There are multiple plausible "endings" to The Black Prince, so our final parting from the story is almost as long as what Peter Jackson gives us in The Return of the King. There's the ending that comes at the conclusion of Bradley Pearson's narrative, "The Black Prince," and then there's the ending that follows when Bradley puts the final cap on his story in the postscript that follows the text. On top of all that, there's the postscript by P. Loxias, which is the section that formally closes the book.
Shmoop is going to make things simple by treating the very end of P. Loxias's postscript as the very end of the book. After all, as Loxias himself tells us in his foreword to Bradley Pearson's story: "I have reserved for myself the last word of all, the final assessment or summing up" (Editor's Foreword: par. 3). Loxias obviously places high importance on having the last word, so we'll do him the credit of honoring his wishes.
After all, Shmoop isn't about to anger a god, or someone who may be a god.
So, anyway, how does P. Loxias draw The Black Prince to a close? By doing two things:
- commenting (vaguely) on his true identity;
- offering final remarks on the nature and value of art.
Loxias's final paragraph gives us the final clues we need to understand that he's either the god Apollo incarnate or, depending on your point of view, a person who either believes that he's Apollo or is pretending to be Apollo for some strange reason of his own. Loxias's final words are certainly in keeping with what a god might say about one of the things associated with his name:
Here upon the desk as I write these words stands the little bronze of the buffalo lady. (The buffalo's leg has been repaired.) Also a gilt snuff box inscribed A Friend's Gift. And Bradley Pearson's story, which I made him tell, remains too, a kind of thing more durable than these. Art is not cosy and it is not mocked. Art tells the only truth that ultimately matters. It is the light by which human things can be mended. And after art there is, let me assure you all, nothing. (Editor's Postscript: par. 11)
Are these great and terrible words from a great and terrible godhead, or are they the self-serving delusions of a lunatic or liar?
We'll leave that one for you to decide.