostrums which he recommended were worthy of Martinus Scriblerus. But he found a champion of the helpless child in Lady Carey. “Many a battle my wife had with the King, but she still prevailed,” writes Sir Robert Carey.[136] The King, nevertheless, wished that the string under the young prince’s tongue might be cut; for the child, it was thought, would never speak. Then he proposed wire boots for his sinews and feet, but Lady Carey stood firm, and the Monarch was obliged to yield to a woman’s arguments. Footnote 136: Carey’s Memoirs, p. 200. The boy grew daily stronger, and repaying Lady Carey’s good care, gained health under her mild auspices, “both in body and mind.”[137] Still the impediment in his voice continued; his countenance exhibited that mournful expression which was doubtless the natural consequence of a weakly childhood, and of the consciousness of bodily defects, which is the most likely of any circumstances to depress the buoyancy of the young. Footnote 137: Carey’s Memoirs.