mbitions of his own, too, and was cultivated in many ways of mind
and taste. Besides all this, he had a head for business and an
enthusiasm rampant, which could meet any discouragement--and needed
this faculty later, too.

The king then gave him the management of the venture, started him with
the royal favour, which was as good as a fortune, with a building for
the looms, with imported workers who knew the tricks of the trade, and
with a pretty sum of money to boot.

Prudence was born with the enterprise; so the men from the Low
Countries were advised to become naturalised to make them more likely
to stay, and to bring other workers over, Walloons, malcontents,
religious fugitives, or whatever, so long as the hands were skilful.
Down in Kent, they say those cottages were built for weavers,--those
lovable nests of big timbers, curved gables and small leaded panes
which we are so keen to restore and live in these days.

To swell the number of workers, and to have an eye for the future,
there must be apprentices. The king looked about among the city's
"hospitals" and saw many goodly boys living at crown expense, with no
specified occupation during their adolescence. These he put as
apprentices, for a term of seven years, to work under the fifty
Flemish leaders. They were happy if they fell under the care of Philip
de Maecht, he of Flanders, who had wandered down to Paris and served
under De la Planche and Comans, and now had been enticed to the new
Mortlake. He has left his visible mark on tapestries of his
production--his monogram, P.D.M. (Plate facing page 70.)

A designer for the factory, one who lived there, was an inseparable
part of it. And thus it came that Francis Clein (or Cleyn) was
permanently established. He came from Denmark, but had taken an
enlightening journey to Italy, and had a fine equipment for the work,
which he carried on until 1658. His name is on several tapestries now
existing.

Even kings tire of their fulfilled wishes. James wanted royal tapestry
works, yet, when they were an established fact, he wearied of the
drafts on his purse for their support. It was the old story of
unfulfilled obligations, of a royal purse plucked at by too many vital
interests to spend freely on art.

And Sir Francis Crane bore the brunt of the troubles. Contracts with
the king counted but lightly in face of his enthusiasm. He continued
the work, paid his men the best he could, and let the king's debt to
him stan